I glanced down into the blue light. I could make out an image, maybe a person, but I was too scared to really focus. I looked back at Tommy.
“Are you sure it’s real?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said, grabbing the rock from my hands. “If you’re too chicken shit to look in it, I’ll give someone else a turn. You can have your five bucks back.”
“But where did you get it?”
“I told you, I found it, that’s all you need to know.” He hopped back onto his bike, the rock under his arm. “You want to find out or not?”
“Okay,” I said.
Tommy smiled that devilish little grin of his and hopped back onto the grass.
“All right. Now just look in it until you see the picture. It will be there and it will tell you your destiny. Your best moment. The highlight of your life.”
“How do I know it’ll come true?”
“You’re such a chicken shit. Walt Greaney saw a bank vault and you know he’s a genius with money. And Sara Tomlinson saw herself at a beauty pageant – Miss damned America! It’s totally psychic, man. Just look!”
He stuck the rock out at me. I took it, sat down, cross-legged, and looked at the surface.
The blue light slowly grew and I could see an image. It was a person, definitely a person. It was me. I could tell it was me, but I looked so old, so bald and pudgy. I was holding a bowling trophy.