Farsighted (Farsighted Series) (24 page)

“So tell me the deal,” Shapri says once we’re off the school grounds.

“You promised to keep an open mind, right?” I press.

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me already,” Shapri says, looping her hand through the crook of my arm.

“I know you don’t believe in psychic gifts, but I also know my dad’s little mind-reading display freaked you out, which means you kind of almost believe.” I pause to make sure Shapri’s still with me, when she says nothing in argument, I continue. “So, basically, I can see the future—”

“Bu—” She starts. I don’t let her finish.

“But I can’t
see
, yeah, yeah. I see the future the same way I see the world around me, okay? Anyway, I’ve seen Simmi dying a lot of times in a lot of different ways. They’ve all gotta do with this guy named Dax. I’ve got no idea who he is, but somehow he and I are drawn together. And if Simmi hangs with me, she’ll be around when he shows up. She’ll die. I have to distance myself from her in order to protect her. What better way to put off a girl than to declare love for somebody else, am I right?” I take a deep breath and wait for Shapri’s rebuttal.

“I don’t think you
needed
to involve me. You know I don’t like this stuff.” Her voice is deep and serious. I feel like I’m being lectured by Dad on one of his off-days.

“But I did, so you’re stuck.”

“Thanks a lot,” she snips.

“Why do you hate all of this so much? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to believe?”

She sighs. “You don’t understand what it was like growing up as part of a ‘crazy psychic’ family. The kids were really mean to me, calling me a weirdo, pulling at my hair, sticking gum in it. It was horrible. Don’t get me wrong or anything, Grandon sucks, but New Orleans was worse. I didn’t have any friends there.”

It dawns on me how many unspoken things Shapri and I have in common. It’s never easy being different. Or
special
, as they call me. Shapri keeps on talking. I’ve missed some of her monologue by zoning out, so I zone back in and pay close attention to the rest.

“—strength from inside. I knew my mom and grandma were the real deal, that their powers made them better than everybody else, that I had nothing to be ashamed of. Then one day it suddenly clicked, like when a little kid first learns Santa Claus is a fake. I learned my mom wasn’t real. My strength went away, and school got even harder. A couple years later, Mom tells me we’re moving to this small town in the middle of nowhere. Doesn’t think twice about forcing Dad to move away from the job he loves or about leaving Grandma behind. So as much as I hated New Orleans, I just didn’t want to go. I knew things would be much worse for me in Hicksville, U.S.A. I’d be even more different, more ostracized. Then I meet you and Simmi and things weren’t so bad. I actually think I like it here except for all of this psychic stuff. It’s always caused me problems in life, so when the two of you started talking about
gifts
,” she struggles over the last word as if voicing it aloud is blasphemy. “All the horrible memories came back. I got afraid.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I say, encircling her waist with my arm, trying to offer her some measure of comfort, as we continue to walk. My skin tingles, remembering our almost-kiss from weeks back.

“I don’t?” she scoffs. “Didn’t you just tell me Simmi’s going to die?”

“Okay, I get your point, but it’s even more dangerous if we ignore our powers. At least now we stand the chance of stopping everything before it happens.”

“
We
? I don’t think so. I’ll be your friend and put up with this junk as much as I have to, but there’s no
we
in this power equation.”

“Well, thanks for putting up with me then,” I say, not sure whether I’m more annoyed or compassionate at this point. Anyway, we arrive at Mss Teak’s and Shapri freezes.

“What the—?” Shapri says aghast. “Something’s changed.”

“What?” I wish people would just tell me things up-front rather than trying to build suspense.

“The sign. It says ‘The All-Seeing Oracles.’”

Aw, crap. I recognize
oracle
from my “proud Greek heritage.” It also doesn’t escape my notice that the word is plural. We open the door to the shop, which now has a jingle bell, and sure enough we’re greeted by Dad and Miss Teak together.

Chapter 19

The traveler wields a great and dangerous power. It will push him ahead, but if he moves too quickly, he shall fall. A balance of intention and energy must be struck.

Dad’s always finding new ways to ruin my life. First he made me a psychic, and now he’s made me a spectacle. The All-Seeing Oracles’ shop has caught a lot of people’s attention—in a bad way. Nobody messed with Shapri when the place was called Miss Teak’s. Maybe because she’s a girl, or maybe because she’s always demanding respect. Now that Dad’s involved, things are different.

“Ooo, the little psychic couple,” Brady says in a voodoo-creepy voice. “Going to make little freak babies.”

“Be careful, Brady,” his friend Matt warns with a guffaw. “You don’t want them to put a curse on you.”

The cluster of pig-headed jocks erupts into laughter.

“Shut up,” I spit, bumping Brady in the shoulder as I force my way through the barricade of idiocy.

“Is that the best you can do? Aw c’mon now, don’t disappoint me. You’re next in line for the position of town oracle. Show me what you’ve really got.”

“Shuuuut up,” Shapri says with a low rattle. She squeezes my hand tighter. I can almost feel the blood rushing through the veins in her fingers.

“Oh-ho, gonna let your girlfriend fight your battles, Kosmitoras?”

The group laughs again. I tighten my grip on Shapri and continue down the hall toward Dr. Brown’s class.

“Why do you let them do that?” Shapri presses. “Nobody should treat you that way. You need to stand up for yourself sometimes.”

“I’ve already tried, remember? I got suspended from school for a week,” I grumble.

“Oh, yeah, I remember. That was the first time we met. In my mom’s shop. You didn’t know where New Orleans was.” She gives me a playful pinch on the arm. I’ll give it to her; she’s gotten much better at pretending to be my girlfriend since we first started the act a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes I even find myself believing the charade.

“I
know
where New Orleans is. I was just messing with you.” I push her a little bit to the side as part of the teasing.

“Oh, oh, and then you had to pick a Tarot card and my mom came and you were so scared! It was cute, actually.”

“I was not scared,” I protest, but really there’s no point in denying it. “Okay, I
was
scared, but your mom is pretty scary, don’t you think?”

Shapri laughs and puts her arm around my waist as we enter the chem lab. We pass Simmi, who was reassigned to a different group last week after lots of begging on all three of our parts. Her alluring scent draws me in for a moment, but it’s getting easier and easier to ignore. Shapri is a nice distraction.

“—ight. I’m probably more afraid of her than anyone,” Shapri continues. We reach our worktable and begin to unpack our backpacks. “Which card did you get that day? Do you remember?”

“The Chariot,” I answer without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Ah yes, a struggle, a trip, ripped apart by opposing forces. It wasn’t a very good card.”

“No cards are good or bad,” I respond in my best Miss Teak impression. “All tell a story.”

Shapri and I break into a fit of giggles. I’m laughing so hard, I almost can’t breathe.

From across the room, Simmi sighs. I can just barely make it out over Shapri’s blissful oink of a laugh.

Dr. Brown charges into the classroom and demands silence.

Shapri gulps as he comes to stand in front of our desk to ask what’s so funny. Neither of us says anything, and he jumps straight into his lecture, even more uptight than usual. After class Shapri and I speculate as to what’s gotten into Dr. Brown. Our best guess is that he got dumped by his girlfriend or something. As we’re imagining the type of woman who would actually be attracted to our wimpy know-it-all teacher, we run into Brady and his friends again—they move toward us, a giant, smelly cloud of Axe deodorant spray. I stay quiet and hope he won’t notice us, but he does.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our future prom queen and queen. What’s up, ladies?”

“Seriously, Brady, leave us alone,” I growl, raising my cane several inches into my defensive stance.

“Oh, no,” Brady cries in jest. “He’s got that scary stick again. Wonder what he’s going to do with it.”

They laugh. They always laugh.

“He’s not gonna do anything. You set him straight last time he tried,” another crony says. This one’s named Jackson.

“You think bullying a kid with disabilities makes you a stud, Brady? Because I think it makes you a grade-A jackass,” Shapri says rushing to my defense.

“Ooooo,” the gorillas chant collectively.

“Okay, sorry. Maybe I
was
wrong,” Brady says between laughs. “Alex, I gotta give it to you. You the man for bedding such a feisty one.”

I’m this close to knocking Brady upside the head with my cane, when Shapri beats me to the punch. It all happens so fast. She lets go of my hand, winds up, and lands one on him. Brady stumbles backward down the hall, bends forward, and screams so many profanities he’s got almost the entire alphabet covered. His friends laugh, because that’s what they’re programmed to do, but they sound less confident than usual—
is this what we do now, boss?
Mindless idiots.

“That. Was. Awesome!” I cheer, wrapping Shapri in the tightest hug ever. Her standing up for me isn’t emasculating at all; actually, it was pretty hot. Plus, getting beat up by a girl is going to be so embarrassing for Brady. I doubt Grandon High will ever forget it.

On the other side of this historic event, there are some not-so-good consequences. The school has an unfortunate and unbending “zero tolerance policy” toward fighting, and since Shapri was the only one to take a swing, she’s the only one to get suspended.

For the next four days, it’s like old times for me—only worse. I sit by myself at lunch, work by myself in class. Always alone. Even more alone this time around because I know what I’m missing. Simmi’s nutty fragrance is a constant reminder. Brady also makes it his personal mission to punish me for the debacle in the hallway. When is the school going to wake up and realize he’s the cause of all the fighting that goes on around here?

I still see Shapri after school at the Oracles’ shop, but it’s not the same. We can’t talk and joke freely with our parents hovering around. On Thursday, I decide to skip the afterschool hangout and ask Dad to drive me straight home. All of this is really wearing on me. I get that I’m protecting Simmi, but it doesn’t really feel like that anymore. I haven’t made any progress on the Dax situation since I told her to get lost.

I take a warm shower and then grope about under my mattress for the plastic bag that holds the sleeping pills I filched from Dad’s dresser. What I need more than anything is to relax. I knock one back and wait for sleep to come. Instead of peace, another vision confronts me.

“Dax? Is that you? Man, what are you doing here?” A boy says and then races across an empty room. His footsteps echo.

“Listen, I need your help,” Dax hisses.

“Whoa, wait a sec. Where have you been all this time? Do you know…your parents…your sister…?” The boy loses his cheerful tone. He takes a step back.

“Yeah, I know everything.”

“You?” his voice trembles. “No.” He shakes his head, dispelling the smell of his fruity shampoo.

“They’re wrong. They don’t understand,” Dax protests and closes the gap between them in two short steps.

“How did you…? Where did you…?”

“Enough. Stop asking questions.”

Silence.

“I’m counting on you. You’re the only one who knows, and I really need your help right now,” Dax pleads, his confidence noticeably diminished.

The boy gulps and then whispers, “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

The vision cuts before Dax can answer the question. This episode was a waste. I’ve learned nothing useful, not how I can find Dax or save Simmi—not even who the other boy is. I pull my covers up higher and drift to sleep.

***

I don’t dream of anything. It’s so peaceful. Almost as if Simmi is beside me, sending her calming tingles throughout my brain. The fuzzy sensation grows stronger, easing me out of sleep. My body remains in a near-comatose state. My brain befuddled.

“Hi,” someone’s soft voice whispers as its owner strokes my arm.

“Hi,” I answer. Is this Mom? What is she doing here? Has she figured out I’m taking the pills? Am I in trouble?

“Tell me why we can’t be friends anymore. I’ve really missed you.” An Almond Joy bar addresses me. Simmi. Darn it, I must’ve left the door unlocked even though Dad always yells at me for not following the “appropriate safety measures.” Simmi’s cornered me in my slaphappy, half-conscious state. I haven’t got the strength I need to push her away.