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I tear my eyes away from my dad just in time to see Elodie fluffing her hair and running her tongue across her front teeth. “Just think.” She grins brightly. “If I play this right, then maybe I’ll end up being your mommy.”

Then, before I can stop her, she’s headed straight for my dad, leaving me stunned in her wake.

3

Oh, no.

No-no-no-no-no-no-no!

I race to stop her, but Elodie got a head start, so I’m literally three steps away from my dad when she’s already standing before him.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” she says. “But I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

I grind to a stop just beside her, holding my breath as I watch Elodie shoot my dad the sort of smoldering look that could easily set the whole city on fire.

I should’ve known she wasn’t joking about being my mom. If he flirts back, I honestly don’t know how I’ll react.

My dad squints, shifts his weight between his feet. “You sure you’re old enough to be here?” he asks, causing me to exhale with relief as one of his friends barks out a laugh.

“Sure looks that way.” Elodie grins. “I mean, seeing as how I’m standing here with you, holding a drink in my hand.”

At first, I’m confused. Having abandoned her drink back in the bar, both her hands are currently empty. But then I watch in shock as she seizes my dad’s beer from his grasp, tilts it to her lips, and takes a long, thirsty swig, all the while her eyes never once leaving his.

In any other time, on any other Trip, I might admire how brazen she is.

But not this time.

Not this Trip.

And definitely not when she’s targeted my dad as her next conquest.

I have to stop this. I have to intervene in some way. But how? What can I possibly do or say that won’t make things worse than they already are?

“And what about you?” Elodie asks. “Twenty-one for less than a day, and you’re already here.” She lifts the bottle of beer, about to take another sip, when my dad gently takes it from her and sets it on a table that’s noticeably out of her reach.

“How’d you know it’s his birthday?” asks one of his friends, a guy with red hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Elodie turns to him, grinning as though she’s delighted by the question. As for me, my belly is churning with anxiety. There’s no telling what she might say.

“And you are?” she asks, squinting at him.

“I’m Mark,” he says.

Elodie nods. “Well, Mark, my name’s Elodie,” she says, “Elodie Blue, and, as it turns out, I’m psychic.”

Mark laughs, and my dad looks on with a healthy dose of skepticism, as though he’s not quite sure what to make of the Elodie Blue Show.

“Psychic?” Mark repeats, his eyes narrowing with disbelief.

Elodie nods, like it’s no big thing.

“So, psychic,” another friend says, this one with wavy black hair and suntanned skin, “can you tell us what the future holds for the birthday boy, here?”

It’s all the encouragement she needs. But while Elodie is completely lit up, there’s no way I can let her go through with this.

“Elodie—” I start, desperate to stop this before it turns into a full-blown derailment. But Elodie is on a roll, the spotlight is hers, and she will not be deterred.

“May I?” Ignoring me, she gestures toward my dad’s hand, and with notable, if not reassuring reluctance, he agrees to play along. “Now, let’s see…” She traces a light finger over the lines of his palm. “You’re a student at Columbia University, am I right?”