Five minutes later, we were in Cece's old beater Mazda, doing 80 on the freeway.

"Where are we going?" I shouted over the road noise.

Cece's old Mazda had the peculiar quirk that if you got it going over 60 miles an hour, it would begin to shake. If you got it going over 80 miles an hour, it began to shake violently. It was doing this now, shaking and rattling so hard that I had to yell to be heard.

Cece, meanwhile, was driving as if it were a Sunday stroll. One hand casually draped over the wheel, fingers hanging down, the other hand sitting on the stick shift, leaning back like she didn't have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I was white-knuckled on both the armrest and my seatbelt, praying that if there was anyone out there who was watching, would they please keep this rattletrap from from falling apart.

"Downtown!" Cece shouted back. "Near campus. We'll be in a residential neighborhood. Probably student housing."

I had not really explored downtown before, having only been in town for two weeks. Mom had driven us through part of the downtown district one day while she was driving to work, before she had arranged any sort of school or babysitter situation. But she had had me wait in the car, saying I could be murdered, to lock the doors. I did see a homeless person, but they didn't look particularly dangerous or criminal. I don't know. Maybe I was a bad judge of that sort of thing.

Cece took the exit ramp at speed and braked hard at the light. My stomach did flip-flops as we lurched to a stop. I wondered if a person's driving reflected their personality or if it was just a matter of training. I was eager to get my own driver's license and not be in the control of other people's driving whims. It was often a terrifying experience. People seemed to take physics and momentum for granted, comfortable in their little box, not realizing death was only inches away. Perhaps I was being dramatic. Alas, though death was only inches away, all that happened was my stomach turned over.

I wasn't able to make time slow. The bright side was, if Cece did crash, I could practice escalation theory. But then again, I would probably not live through it. So, best not to find out. Downtown traffic was light, and it only took us moments to navigate to where Cece's GPS was guiding us.

As the car slowed down enough that I was no longer fearful for my life, I began to pay attention to my surroundings. The downtown houses were all old brick, that sort of red or multicolored brick that you saw with older architecture. It seemed to me to convey a sense of age, and it occurred to me to wonder what it was like to be a young person—relatively speaking, college-age people were still old to me—living in such an old building.

And then I thought, what if you're an old person living in a young building?

Something in my mind clicked.

When it happened, I was overcome with a heavy sense of déjà vu, like I had been here before—not this place exactly, more like this moment exactly. It was like I remembering things that were about to happen.

“Stop!” I shouted, pointing out the windshield.

CeCe stepped hard on the brakes, reacting to my shout. A blue Volkswagen van zoomed in front of us, blowing a stop sign. She opened her window and yelled obscenities at the van as it sped down the street.

“Woah,” CeCe said, “Nice job wingman. I didn’t see that jerk.”

How did I know what was going to happen right before it happened?

There was something underneath all of this, something I wasn't remembering, and I couldn't put my finger on what. We drove for another minute while I was lost in thought.

CeCe braked hard again, causing me to look up, fearing another speeding van. There was no van. We had arrived. I shot her a scowl. She grinned back.

The sense of déjà vu remained. It was so strong I was having trouble thinking. CeCe jumped out of the car, danced around to my door, and yanked it open.

"All right, freak," she said, "it's showtime."

I unfolded myself slowly from the car and looked up at the brick structure in front of us, 1342. I looked up at CeCe, trying to get her attention, with barely the ability to speak. She looked down at me.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Don't worry," she said, "everyone gets stage fright their first time. You'll be great.”

I shook my head hard. Swallowing, I managed to find my voice. "No," I said, "that's not it at all. I don't care about your weird extortion ring."

She scoffed. “You’re way off. It’s totally not extortion yet.”

"I’ve got a bad feeling."

She looked at me, quirking an eyebrow. "A bad feeling? Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's hard to describe, like déjà vu, but on a whole other level. It's like I remember being here before, and I don't remember why yet, but I don't want to go into that house."

She looked at me. "That's pretty lame, Freak," she said. "Come on."

She grabbed my arm and began to physically tug me down the sidewalk. I couldn't believe her. When she thought she knew what was best for someone, she could be a beast. Struggling not to fall, I followed along, almost helpless in her wake, trying to figure out what it was the feeling was trying to tell me. Why did I have a bad feeling? What was this sense of déjà vu?

As we stepped up to the door and she rang the bell, the familiar dinging of the chime sparked the memory, and all at once I knew. Inside we would find an average-looking boy about CeCe's age, who desperately wanted me to forge a prescription for some sort of sleep aid I'd never heard of. But that wasn't what I had a bad feeling about. It was his roommate, who would overhear the whole process, and who had a gun. It hit me all at once.

The door opened, and a suddenly very familiar-looking guy in a blue baseball cap opened the door.

Blue cap guy looked Cece up and down appraisingly and then cast a dubious glance in my direction.

"Um," he said, leaning closer. He spoke in almost a whisper, "Are you, Dark Angel?"

Cece began to give an affirmative in what was clearly what she thought was a cool person voice, but I couldn't help it.

I lost it.

I burst out laughing, gasping for breath.

"Dark Angel?" I said, barely containing my laughter. I couldn't believe it. Of all the things, on the ‘dark clipboard’, she had the handle, Dark Angel. Through my gasps and tears and laughter, I looked up to see she had a stormy glower on her face, and the guy at the door looked like he was ready to shut it in our faces.

I didn't really care, but I decided I needed to get myself under control. I realized, with a sobering splash of cold down my spine, that I had lost hold of the sense of déjà vu.

I could no longer remember the future. Why didn’t I want to go in this house? I couldn’t remember anymore.

I stopped laughing as abruptly as I had started. Cece had her hands on her hips, giving me a deadly scowl.

"And what of it, Freak?" she said.

I shook my head. "Nothing. I just remembered something funny," I said, grasping my side, which had begun to stitch. I cast a wary glance into the house, trying to get back the sense of déjà vu. How was I supposed to avoid the danger if I couldn't remember the future?

The feeling was gone, and I was beginning to doubt myself. If it hadn't been for the Volkswagen, I felt sure I would completely dismiss it.

It had evaporated like a dream upon waking. I didn't understand what was happening to me. Cece and Blue Cap guy talked for another minute, and then he decided to let us in, Cece offering assurances that I was, in fact, a necessary part of this whole interaction.

Once we were inside, I became aware of a pungent stink that reminded me of my great uncle Frank, who was sick with some sort of palsy. Parkinson's, I think it was. Why did this place smell like my great uncle Frank's? Cece took in a deep breath and raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm, reefer, huh?" she said. "Vape or old school?"

Blue cap guy grinned at her. "Vape," he said. "Gotta travel out of state to pick it up, but it's easy enough to put in the pack." He patted his backpack, which was sitting on the couch.

Ah, I made the connection in my mind. So this must be what marijuana smelled like. I had heard it had a distinctive odor, but I hadn't been prepared for this. It reminded me of the smell of burning beetles with a magnifying glass.

“Ew, why would anybody want to smoke this?” I muttered under my breath. I shook my head. The sense of urgency and danger were gone. I felt calm and present, the remembered future a distant thought.

What had I been worried about before? A person, or maybe an animal? I couldn’t remember.

I needed to make a note to tell Cece about my premonitions, or whatever they were, so that I didn't lose hold of them. Thinking of telling Cece something caused me to think of her handle once more, Dark Angel, and I began giggling.

Cece shot me a dangerous look. "Yep," she was saying, "kid's the real deal, boy genius," she said, with a little bit of an edge to her voice.

"You're kidding," blue cap guy said. "He's the one going to do it? Whoa,” he held up his hands, “I'm not sure I'm comfortable involving kids."

"Hey," I said. “I’m twelve!”

Both Cece and Blue cap guy gave me a flat look at this outburst.

Growing angry, I said, “I’m not a kid!“

“Yeah, you are,” Cece and the guy both said at the same time. Then they grinned at each other, like this was some sort of accomplishment.

I rolled my eyes at them, but this did the trick somehow. The guy visibly relaxed.

“So the kid can really do it?” Blue cap guy said.

“Not if you keep calling him ‘Kid’ he can’t,” I said, trying out the third person. It felt weird. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘blue cap guy’ in my head.”

“No names!” Said blue cap guy, tension creeping back into his face.

“Blue cap guy?” Said CeCe, “Lame, I was going with discount DiCaprio.”

“Discount?” Said blue cap guy.

“Don’t pout,” said CeCe, “that’s a compliment.”

Blue cap guy didn’t look convinced. “Can we get down to business?”

“Fine,” CeCe said, “let’s see the cash.”

Blue cap guy shook his head, “Payment on delivery.”

Cece laughed in his face. “Seriously? I can have you banned from the board for wasting my time. Show me the cash, or we walk.”

Looking defeated, blue cap guy got a bank envelope out of his back pocket. He opened it, and flipped through four hundred dollar bills.

“Look,” he said, “I just need to sleep without any dreams, and then wake up. You know, really wake up.” He emphasized ‘wake up’. “Please?”

He looked so desperate. I remembered mom looking that way. The day she asked the police to believe her. To look for dad.

“Ok!” Cece said, clapping her hands together. Seeing the cash seemed to give her extra energy. “Let’s get to work!”

She pulled a prescription pad out of her purse and began talking to herself, weighing the pros and cons of different drugs.

“Are you on anything now?” Cece asked Blue cap guy.

“Why?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Drug interactions dummy, I can’t sell to you again if I kill you.”

“Oh,” he dropped his arms and scratched the back of his head. His cap bobbed up and down as he did so. “Just pot, and beers on Fridays. Does a multivitamin count?”

Cece shook her head, “Any allergies?”

“You sound like a doctor. Can you really write a prescription? We thought you’d just show up with the drugs.”

Cece froze, “We?”

I heard the distinctive sound of a slide being wracked on a pistol. It sounded just like in the movies.

“Oh yeah!” I said, remembering. “His roommate has a gun!”

***