“I just don’t get it!” Quill said loudly, as he eyed the book that he held out. A groggy Emery shifted in the chair next to him, trying fall back asleep.

“Don’t get what?” Nevaeh asked, resting her chin on the back of his chair.

“This book! It’s supposed to tell me my future but it doesn’t make any sense.” He squinted at the jumbled words once more.

“Well, I think it says you’ll be hit by a flying pillow.”

He had no time to respond before Emery raised her arm, throwing the pillow directly at his head.

“Nice prediction.”