Free Starfall by Michael Griffo Page B

there’s a father, Dominysan!” Jess squeals. “Are you so caught up with the bee and the butterfly that you’ve forgotten all about the birds and the bees?”
    Through my own gigglaughs I explain the revelation of the moon jellyfish’s unique ability and our thought that maybe Nadine’s baby is biologically fatherless. Jess is amused, but her opinion isn’t swayed.
    â€œThat would have made a clever coincidence,” Jess admits. “But it’s wrong. Some coincidences are really just that, Dom, fun and interesting but completely devoid of any truth.”
    â€œHow can you tell the difference?” I ask.
    â€œSometimes you’re not meant to know the difference,” Jess replies cryptically. Then with a mischievous gleam in her eye she adds, “How else would the supernatural powers that be laugh at your mistakes?”
    We really are just laughter for the gods.
    Anticipating my next question, she continues talking before I can even open my mouth. “And I cannot tell you who the baby’s father is.”
    â€œLimitations?” I ask.
    Another wistful smile and another change. Jess looks exactly the same as she always has, since the day she died, a fifteen-year-old girl, not a child and not a woman, stuck in that frustrating in-between world. But now she appears to be older. She looks as if she’s outgrowing her shell, as if the outside and the inside are no longer a match. The more I contemplate what this could mean, the more frightened I start to get.
    Suddenly Jess spins around, and strips of golden light encircle her body with each turn, like she’s one of those rhythmic gymnasts who jump and twirl and flip around while carrying a wand with a long ribbon on the end of it. It’s a gold-medal performance, but it’s all for my benefit; Jess isn’t feeling any of the joy she’s creating.
    â€œSo then why are you here?” I ask. My voice makes her come to an abrupt stop, but her golden light continues to wrap itself around her unmoving body for a few seconds longer until it fades away and disappears into the air. “Did you come to crash the party?”
    â€œWhat party?”
    Now I know something’s wrong. In less than an hour our house is going to be filled with our friends for Caleb’s going-off-to-college party, his final blast before heading off to Big Red, the University of Nebraska. It’s one shindig I know Jess wouldn’t want to miss.
    â€œYou know exactly what I’m talking about!” I protest. “Caleb’s party! Don’t try to act as if you’re not interested.”
    But Jess isn’t acting; she really isn’t interested.
    â€œI think I’ve outgrown my party-girl phase,” Jess replies.
    I sit in my desk chair. It’s still warm with Jess’s golden light, and I realize Jess isn’t any type of girl at all anymore. “Then . . . why did Dice let you off your leash to come here?”
    â€œI have to warn you,” she says, standing in front of me, but once again she’s more interested in her reflection than my response.
    â€œAbout what?” I demand. “And before you say anything, make sure that what you’re going to tell me is accurate; no more misguided commands to kill.”
    â€œSomething’s coming,” she says firmly.
    I don’t question her further, not because I know there’s little more that she can tell me, but because I’ve sensed the same thing for weeks now, since my last transformation. I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s always been there, in the back of my head, right behind my eyes. Not a feeling, more like an expectation.
    â€œSomething’s coming, Dominy, that will change everything,” Jess states. “And you need to be prepared.”
    The message isn’t as scary as the tone of Jess’s voice, which is abrupt and distant and final. Who is this person standing in front of me?