Wanted by Kym Brunner Page A

closer to his face so he can read the headlines.
    He takes a huge bite of his burger, filling his cheeks. “What is it?”
    â€œIt’s about your dream. Clyde Barrow actually had a fellow gang member named Ralph.”
    â€œOh yeah?” He dabs a stack of fries into his ketchup and bites the ends off. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
    â€œIn a sec. This is important.” I glance over at the skateboarder to make sure he’s not listening. He’s holding a paperback, his eyes focused on his novel. I lean forward, pushing my tray to the side. “What I’m trying to say is that I think your dream wasn’t a dream at all, but an actual replay of a robbery that Clyde Barrow and Ralph Fults pulled off back in the 1930s.”
    Two guys walk past us laughing loudly, temporarily sidetracking Jack’s attention. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Cool. What are the chances of that?”
    I resist the urge to reach over and shake him. “Don’t you get it?” I snap, impatient for him to comprehend the magnitude of my revelation. “Your dream wasn’t a coincidence. I think that when we touched the slugs, we”—I lean forward so only he can hear me —“unleashed the spirits of Bonnie and Clyde into our bodies. Your dream proves it.” I watch, waiting for the light to go on.
    Jack has his burger halfway to his mouth, when he stops and looks at me. My irritation must show on my face because he says, “Wait. You’re serious?”
    â€œYes, I’m serious.” I take a deep breath. Jack is obviously not the perceptive sort. “And I’m freaking out because other weird stuff has happened ever since I took those slugs from my dad’s collection and it has me worried. Really worried.”
    â€œLike what?” He pulls a pickle off his burger and drops it to the side.
    â€œLike lots of things.” I recount the mind movies in which I play the starring role of Bonnie Parker, the southern voice of a woman in my head taunting me, and finally, how an icy pain ran up my arm and settled in my throat when I touched the slugs at the party.
    He sips his Coke. “That was the same time I had my asthma attack, right?”
    â€œRight. Except that maybe it wasn’t an asthma attack. Maybe…” I glance at Skater, who’s still engrossed his book. “Maybe Clyde Barrow inhabited your body right then and was trying to choke you from the inside.”
    Jack stares at me, his eyebrows raised high, but I can’t tell if his expression is shock, suspicion, or worse, mockery.
    â€œSo… what do you think?” I start tugging at my bottom lip again.
    He smiles, looking amused. “Exactly how much did you have to drink tonight?”
    Frustrated by his refusal to take me seriously, my face heats up. “Just that one beer. Come on, Jack. I’m not joking around!”
    He takes a sip of his drink. “Okay, okay. Chill out, will you? First of all, I really did have an asthma attack. I couldn’t fake that. But the other stuff you mentioned could be coincidental. I’ll admit my bank-robbing dream seemed authentic, but maybe I saw it on TV or something. Same with you and your Bonnie Parker mind movies.”
    I pick up a fry and dip it in the ketchup repeatedly, thinking about his conclusion. I want him to be right more than anything, but the queasiness in my stomach tells me otherwise. “I do watch History Channel a lot.”
    â€œYou see? So stop looking so sad. Unless you wanted us to be possessed by Bonnie and Clyde?” He grabs a handful of fries.
    â€œNo! God, no. You’re right. I’ve seen the Bonnie and Clyde movie a ton of times. I’m sure I’m just imagining things.” I smile. “It’s probably all the pressure I’m under lately, that’s all.”
    â€œMe too—studying for finals, the golf tournament, work, my parents, you