Gifted Touch (20 page)

She shoved the chair away from her—

/
I’m watching you, Rae
/
I’m watching you, Rae
/

—and bolted to the door, then wrenched it open.

/I’m watching you, Rae/
I’m watching you, Rae
/

The hallway was quiet except for the faint sound of Rae’s father snoring. She stood perfectly still, trying not to even hear her own breathing. The intruder—no, the intruders were gone.

Shower, Rae thought, letting out her breath. Then she could think—really think—about what she should do.

Rae hurried to the bathroom and shoved open the door with her shoulder. She pulled the door closed with two fingers and locked it.

/
I’m watching you, Rae
/Watching you/

Shaking, she switched on the water. These people . . .

they had been here, too. Everywhere. What hadn’t they touched in her home? She stood under the warm spray, the scent of her citrus shower gel filling her nose. She turned away from the nozzle, then leaned back her head and let the water soak her long, curly hair. She’d wash it.

Then she’d come up with some kind of—

Rae’s eyes locked on the showerhead. There was something glittering behind the dozens of little holes.

Every nerve in her body went on red alert. Had they done something to the shower? Was this the second attempt to kill her?

Rae jerked off the water, then pried at the showerhead with her fingernails. She had to get it off, had to see what was under there. One of her nails pulled away from the skin. The pain brought tears to Rae’s eyes, but she kept jerking at the showerhead. Finally the part with the little holes came free from the base, and underneath—

“A camera,” Rae whispered. She leaned out of the shower and grabbed her toothbrush from the sink.

/
Watching you
/

Ignoring the thoughts from the brush, Rae used it to stab at the tiny camera lense until it cracked, then she scrambled out of the tub, banging her anklebone on the side and managing to step on one of the pieces of glass.

Damn. Rae grabbed one of the big bath sheets off the towel rack and wrapped it around herself. She needed to do a full-house search for more cameras.

But she couldn’t walk around leaving a blood trail.

She balanced on one foot and pulled the piece of glass free, then opened the medicine cabinet—

/
I’m watching you, Rae
/

—and screamed. A man was peering at her between the little shelves. He reached through and grabbed her by the shoulders. Shook her.

“Rae,” the man exclaimed. He sounded like her father.

Rae’s eyes flew open, and she saw her father standing over her, his blue eyes locked on her face.

She sat up, pulling free of his grasp.

Oh God, it was a dream, she realized, glancing down at the blanket clutched in her hand.

“Sorry. I guess that dream scream came out real, huh?” she asked, trying to sound normal.

“I’ll say,” her father answered. “It must have been quite a nightmare.” He waited, and Rae knew he was expecting her to tell him what it was about. But she didn’t want to think about it for even a few seconds more.

“Yeah,” she answered. She glanced at her clock radio. 4:01. “But I have time to get in a good dream before I have to get up.” She hoped she didn’t sound as freaked as she felt. She didn’t want her dad to start worrying. For months that’s all he’d done—worry about her.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” he said.

“That’s okay,” Rae answered, but he was already out the door. Rae used both hands to shove her hair away from her face. The roots were damp with sweat.

It was just a dream, she told herself. But that didn’t make her feel any better. Yeah, it was just a dream. But it was a dream that was all about what she was afraid of in real life. Someone out there wanted her dead. And she had no idea who. Or when they might try again.

Rae’s dad hurried back in with the water and pressed the glass into her hand.

/ thought she was getting better/

“It was just a dream, Dad,” she said, wanting him to believe it, even though it wasn’t really true. Wanting him to believe that their lives were back to normal, that even though she’d spent the summer in a mental hospital, she was fine, fine, fine. “Just a dream,” she repeated, then pulled the covers up as high as she could. But she still felt chilled, as if her spine had turned to ice.

Rae headed toward the cafeteria, trying to exude . . .

just your basic normalcy. For years there’d been nothing she wanted more than getting noticed. And she’d done it. She’d been right there in the center, girlfriend of Marcus Salkow, Sanderson’s It boy. Then she’d had her little freak-out—make that humongous freak-out—in the caf the day she first started getting the not-her thoughts and been sent off to the walnut farm, and now her biggest ambition was to blend.

Which wasn’t all that easy. People were still way too interested in whether or not she was going to have another meltdown to take their eyes off her for long. Rae’s steps slowed down. Or did one of them have a different reason for staring? Could one of the people checking her out be the person who wanted her dead? Her eyes jumped from face to face. It seemed ridiculous to think that anyone who went to her school had tried to kill her. They spent all their time planning what to wear and how to get invited to the best parties, and, if they were ambitious, how to get the SAT scores to make it into the college Mom and Dad had their hearts set on. But that was it.

Right?

Rae did another quick face scan. When her eyes fell on Jeff Brunner, he blushed the color of an over-ripe tomato, then lowered his head so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

All he needs is a sign that says Kick Me, I’m Scum, Rae thought.

But Jeff wasn’t acting all guilty because he’d tried to off her. No, all scum boy had done was decide Rae was such a loser that she’d be grateful to let him into her pants. Fortunately Rae’d gotten that piece of info from his fingerprints before Jeff had even gotten close to scoring, and she’d put the little weasel in his place. She watched him scurry into the guys’ bathroom like the rodent he was.

It’s gonna be a while before he decides to try his luck with another “loser” girl, Rae thought with satisfaction.

She continued down the hallway, almost bumping into a guy who stepped away from the drinking fountain without bothering to look where he was going.

“Sorry,” he said, turning to face her.

Marcus Salkow. Rae’s heart gave a jerk and ended up somewhere in her throat. The parade of the scum boys continues, she thought, trying to get a grip.

“Um, how’s it going, Rae?” he asked, looking somewhere near her face but not directly at it.

“Fine,” she mumbled, heart still slamming around in her throat like a bird that wanted to get out. God, while Marcus couldn’t look at her, she couldn’t stop staring at him. Did he have to be so gorgeous? He was like a poster boy for prep school. A clean-cut, football-player-muscled, blond, green-eyed example of a young southern gentleman. “Fine,” Rae muttered again. She continued down the hall, not wanting to drag out the encounter, afraid if she looked at him another second, she’d start drooling or something equally humiliating.

You let him off so easy, she thought. Rae hadn’t allowed Jeff to treat her like dirt. Why should Marcus be any different?

Because I loved him, Rae answered herself.

Because I thought he loved me. Which actually made what Marcus did to her a million times worse.

Without giving herself time to reconsider, Rae spun around and hurried back up to him, ignoring the way her heart now seemed to fill every inch of her body. Pounding, pounding, pounding. “When I said I’m fine, it was true,” Rae told him, her words coming out clipped and hard. “Except for the fact that I came back to school and found out that you’re with Dori Hernandez, which no one bothered to tell me.” She hauled in a deep, shuddering breath. “Including you.” Marcus didn’t answer. He just continued to do that not-quite-looking-at-her thing. Rae took a quarter step to the side, putting herself directly into his line of vision. Her heart-body pounded harder.

“Look. I’m sorry,” Marcus finally said. “You were in the hospital, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to upset you by telling you . . . you know. I was worried about you.” Marcus gave a helpless shrug, then reached out and pushed a lock of her curly hair away from her face. “Really worried,” he added softly.

Rae shrank back from his hand. She didn’t want him touching her, especially because it still did something to her, started turning her all soft inside.

“You were so worried, you never came to visit.”

“I came—” he began to protest.

“Once,” she interrupted. “People I’ve barely said hi to came once.”

He clicked his teeth together nervously. She’d seen him do the same thing in class when he got called on and didn’t know the answer. Rae’s heart returned to its usual place in her chest, and the pounding eased up, leaving her feeling numb and hollowed out.

“Rae, it’s just that . . .” Marcus’s words trailed off.

Before he could start clicking again, Rae jumped in.

“Whatever, Marcus. Go find Dori.” She turned and walked away. When she reached the cafeteria’s double doors, she used her shoulder to open the closest one and slipped inside. She didn’t want to hear anyone else’s thoughts right now. Her own were more than enough.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and nearly jumped, then spun around.

“Yogurt?” Lea Dessin asked.

Rae’s shoulders relaxed. It wasn’t her would-be killer—just the best friend who’d totally abandoned her.

“Yogurt,” Rae agreed. She didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

Lea led the way over to the fro-yo machines, her sleek black hair shining under the fluorescent lights.

This felt so normal. But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Because now Lea was afraid of Rae. She never said it, of course. And she didn’t even really act like it.

But Rae knew it was true. Fingerprints didn’t lie.

“Do you want to sit?” Lea jerked her chin toward the usual table—correction, what used to be the usual table—as she made her fro-yo sculpture.

She’s trying, Rae thought. Even though she’s scared of me, she’s trying.

“Could we maybe be adventurous and—”

“Sit someplace else?” Lea finished for her, still sounding just a little too peppy. Clearly overcompen-sating, Rae decided as Lea moved out of the way so Rae could get to the frozen yogurt machine.

“Just for today,” Rae answered, grabbing a cup and a spoon—new, no prints. She didn’t want Lea to think she was going to have to spend all year baby-sitting her freaky used-to-be best friend. But for this one day it would be so nice just to sit with someone and look normal, a normal girl with a normal friend. No psi power. No streak of insanity. No one out to kill her.

Rae took a napkin out of the metal holder and used it to pull down the handle. “It’s always sticky,” she explained to Lea as the yogurt spiraled into the cup. God, she wouldn’t want to see Lea’s expression if she heard the truth.

See, if I touch the handle after you touched it, I’ll know your thoughts. And really, I’d rather not.

Because you deserve some privacy. And I deserve not to hear how creepy you think I am.

Lea was scared enough already. Hearing the truth would probably send her to the funny farm. Ha ha. Hee hee.

“There’s a place over there.” Lea nodded at a couple of empty seats that were about halfway across the room from the usual table.

“Looks good,” Rae answered, leading the way. She took a seat, and Lea sat down across from her. Now what?

Rae thought. What am I supposed to say? Something nonfrightening. Something normal. But what?

“So, do you already have a ton of homework? I’m buried,” Rae said. Pathetic. But at least it was words.

“Yeah, me too.” Lea shot a glance over Rae’s shoulder.

What is she looking at? Rae wondered. Then she got it. Lea was looking at the table, watching Jackie and Vince and Marcus and Dori.

Rae got an image in her head of a massive steel door swinging shut, separating her old life—her prehospital, prefingerprint power life—from her new life. Lea was on one side. Lea and Marcus and Vince and Jackie and all Rae’s old friends. And Rae was on the other. All alone.

Don’t get all soap opera, she told herself. You’re not alone. Dad’s on your side of the door. And . . . and Anthony Fascinelli and Jesse Beven. Both the guys from group therapy knew the truth about her psychic ability. Anthony was the one who’d helped her figure out where all the strange thoughts were coming from.

And he and Jesse were both okay with it.

And don’t forget Yana, Rae reminded herself.

Yana Savari had been a volunteer at the hospital.

When she’d asked Rae to exchange numbers, Rae’d thought Yana was just taking her on as a charity case.