Liars and Fools (14 page)

Kathy leaned toward me. I could feel her eyes examining my face, and I had to force myself to sit still. Mom, I called silently. If you are out there…
please
please please please please…

“I sense a deep hurt…a loss.” Kathy's voice was soft.

I snorted. “Well, duh.”

“Sorry, I know that must sound like I'm stating the obvious, but it's what comes across most overwhelmingly.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Anger. I can't always see auras, but I can see yours. There's a place you think of sometimes that brings you a sense of calm, of peace. Does that make sense?”

The marina.
Eliza J.

“Yes,” Kathy said. “You just thought of it and your aura shifted from reds to blues and greens.”

A shiver prickled across the base of my spine. I folded my arms across my chest. “What else?”

She held out her hands for mine, and I turned one palm up toward her reluctantly. I shivered, remembering the palm reader talking to my mother at the fair.
You will still be traveling when you are an
old woman.

Kathy took my hand between hers and gazed at it. Her hands were cool and smooth, slender-fingered, her nails expertly French-manicured. Mom's were always rough with calluses, her nails cut short. Practical hands. Hands that raised sails and tied knots and baked cookies and fixed engines.

She leaned closer. “Who is Michael?”

I shrugged. “Dunno.” I didn't think I knew any Michaels.

“Well, I'm seeing the name very clearly. He could be from your past or your future. Is there a Michael at school perhaps? I sense that he has some significance in your life. Maybe someone who wants to get to know you? An admirer?”

I snorted and shook my head.
Nice try, Kathy.
It was so transparent. So fake. The line about how something could be from your past or your future. Well, that pretty much covered her for every wrong guess.

Kathy smiled. “I see something else. I see you and Abby in a room full of people. A school gym, perhaps. An older woman talking to you and smiling.”

Mrs. Moskin? She didn't usually smile at me.

“She's congratulating you…Does this sound familiar? It could be past or future.”

Behind me, I heard Abby gasp. “I bet we've aced our science project!”

“Yes, maybe. I see a red letter A…”

I interrupted her. “What about my mom? Can you see her? Does she have a message for me?”

“Oh. Oh, dear.” Kathy sat back, frowning. “Fiona, I can't try to contact your mother.”

“Why not? You contacted Abby's grandmother.”

“Yes, but…”

“I'm open to it! I am!” Tears were stinging my eyes, and I could taste their salt, but I would not cry in front of Kathy. I would
not.

“I know you are. It's not that.”

“So why not? Can't you ask someone? Ask Nicole. Can't she give you a message?”

Kathy touched my shoulder lightly. “Fiona. I promised your father I wouldn't.”

I stared at her. “My father?”

She nodded.

“Have you given him messages from my mom? What did she say? Do you know what happened to her? Does Dad believe in all this? He never used to believe this sort of stuff.” My words were tumbling out, my thoughts a tornado of memories and questions.

Kathy shook her head. “You'll have to ask him yourself.”

“Tell me. Please.” If Dad didn't believe her, why was he with her? And if he did…if he did believe her, surely he'd want to contact Mom. And if he was in contact with my mother—if he was actually getting
messages
from her—why wouldn't he share that with me? I'd give anything for even one word from her. One single word.

“Fiona, I'm sorry. It's not my place to go against his wishes. You talk to him later, okay?” Kathy looked past me at the lineup forming on the other side of her table. Paying customers. “I better get to work. You two go have some fun.”

I stood there staring at her as she walked over and shook hands with a young woman with a green and orange scarf tied over black hair. Finally Abby grabbed my arm. “Fi. Come on.”

I shook off the arm and followed her away from Kathy's table and down the first aisle, back past Crystal Man and the past-life booth.

“Wow,” Abby said. “That wasn't what I expected.”

“No? Seemed about right to me,” I said. “Leading questions, general statements that could be interpreted in any number of ways.”

“But that stuff about my gran…”

“You told her yourself that your gran was dead. All she did was guess that she had gray hair and that she loved you.” I raised my eyebrows. “That's a pretty safe guess.”

“The part about the beach though. We used to go to the beach together.”

“Yeah, along with half the people in Victoria. We're surrounded by beaches. Besides, it could have meant that she lived near a beach or grew up near one, or that you had a picnic on a beach once. It could have been anything.”

“I guess.” Abby didn't sound convinced.

“And if it meant nothing to you, she'd have thrown out something else. A flower, maybe, or a Christmas tree, or a teacup. Sooner or later, she's going to hit on something. You were the one making the connections, not her.”

“You're upset because she wouldn't try to contact your mom, aren't you?”

I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I don't get it. Why would Dad tell her not to? Do you think he really believes this stuff?”

“He must. He'd hardly be dating her if he thought she was a liar, right?”

I snorted. “She is a liar. She's either lying to him or— if she really believes this stuff—she's lying to herself.”

Abby shook her head. “I don't know, Fi. I thought so too, but she's pretty convincing.”

“Yeah, right. And I suppose that if I ever meet anyone called Michael—which, by the way, is a pretty common name—it's going to be more evidence that Kathy is for real. That was a classic technique, Abby. It's right out of one of those library books.”

“What about the science-project thing?” Abby said defensively. “How'd she know about that?”

“You're the one who said it was our science project. You
gave
her the answers, Abby. All she said was that some woman was smiling at us in a gym. It could have been anything.”

“A red letter A. You know Mrs. Moskin always uses red ink.”

I stamped my foot. “Abby! That was after you told her it might be our science project. And most teachers use red ink.” An idea was slowly forming in my mind. “Besides, I can make sure we don't get an A. I won't hand my stuff in on time. Or I'll make a ton of little mistakes. I won't bother underlining headings, and I'll spell things wrong and…”

Abby grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face her. “Don't you dare, Fiona! That's my grade too, remember?”

I shrugged. “If you're so sure that Kathy's psychic, what are you worried about? She said you'll get an A.”

“I can't believe you'd even consider messing up our science project because Kathy suggested we'd get an A.” Abby screwed her mouth down to one side and shook her head. “That's so wrong.”

“I won't do it, okay? I'm just saying I could.”

“Yeah. You could wreck your own grades—and your best friend's. Nice, Fi. Real nice.”

“You're missing my point,” I said, raising my voice. “Which is, Kathy doesn't know everything, okay? She can't control what I do, so her predictions don't mean anything.”

Caitlin's soft voice cut in. “Mom says it's a chancy business. She says the future isn't written in stone. That we all have free will and can alter the course of events by our actions.”

So proving Kathy wrong wouldn't help me either. She had an answer—an excuse—for everything. “How long have you been standing there listening?” I asked, scowling at her. “We were having a private conversation.”

“Could have fooled me,” Caitlin said. “You were practically shouting at Abby.”

“I was not.”

Abby looked at me. “Yeah, actually you were, Fiona.”

“Go ahead, take Caitlin's side. You've already taken Kathy's side anyway.”

“I have not!”

“You only liked her because she said you were intuitive. You think that wasn't deliberate?” I knew my words would hurt her, but I didn't care. “She tells you you'd be a good psychologist, and you're so desperate to believe her that you forget every single thing we've read about how this works. Some researcher you are.”

Abby was staring at me like I was a stranger, and I couldn't meet her eyes. My heart was thumping, and I could feel sweat trickling down my back. I looked around the room at all the people lining up and whispering and hoping and pretending to hope, and I hated myself for being a part of it. I wished Joni was here. She wouldn't be tricked by a few lucky guesses and a flattering description of her personality.

I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw something. If I didn't get out of here, I was going to lose it in front if everyone. I was going to grab Crystal Man's stupid rocks and hurl them at Abby and Kathy and all the other idiots and phonies in this stupid place. “I'm going out for a few minutes,” I said. “You guys go ahead and get your auras read or whatever.”

I could hear Abby protesting as I walked away, but I didn't look back.

seventeen

I stepped outside, and the sun shone straight in my eyes, dizzyingly bright. Away from the hum and stuffiness of the crowded hall, the air was cool and fresh. I walked quickly down Beacon Avenue, lifted my face to the breeze and smelled the musky salt smell of the ocean. Sidney-by-the-Sea is what the tourist brochures called this town. When Mom and I sailed to Sidney Spit, we usually went to the beach, explored the rocky, wind-swept cliffs and had lunch in
Eliza
J
's cockpit, but sometimes we took the little ferry to Sidney and wandered around the marine shops and bookstores. We ate halibut tacos and chips at Fish on Fifth and browsed the thrift stores for secondhand board games. Everywhere I looked, I was reminded robin stevenson of Mom, and I realized that this was the first time I'd been here since she died.

I made my way down to the waterfront and sat down on the grass, hugging my knees to my chest. There were lots of boats out today: small sailboats, their sails making sharp white triangles against the dark water; the harbor ferry chugging along; a couple of powerboats zipping toward Victoria. I closed my eyes and pictured
Eliza J
in the spot we always anchored, just off the spit. She was a heavy boat, with a full keel, and she sat at anchor more solidly than a lot of other boats. Mom and I would watch the lighter fin-keeled boats moving from side to side with the wind, and Mom would say,
She may not be fast, but
Eliza J
is the kind of boat you want in a storm. She's a
boat you could cross the ocean in.
And she'd wink at me, knowing I was planning to do exactly that.

What if the new people, the people who bought her, took her away somewhere? It would be awful enough to see other people sailing her out of our marina all summer, but what if the new people lived in Vancouver or Port Hardy or on the Sunshine Coast? I'd never see
Eliza J
again.

I had to see her. Even if the worst happened and she was sold and taken away somewhere, I had to see her at least once more. I had to say goodbye.

I stood up, brushed the damp grass from my jeans and walked along the seawall, watching the boats and the water, hoping to see a seal poking its head out of the waves. Even this early in the season, there were lots of people around. Tourists with cameras dangling around their necks and maps clutched in their hands, half of them eating ice creams or greasy fries from paper cones. I wished I had some money. I was starving.

I knew I should go back to the hall, but I couldn't stand the thought of returning to that big airless room. It was totally creepy: all those people pretending that the dead weren't gone forever, pretending that they hung around, invisible but close by, waiting to send messages back just as long as their loved ones shed some cash along with their tears. The whole psychic scene made me sick, and I couldn't believe Abby had been sucked right into it.

So I didn't go back. I just walked around, looking at boats, watching the waves and trying not to think about anything at all.

“Fiona!” A voice cut through my thoughts, and I spun around. Kathy, flanked by Abby and Caitlin. “What were you
thinking
?” The wind blew Kathy's hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ears roughly. “You've been gone for hours. I was beside myself.”

I shrugged. “Should've used your psychic powers to find me.”

Her mouth tightened into a pale ugly line, and she looked as if she wanted to slap me. I almost wished she would lose her cool and do it. Then at least I would have something to tell Dad.

“Abby guessed where you'd be.” She shook her head, and her hair escaped from behind her ears and whipped across her face again. “Your dad trusted me to look after you, and the second I turn my back, you run away.”

“I didn't run away,” I protested. “I went for a walk. To get some fresh air. I'd have come back. It's not like Sidney is New York or anything.”

“I'm taking you home.” She started walking, striding off in front of me, her boot heels clicking against the sidewalk cement. “Come on.”

Abby caught my eye. “Sorry,” she whispered. “She asked me where you were, and I didn't know what to say.”

“I suppose you're a believer now,” I said. “I suppose you're on her side.”

Abby's face got that wobbly look that comes right before someone starts crying. “I don't know what to believe,” she said.

Traitor.
I kept walking, following Kathy to the car.