Farsighted (Farsighted Series) (21 page)

She smoothes her hands back and forth on the rumpled comforter and clears her throat. “Well. Well, that’s good to hear.” She clears her throat a second time. “I guess I’ll go get breakfast ready. Thank you, Alex,” she finishes, kissing my shoulder before heading to the kitchen.

She seems unnerved by the exchange, like she doesn’t really believe I’m fine. This kind of irks me since she believes every little thing Dad tells her, no matter how ridiculous. I push these feelings back before they can take form. Just because I’m not angry at Dad anymore doesn’t mean I should transfer that hostility to Mom. What’s wrong with me? Why do I have to be mad all the time?

The hot shower cools me off, and I march into school with a mixture of pride and dread—the Spider-Man conundrum again. School brings me back to reality. It’s exactly the same, even though everything else in the world has changed around me.

Lunch is weird—that’s the easiest way to put it. Shapri’s usual energy has been sucked away. She’s not going on about reality TV or chemistry or her father, or anything for that matter. She just sits at the table, mindlessly stirring her smelly goop of a lunch and saying nothing.

Brady announces himself by coming up behind me and tousling my hair violently. He pushes my head down toward the table. “Hey, Freaks,” he whines.

Rage builds inside me. Now I’m the Hulk. My grip cements on my cane. I’m about to strike when Simmi places her hand on my shoulder and sends her calming energy into me.

Shapri stops eating but doesn’t react to Brady. Normally, she’d never let anyone get away with giving her a hard time, least of all Brady.

“Not today, Brady,” Simmi commands.

Brady laughs as he walks away. The calming ebb halts, and Simmi rises to sit with Shapri on the other side of the table. “What’s wrong?” A gentle scratching sound comes from their direction as Simmi rubs Shapri’s back in support.

“Nothing,” Shapri answers in a hoarse monotone. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Shapri, please. Something is obviously wrong. We’re your friends. We want to help you feel better. Right, Alex?”

“Uh-huh,” I say with my mouth full. I don’t want Shapri to be upset, but I also don’t want her to say anything about yesterday. She still probably doesn’t believe what she heard, but what if she tells Simmi about the danger? Even as a joke?

“Well,” Shapri starts, stretching the syllable out.

I swallow my food before it’s been fully chewed and break into a spurt of coughs.

When I stop, Shapri continues. “It’s just…” She takes some time to search for the right words. “My mom. We had a big fight last night, and I can’t get over it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Simmi answers.

“Yeah, it’s just really hard, you know. I can’t shake the feeling she’s lying to me. Constantly. And no matter how many times she explains this psychic stuff, I can’t believe her.”

“What was she saying?”

I gulp and brace myself for what’s ahead. Shapri could reveal everything to Simmi with one misstep.

“She said psychic gifts are real. And that you and Alex have them.”

Simmi nudges my foot under the table.

“She did. She did say that,” I agree with perhaps a tad too much enthusiasm.

“And you don’t believe her?” Simmi asks.

“I can’t believe her. It’s just too weird,” Shapri says, going back into herself. The monotone resurfacing.

The bench seat rises slightly as Simmi leans forward, taking the added weight off the seat. Her heat and scent press forward across the table.

“How about now?” She asks, like a doctor asking you to take deep breaths while he presses a cold stethoscope into your skin.

Everything is quiet. I can’t tell what’s happening. A few moments later, Shapri talks again, her voice noticeably shaken, “N-n-no. Still no.”

“Well, nobody can force you to believe what you don’t want to believe,” Simmi says, returning to sit at my side of the table. “But if you want to talk, I’m here. Alex, too.”

The three of us finish our lunches in silence.

After history class, Simmi and I walk over to Miss Teak’s. I need to keep up the appearance of a normal routine for her sake. Now that I know Miss Teak’s secret, however, training with her seems like a colossal waste of time. Wouldn’t it be easier to cut out the middleman and just go straight to Dad?

Simmi wants to talk about lunch, and after several attempts to steer the conversation away from this topic, I give in. I care about her too much to disappoint her.

“What do you think happened last night? I’ve never seen Shapri act like that,” Simmi says.

“I don’t know. I guess her mom tried to convince her of her gifts, and whatever she did was different from other times. Shapri was really shaken up.” I think back to Dad’s display of powers and how they sent Shapri wheeling out of the shop.

“I wonder what Miss Teak could’ve done to get this kind of reaction out of her. I’ve never seen Shapri like this. Ever.”

“Yeah,” I say, kicking a pebble in my path, hoping my disinterest can lead us to a change of discussion. We’re almost to Miss Teak’s anyway.

Simmi stops walking. “What convinced you?”

“What?” I say, stopping and tracing a few steps back to stand with her. My cane knocks against a fire hydrant.

“You had a hard time accepting everything, too. What was the turning point? What made you believe?”

What can I tell her that will sound true without giving away the real answer? My head reels. A million explanations zoom through my mind, but they all hint to Dax and the secret danger Simmi faces.

“Stop, I’m sorry,” Simmi says, bringing me into a hug and forcing calmness into my veins. I rest my head on hers and breathe in her scent.

I was so busy searching for an answer I forgot to control my facial expressions. It’s too late to make light now. She expects an answer that’s deep and heavy, something that would’ve brought that reaction out of me.

 “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know it’s really difficult for some people when their gifts first surface. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no. Don’t worry,” I answer in an attempt to sound manly and strong. I remove myself from her embrace even though I want to stay in it more than anything. “I’ll tell you everything when I’m ready. Promise.”

I hate that protecting Simmi almost always involves lying to her.

Chapter 16

The traveler has crossed a major milestone and must persevere toward his goal. Having gained the momentum necessary to achieve his intended destiny, he must take action.

For the days that follow, Shapri is oddly distant. She goes through the motions of having conversations with us at lunch and working on lab projects, but the life behind the actions is gone. I don’t know what I can do to help, since
the truth
is the thing upsetting her in the first place, and she’s too far in to believe any more lies. The best thing is to do nothing and wait for Shapri to recover.

Simmi and I spend a lot of time together, most of it discussing Shapri. She tries to come up with all these various plans to help Shapri accept her gifts and to quit being afraid. Everything from finding another channeler to help us get in touch with her dad, to showing off our powers in a non-threatening way. I already know the second option’s not going to work, since that’s basically what caused the current emotional mess. Plus, I don’t really think worrying about Shapri’s feelings are all that important, given the whole life-and-death situation we need to work out, but I don’t tell Simmi.

“I don’t feel at all right about not including Shapri in our training sessions. She should be there. She’s one of us,” Simmi drawls as we exercise with runes in my bedroom.

“The
I
,” I say, referring to the rune she’s holding.

“No.” She sighs.

“Dammit,” I mutter, slapping my knee in frustration. Her side commentary broke my concentration. “Next one,” I command.

She obediently removes another rune from the pile spread out on my comforter, the stones clacking against each other as they move, and holds it in her hand, awaiting my response.

“Odin,” I say almost immediately, feeling a prickling sense of recognition.

“No, it’s cattle. They look kind of the same, though.”

“But they’re not the same. They’ve got two totally different meanings! Argh, why can’t I get it right?” I hit the side of my head with my palm. Now is not the time for failing. How much time is even left for me to master this simple skill? Her life may depend on it.

“Alex,” Simmi says, placing her hands on each of my knees. “You’ve been extra hard on yourself lately. It’s just an exercise. Your powers need time to get stronger. I’ve been practicing for years and haven’t improved at all.”

“That doesn’t help.” I sulk. “I haven’t got time. I haven’t got years. I need to get better
now
.”

“I don’t understand why it’s so important to you all of a sudden.”

“I can’t—” I’m interrupted, not by the Simmi in front of me, but by a second Simmi. A future Simmi.

“Stop,” she shouts in complete desperation. “You’ve got to stop hurting people.” She begins to cry.

I want to comfort her, but if I try the vision will break. Simmi continues to sob violently. The wind whips us in the face, bringing a faint tinge of sewage and…pizza?

“Listen to her,” Shapri says, crossing the space with a series of heavy footsteps on pavement.

“You. You stay away from me!” Dax yells. His voice is panicky, tense.

“Listen to her,” another person says. This one belongs to me. Future me.

The sound of five rapid heartbeats counterbalanced by five measured breathing patterns fills the silence. Who’s the fifth?

“Won’t you listen?” Simmi asks in pain. “For me?”

Footsteps slam across the pavement. People are moving from one side of the space to the other, too fast for me to keep track. There’s grunting and gasping. Dax wouldn’t listen to our reasoning, so now we’re left with no choice but to subdue him physically. I wonder what my future self is doing. Am I leading the charge?

A high-pitched wail fills the air. A scream wracked with pain, pure pain.

In the middle of the frenzy, a body falls and hits the pavement with a crack. The smells of pizza and sewage are replaced by raw flesh. The bottoms of my feet become wet with a heavy substance.

“Noooooo!” My future self shrieks with the same high level of torment. Footsteps rush over. A breeze from the movement makes me tingle.

“Simmi,” Shapri chokes out, already on the scene. “Simmi, Simmi, Simmi,” she repeats like a sacred chant.

Dax is nowhere to be heard. The me in the scene is wailing and crying, even more loudly than Shapri. A third figure stands somewhere off to the side, frozen. I can sense its body heat and hear subtle breathing, but can’t pick up on a scent or any other clues that could tell me who it is.

“You chose the wrong guy,” I say.

The sensations of my present and future selves merge, and I am able to feel what he is feeling. My hands are running through her hair and over her face. She’s wet, so wet. My hands grasp at hers and press them against her stomach. I’m being too rough. I fear my future self could be making things even worse. Then I let go and bring my hands to her heart. That’s where they are when the
tharump-tharump
of her precious heart stops. It just stops. Her body shudders, and she’s gone. Forever. Again.

Shapri holds fast onto my hand, equally distraught. At last I bring my free hand to the face of Simmi’s corpse and press down her eyelids. “I still love you,” I whisper. “I’ll always love you.”

The last thing I feel is Shapri’s hand in mine as the vision recedes back into the future. A second vision of her death. This one even more gruesome and horrifying than the first. I’m there, but I can’t stop him. Tears flow down my cheeks. I can’t let it reach this point. I can’t let Simmi meet Dax, ever. I can’t let her die like this. I begin to rock back and forth on my bed, but the rocking motion does nothing to soothe me.

“Alex, what happened? What did you see?” a live version of Simmi asks. I was so caught up in the vision, I forgot she was here. She has her arms around me now, making hushing noises and clutching me to her chest just like Mom always does when she thinks I need cheering up. Electric currents leak from Simmi’s skin. They try to make their way into my body, to deliver their calming effect, but they can’t get in. Nothing can make me feel better, not even Simmi.

“Nothing,” I force from my lips. “I can’t talk about it.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhh,” she says as she keeps rocking me. “We don’t have to talk.” That’s true for now, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep this all a secret from her.

***

Later that night, after Simmi has gone home and I’ve calmed down a bit, Dad comes to talk to me about my latest vision. He listens patiently as I tell him everything I remember.

“But I thought you saw her get choked by a tennis ball,” he replies in a calm tone, despite the fact that I’m on the verge of having a panic attack.

“I did,” I say at the same time I let out a deep breath. It makes my voice sound weird.