Confessions of a Teenage Psychic (20 page)

Okay, only one person I “know” would use such dated slang. “Uncle Omar, I’m not talking to you if I can’t see you.” I keep walking.

“Okay, have it your way.”

And there he is, standing in front of me on the sidewalk, hands on his hips, a big smile on his face.

Maybe I should’ve thought that through, because now I’m talking to a man no one else can see, and there are plenty of people out tonight in Rosslyn Village, walking on this very sidewalk. There’s a mom pushing a baby in a stroller right behind me, two joggers who each go around me like I’m a light pole, a group of guys in their twenties dressed for a night on the town, an elderly Asian couple strolling arm-in-arm. You know, just a regular Friday evening with lots of people out-and-about enjoying the spring weather. They must think I’m a freak— or worse, insane— since it looks like I’m talking to myself.

“Say what you have to say and go, because people are staring,” I say, trying to move my lips as little as possible as I talk.

“Just doing what you told me— in your face,” he teases, waving his hand in front of my eyes.

“What do you want?” I repeat a little too loudly. The Asian couple is staring at me, shaking their heads with pity as if I’m some kind of mental case.

“I just came to give you a heads-up,” Omar says, nodding to the elderly couple as if they can see him.

“About what?” I smile at them, almost like I expect them to acknowledge Uncle Omar’s greeting. They shake their heads and keep walking.

“About some really groovy, far-out stuff that’s gonna go down!” Uncle Omar’s still grinning at me and it’s annoying. So is that outdated vocabulary.

“The 70s are over, Uncle Omar! And anyway, what are you talking about?” I look around the street as I talk, as if I’ve just stopped to figure out which direction I should take. If only Mom would let me have a cell phone, these public conversations with Uncle Omar would be a lot less embarrassing.

“You’ll figure it out. Just roll with it, and never doubt yourself,” Uncle Omar says, pointing both index fingers at me.

I roll my eyes. “Uncle Omar, if you can’t say something straight out then leave me alone.”

But he’s gone. I look all around to see if he’s standing somewhere else, but he isn’t. I roll my eyes again and hurry on to Megan’s house.

“I’ll walk you to your friend’s house,” his disembodied voice says.

“Gee, thanks.” I walk on toward Megan’s, feeling Uncle Omar’s presence at my side the whole way. It’s kind of comforting, really, knowing that I’m not totally alone out here, but a little creepy too.

When I arrive at Megan’s I can see that there are quite a few cars parked nearby, and if there are that many cars then there must be lots of kids in her backyard. I can’t see anyone from the front of her house, but their voices carry and they’re laughing and talking loudly, so I know something is going on back there. She had to do lots of planning to pull this off with both her mother and sister out of the house, and it’s pretty amazing, but still— an unsupervised party? My mom would kill me if she knew. I almost turn around and leave, but my curiosity gets the better of me. I walk up to the front porch and let myself in through the unlocked door.

When I get to the backyard I stare speechless at the commotion. There’s Megan surrounded by dozens of Rosslyn High students, all working diligently on posters, banners, and what look like signs for picketing. She looks up and sees me gawking at all the activity and waves me over.

“Hey, Caryn! It’s about time! Grab a marker and get busy. We need all the help we can get!”

I walk over to where Megan is creating a rather colorful— and artistic, if I’m honest— banner which is stretched out on a picnic table under a large tree. She’s lettered “No Uniforms At Rosslyn High!!!” next to an image of a student dressed in a parochial school uniform inside a circle with a slash across it.

Megan tosses a marker to me. “What we’re trying to do here— ”

“It’s pretty clear,” I say, letting the marker fall on the table. “How did all these kids know to come here anyway? I didn’t hear a word at school.”

“E-mail,” Megan replies, with a lifted eyebrow. “You should try it.”

Ouch. Yeah, I’m definitely out of the cyber-loop. But I’m sort of surprised that she asked me at all— in person, no less— knowing how I feel about all this underground stuff.

I look around her backyard and see Emma and Kevin with their heads together, looking rather cozy as they color a poster, giggling all the while. Ashleigh claims she’s not very artistic, but she’s adorning the picket signs with crepe paper, all the while listening to her iPod and occasionally playing air violin. Over by the flowerbed I see Janae working side-by-side with Deana Pruitt of all people. Deana must be here on the sly, because if her father knew she was working in the enemy camp, he’d probably ship her off to some rehab for people with eating disorders. Janae and Deana are decorating a second banner that reads “One Two Three Four, We Won’t Wear A Uniform!!” which I guess they consider poetry. Next to them are several members of Coach Edgemont’s baseball team decorating posters that read “We Only Wear
Baseball
Uniforms!!!”

And then I catch sight of Quince and Kensi in the far corner of the yard by a huge oak tree, definitely
not
working on posters. I blink twice, hoping I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.

Can it be? Can they really be making up and getting back together? There she is, wearing skintight jeans and a sweater cut so low you can see… I look away in anger. And just when I thought I had a real chance with Quince.

I want to run over there, grab him by the arms and make him he see reason. What if…

Caryn: Quince, you
know
Kensi’s only going to break your heart again.

Quince: Hi, Caryn! Don’t worry ‘cause Kensi’s just leaving anyway. Besides, it’s YOU I want to talk to!

I shake off the fantasy, gather up my courage and walk over.

“Hi Quince! And Kensi,” I say, trying to smile, be cool, and hide my Kensi-hatred, all at the same time.

“Look, Quince, it’s that new girl in Mrs. York’s class.” Kensi flashes an insincere and very smug smile at me.

Okay, maybe I won’t worry so much about hiding my reaction to Kensi. “I’m not NEW! I’ve been here since way last fall.”

“Sure she has, Kensi. Remember?” Quince gives me a wink, but he only glances at me a moment before focusing on Kensi again.

“Um, Quince, could I talk to you a minute?” I ask.

“Well, I… ” He frowns at me a moment before smiling at Kensi again. “Kensi, do you mind?”

Kensi heaves a big sigh, rolls her eyes at me and purrs to Quince, “Don’t be too long, babe.” She walks off toward Ashleigh and Deana.

“What did you want?” Quince’s eyes follow Kensi all the way across the yard.

Hello? I’m right in front of you!
I’m the girl you’ve been talking to in class and discussing baseball stats with for the last couple of weeks! Remember me?

I widen my eyes at him, hoping to get his attention. Not happening. Clearly I’m not the girl he wants to be talking to at the moment. “Quince, I thought you and Kensi broke up. You told me— ”

“Well, we did,” he says, a slight flush on his cheekbones. “But she told me how sorry she was about that college guy.”

“And you believed her? She’s still a… ” I start to say “liar and cheat” but think better of it. “She’s playing you.”

His cheeks get a little redder and now he’s frowning at me. “We’re cool now. I’m over what happened before spring break, so you can quit worrying.”

Is he kidding? A fake apology and a few winks and he forgets all she did to him? Why are guys so gullible about girls like Kensi?

“Quince, please don’t let her suck you back in,” I say, trying not to sound like a jealous girl who’s crushing on him, which unfortunately is what I am.

He steps away from me. “Caryn, you’re a good friend, but you need to stay out of it.”

There’s no mistaking the warning note in his voice. UGH! Can’t he see I want desperately to be more than just friends?

A thought flashes into my head and before I can stop myself I blurt out, “You’d better watch out, Quince, because Kensi’s going to embarrass you big time, and then she’ll break your heart. Again!”

He doesn’t even spare me another glance. “Thanks for the warning, Caryn, but I trust her.”

Tears of frustration well up in my eyes as he walks away. Although I don’t know exactly when or how, I’m positive what I said about Kensi is true. I should feel sorry for Quince getting hurt by her again, but right now I’m just really mad at him.

I walk back over to Megan and whisper, “Are Quince and Kensi really back together?”

Megan shrugs. “Who knows with those two? But this is a work party, so get busy and start making a poster or something.”

I look around at the signs and all my laughing, happy classmates. “I don’t know, Megan.”

Megan slaps a hand to her hip. “Then why did you even come?”

“You told me it was a friendly get-together!”

Megan nonchalantly goes back to work on her drawing. “It is, with a purpose. Do you want to help or not?”

I don’t have an answer for that one. Should I stay and get involved when my instincts tell me not to? Can I even stand being around Quince and his renewed relationship with Kensington Marlow for one more minute? I look over at them again, all cozy under the large shade tree, and I fight back the tears.

“And what do you plan to do with all this stuff?” My anger vibrates in my voice, even though Megan has nothing to do with what’s really bothering me.

“Be prepared,” is all Megan says.

Prepared for what?
Maybe I’d rather not know. “Your sister’s gonna be home in a couple of hours, right?”

Megan doesn’t even look surprised. “Like I said, tick, tick, tick… ”

I groan and walk over to Ashleigh, deciding I’ll pretend to look busy when I know in my heart I can’t really bring myself to help out. But from where Ashleigh’s working, I’ve got an excellent view of Quince and Kensi. She has her arms wrapped around his neck and he’s hugging her around the waist as they lean against the tree trunk. I never noticed before, but when she wears those three-inch boots, she’s taller than he is, so she’s scrunched down slightly in an attempt to make him feel like the big man. I can hear her cooing in his ear, and the stupid grin on his face is enough to make me barf.

“I’ve gotta go.” I wave goodbye to Ashleigh as I walk away.

“But you didn’t even… ” I hear Ashleigh call out to me.

As I rush into Megan’s kitchen and out through the front door trying to catch my breath, I wonder if this is what Uncle Omar was trying to tell me, about all my hopes for a relationship with Quince.

“Is that it, Uncle Omar?” I ask, addressing the sky, like I’d expect to see him floating up there or something. “Were you trying to tell me to quit fighting Quince’s attraction to Kensington?”

“Big picture, Caryn,” I hear him say. “Don’t worry, things will work out the way they’re supposed to.”

“NOT helping!” I shout.

Zipping up my jacket as I notice a sudden chill, I head home.

“Hi, hon, you’re home early,” Mom says as I slam the front door. “And clearly, you’re not in a good mood. I thought you were going to a party.”

“Some party,” I say, not even glancing her way.

I go straight to my bedroom for some serious sulking. I throw myself onto my bed while trying to make sense of all the chaotic thoughts going through my head. Quince is back with Kensi when I hoped he and I were getting closer, and then there’s Megan. When I close my eyes I still see that image of her chanting and carrying a picket sign somewhere, sometime in the future, surrounded by lots of people. I feel uneasy as I replay that vision in my head. I decide to call Annabeth and get her take on all this.

I grab the phone but after several rings I get the inevitable, “Hi, this is Annabeth. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

AARRGGHH!!

“Hey, Annabeth, it’s Caryn. I just wanted to talk to you about what’s happening at Megan’s. Give me a call when you get this.”

I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I try to focus on what I should tell Megan but all I can see are Quince and Kensi snuggling together under the tree. I’m trying not to scream in frustration when Mom knocks on my door and peeks in.

“What’s up?” she asks, peering around my room as if she thinks there’s some clue hidden here.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t try to fool me, Caryn Alderson,” she says, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I know you too well. What happened at that party tonight?”

I flop an arm over my eyes. “Megan— she’s up to no good.”

Under my arm, I see Mom’s eyes suddenly get very wide and I know she’s imagining all kinds of
no good
a teenage girl could get into, so I set her straight.

“No, it’s just that she’s got kids at her house making signs and planning a protest in case Principal MacGregor decides on a uniform policy.”

I see Mom exhale in relief. “Oh. Actually, I don’t know that parents have been informed of a new dress code. I do read the PTA newsletter, you know.”

I sigh. “I didn’t say dress code, Mom, I said
uniforms
.”

“Caryn, nothing’s been said about uniforms at all.” Mom is using her soothing voice which somehow makes me want to scream more. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Well, Megan’s going ahead like it’s all settled.” I drop my arm and stare out the window.

“So what exactly is Megan doing?”

“She’s got kids making all kinds of banners and posters. I left before she could tell me what her real plan is. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Caryn, I think you’re taking way too much on yourself,” she says, patting my leg. “I know she was your first friend here, but if Megan Benedict is determined to get herself into trouble, all you can do is stay out of it.”

She tugs at my chin until I’m facing her, then searches my eyes. “What else?” Mom knows me too well.

I roll over on my side and face the wall, fighting back the tears. “I thought I had a chance with Quince Adams, but tonight I saw him with that cheating Kensington Marlow.”