“Are you also…?”
“Me?” Zadie’s voice cracked slightly. “No. I’m boring.” She scanned the faces of the people milling around the square. “How’d you end up here?”
Tonya smiled brightly. “I came here on vacation and never left, but I’m unusual. Most of the others have a different story.”
“And what’s that?”
“They were driving by on their way somewhere else and this place just sort of sucked them in. Like a black hole.” The woman laughed. She had a gap between her front two teeth, a tiny courtyard.
“So, is everyone here a… six?”
Tonya shook her head. “No. Some folks are like you. Everyone is welcome here.”
Zadie thought she saw Tonya glance over at Earworm, who looked both ways before picking food off a paper plate that had been abandoned on a neighboring picnic table.
“So you can really tell exactly what temperature it is?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What is it right now?”
“Eighty-four degrees.”
“I dunno. Feels like eighty-five to me.”
Tonya laughed again. “Whatever you say.”
Finn watched Zadie from the buffet table, which had been set with a bright array of condiments, paper plates, and several large orange beverage coolers. There was something different about her sister, a small spark. It was as if she—despite her best efforts to mask it—was enjoying herself.
Finn made her way back over to the table and placed a cup half full of pink lemonade in front of Zadie. “Yours used to have iced tea in it, but I spilled it, so I gave you half of my lemonade.”
Zadie grinned. “Thanks.”
Then something caught Finn’s eye: a small cluster of residents gathered around a pile of painted rocks. It stood about five feet tall and was shaped like a piece of coral—vaguely conical with several asymmetrical spires. “What’s that thing over there?”
“The Cairn?” Tonya answered. “It’s like a guest book of everyone who’s ever been here. We add a rock to it every time someone new comes to camp.”
“Does that mean we get one?” Finn asked eagerly.
Tonya nodded. “See that woman in pink?”
Finn turned and spotted an elderly Hispanic woman in a salmon-colored tunic. She was speaking intently with a young woman who looked like she could be her granddaughter. “Yeah.”
“That’s Estrella. She’s the one who paints the rocks. She’s probably discussing yours.”
“Do I need to model for it?”
Tonya laughed and shook her head. “She doesn’t paintyou.She paints where you’re going. Sometimes that place is right here. Other times, she knows there’s more to your journey. She’s never wrong.”
Finn watched Estrella vanish into a single-wide trailer carrying a smooth orange rock in one hand. Hours later, she would presumably emerge carrying a piece of art depicting a single frame of Finn’s future. Her heart lunged at the thought of her fate being swirled around on a palette, turning from blue to purple to lavender back to blue again, a kaleidoscope of possibilities. She looked at her sister, who, as usual, did not appear convinced. “Whatever she paints, we can’t stay,” Zadie said matter-of-factly.
“If that’s the case, then Estrella will know,” Tonya said evenly. “I came here four years ago, and when it was my turn, she handed me a rock with those mountains painted on it.” She pointed to the red buttes that towered above them. “I knew I was meant to stay.”
“Isn’t that just a self-fulfilling prophecy?” Zadie countered.
“Maybe.” Tonya didn’t seem bothered by the implication. “Everyone has free will. You can choose not to follow her advice, but I’ve also never known anyone who said she got it wrong.”
Finn watched her sister struggle for something to say. Did Zadie recognize the hypocrisy of her objection? Here she was, a psychic herself, suggesting that prophecies weren’t real. Maybe she’d spent so much time in denial of her ability that the irony was lost on her. After a pause, her sister gave a tepid nod and said, “When’s the food supposed to be ready?”