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who are you and what have you done with my Berman?
you're Berman?
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RAMONA LEANED OVER HER sketchbook in the art cabin.
She ran to her cabin and gathered her sketchbook before jogging to the art cabin where she could use any charcoal or pencils she wanted.
So she spilled the image out on the paper, the tiny boy that had been sitting in the grass that Nick hadn't seen, because he couldn't've.
Ramona stared at the boy, remembering his dark skin and curly hair as she colored him in. He had been holding a white flower to his nose, which led Ramona to assume the boy loved the plants.
She tilted her head as she looked at the drawing, adding some small eye bags as well as scratches that had been on his arm due to exploring in the woods with his friends. It's like she had gotten the boy's whole backstory, just from glancing at him once.
Except, she didn't care how he had died. That's the thing she didn't focus on. She discovered, later than sooner, that when she sees these... spirits? Maybe? She didn't exactly know what to call them because there were so many different names.
But that's beside the point, she figured out that with an intent, or whatever it had been called, you could see a good or a bad thing about the person you were focusing on. She never had the intention of seeing someone's death, and she never would.
The only deaths she's seen were involuntarily. She was never meant to see them, but they showed her.
Ramona sighed, slouching as she let the pencil roll from her cramping hand. The drawing was complete and she had been happy about it. She scrolled through the sketches, looking at all the other things she's seen.
A mother and daughter walking together across the bridge. She had seen them when she was taking her stroll across Sunnyvale. Made her smile because she knew the incident from the news, the crash on that bridge.
