Insight (11 page)

That same shadow of sadness or guilt passes over his face. I probably don’t want to know.

He ignores my question. “Relax a little, Micah. It’s like you don’t even try to get along with people. I mean, that’s fine, but don’t get all defensive just because I feel like being nice.”

I pull my legs up like him and rest my chin on my knees, hopefully showing him that I’m not going anywhere. And maybe also that I don’t mean to be defensive.

“So, you visited your dad, right?” He has a nice voice, kind eyes. Why do I notice?

“Yeah,” I answer.

“How did that go?”

“Jumping right in, aren’t you?” I scowl. It seems like a pretty personal question from someone I barely know.

“I’m trying to make friendly conversation and you’re making it impossible.” His voice is soft and even. He doesn’t seem bothered.
“You’re quiet, but I get this feeling your thoughts are loud. So maybe it’s just that I want in on some of those loud thoughts.”

We stare at one another only I get the distinct impression that Landon’s a lot more relaxed about this than I am.

Fine. “My dad is easy to be around. So yeah, it was nice.” That’s safe enough.

“See? That wasn’t so hard and now here we are, having this nice conversation.” He smiles. I’m staring.

I fold my arms and sit up a little straighter. Why didn’t I turn around as soon as I saw him? This can’t possibly go anywhere.

“Look at you! You’re like all tensed up.” He reaches over and shakes my arm.

My face, peaceful and sleeping, my hair, the sun
… I gasp.

“Did I hurt you or something? What was that?” His eyes are wide, and his voice is a whisper. Not accusatory or frustrated, just quiet.

I don’t answer. I feel like I’m frozen in place, staring at him. How can I be significant to
Landon
? None of it makes any sense.

“
You acted like I shocked you or something
.” His eyes are so focused on mine that I feel his gaze in my stomach.
“That happens to you a lot I’ve noticed.”

“I…” But I have no idea how to c
ontinue this sentence right now because of the vision and because Landon’s noticed me.

“Okay.” He chuckles. “I sounded like a freak just then. Sorry. I just, why do I feel like you know a whole lot, but don’t say a whole lot about it?”

I don’t know what to tell him. Knowing my face holds, or will hold some meaning for him should change things somehow. Should that make me trust him on some level? Yes. But how do I
do
that? And why are we talking?

And how could he ever trust someone who watched a girl die and do nothing?

“You’re not a witch or something, are you?” he teases. “Because I have a cousin who’s always telling me she’s a witch. She stares at people in odd ways, like she knows things. With her, I think it’s because she’s trying to freak me out.” His eyes look through me again. “With you, I don’t think that.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” I don’t. What are the odds of him believing me? I don’t trust my secret with
Mom
. How could I trust him?

“We’re in it, aren’t we?” A corner of his mouth turns up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this conversation. This back and forth. I’m trying to keep it light, but it’s really real.”

“I guess.” My heart starts beating hard in my chest, like it’s hitting my rib cage with each frantic beat, harder, harder,
harder
…

“When I ran into you, when I was with uh…Brigitte? It was like you stared at me like you knew something I didn’t. And you did it again when I shook your arm a minute ago.”

“Fine.” I hold out my hand for him to shake, bracing myself. “Shake my hand. I’m fine. I’m not some crazy.”

“I never said you were crazy. And I also never said anything about touching you.
You
said that.” He’s looking at me closely. He shifts his weight to face me and holds his hand out for me to take.

I clench my jaw. I’m prepared. I reach out my hand to shake his. We touch and it hits me, but it’s different. It’s more. It’s moving.
He leans in close to me, brushing our lips together.
I’m frantic for details.
The boathouse is behind us. His hand touches the back of my neck, bringing us close together
. I’m not breathing. I jerk my hand away and take a gasp of air.

“Okay.” He scoots back. “What was that?”

Deep breath, deep breath, make your voice sound normal.

“What?” I’m still out of breath. I know I’m not hiding this well. I’m trying, but I’m shaking. How can I possibly kiss someone when I see things the way I do? I mean, I tried it once. A relationship. It didn’t work. How can I ever be close to someone like that? Every time we touch, I’d get another picture from him. Mom is one thing, but a
boy
? A close friend? That’s something else entirely.

“What do you mean,
what
? I feel this jolt of electricity from you. Your eyes go all blank, you jerk away from me, and you want to know why
I’m
reacting this way?” His brows are up in disbelief.

I look toward the water. What could it hurt? We don’t talk at school, and his friends all think I’m odd, which I’m totally okay with. Who cares if he thinks I’m crazy? Maybe my face will disappear from his thoughts or future or whatever. Then maybe my life can go back to the normal I’ve created for myself—the normal that’s been falling apart.

“There’s something.” He’s leaning toward me now. “There’s nothing like a good mystery, or ghost story, or . . .”

“Is that what I am? A mystery? A ghost?” I fold my arms. My heart pounds because I suddenly want to tell him like I’ve never wan
ted to tell anyone—all from a picture
and a feeling.

“No. But there’s definitely something you’re not telli
ng me.” He’s intent on me again.
“I just got chills. Like the
Twilight Zone
or something.”

“I see things,” I blurt out. “When I touch people, I see things.” How did that just escape? How did something I’ve never had the guts to say just come out like that? Again my breathing fills my ears.

“What kind of things?” He leans back. From all his excitement a moment ago, he now looks skeptical.

“See? You already don’t believe me.” I shake my head. I’m so stupid. At least the pictures of me from him should go away. If this doesn’t scare him off, nothing will. Who would want some crazy girl who sees glimpses of people’s private moments? “Never mind. Ignore me.” But I know he won’t.

“Fine.” He reaches his hand out. “What do you see when you touch me?”

I purse my lips. There’s no way I’m telling him that.

“What?”

I’m looking away and he’s moving his head around to try and get our eyes to lock.

“Well, you’re not giving me a whole lot to go on then.”

“I don’t know what to do or what to say. I just shouldn’t have said anything.” I stare out at the water, wishing I could take back the words. Wishing he’d go away, but still enjoying that he’s curious. I hate feeling conflicted like this.

“Okay. Well, in the spirit of doing whatever I can to get rid of my boredom, let’s do a little experiment.” His voice is light again, more like what I’m used to hearing from him. From the Landon that has a joke or a smile about everything.

My chest slowly starts to fill with dread. “You know what? I don’t think it matters if you don’t believe me.” I don’t want to follow him around and do any experiments.

“But wouldn’t it be cool if I did? Believe you, I mean.” He stands up and offers me his hand.

I shake my head. There’s no way I’m going to be talked into touching him again, not today. And I’m still half reeling that we’re even
talking
.

He must read my expression. “You’re actually not kidding, are you?” He looks down at me. “You don’t want to touch me.”

“I’m really not kidding.” But after feeling the emotion behind our lips coming together, I do want to touch him. It’s a dangerous t
hing to want
.

We stand, facing one another. I swallow needing to do
something
to keep my body from freezing up. I keep waiting for my feet to just take off running, away from Landon, away from the possibility of someone else knowing what I know. Or more likely, escaping from what will end up in him teasing me. When the need for escape from boredom runs out, he won’t want to believe anymore. Will it matter? Will he care?

“Why the hell did you tell
me
?” His eyes widen a little.

“You asked.” What else am I supposed to say? If I tell him that I see my face when I touch him now, he’ll never believe me. He’ll think it’s some desperate attempt for me to get near him when I don’t want to be. Wait.

Maybe I do want to be.

This is what Dad talked about. Sometimes we make things happen just because we know they’re going to. I could feel how Landon felt when I saw him kissing me. I know I want that. As impossible as it might be, I want someone to feel that for me. Is it because that person is Landon? Or is it because I’ve hardly allowed myself the possibility? My mind comes up with nothing. Guess there’s no way to tell.

“Okay. Fair enough,” he says.

“I’m ready to experiment. Just…not on you.” I stand up and keep my distance.

“Well, now you have me
really
curious as to what you see.” His smile turns mischievous, and eyes follow me as I start walking back up the hill.

“Sorry.” No way I’m telling him anything.

“I’m going to roll under the assumption that you’re not just screwing with me and ask you, what do you see? Is it like the future? Or random thoughts? Or…”

“It depends.” I don’t look at him. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “It seems to be something significant. And not just significant, but like the most important thing. Sometimes it’s things that have affected people’s pasts and sometimes it’s what’s most important at any given time and sometimes it’s in the future.”

“Holy shit.” He’s looking at me with wide eyes like he believes me. We’re still walking up the hill to his house. “How can you tell the difference?”

“I can’t.” I stop. Emotion pours through me. He’s just hit on the most frustrating and absurd thing about it all. “I
can’t
tell the difference. If I see someone crash in a car, I don’t know if the car crash still just weighs on their mind or if it’ll happen later that day or later that month! Or maybe not ever. Maybe things will change and that crash will never happen. Or seeing my dad’s fiancé in a hospital bed and having no idea how she gets there!”

Or I see a girl at our school die, only I think she just passed out and I don’t know what to do with that either. And I saw myself in the middle of a situation from both you and your cousin, only I have so little to go on, I can’t even make guesses as to what it might be. Oh! And we apparently are going to kiss.
My heart’s pounding again.

“Sucks.” His voice is quiet. Sympathetic. “Like what purpose would it even serve then?”

“I don’t know. Special torture?” I start walking again.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“You said you wanted to experiment. Maybe if I touch a few people you know or just anyone, I can tell you what I see
,
and you can decide if you believe me or not.” Am I seriously doing this? I can’t even remember the last time I had a conversation this long, much less one where I talk about what I do. He knows.
He knows
. He may not believe me, but the words left my mouth.

“So, now it
does
matter if I believe you?” He likes the idea of that, his smile is back and so is the teasing look around his eyes.

Landon’s smile is for me.
My chest swells.

I desperately want him to believe me. I want him to feel whatever he feels in the kiss that I see. The realization of that has been sneaking in, but now it hits me hard.

I want him to know
,
and I want him to believe me.

“I still think the easiest thing would be for you to tell me what you see when you touch me.” He wags his brows.

“Nope.” And I have to keep my cheeks from turning red at just the thought of it.

“Fine.” He leans closer. “But especially when I’m bored, I have this great habit of getting what I want.”

I breathe in. Juicy fruit gum. My heart pounds hard for a completely different reason. What would it be like to kiss him? Will we actually get that far? “Good for you.” I don’t mean it to come out snappy, but it does. I don’t want to be thinking about his breath or how his mouth would taste. Not right now. Not yet.
Maybe not ever.

“Can you tell me about someone we both know?” he suggests.

I think back to last week at school. “Mrs. Hobbs.” I nod. “She touched my shoulder and I saw her crying over a huge orange cat.”