Seeker (The Seeker Series Book 1) (9 page)
Read Seeker (The Seeker Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Amy Reece
I flopped back down. “Yeah, well, that’s all done with. He barely talks to me anymore.” I grabbed my pillow and hugged it.
“Well, I think you should confront him about it. This is the new paradigm, Ally. We are women! We don’t have to wait for the guy to act anymore.” Easy for her to say. “Loser!” she taunted. I threw my pillow at her. “Hey, watch the nails!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to him about it. Probably. Maybe.” Definitely not.
“First though, you promised me I could give you a makeover. Remember, we need to make you irresistible before you confront him. I think his parole officer must have scared him off after that whole pregnancy fiasco last week. He probably told Jack to stay the hell away from you,” she said in entirely too off-hand a manner.
“It’s probation, not parole. Don’t make him seem like more of a criminal than he is,” I muttered.
“Sorry. Hey, he’s not a criminal. I really like him and I think you two will be a great couple, which is why I’m so willing to help you snag him. You simply need to put yourself into my oh-so-capable hands so I can make you look older, slightly sultry, and totally do-able.”
“Do-able? Yikes, Tara. Could we focus on him asking me out on a first date?”
“Dream big, sweetie. It’s good to have a concrete goal in mind.” She blew on her nails. “Now, let’s discuss when this makeover is going to take place. What’s your schedule like next week after school?”
“Well, since Jack stopped talking to me, my schedule is wide open,” I said as I hugged my stuffed dog.
“Perfect. We’ll go after school, maybe Wednesday. I need to check my rehearsal schedule. Hey, how is your campaign to talk to Veronica going? Have you had any more visions?”
“No, not since that last awful one. Jeez, Tara, I never wanted to see anything like that. And talking to her is going very slowly. We’re still pretty much on the one-word conversation level.”
“Could it possibly be because she’s a dumb bitch?”
“Tara! God, you’re mean,” I said. The thing is, I used to agree with her before I started getting my own personal Veronica-cam. Now I didn’t quite know what to think about her.
“I tell it like it is. My nails are dry, so let’s go raid your kitchen and then watch a movie. I brought over several and I’ll let you choose. We can either watch Channing Tatum take his shirt off and save the President, or Brad Pitt save the world from zombies. Nothing like some hot eye candy to get your mind off that horrible vision.”
“How am I supposed to choose between such hotties? You have to stay long enough to watch them both.”
She laughed. “I can probably swing that. Hey, have you been thinking about the whole ‘Nick’ thing? Veronica calls the guy in the visions Nick. Do we know anyone named Nick? Anyone at school?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, but I really don’t think it’s someone our age.”
“Well, what about a teacher?”
“Eww, gross. I don’t know, I guess we could start looking into teachers’ first names. How many teachers do you think we have?” I gathered chips and salsa and diet sodas.
“At least 40, and that’s not counting assistants or coaches or anything. Do we know anyone who’s an office aide? That would really help.”
“Nope, and I have no idea if it’s even someone at school. It could be anyone she knows.”
“Well, that’s great. Sounds kind of like a dead end, at least for now. Come on, let’s watch the movies.”
***
“All right, Ally. The first order of business is to prevent you from passing out during these visions. You need to be able to have the experience and not attract extra attention, no matter how cute he may be.”
I looked up at her sharply, amazement clearly on my face. She raised her eyebrows at me.
“Now, I’m going to take you back through your visions. You’re going to focus on my pendant. Go ahead; stare at it and try not to blink too much.”
I began to stare at the large silver pendant that hung on a chain around her neck. Of course, the second someone tells you not to blink, you can think of nothing else but your need to blink.
“Now, I’m going to touch your hand. The power of touch is very important in a Seer. When I touch you, I want you to think back to your first vision about Veronica. I want you to concentrate on it and don’t be distracted. Don’t worry about the temperature in the room or whether or not you’ll pass out. I won’t let that happen.” She slowly reached out to touch my hand. Immediately I was transported in my mind back to the very first vision I had about Veronica. It was her red belt and
The Scarlet Letter
that had started it. Just like Hester Prynne, she had a secret pregnancy. And just like Hester, she was going to find it impossible to keep it secret for very long unless she did something more modern about it. More than anything, I could feel the intensity of her feelings, both the fear of her situation and her reluctance to end the pregnancy. She was curled up on her bathroom rug, crying, but I knew what she was feeling. In a weird way, I was the one curled up on the rug, not Veronica. I had a hard time distinguishing whether it was Veronica or me in the vision. I kept reaching further; now I could feel/see her worry that this would end the relationship with her boyfriend, Danny, whom she had not, contrary to everyone’s expectations, had a sexual relationship with. She knew she was running out of time. Hoping it would all go away wasn’t working. I could feel her confusion about her feelings for this Nick person who had gotten her pregnant.
“Ally! Come back! Now!” Cassie removed her hand and I slowly fought my way back to myself.
“Wow, Cassie. That was clearer than anything I’ve experienced. I saw deeper into the vision than I did the first time. What was it like, I mean in the room? Did it get really hot?”
“It got a bit warm, but nothing too extreme or exceptionally noticeable. That’s what we’re looking for: you able to see clearly without the whole room knowing something odd is happening. Now, we have to get you to the point of being able to do it by yourself. The problem is how deep you went into the vision. I wasn’t sure you were going to come back on your own. You can’t ever let yourself go that deep.”
“How do I do that? I didn’t intend to go that deep. Great, I’m getting worse instead of better.”
“It will come, Ally. Don’t worry. Let’s try it again, now that you know what’s going to happen. Concentrate this time on controlling your reaction and how far into the vision you let yourself go.” She took my hand again and immediately I was back in the same vision of Veronica. I could see just as clearly, but I really thought about still being present in the room with Cassie. I would lose it for a minute and hear Cassie urge me to get it back. I don’t know how long this went on; keeping track of time was beyond me at this point. Finally, Cassie let go of my hand and I was back. “Much better, Ally. You’re a quick learner.”
“Cassie,” I hesitated, “last time you said I might develop other types of powers. What did you mean?”
“Well…” She stood up and began pacing around her office. Was she nervous? “Adele has told you that Seers usually manifest only one type of gift, I assume?” I nodded my assent. “Well, that’s almost always the case, especially in this day and age. In ancient times, Seers were much more powerful, but the gift has been much diluted through the ages as families have married outside of the ancient lines.”
“Are you from the same family line as Grams and I?”
“No. My family line traces back to the McTeige line in County Donegal, Ireland. But obviously, there has been much dilution along the way.” She gave an ironic smile, gesturing to her dark skin. “But every once in a while, a Seer is born who has the gift of the ancients. Your grandmother and I feel there’s a strong possibility that you are such a person. We’ll have to wait and see what else happens with your visions. They seem to be getting clearer each time.”
I swallowed that bit of information down. “Do you have this ‘gift of the ancients’?” I asked. “What about Grams?”
“No, our powers are much more limited than yours seem to be. I’m only able to touch a person and see what they see. “
“I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Me being one, I mean.”
“Completely understandable. For now, are you willing to follow the path?” Cassie looked at me hard.
I swallowed again and nodded.
“Good. Then let’s try something different. I want you to touch an object and see if you can sense anything about where it came from.”
“Like Grams?”
“Yes, like your Grams.” She walked to the shelf behind her desk and picked up a small, iridescent glass ball from a stand. She carefully placed it in my hands. “Now, stare at the ball.”
It was beautiful, with pink, blue, and green streaks running across it. At first nothing at all happened. I felt stupid staring at a ball. Then, as I continued to focus, the streaks seemed to dance before my eyes. I stared harder. Suddenly, the ball became fuzzy and I began to see a crowd of people, chattering in what sounded like French. I could now tell that it was a gift shop, in a museum of some sort. Cassie was standing next to an extremely handsome black man, who was paying for the glass ball. They were laughing and he leaned down to kiss her. I could see the name of the shop, Musee D’Orsay, on the bag as he handed it to her with a smile. ‘To remember our dream trip,’ he said.
I opened my eyes and smiled up at Cassie. “You got this in Paris, at the Musee D’Orsay gift shop. A very handsome man gave it to you.”
She clapped her hands together in front of her mouth. “That’s wonderful, Ally. On the first try! Amazing! Do you realize that this means you have two powers already? I haven’t heard of that since…” she trailed off.
“Cassie? Who is he? The guy in the vision?”
She appeared to give herself a mental shake. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got caught up. That man is my fiancé, Gregory, and, yes, he’s very handsome. I’m no idiot.” She said as she smiled slyly.
“When are you getting married?”
“We’re planning a traditional June wedding. I’d rather elope to Vegas, but he insists.” She said it fondly, and I wondered how much she had protested. “All right, that’s enough for today. You must be beyond exhausted. Go home and get some rest. As I was leaving to go catch my bus, she said, “And I agree with Tara. You should ask Jack why he’s giving you the cold shoulder. You don’t ever have to be afraid to talk to him.”
“How did you…?” I began.
“Ally, he’s all over your thoughts. Stop obsessing and start talking to him.”
Jeez. Everyone thinks they know what I should do. Okay, so Cassie
is
psychic and probably knows what she’s talking about, but still.
“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
–Buddha
I couldn’t stop obsessing over whether or not I should talk to Jack about our relationship. Or our lack thereof. Whatever. But that’s what we teenage girls do: obsess over boys we like. We can’t help it; it’s hardwired into our DNA or something. So I tossed and turned for quite a while that night, thinking about how Tara and Cassie both thought I should confront him and find out what the deal was. I wasn’t so sure. I remembered how Jack had talked about the fact he was 18 and on probation and it didn’t look too good, even though we weren’t dating or anything. That last bit was the part that really got to me.
Even though we weren’t dating or anything.
Not “I wish we could, but this stupid age difference and my criminal history is the only thing keeping me from kissing you passionately.” Nope. Not even close.
I finally fell asleep around two. Yikes. I was going to look less than spectacular in the morning. Maybe Jack would take one look at me and think, “Whew, dodged a bullet there!” This was not one of my best moments. As a result of my sleepless night, I was less than pleasant to my friends the next day. I snapped at Tara on the way to school when she asked if I had considered talking to Jack about ‘you-know-what.’
“Just leave it, Tara.”
“Jeez. Kill the messenger, why don’t you?” She sounded a bit offended.
“Sorry.” I immediately felt horrid. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“Hey, it’s okay. That’s what best friends are for. Now that I know, feel free to bitch away,” she said breezily.
“No, that’s not fair to you. It’s just that Cassie told me I should talk to him too.” I had filled Tara in over the phone last night about my session with the psychic. Well, I certainly wasn’t busy texting or talking to Jack, who seemed to have forgotten my phone number. “I know I should talk to him, but I mean, what if it ruins what little we do have?” I whined.
“What is it, exactly, that you think you have?”
“Ouch. I thought I was the one allowed to be bitchy.”
“Touché. But I’m serious. You’re barely more than acquaintances right now. It sounds to me like you have a whole lot more to gain than lose,” she said.
“I know, I know,” I muttered. “I need time to think.”
“Whatever,” she derided. “You’re going to ‘think’ yourself right out of a perfectly hot boyfriend.”
Physics was plain brutal that morning. Sitting by him, working with him, yet barely communicating with him was awful. Every conversational volley I started fell flat when he answered with as few words as possible. I was distracted from my misery and gloom by Veronica and her current coterie cackling over something. She may be going through hell in her private life, but on the surface she was as obnoxious and loud as ever.
“I know,” Veronica was saying in a stage whisper. Seriously. A stage whisper. You’d have to be stone deaf not to hear her. “She can’t do
any
of the stunts anymore. She doesn’t have a sense of balance at all anymore.” More giggles. “But we’re totally screwed! We lost our best flyer!”
It seemed they were blathering on about cheerleading. Boring! I went back to my misery and gloom with Jack. So much better. Cold, formal politeness always beats inane chatter.
“Pass me the calipers, please.”
“Sure. Here you go.”
See what I mean? To make it worse, he made a completely lame excuse about having to take a make-up quiz for pre-calculus so he had to skip lunch and would see me later.
“Enough,” said Tara as I moped over my salad. “Meet me after school. We’re taking this to the next level. Today is D-Day for Operation Makeover. I don’t have rehearsal and I got permission from Grams for you to use your credit card for some much-needed wardrobe updating.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Tara. I need to…”
“I know: think. Enough thinking already! It’s time for action, if you’re ever going to get any.”
“Oh, ha ha. Whatever.”
“All right. It’s happening. Now, I have great news,” Tara announced.
“What?” I asked warily.
“I have a great idea for how you can get close to Veronica! It’s brilliant!” She fished in her bag and came up with a crumpled flyer, which she handed to me.
Cheerleading Tryouts
Flyers/Tumblers Needed
Friday 3:00 p.m. Main Gym
“What on earth are you thinking?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Apparently Tricia Barnes’ boobs grew into gigantic melons over the past few months, or she got implants or something. Anyway, she completely lost her sense of balance and has been relegated to the bottom of the pyramid. You will try out for the team or squad or whatever they call it. They need a flyer—one of those girls they throw around and who gets to be on the top of the pyramid. You’ll be perfect! You used to be in gymnastics and you’re so small, you’d be a great flyer! And once you’re on their little team, you’ll have to spend all sorts of time with Veronica, which sucks because she’s a completely vapid excuse for a human being, but that’s just my opinion.”
“I can’t think of anything in the entire world I want less than to be a cheerleader, and that includes root canals. That is lamer than lame!”
“Tell me, Ally,” she said in her superior tone. “And how successful have you been in getting close to Veronica and finding out about her little secret? Hmm?”
Ouch. She was right.
She wasn’t finished, apparently. “The best way to get her to open up to you is to become part of her crowd. You need to go undercover with the In Crowd. You need to infiltrate their ranks. You need—”
“You need to stop watching Nikita on Netflix. Seriously, Tara? I can’t be a cheerleader. I’ll never make it on the squad. Why would they choose me?”
She went in for the kill. “Well then, there’s no reason not to try out. Nothing to lose. Prove me wrong.”
I knew I shouldn’t fall for it, but heck, I’d been falling for it for years. It’s my weakness. I can’t resist when Tara issues what is basically a double-dog dare. Crap.
“Fine.” I snatched the flyer out of her hand. “When are the stupid tryouts? I’ll go and try out and they’ll laugh me out of the gym. Will that make you happy?”
“Yes,” she said smugly. The bell rang. “Remember, meet me after school. After your makeover, we can go to Starbucks and make our plan of attack.”
I made my way through the hallways after school to meet up with Tara, thinking how awful it had been to sit through English knowing Jack was behind me, but never said a word. All I got was a curt “see ya” as he skirted around me to leave the classroom at the last bell.
Tara was waiting for me by her car, a Jeep Cherokee that had been her mother’s before she traded up for an Infiniti. Not that I’m jealous or anything. I have a driver’s license and I’m perfectly capable of driving. It’s just that the actual act of driving is truly frightening to me. I was in a fairly minor fender bender right after I got my license this summer. And, yeah, it kind of freaked me out. I may have had a teensy weensy panic attack and refused ever to drive again. So this is why I’m a gold card member of the Albuquerque Metro bus pass of the month club.
“So, after you dress me up, let’s go to the Starbucks in Barnes and Noble. I can drown my sorrows and get a new book at the same time,” I suggested as I got into the Jeep.
“No,” she replied a bit too quickly. “They don’t take coupons. We’ll go to a different one, if you don’t mind?”
It was proof of my extreme level of distraction that I wasn’t more suspicious. After we stopped by Victoria’s Secret so Tara could get her free panty—of course she was on their mailing list and of course she picked a lacy thong—she dragged me into Hollister. “This would be so cute on you, Ally. Try it on.” Before I knew what was happening, she was shoving me into a dressing room with several outfits. I don’t know how we’ve managed to stay best friends for so long when she loves this kind of stuff and I usually shop on Amazon.com while sitting on my couch in my pajamas. She was a woman on a mission, and in very short order had me dressed in a new outfit, which I had to admit was cute and made me feel attractive. She picked out a short plaid skirt with black leggings and a teal sweater that she said looked really good with my hair color and showed that I actually had boobs. She even found black flats. I told her I had some at home and didn’t need the shoes. That’s when she broke the news that I was wearing this outfit home and couldn’t possibly do so in my tennis shoes. She had the clerk cut off the tags and bag my jeans and hoodie and then she bullied me into changing into the new clothes. She then whisked me off to Sephora, where it turns out she had made an appointment for me to get a mini-makeover. Again, I know I should have been more suspicious, but she didn’t give me much time to process what was going on. She said it was a great chance to try out my new look before debuting it at school. By the time we had finished and she let me finally look in a full-length mirror, it was pushing 4:30. I was shocked by my appearance. She was behind me, taking out my ponytail and smoothing out my hair with her brush. She hugged me from behind.
“You’re gorgeous, Ally. You need to permanently give up your middle school jeans and t-shirt look and let me start picking out your clothes. This is so fun! I’ve made you look at least four years older. Jack won’t be able to resist you! Wait ’til he sees this!”
“Let’s go. I’m dying of thirst. And I need a marshmallow treat in the worst way,” I whined. I was secretly pleased with what she had done. I did look older, and the makeup was subtle enough that I didn’t freak out. The artist at Sephora had given me what she called ‘smoky eyes’ and it looked good without being too much.
I was surprised and somewhat annoyed when we didn’t head to the Starbucks right across from the mall. There truly is one on every corner.
“I want to go to the one on Lomas,” Tara said in answer to my ‘hey you just drove by Starbucks’ comment. “I saw a really cute guy there last week. I want to see if he’s there again.”
Now I was finally suspicious. When we reached Lomas and I could see the Starbucks about half a block away, she pulled into the parking lot of an auto body shop and put the Jeep into park, engine still idling.
“Ally, you know I love you. This is for your own good. This is where Jack works. Now get the hell out of this car and go in there and talk to him.” She hit the unlock mechanism and looked at me expectantly.
In shock, I tried to sputter my refusal. “You set me up!”
“Of course I did! Just do it. Meet me at the Starbucks when you’re done.”
I got out and she drove away. I guess I could have sat there in the passenger seat refusing to budge, but I wouldn’t put it past her to walk around and pry me out of the Jeep in a very undignified manner. I squared my shoulders and turned around to face the auto body shop. Jimenez Auto Body. I had to hand it to her for her research skills. She had found out when and where Jack worked, which was more than I had done. I had absolutely no doubt he was currently inside. Tara would have made sure.
Well, let’s get this over with. At least you’ll know.
***
“Can I help you?” asked the woman as I entered.
“Um, yeah,” I practically whispered as I approached her desk. “I, uh, I was wondering if I could talk to Jack. Um, Jack Ruiz, for a minute. If he’s here. And not busy.”
“Jack, huh?” she said. “Let me see if he’s available.” She picked up the phone to apparently page him. I could swear she was trying to keep a smirk off her face. “Hey, Manny, can you ask Jack to come up to reception for a minute? He has a visitor. Thanks.” She hung up the phone. “Have a seat,” she said, not unkindly. “He’ll be right here.”
Oh, god, oh god, what have I done? What on earth am I going to say to him?
I worried on like this for several minutes.
And then he was coming through the back door, wiping his hands on a towel. He was wearing a uniform of sorts: dark blue work pants and a matching shirt that had “
Jack
” embroidered on the left breast pocket. It was odd seeing him in a context other than school. He looked completely wonderful. And very grown-up. Crap. “Hey, Shelly. Manny says I got a visitor? Who…” He didn’t need to finish as Shelly pointed to where I was nervously sitting on my hands.
“Hi, Jack.” I stood up and nervously wiped my hands on my skirt. I stood there, awkwardly, wondering what on earth I could possibly say to him.
“Ally!” His eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing here?”
Well, what did I expect? “I, uh, I was wondering if you had a few minutes. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. You know, about our English project,” I said for Shelly’s benefit, realizing that accosting him at work might not be such a brilliant idea. I didn’t want to get him in trouble or anything.
