Last Dance (4 page)

I was still reeling from Evan’s threat when Josh showed up.

“Were you just talking to Evan?” he asked, frowning as he peered down the hall where Evan had turned around the corner.

“Uh … yeah.” My heart was still pounding, and I felt a wild sense of paranoia. Like I wasn’t safe anywhere, not at school or home.

“Was he bothering you?”

“Uh, not really.” I grabbed some books and slammed the locker shut.

“Then what did he want?”

I glanced at my Lit book. “He asked about our homework assignment.”

“Really?” Tension eased into a wistful smile. “He told me he was getting serious about homework, but I had my doubts. If he improves his grades, he’ll be back on the team.”

I bit my lip. “He needs to improve more than his grades.”

“Don’t be so hard on him. Sure, he made some mistakes but he’s a cool guy once you get to know him.”

“I know more than enough.”

“Evan told me he felt bad for those things he said about you.”

“You’re talking to him again?” My heart lurched. “After everything he did?”

“He lives next door and our parents are friends. I can’t just ignore him and I don’t want to. Everyone needs a second chance. I feel bad how things turned out.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s hard to stay mad. I keep thinking of all the good times we had, and even the bad times when my brother was sick. Evan stuck by him until the end. I’ve got to stick by him, too, I owe him that much.”

“You owe him nothing.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, but his tone wasn’t convincing. He lifted his head as the warning bell rang. “We better hurry to class.”

I nodded, uneasy about Evan’s influence over Josh, especially after Evan’s threat to find out my “secret.” If he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy me.

As Josh and I walked, he described his weekend trip to attend a cousin’s wedding. I debated over telling him the truth. It would be a huge relief to be honest, but I was afraid he wouldn’t believe me. If I explained about my spirit guide, ghostly dreams, and the prophetic vision that led to a boy’s death, he’d think I was delusional.

Before we entered our first period Lit class, Josh ripped out a piece of paper from a notebook. With lightning quick fingers, he folded it, smaller and smaller, rounding the corners, sharpening the end to a point, until I recognized the shape.

“For you, Sabine,” he said, holding out a paper heart.

Words swelled up my throat and I hugged the paper to my chest. He put his arms around me, drawing me close. His touch was gentle and his dark brown hair smelled fresh with a scent of lime shampoo. Not caring if anyone was watching, I lifted my chin and met his lips in a gentle kiss.

And I vowed to never do anything to risk losing him. At school I would be totally normal. No more “weird” stuff.

Still, I had to figure out a way to help Nona. I decided to get advice from a trusted friend who already knew my secrets. So I told Josh that I couldn’t eat lunch with him because I had some last minute work to do on the school paper.

As expected, I found the editor, Manny Devries, in front of a computer terminal. Manny’s black hair was twisted into cornrows, and he sported a new pierced arrow-shaped eyebrow ring. He wore black zippered jeans and leather sandals. It could be snowing and he’d still wear sandals. Not even harsh weather could dampen his style.

When he saw me, he flashed a pearly grin. “What’s up, Beany?”

I hated that nickname, but let it pass because I needed his help. Manny was a born snoop, and darned good at it. He’d discovered what happened at my last school and agreed to keep my secret. In return I helped with predictions for his “Mystic Manny” newspaper column. Whenever I heard people rave about his amazing talent for predicting the future, I smiled.

Now I glanced furtively around the classroom, checking to make sure we were alone. The only other person present was Mr. Blankenship, but he was busy grading papers. “I need some advice,” I whispered to Manny.

“Lay it on me, Beany.” He rolled a chair next to him and gestured for me to sit down. “Tell Uncle Manny everything.”

“Don’t patronize me. This is serious.”

“Don’t I look serious?”

“Not with that cocky grin.”

He pressed his lips into a stern line. “Is this better?”

“Now you look like a demented psycho.” I lightly punched his shoulder. “Stop kidding around. Nona is in trouble and needs me to find an old book.”

“So ask Thorn. She’s the finder.”

I paused to consider this. When Manny first introduced me to his Goth friend, Thorn, she’d wowed me with an amazing skill for finding things. But I was put off by her brash attitude, multiple body piercings, and metal-spiked collar. If I wanted to stay cool with my other friends, hanging out with a Goth chick was a bad move. She wasn’t any more eager to be seen with me. But she’d been quick to help when I needed her, and I discovered a kindred soul underneath the Morticia makeup. Like me, she’d been born with a psychic ability. Psychometry, she called it. Only she was cool with her skills, while I was still dealing.

“This is beyond Thorn’s talents,” I told Manny. “What I’m searching for was lost a long time ago.”

He arched his pierced brow. “How long?”

“Like a hundred years, give or take a decade. To track it down, I need to find out about my ancestors. But I don’t know where to look.”

“No problem.” He spun around to his computer. “I know tons of genealogy sites. Tell me the names and I’ll find the information.”

I almost fell over with relief. “It’s that easy?”

“Did you ever doubt me?”

“I’ll tell you when you deliver the answers.”

“Oh, I will. But it’ll cost you,” he added with a wicked chuckle.

Tilting my head, I asked cautiously, “What?”

“I’m writing another ten years in the future spotlight for the paper, and I could use your all-knowing insight. My victim—er, subject—is a freshman named Jayvon Bonner. Peek into your crystal ball for me and I’ll check the computer for you.”

“I can’t promise results, but I’ll try.”

“Fair enough.” He scratched his chin. “So whom should I look up?”

* * *

In fifth period, during a particularly boring assignment, my mind drifted and just like that I knew Jayvon Bonner’s future. He’d move to Colorado and train as a figure skater, only an ankle injury would end that career. Then he’d move to New York and work off-Broadway on set design. His artistic talent would eventually lead him to a successful career as an illustrator of children’s books.

When I met Manny in our sixth-period class, he was delighted when I handed him the paper. His black eyes shone with discovery and I knew he’d found out something, too. When I asked, he put his fingers to his lips. “Too many people around,” he whispered. “Wait till after class.”

So I went to work on my job as proofreader for the school newspaper. It was an easy job that gave me an “in” to school happenings with zero personal risk. Usually, I enjoyed my work. But the article I’d been assigned to edit, describing a chess tournament, was totally brain numbing. I was relieved when the bell rang and kids swarmed out to freedom.

I strode over to Manny’s desk. “Out with it!”

He flashed a cocky grin. “First tell me how brilliant I am.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re brilliant.”

“That didn’t sound sincere.”

“Your brilliance is so enormous, the only thing bigger is your inflated ego. Is that sincere enough?”

He laughed. “Beany, you kill me.”

“Don’t tempt me. So did you find out what happened to Agnes’s daughters?”

“No. That search came up empty.” He tapped the eraser end of a pencil on his desk. “But by checking town records, I found info on the woman who took care of Agnes’s daughters after she left. Martha Poindexter Kabkee, born 1863, died 1943.”

“How does that help?” I asked, discouraged.

“If she kept in touch with the sisters after they were adopted, there could be a document trail. Letters, postcards, diaries. Martha’s descendants may know something.”

“But how do we find them?”

“Already started.” Manny held up a computer printout and I leaned in closer.

“There’s only one name listed here.”

“Martha had one son, who had two children but one died young. So that leaves her granddaughter who by coincidence lives in California. Not very far away either, a retirement resort in Pine Peaks.”

“Where’s that?”

“Up in the Sierras, not far from Lake Tahoe.”

I nodded, feeling hopeful. “So did you call her?”

“Affirmative. But she’s on a cruise till Friday. I’ll give you the number and you can call her then.”

“That won’t work,” a voice interrupted and I turned around to find a petite raven-haired girl dressed in black leather. “No one will tell you anything important over the phone.”

“Thorn!” I gave a start. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re looking for some old lady.” Thorn’s purple-black lips curved into a smile. “But you’re going about it all wrong.”

“What do you think we should do?” I retorted.

“Why call when you can go there in person?” Her smile widened. “It just happens I have an aunt who lives in Pine Peaks and she’s been begging me to visit. So I’ll drive you.”

The next few days flashed by with a flood of activity. Packing, getting permission to miss school Friday, collecting homework in advance, and calming a panicked Penny-Love who was counting on my help with the Fall Fling Dance.

“I’ll be back by Saturday afternoon,” I promised her as we walked to school Wednesday morning. “Don’t worry.”

“Worrying is what I do best,” she said lightly.

“And you do it so well. But seriously, no way am I missing the dance. I’ve already got the perfect dress—and the perfect date to go with it.”

After school, I checked my list of everything I had to do. I hated leaving Nona, but at least Dominic was back and I knew he’d keep an eye on her. Unfortunately, his trip had been a total failure. He’d returned in a dark, discouraged mood. It turned out Mr. Tuttle drank too much and lied for sport. There were no journals, no distant Aunt Agnes, only a filthy living room littered with empty bottles.

I felt bad for Dominic, but hopeful for myself because when I’d consulted with Opal she’d hinted that I’d find answers in Pine Peaks. I imagined this scene where I handed Nona the remedy book. She’d burst into grateful tears and throw her arms around me. Dominic would be so overcome by admiration and congratulate me on my success. “I didn’t think you could do it, but you proved me wrong. You’re amazing,” he’d say. Then he’d hold my hand, look into my eyes and pull me close. … WAIT! What was I thinking anyway?

That night the dancing girl returned to my dreams.

Surrounded by male admirers, she laughed and flirted, her full skirt whirling as she took turns dancing with each young man. When the handsome stranger appeared, the dream changed from light to dark, and they faced each other on the ragged cliff. He reached for her, but she pulled back and shouted at him. I couldn’t make out her words, but I felt sadness so deep, as if hearts all around the world were breaking.

A wind whipped up, a storm brewing with thunder and black clouds.

Don’t go near the cliff
, I tried to warn the girl. But everything sped up as if I was being swept along in a tornado. Someone was running, flying through rocky ground, and over the cliff. Falling, down toward the jagged trees below. Only it wasn’t the girl this time—it was a man.I couldn’t see his face, but a startling fear jolted me awake.

And I had an awful feeling that the falling man was someone I already knew—or someone I would know soon.