Glimpse (9 page)

“How I'm what?”

“
Feeling
, sir. How are you feeling?”

Mr. Utlet was old, not stupid, and his eyes turned to slits as he looked back and forth between Lisa and me, obviously trying to figure out just what kind of angle we were working.

“I'm not buying any of those damn chocolates you kids are always peddling. If you need money, get a job.”

“Oh no, sir,” Lisa said. “We don't have any chocolates.” She took a step closer. “So you're fine, then? No chest pain? No difficulty breathing? Nothing like that?”

“What?” he bellowed. He wagged a stern finger at Lisa. “Young lady, just what are you getting at here?”

The bushes behind us rustled as Colin stepped out and joined us.

“Oh no, you don't,” he said. “Not another one.” He strode forward, grabbed Colin with one hand and me with the other, and hauled the two of us through his yard and onto his driveway. “Now, get!” he said, giving us a shove. “And no more cutting across my grass. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Sorry, sir,” Colin added. He was trying to look solemn, but it was obvious he was having a difficult time keeping the smile off his face.

“Thank you, Mr. Utlet,” Lisa said, beaming. “Stay safe today, okay?”

He waved his arm around as if he were batting insects away from his head. “Get!”

We started walking back across the street, but turned around when we heard Mr. Utlet cursing. He looked around the yard and then gave the flattened tire on his Buick a kick. We watched as he moved to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

“I was worried about that,” I said. “He's going to try to change the tire. He'll probably drop the whole car on himself.”

“You were supposed to flatten two tires,” Lisa scolded. “No one has two spare tires; everyone has one. Why didn't you just stick to the plan?”

“Relax,” Colin said. “It was taking too long, and someone could've seen me. The car was unlocked, so I took care of it.”

As if on cue Mr. Utlet cursed again and slammed his trunk shut.

“I hid the jack,” Colin added proudly.

Mr. Utlet stuffed his keys in his pants' pocket, pulled the zipper of his jacket up to his chin, and started walking down the sidewalk.

“Where's he going?” Colin said, taking a step forward. “He's not supposed to go anywhere.”

“Mr. Utlet!” I yelled. I ran across the street and blocked the man's path. Lisa and Colin were right behind me.

“Whaddaya want?” he grumbled.

“Where are you going?”

“Someone flattened my tire,” he said. “And stole my jack.” He pointed a finger at each of us. “You three wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

We shook our heads.

“Well, when I find the culprit…” He shook his fist again.

I risked a quick glance at Colin. His face had paled. I was willing to bet that Mr. Utlet could take out a gang of street thugs with a wet towel and a bowl of prunes.

“And so you're just going for a walk then?” Lisa asked. She crossed her hands behind her back and wriggled the toe of her shoe on the pavement, playing the part of innocence. Colin looked ready to gag.

Mr. Utlet glared at the three of us. “That's none of your business.”

“We're only asking because it's dangerous,” she said.

“Dangerous? I can handle walking to a store.” As if to prove it, he cracked the knuckles on his left hand one by one.

“We'll go to the store for you,” Lisa offered quickly. “We can pick up what you need. That way you don't have to walk.”

“Listen, kids.” He hunched forward and put his finger an inch away from Lisa's nose. “If I could march across France and make it through with all my limbs, I sure as heck can make it two blocks to the drugstore!”

“It's for Scouts, sir,” I lied.

“Scouts?” Mr. Utlet raised an eyebrow.

“That's right, sir,” Colin said. “We're trying to get a badge for helping old people do stuff.”

“Old people do…
stuff
?” That last word came out through clenched teeth.

“Civic duty badge,” Lisa said.

“You're a Scout too?” he asked. “They let girls be Scouts?”

Lisa put two fingers to her temple and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“It's three fingers, kid.”

“Huh?”

“The salute. It's supposed to be three fingers.” He shook his head. “Fine. If you three need to do something to get a stinking badge, go and pick up my order from Henderson's. I'll call and tell them.”

“Thank you, sir,” we chimed.

He grunted and turned back to his house, pausing for a second to give his tire another kick as he passed.

Colin turned to me as soon as Mr. Utlet was back in his house. “Scouts?”

“It was the only thing I could think of. Plus, I think my parents buy cookies from them every year.”

“That's Girl Guides,” Lisa said.

“Oh, right.”

Colin laughed. “I love Girl Guide cookies.”

“It was good thinking, anyway,” Lisa said. “Now let's hurry up before he decides it's a good time to re-shingle his roof.”

 

***

 

Henderson's Drugstore was only two blocks away, so we were back in no time. Mr. Utlet grumbled a “Thank you” when we delivered his groceries, and then chased us off his porch when Colin asked if he needed any help blending his food for dinner.

“What if he just dies in his sleep?” Lisa asked when we made it back to my room.

“That would suck,” Colin said. “It would be impossible for us to stop something like that.” He looked at me. “What do you think?”

“What do I think of what?”

“Of how the old goat's gonna die. I thought you might have some kind of ESP about the whole thing now.”

“
Old goat?
” Lisa cocked her head. “I have no idea how I became friends with someone as insensitive as you.”

“I remember,” Colin said, laughing. “You were getting pelted by snowballs and Dean and I rescued
you
.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “That's not how I remember it. I think I was the one that came and rescued you.”

Colin ignored her. “Well, my point is we know when the guy's
supposed
to die, so we
can
save him. We're going to be heroes.”

“Or maybe we should just call 911,” Lisa said.

“Now?” Colin pulled out his cell phone.

“No, not now,” Lisa said. “Tonight. Dean said he saw Mr. Utlet at around one-thirty in the morning, so maybe we should just call around one.”

“And say what?” I asked. “‘There's a good chance that the old man next door is about to die?'”

Colin laughed. “I'd like to see the operator's face when we say that.”

“We're
not
saying that.” I paced the length of the room and then turned back to my friends. “Look, this is stupid. I thought it was a good idea, but now it's just plain stupid.” Colin and Lisa opened their mouths to speak, but I cut them off. “I'm not some psychic. I don't see the future. I helped some crazy guy in the street and it stressed me out and I had a couple minor… episodes.” I nodded toward Lisa. “Just like you said, it's stress. Except for the first two people, I'm only seeing people who freak me out.”

“That old man freaks you out?” Colin said.

“He's like an ex-assassin or something,” I mumbled. “He probably knows how to kill a guy with a toothpick.”

“Dude, he probably doesn't even know his own name half the time. If he does die, it's gonna be because he choked on his prunes or something. ”

“That's not how all old people are, Colin,” Lisa chided. “Don't you have grandparents?”

“My grandpa calls me Charlie,” Colin said. “Charlie was the name of his dog when he was a kid.” He looked at Lisa, then at me. “Trust me, old people are nuts.”

“You do kind of look like a dog named Charlie,” Lisa muttered.

“Look,” I said, “let's just keep to the plan and watch his house tonight. I'm sure it's going to turn out to be nothing. You'll see.” I was surprised at how confident I sounded. Confidence that was completely at odds with the sinking feeling sweeping through me.

 

Lisa, Colin, Becky, and my mom crowded around, staring at me with goofy smiles. They started singing as my dad made his way to the dining table carrying a chocolate cake alight with fourteen candles.

I winced. Thanks to Colin and Becky, my birthday song sounded a lot like a hyena getting fed through a wood chipper. I was grateful when it finally ended.

“Make a wish, champ,” my dad said.

“Maybe you should wish not to be such a dork,” Becky suggested.

Colin lifted his chin and puffed out his chest. “Just being friends with me means that Dean isn't a dork.” He looked around the table. “That's just one of the benefits of my friendship.”

Becky stared at him and then rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, I can see that. Sure.”

I closed my eyes, wished that nothing bad would happen tonight, and blew out the flames.

“B… birthday boy cuts the c… cake.” I looked up at my mom. Tears were tracking their way down her cheeks. Her hand shook as she handed me the knife. “My boy's so g… grown up,” she sobbed.

“C'mon, Mom,” Becky pleaded.

My dad put his arm around my mom and smiled. “It feels like just yesterday that we used to bathe Dean in the—”

“
Stop!
” Becky and I shouted together.

“Yeah, Mr. Curse,” Colin added. “I don't like where that story is going, and I'm usually the one with the strong stomach.”

I chopped up the cake, making sure to give Becky the smallest slice. She didn't seem to notice, as she was examining a jar with the number “46” written on the glass and a cockroach or a really large beetle or something lying on its back inside.

“What's the deal with your sister and those dead bugs?” Colin whispered.

I grimaced and shook my head. “You don't wanna know. Trust me.”

“Before we eat,” my dad said. “I want you kids to know that if you need to talk about what happened at your school, or about Mrs. Farnsworthy…” He cast his gaze around the table. “I'm here. You can talk to me. It's perfectly natural to have feelings you might not understand.”

“Such a tragedy,” my mom said. “That poor woman, the grief her family must be going through right now. Unbearable. Plus the families of all those injured kids. I'm so glad none of you were injured.”

I had never really thought about Mrs. Farnsworthy having a family. I always thought of her as someone who might have crawled out of a crypt somewhere or been hatched rather than born. But I suddenly remembered that she kept a framed photograph on her desk. It must have been a photo of her family: her kids and her husband. They'd be mourning her death. A knot of guilt twisted in my stomach—was it my fault that she had died?

“Okay, let's put those thoughts out of our heads for now.” My dad reached up to his ear and pretended to pull something out and stuff it in his pocket. “But don't throw them away. It's important to deal with them.” He paused and looked at us expectantly.

 

Colin glanced at me, clearly trying not to crack up. He reached up to his ear and put the invisible threads of his thoughts on the tabletop next to his plate. “I'll get to those after the cake,” he said, making everyone laugh.

I spent the rest of the party trying to stop my parents from telling embarrassing stories about me. It felt good to relax. I even forgot to worry about Mr. Utlet. At least until Colin, Lisa, and I went up to my room. Then it was all we could talk about.

“So you still think we don't need to worry about your neighbor?” Lisa asked hesitantly.

I rubbed my hands on my jeans. “I
am
worried. I just don't like the idea that what I'm seeing could actually—”

“Be something real?” Colin finished.

“It can't be, right? I mean, I'm
not
psychic.”

“Well, it's possible that it's nothing but a weird coincidence,” Lisa said with a grimace, obviously unconvinced. “But just to be sure…”

“Okay,” I said. “Let's stick to the plan we came up with on the bus. After everyone goes to sleep, we sneak out and watch his house. We keep the phone close. If we see anything… anything at all, we call 911.”

“And if we don't see anything?” Lisa asked. “How will we explain that to the police?”

“There's a payphone at Henderson's,” I said. “We can call the police from there at 1:15. That way, if they trace the call, we won't get in trouble. But if something does happen, we'll still have the cell phone with us.”

“1:15?” Colin asked.

“I'm pretty sure I had the vision at 1:38,” I said. “I think that's what time it was on my alarm clock.”

Colin rubbed his hands together. “This is going to be awesome! We're going to save someone tonight. I almost feel like I need a costume or something.” He looked around the room. “Do you have a cape I could borrow?”

Lisa and I didn't share in Colin's enthusiasm. “C'mon, guys,” he said. “This is going to work. I know it. Plus, this is shaping up to be the most exciting birthday party ever.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Just wait till you see the goodie-bags. I have some fortune cookies that tell you when you're going to die.”

Lisa shivered. “That would be creepy.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Tell me about it.”

 

***

 

After dinner, my parents made us watch a movie about a kid who never grew up, a Peter-Pan-type story, only without the green unitard and pixie dust. I'm sure I would have hated it if I had paid any attention. But my mind was on Mr. Utlet. What if he was
already
dying? What if he had mixed up his medications and it was already too late for me to help him? No… something told me the incident we'd be trying to stop would be sudden. No one screams like that unless there's some major trauma.