Found (6 page)

“When I’m home, I talk to Grandma Rachel through my mom. I hold Mom’s hand and I can see and hear Grandma, Grandpa, and all the spirits that like to hang around my hometown. Here, obviously, I have more choices. Usually Elle helps me, or Zellie. Avery can actually hear spirits because he’s died and been brought back to life three times, but he’s pretty quick to recommend that’s not a great way to obtain powers.”

Penny snorts. “I’ll bet. Damn, what a bunch of crazy shit. Maybe I should’ve gone to that Intro class.”

“Probably,” I say, shrugging. “But, in truth, you snapping and killing a whole generation of boy-crazy Retro hopefuls wouldn’t have benefitted anyone.”

For that comment I receive a wadded up napkin to the face.

Society History with Christopher proves to be just as boring as US History. Dead people and dead people with powers have more in common than you might think. Strangely, Reed is fascinated and asks a million questions while the rest of us fight to keep drool from escaping our mouths.

“But what about the conspiracy theory of the 1950s that had a sizable portion of the old Society believing we’re descended from the Beaulieu coven of St. Etienne? I’ve read the Maud Lavoie documents,” Reed says, actually rising out of his seat and accentuating the word ‘documents’ with a dramatic fist bang, waking us all up.

Uncle Christopher nods emphatically, “It’s all speculation, completely unfounded, but completely believable, right? I mean, it makes as much sense as any of the other origin stories about our kind.” He starts whipping his hand across the tablet that controls the overhead holo-projector. The images fly by and stop on a black and white photo of an attractive young woman with teased blond hair. She’s dressed in a plaid jumper and posing with a thick spiral bound book, a look of academic superiority on her face.

I’ve seen that expression before. I’m just about to ask Elle if she recognizes the lady when she and Penny stand up, squinting at the screen, and say, “I know her.”

Chapter Eight

Penny

I don’t remember a lot from when I was three, but my last memory of my parents will be forever stamped on the insides of my eyelids. Their too-still bodies sprawled out sideways on the family room floor, dark red blood dripping down, leaving a trail across their foreheads. The fire in two places – the warmth and crackling sound behind me, and the flickering yellow-white light reflected in their glistening, dead eyes. I crawled over them, first Mommy and then Daddy, because when I stood up it made me cough. I paused long enough to stroke her soft blond hair and kiss his scratchy cheek. The floor went from the cushy white carpet in the family room to the hard wood floor of the kitchen. I sat underneath the table where we ate breakfast and watched the fire come closer, burning them up, until the people with tubes coming out of their faces broke through the back door and dragged me away from them.

But what my parents looked like usually? On a Tuesday or when singing or brushing their teeth or saying, “I love you?” These aren’t faces I can recall.

Now, other memories begin to unspool from deep within. I remember practicing what my full name was over and over again. Probably for some assignment in preschool. Learning my mom’s cell phone number: 573-474-68 something, something. I’d tried to figure out what the remaining two numbers were when I was nine, going as far as keeping a log of all of the digits I’d called. I wonder whatever happened to it. That was before I left the house of groping hands and sick words. Before I had no food and was always cold and escaped into the nothingness of morphine.

The street my parents and I lived on was called Crocus Lane. Our house was brick on the bottom and had beige wood siding on the top. I had a white bed and a
Pinkalicious bed spread. The details appear, a pin prick that widens into a focused scene, blurry around the edges.

On the wall next to the stairs leading up to my bedroom was a photo of the woman I’m looking at, right now, in this classroom on a
holo-screen. The two images, the one in my head and the one before me reconcile, click together into one crisp picture. My hazy past and my uncertain future melding into one embodied by Maud Lavoie, a woman who resembles Elle, resembles my mother. How did I not see it before? I didn’t know to look. I wasn’t searching for the connection.

It’s not enough that this is my first day of school in seven years? That I was afraid this morning of being too stupid to belong in a class of 7
th
graders? Or too knowledgeable in a class for thieves? The Universe just had to decide that in addition to my seeing a ghost unassisted for the first time, and having her turn out to be the
Grandma
of a cute boy I shouldn’t think is cute, I also needed to have this confusing blast from the past punched through my chest and yanked out my ass?

I should not have stood up to get a closer look at Maud Lavoie. I should have kept the few memories of BEFORE locked away. Everyone is staring at me, I can feel it. Not really judging me, but…noticing. That I’m not comfortable in my
bueno clothes, that I hold my head up not out of pride, but in challenge. That I’m a fucked-up piece of worthless who doesn’t deserve to belong. The shame of what they all must be thinking, knowing, about me rises up in my gut. I fist my right hand and press it to my belly button.

The classroom is quiet, except for the sound of the plain, silver ring I wear on my left middle finger rattling against the desktop that I’m holding onto for dear life.

And then I’m surrounded by people. Reed moves in front of me, gently tilting my face to meet his gaze. “Easy,” he soothes. Wyatt places his hand over my fist; Elle intertwines her fingers with mine, stopping them from shaking. “Easy,” Reed says again.

The memories evaporate and return to their hiding place deep in my brain.

“Class dismissed,” Christopher says from behind Reed. “I’ll go get Dr. Adams and tell her to meet you in Elle and Penny’s room.”

Wyatt

“I can stay,” I say to Penny, who is sitting on her bed. I’m weaving from foot to foot by the closet, feeling generally useless. Kai wraps the turquoise and gray comforter around her shoulders (which I should’ve thought of, but I’m a clueless moron), taking care not to touch her. Probably a wise idea since Reed stopped influencing her so she’d be straight to talk to Zellie and her expression is one of a cat about to pounce.

“That’s okay,” she says, not looking at me; her fist back at her stomach.
“Maybe Elle?”

“Of course!”
Elle nods emphatically, turning from her desk with an envelope in her hand. “I’ve just got to run to the bathroom real quick and I’ll be right back.” She catches my eye and gestures that I follow her.

I open the door for Elle and duck out into the hall. “What’s up?”

Elle folds the envelope into my palm. “When I touched Penny’s hand, I could see what she’d seen.”

“Okay,” I say, shrugging. “That’s fairly standard, right?”

She shakes her head. “No, not with memories from when you’re a little kid.”

“What? That would mean
-- ”

“Yeah, that she’s been having visions since she was, like,
three
.” She crosses her arms over her chest and squeezes herself. “There’s more.”

“What did you see, Elle?” I slip my finger under the flap on the yellowed envelope, the brittle glue flaking off against my knuckle. I take out the contents.

The first is a photo printed on slick paper of a beautiful blond woman with light blue eyes, her hair pulled to the side in a ponytail, a smile on her face. She’s wearing a t-shirt with
Browncoat
printed on the front and she’s holding a plastic bottle of water in her hand.

There are two more photos: a close-up of the woman and a handsome redheaded man, and another of the woman and a small girl eating ice cream cones, sitting on a bench at a waterfront park.

Elle points to the pictures. “This is my mom.”

I nod. “Of course it is. You look a lot like her.”

“I know. Guess who else does?”

I chew my lip, waiting.

“Penny’s mom. The lady in her memory, which I’m convinced is a vision or I wouldn’t have been able to see it, could be my mom’s twin. But that’s not even the freakiest thing.” Elle takes a deep breath. “I was at Loren’s apartment. She was watching me for the evening, when my parents died in a fire at our house – bullets through their foreheads. Same way that Penny’s folks died. Now, there has been a photo of this Maud Lavoie lady hanging in my room at Loren’s since she became my guardian. She said it was one of the only things that could be salvaged from the fire.”

“And Penny had a photo of her too?” I ask.
“In her vision?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I hold onto this envelope for a bit?”

“Sure. You’re thinking…”

I slip the envelope into my backpack. “I’m thinking there are too many coincidences going on for me not to investigate. You and Penny could be related, not just to each other, but to Maud. And even more than that, it’s too weird that your parents died in the same way. Y’know, I always thought it was strange that you couldn’t see your mom and dad, that they went to the light before you were of an age where you could communicate with them.”

“But isn’t this all something Christopher would’ve recognized earlier? Society history is his thing. He’s in charge of all the student files. Surely, at some point he would’ve put two and two together if there were two and two to put together?”

The familiar sounds of my sister’s shuffling flip flops and Christopher’s voice echo down the hall. I sling my backpack on. “It doesn’t hurt to ask, and in the instance that it does, it sure as hell doesn’t hurt to snoop.”

Penny

Dr. Adams, all sweaty, comes in the room after Elle and takes a seat at my desk chair. She pulls the top of her sundress away from her chest and blows down the front. I’m sure she would love nothing more than to be sitting in front of a fan, cooling off, but instead she has to visit me and my unraveling psyche. She catches me watching her and shrugs, an unapologetic smile on her face.

Elle sits cross-legged on her bed. The envelope she was holding when she left to go to the “bathroom” isn’t in her hand anymore. I’m sure whatever was in it is in Wyatt’s possession now. I dig my fist into my stomach a little deeper, not liking the flash of jealousy that thought inspires.

Jesus, Penny, not everything is about you.

Except that envelope was!

Why don’t you say something and stop talking to yourself?

“I’m okay,” I say, looking from Dr. Adams to Elle. “I freaked out for a minute there in class, I know, but this day has been overwhelming. That’s all. I’m really okay. You don’t need to worry about me, Dr. Adams.”

A discerning expression passes over her face. “I’m not worried about you, Penny, not even about your freak-out. In fact, I’d be more concerned if you told me you weren’t feeling overwhelmed and confused.” She shifts her body in the chair, like she can’t get comfortable. “Elle, how did you learn about what you are? I don’t remember exactly.”

“When I was seven, Loren sat me down and explained that my mom had gifts – that she’d seen visions of the future and could communicate with spirits.” Elle laughs. “I was all, ‘yeah, right, could she make herself invisible too?’ and then Loren told me not to sass her and that she was telling me the truth. I remember the look on her face scared the crap out of me – it was her bad news face, so I shut up right quick. Then she went on to explain I would be able to do these things
too, and maybe more, but I wasn’t going to have to worry about it for a few more years.”

Dr. Adams shifts in her chair again and rolls her shoulders. “And then you got a home visit from Christopher and Ben when you were eleven?”

Elle shakes her head. “No, Lookout in Charge Hazel and Lookout Ashley came to see me.”

“Right,” Dr. Adams says, nodding. “I think you’re from the last year she went on the visits.”

“Is that how it usually works?” I ask.

Dr. Adams places her palms flat on my desk and pushes herself up, groaning slightly. “I
gotta walk, sorry girls, my back hurts like crazy.” She shuffles past me, turns by the door and paces back over to the desk and then repeats. “To answer your question, yes, that’s how it usually works. So, what I want you to think about, Penny, is expectation. You’re coming from not the best circumstances, but they’re what you’re used to, you’re familiar with what to expect day-to-day. Even your dreams and waking up in a different place than where you were when you went to sleep probably wasn’t all that unexpected any longer?”

I nod.

“Every Seer and Retroact has a level of anxiety that they have to learn to live with and learn how to manage. It’s no surprise that we start having visions and rewinding right about the time our hormones are going bonkers, causing us new and greater anxieties in our lives. Now, you’ve been managing your levels well-”

“It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it!” I snort.

She grins. “Oh, but you have! I don’t doubt that you could’ve done some real damage had you not had such a good hold on your emotions.” Dr. Adams sits back down. “What I’m getting at is, Elle knew what to expect and was eased into this life. When she saw a picture of Maud Lavoie and it was familiar to her, she managed her anxiety because she knows she’s in a safe place. You haven’t been here long enough to trust us. Frankly, I’m amazed you let Elle stay here while we talked.”

I look my roommate in the eye, hoping that if I lay a guilt trip on her, she’ll tell me what happened out in the hall. “I can trust Elle and I…
Wyatt’s growing on me.”

Dr. Adams chuckles. “Well, good, you know I can vouch for the guy, but don’t feel like you have to trust him yet. I just want you to know that we can wait, we can work with you and help you and that we’re not looking for anything in return. So, when you freak out, don’t be embarrassed. Try not to be scared. We’ll catch you. We’re all here for you.”

My stupid eyes fill with tears and I look away from the doc. “Thanks.”

She pats my knee and I force myself not to flinch from her touch like an asshole again. “No problem.” She picks up my tablet on my desk, and holding the screen so it faces me, she points to an icon of a person with her arms out to the sides. “Every tablet comes loaded with yoga and
Pilates vids from Jennifer Kries. They’re great for managing stress and a good workout.”

“We could do them together if you want,” Elle offers. “I really like the hot and cold series.”

“Sure,” I say. “I’ve never done anything like that before, running being my main mode of exercise.”

Dr. Adams grins. “Dr. Avery enjoys running too. If you find that this is not for you, he’d love a running buddy. Even when I could run, I so didn’t ever want to.” She stands. “Let’s talk again tomorrow. Bring your lunch to my office in the infirmary and we can chat while you eat.”

“Sounds bueno.” I stand, the wild impulse to hug her sneaking up on me. She beats me to it and squeezes my shoulders.