Perception (8 page)

I AVOIDED EVERYONE THE REST OF THE DAY. THE
next morning, Mallory tried to talk to me at our lockers, but she must have seen the fire in my eyes when I glared at her. She backed away and kept her distance until the end of the school day.

I wandered outside, waiting for Gabriel. We were supposed to meet to go to the police station. I hoped he hadn’t forgotten. I was about to pull out my phone and call him when someone started yelling.

A little shouting in the parking lot wasn’t all that unusual. But this person wasn’t playing. That voice was mad. Spitting mad.

I peered around a giant SUV and saw Cody pacing back and forth by his truck. His arms flailed in the air, and a stream of expletives poured from his mouth. A small group of people had formed around him, all shaking their heads in what looked like mock sympathy.

“He is so pissed,” Kendra said, strutting up to me. “He loves that truck.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Someone keyed the side and flattened his tire.”

“Oh.” I tried to drum up some empathy. I’d been in the victim position enough to understand. But I couldn’t manage to feel anything for Cody.

I was reminded of the cockroach in Tiffany’s locker, and a tiny smile crept onto my face. Cody had been bullying kids like me since preschool. I wasn’t about to feel sorry for him when he got a little taste of it.

“Can I talk to you?” someone asked.

I pulled my eyes from Cody’s meltdown. Mallory stood beside me, waiting for an answer, her eyes a bit glassy. Kendra flipped her hair over her shoulder and rushed off, as if unpopularity were contagious.

“What do you want?” I said, my voice flat.

With Kendra gone, Mallory moved closer to me. “I just want to know what I did wrong. Why you hate me all of a sudden. You’re acting just like …”

Her voice trailed off, but I figured she was about to insert the name of one of the blondes.

“I know it was you, all right?” I snapped.

Mallory blinked rapidly. “Me what?”

“You’re the one who’s been sending me notes. You took the picture of me and stuck it in my locker.”

“What?” Her face was pained. “Why would you think that?”

I put my hand up. “Don’t even bother lying. I saw it. Okay? Saw. It.” I pointed to my head so she’d understand I got a vision.

“No. It wasn’t me. The photograph, yeah, I held it. But I wasn’t the one who took the picture.”

“Su-ure.” I turned to walk away, but she grabbed the sleeve of my jacket.

“I found it on the floor. It must have been stuck in the vent of your locker and fell. So I picked it up, realized what it was, and stuck it back in the vent.”

Her eyes were wild, desperate for me to believe her.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me, instead of pretending you hadn’t seen it before?” I asked.

“I figured you’d think it was me who took it. It was obviously taken when you were alone in your yard, right before I showed up. You know I’m interested in photography.”

She didn’t look like someone who was lying. And her story didn’t contradict my vision in any way. But still … I shook my head.

“This!” She pointed at me and raised her voice, catching the attention of a couple kids walking by. “What you’re doing right now … is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d suspect me. I knew better than to trust you. And I was right.”

Those words hurt. I didn’t want to be one of those judgy people. Like the kids who called me freak without even getting to know me.

Mallory started walking away, head down.

“I want to believe you aren’t the person who’s been messing with me,” I called out.

She stopped and turned. “Just … do the same thing to the other notes, then. You’ll see it wasn’t me.”

“I have.”

“And what did you get?”

“Nothing.”

“So.” She crossed her arms and jutted her chin out. “Your line of thought is that I went out of my way to wear gloves or something so you wouldn’t get a vision from my creepy notes, but then I just bare handled the photograph? Come on. I’m not that dumb.”

She was right. It made no sense. Whoever left the first two notes knew about my gift and did something to hide their imprint. They’d obviously do the same with the picture. But it fell from the locker vent to the floor, and Mallory had the bad luck to pick it up.

I’d treated her like dirt for something she didn’t do. And the reason she wasn’t honest with me from the start was because she knew I’d act this way.

I looked up, ready to apologize, but she was gone. I reared my foot back and kicked at a rock on the ground, watching it skitter across the pavement. It didn’t make me feel better.

“What did that poor pebble ever do to you?” Gabriel swaggered over. His bag was slung over one shoulder. Normally just the sight of him in his black fleece and low-slung jeans would be enough to turn my day around, but it wasn’t working.

“Bad day,” I explained.

He tilted his head to the side. “Maybe some detective work will help.”

I sat in a chair in the police station’s reception area and stared at the discolored linoleum floor. Gabriel had gone through the large metal door and down the hall to his father’s desk.
And now I waited to see if he could convince Detective Toscano to let me have a minute with Sierra’s note.

Other than the dispatcher, who doubles as the receptionist, I was the only one in the room. During the summer the building was busier, the station bustling with seasonal officers the town added to deal with the influx of tourists. But this time of year, things were relatively quiet. I spent a minute or two staring down the artificial plant in the corner. For the season, it was adorned with a fake spiderweb, spread from leaf to leaf. A giant decorative spider sat in the middle, smiling with its fangs.

A hand landed on my shoulder.

I startled and looked up into Phil Tisdell’s worried face.

Phil was a fellow townie about my mom’s age, and a really nice guy. He’d been crushing on my mom for years. I pitied him. Mom flirted with him enough to keep him hanging on, even though she never dated anyone. I think she was still waiting for Dad to walk through the front door.

“Is everything all right, Clare? Why are you here?” Phil asked.

“I’m fine, Phil,” I said. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Oh.” His hand lay over his heart.

I realized how it must have looked, me sitting in the station waiting room, a somber look on my face. “You working today?” I asked. The town hall, where Phil worked, was housed in the same building.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, loosening up. “I came down here for some paperwork.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

He gave a little wave and started to walk away, but then stopped. “Uh, Clare?”

“Yes, Phil?”

He shuffled his feet back and forth. “I was thinking of asking your mother to accompany me to my sister’s wedding next month. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Oh, poor lovesick Phil. “I think that’s a great idea.” His face started to light up before I added, “But I don’t know if she’ll say yes. You know how she is.”

His whole body seemed to sag.

“It’s worth asking, though, right?” I said cheerily.

“Sure, sure,” he mumbled. He walked away as Gabriel strode up to me.

“What was that about?” he asked, eyeing Phil.

“He’s in love with my mother.”

“Uh, okay. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

I followed him down the hall and into the station’s one and only interrogation room.

“Dad’s bringing it in here,” Gabriel explained.

A moment later, Detective Toscano walked in, looking a little worse for wear. I wondered why he was so tired. It wasn’t like they were working around the clock on the Sierra Waldman case.

Then I remembered. Mrs. Toscano was back in town. And that was obviously having an effect on Gabriel’s dad.

The note was in a clear baggy. He placed it on the table
and said, “The mother confirmed this is her daughter’s handwriting. We’re probably going to return it soon since there is no case at present.”

“I came at the right time, then,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable, knowing Detective Toscano’s true feelings about psychics.

We all paused a moment and I shot a quick look at Gabriel. I really didn’t want his dad here, watching over my shoulder. That might mess with my mojo.

Gabriel caught on. “Can we have a minute, Dad?”

He blinked quickly. “Of course. I’ll come back.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.

I let out a long breath, hoping my unease would go with it. Gabriel and I sat on opposite sides of the table. He nudged the bag toward me with a finger. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I slid the note out and grasped it with both hands. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths through my nose. Even with the door closed, I could hear the sounds of the station — the phone ringing, loud conversations, a boisterous laugh. But after a few moments, I felt that familiar buzzing in my body, and the interrogation room faded into the background while a different room appeared before my closed eyes.

She was holding a pen in her right hand and keeping the paper still with the palm of her left. She wrote each word slowly, in large looping letters. I could feel her excitement, but also some anxiety. She was wondering if she was making the right choice.

I felt a hand on her shoulder, urging her on.

She finished the note and folded it up.

“So I’ll leave this for my mom, grab some stuff, and come back.”
It sounded like a question.

I was hoping the person Sierra was with would reply before she stuffed the note in her bag. I pleaded with the vision, with Sierra, to hold on to the paper a bit longer.

But she didn’t.

All I got before the vision was lost was a quick glance up … at a desk. A dark, perhaps cherry wood desk. Plain, with no pictures or anything else on it. Very unlike that of a teenage girl.

I WAS DISAPPOINTED WITH WHAT LITTLE I GOT
from the vision. Gabriel said it was a big accomplishment, though. I’d reaffirmed that Sierra had written the note and obviously voluntarily run away. She was a legal adult. Therefore, no case. But still … something inside me wouldn’t settle. Wouldn’t accept that. Maybe it was that layer of anxiety I’d felt under Sierra’s excitement when she wrote the note.

Wednesday after school, I tried to lose myself in homework. I finished all my assignments and caught up on my reading, but still felt tense. I looked up the Waldmans’ phone number and dialed quickly while I still had the nerve.

It rang several times and eventually went to voice mail.

I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mrs. Waldman? This is Clare Fern. I just wanted to let you know that, um, if you’re still interested, I would love to help out any way I can. I could come and try reading Sierra’s room. If you’d like. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”

Ugh, I was awful at leaving messages.

I hung up, doubting she’d call me back. She probably still thought we were useless frauds. But I felt a little bit better after reaching out. At least I was trying.

I groaned and went downstairs for a soda and chocolate fix. I also hoped Mom would be around, since I wanted to go for a drive.

Mom was at the kitchen table, surrounded by bubble mailers, working on some project of hers. I watched her from the doorway. She was always home, working, supporting her family. She never went out with friends or dated or did anything wild and crazy. Her thoughts were always on Perry and me, never on herself.

There’s a story Mom likes to tell about one time when I was three. She was organizing photographs, and I found one of her as a teenager, at an amusement park with friends. I stared at the picture and asked, “Who was babysitting me and Perry?” When Mom explained that I hadn’t been born yet, I’d had the realization, for the first time, that Mom had lived a long life before me. Without me. It was startling for a three-year-old.

Even now, it sometimes seems strange to think about. Mom, Perry, and I were like the Three Musketeers. We fought, sure, but always remained close-knit. Always loved and lived for one another. Things were changing, though. Perry would be, hopefully, shipping off to college soon. And I would, too, in a couple of years. And Mom would stay here, alone.

For most of my childhood, I was delighted that Mom never remarried or even dated. First, because of my fantasy that Dad would return to re-sweep her off her feet. But also
because I was selfish. Mom lavished attention on Perry and me. I hadn’t wanted some random man to come in and take that away. To steal my time with her.

But now I chided myself for those old selfish feelings. My mother was a telepath. Of course she’d heard me thinking those thoughts once or twice when I was younger. And she’d sacrificed her own happiness for my aversion to change.

Now, as I watched her at the kitchen table, I worried about what would happen in two years. Because if Mom was left here, sad and lonely, it would be my fault.

Mom noticed me in the doorway and smiled. “Would you look at this?” She gestured to the chaos on the table.

“What is all that?” I said, walking to the fridge and grabbing a Diet Coke.

“Orders, my dear. Tons of orders.”

“For those ugly muumuus you made?”

Mom closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. “They are called tapestry dresses, and they’re obviously not ugly since I sold each one I put up on eBay.”

“Really? Congratulations.” I cracked open the soda and took a gulp.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me.

“What?”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “I’m waiting for your compulsory sarcastic remark.”

I laughed. “Seriously, Mom. Congratulations. I think it’s cool. You always said you wanted to start a little side business selling those things you make.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Clarity.”

“I still wouldn’t wear one if you paid me, though.”

Mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you have homework to do? Boys to pine over?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d take me out driving. My learner’s permit is getting dusty.”

“I can’t right now.” She patted the chair next to her. “Chat with me for a minute while I organize these orders. Do you see a pink dress anywhere?”

I sat beside her and riffled through a stack of neatly folded dresses. I held one up. “Is this it?”

“Yes, thank you.” She took it from me and then began searching for something else. “So what’s new in your life, honey?”

Mom wasn’t exactly gung ho over my desire to help the Waldmans. And since my trip to the station had resulted in a big nothing, I didn’t feel the need to go into it. I was even more reluctant to tell her about the secret admirer. She’d just flip out and put me under house arrest. And there was no reason for it. The person was creepy, but it’s not like he’d threatened to kill me or anything. And Mom would completely overreact and make my life a living hell.

“Nothing much,” I lied.

“I like that girl Mallory, who came over to help you with the Halloween decorations.”

I frowned. “How could you like her? You didn’t even meet her.” Then I realized what she’d done. “Oh, Mom.”

She shrugged. “I heard you outside talking to someone. You seemed a little nervous at first, so I listened in a bit. It was harmless.”

“Mom, you can’t do that to every friend who comes over.”

“She was a stranger, talking to my daughter outside at night,” she said indignantly. “I could either go outside, introduce myself, and embarrass you, or peer out the window and listen in to her thoughts for a minute.”

“In that case, thanks, I guess.”

“She’s a nice girl. She likes you.” Mom paused. “A lot.”

“That’s great, Mom,” I said unenthusiastically.

Her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated on peeling an address label off the backing. “I would really like for you to put yourself out there more. Go do normal teenager stuff. Especially during the school year when we’re not busy at home. I know you’ve been invited to things this year and haven’t gone.”

I watched a drop of water trickle down the side of the soda can. “Those girls at school aren’t real friends. They’re just interested in what I can do.”

“But if you’d let them get to know you instead of keeping them at arm’s length, then I’m sure they’d come to love all of you.”

“I don’t care if they like me or not. They called me freak girl for years.”

“And I heard you call them the Barbie Brigade,” Mom retorted.

“I say that to Perry, not to their faces.”

“Is it really that much better?” She added the finished mailer to a pile on the floor. “They judged you, you judge them. Maybe it’s time to put an end to all that. They’re reaching out to you, Clare. Why not give it a try?”

A slow smile spread across my lips as an idea occurred to me. “I’ll make a deal with you. The next time the Barbie Brigade invites me to something, I’ll say yes.”

“Under what condition?” Mom asked suspiciously.

“The next time Phil Tisdell asks you out, you say yes. You give
that
a try.”

She sighed heavily and clasped her hands.

“Perry and I both want you to be happy, Mom.” I added in a soft voice. “No one would blame you for moving on.”

“Just one date?” she asked.

“That’s the deal.”

“Fine.”

“Yes!” I pumped my arm for this small yet giant victory. I pushed back my chair and stood up, stretching. “Now let’s take a break so you can teach me how to parallel park.”

She looked down at all the work she hadn’t finished. “I really don’t have the time, honey.”

“But I need the practice. My test is next month.”

“Periwinkle!” Mom’s yell echoed off the kitchen walls.

I winced. “Warn me the next time you’re going to do that.”

Perry trotted in a moment later. “Yeah?”

Mom, carefully wrapping a dress in tissue paper, said, “Could you take your sister out for a while? Let her practice driving?”

His eyes widened. “No, I’m too busy.”

“Doing what?” I asked.

“Um, I have to, ah, build Mom a new website to sell her dresses on. So she doesn’t have to go through eBay.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “You said you couldn’t get started on that until I tell you what URL I want to purchase.”

“Well, yeah, but I was starting to, ah, conceptualize …”

Mom tilted her head slightly while Perry um’d and ah’d. He didn’t notice, but I knew she was taking a listen.

Finally, she slapped her hand on the table. “Stop this nonsense. You’re helping your sister and that’s that.”

His face darkened. “Fine.” He swiveled on his foot and stomped out of the kitchen.

Mom called out, “You’ll appreciate it after she has her license and doesn’t bug you to chauffeur her around anymore.”

I gave her a dirty look and whispered, “You listened to his thoughts.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to see what his problem was. He won’t tell me. I had no other choice. I had to make sure he was all right.”

“And?”

She waved her hand theatrically in the air. “He’s just being lazy. He was only thinking, ‘I don’t wanna go out. I don’t wanna go out.’ Over and over. Whining like a baby. I don’t know what to do about him.”

If she only knew what I knew: that Perry was considering skipping college altogether. She’d have a conniption.

I swiped Perry’s car keys off the hook and bolted past him on our way out. I scooted in behind the wheel, excitement pumping through my veins. Driving gave me a rush, a small taste of the freedom to come.

Perry cast one last wistful look at the house, then got in the passenger side.

“Oh, wipe the doom and gloom off your face,” I said. “It won’t be that bad.”

He grunted in response.

“I was thinking we could go down Hickory Lane.”

“Sure,” Perry muttered.

I took care backing out of the driveway, since we live on a main road. It would have been more difficult during the summer months, but now it took only a few moments for me to see the road was clear. I backed out, then shifted into drive. I pressed the accelerator too hard at first, then let up completely and the car jerked. I cringed, waiting for Perry to snap at me, but he stayed silent.

I kept the speed steady the rest of the way down Rigsdale and was starting to feel a bit proud of myself.

“You’re hugging the curb,” Perry said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry.” I saw that he was right. I was a bit nervous about the oncoming traffic and overcompensated by steering too close to the sidewalk instead of the dotted line. I corrected it.

“Thanks for the tip,” I added, wanting Perry to know I appreciated his taking me out like this. “Hey, I got Mom to agree to go on a date with Phil.”

I was expecting some form of “how the hell did you accomplish that?” but Perry only said, “That’s great.”

I risked a glance at him. He looked pale, almost sick, with beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. He gripped the
door handle so hard, you’d think I was going a hundred miles an hour. I checked the speedometer, just in case. I was only going thirty. What was his problem?

I was so weirded out by his behavior that I didn’t see the light had turned red until we were almost upon it. I had to slam on the brakes.

Perry braced himself against the dashboard with both hands. “Clare! Red means stop, you know.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

The light turned green and I took a right onto quiet Hickory Lane, sometimes called Cottage Row by locals. It was a long road ending in a cul-de-sac, filled with cute little cottages. They were almost all vacation homes or summer rentals, now dark and empty in the fall. I let out a deep breath, feeling more comfortable.

“We should turn back,” Perry said, his voice catching.

“Don’t worry. This road is empty. I can’t run anyone over.”

“I’ve had enough.” His voice shook. “Let’s go home.”

I looked over at him and was startled. He’d seemed nervous before, but now he was terrified. His chest heaved in and out with each breath. Sweat stained his T-shirt. His hands were balled into bright white fists on his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” I asked. “Are you sick?”

“Watch out!” he yelled, reaching for the wheel.

I turned back to the road just in time to see that while I was looking aghast at my brother, the car had swerved to the right. Directly at a man dragging a trash can down his driveway. A look of terror flashed on the man’s face as he flung himself backward. I jerked the wheel to the left, but Perry
had reached out for it at the same time and accidentally pulled it to the right. I slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed. And finally it stalled, after hitting something with a sickening crunch.