Supernatural Summer (2 page)

Everyone except my mother. She looked straight at me through the glass doors and tilted her head. I hated how I gave away details about my day. It was bad enough that I had to see my emotions reflected in my physical surroundings. But the worst was that she could tell exactly how I felt about everything.

She smiled at me and winked, like she had any clue what I was going through. I huffed and rolled my eyes. As I marched toward the kitchen, the studio music smoothed and returned to normal.

I went out the back door and crossed the yard. A small cottage stood in the far corner, formerly a maid's quarters back when such things were
en vogue
. I opened the door and pushed my way past the gardening supplies and my dad's tool bench. At the back, wooden slats had been nailed to the wall to form a makeshift ladder. I climbed to the loft.

The space was stuffy and smelled of topsoil and dry rot. Dust moats danced in the shafts of light that shone through the pane of stained glass. The inclined roof made it impossible to stand upright.

It was my favorite place in the world.

This is where I came to shake off the rough days at school, or arguments with my parents. Or to bask in the things that, from time to time, went so right in my life that I didn't want to stop thinking about them.

I flopped down on the foam mat on the floor and kicked off my shoes. Closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. I didn't want to think about how my life had taken such a horrible turn in the past two weeks, but that was about as easy as trying to ignore a tarantula as it crawled up my leg.

It had started one morning during breakfast when I told my mom I was going to spend the night at Audrey's. She said no, she'd signed us up for a mother-daughter retreat and, in a clipped tone, reminded me "we-need-to leave-first-thing-in-the-morning-did-you-forget-about-this?"

I had. More like, I'd shoved it out of my mind. When she told me she signed us up, I should have been up front and said I wasn't interested. But as was my habit, I brushed her aside and ignored the date circled on the calendar.

Now she was telling me to start packing. My expression may have been composed, but inside, I was screaming, "I'm not going! No way am I gonna sit in a drumming circle and talk about my feelings!" I was unprepared for what happened next.

Every cupboard door swung open and then
WHAP
! slammed shut hard enough to rattle the dishes. My dad was at the table with us. We jolted in our seats. My parents looked at me.

"What?" I snapped.

My mother gazed at me, her smile crafty, knowing. "You know, Summer, it's such a beautiful drive up the coast, we should leave early. Let's head to the retreat right after lunch. Be packed and ready to go by noon, okay?"

"But you
said
I could go to the
beach
with Audrey!"

BAM! An empty pan rose off the stove, flew through the air, and hit the wall.

"Oh honey," my mother beamed. She rushed to my side and smothered me in a hug. By the glow on her face, you'd think I'd been nominated for a Pulitzer.

"Don, did you see that?"

My dad breathed a heavy sigh and set down his newspaper. Looked at the fresh divot in the wall. "Time to stock up on spackle," he said and left for the tool shed.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked. My parents didn't mind if I swore, as long as it was warranted. Which, in this case, it definitely was.

"Honey, I'm so proud of you."

My eyes bulged, and I swallowed hard. "Did I do that?"

She nodded. "You're poltergeisting!" She squashed me in another hug.

"Polter-whating?"

She took my hand in hers. "When a girl begins her journey through puberty…"

"God, Mom, really? I'm sixteen. I don't need the sex talk." I shifted uneasily in my chair.

"Summer, hear me out. Your shifting hormones are causing changes in your physical body, as you well know."

I rolled my eyes. Could this conversation get any worse?

"But it can also have a strong effect on your energy body."

This got my attention. "You mean my aura and stuff?" Living in a New Age household made me all too familiar with the terminology.

"Exactly. Every teenager goes through it, but the change is usually subtle enough that it goes unnoticed. But you, your emotions are creating such a strong resonance that it's affecting your physical surroundings. You're practically blooming with energy!"

I was trying to stay calm. "So, you're telling me that the cupboards slammed because I got mad?"

My mother nodded, giddy.

"And you think this is a good thing?" Panic gripped me.

"This may be a precursor to strong psychic ability. My mother poltergeisted as a teenager, and you know how connected she was."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Summer, we've had this conversation."

"We have?"

She nodded.

Oh god. This must have been one of those times I was ignoring her. Some of the stuff she said was so ridiculous, so
out there
…

"I went through this when I was your age. It was about the time I met your dad. Luckily, we grew up together in the same Sedona co-op, so he didn't give it a second thought." My mom stared wistfully into space. "But that's how he knew I had a crush on him. Every time he came near, things magically started moving."

"You mean he saw how you felt?"

She gave my shoulder a squeeze. "It's not all bad. This can be a magnificent time for you. Once, when your dad…"

 
"Oh my god." I jumped out of my chair. "My most private feelings will be out there for everyone to see, and I'm supposed to be happy about this?"

A series of loud thumps and knocks erupted in the kitchen as though someone were hitting the walls and ceiling with a hammer. I buried my face in my hands. I'd refused to talk about it after that.

I got out of going to the retreat, but the next two weeks were the worst of my life. At first, I was paranoid about having any emotion. This made things worse. I was a cauldron of suppressed anger, resentment, confusion, sadness, and embarrassment. As I paced through the house, determined to hold everything in, books flew off their shelves. Curtains whipped as though caught in a hurricane wind. Small fires erupted in garbage cans.

Soon I began to see patterns in the activity and started to think offensively. If my temper was rising, I knew I needed to watch out for flying objects and discreetly keep other people out of their path. When sadness settled in and the electricity became erratic, I'd try to stay clear of appliances. Problem was, the poltergeisting was getting stronger.

*****

The back door to the house slammed and something pinged against the outside of the shed. I rolled off the mat, opened the stained glass window, and looked outside.

My nine-year-old brother, Ram Dass, smirked at me from below and loaded another stone into a slingshot he'd fashioned out of who-knows-what and strung up between two small trees. My parents had named him after the spiritual guru they revered, and seemed to be grooming Ram to be the planet's next great mystic. Unfortunately, they were blind to the obnoxious, stone-throwing, stick-wielding beast he'd become.

"Hey, Spook, dinner's ready," he called out, and he prepared to launch the rock at the shed. I squinted at the contraption. Pink. Floral. A tiny bow in the middle.

 
"Ram Dass, I told you to stay out of my room!"

He abandoned his mission and tore into the house.

My parents and brother waited for me at the table. "Did you see what he did to my bra?" I asked my mother.

"Mom said I could use it," Ram interrupted. "It's for my project on creative usability. Besides, it was way too big for you."

I huffed. I really didn't want to have this conversation at the dinner table. Not with my dad sitting across from me.

My mom toggled between my brother and me, explaining and scolding in one long breath. "I gave him permission to use whatever he could find around the house. Without getting into your sister's things, Ram. To be fair, Summer, I did overestimate your size. If you don't grow, we'll go shopping for you."

My dad gave me a quizzical look and busied himself with spooning vegan gravy onto his Tofurky steak. I wanted to die.

The phone began to ring, and my cheeks started to burn. The gravy dish began to quake, and gravy sloshed onto the table.

"Oh honey, does this conversation make you uncomfortable?" My mom asked.

 
"Maybe it's a telemarketer, okay?" The phone rang again, but no one got up to answer it.

"Ten bucks says Spook is doing it."

"We do not gamble money, Ram Dass, and stop calling your sister
Spook
," my mother said.

"Fine, but if I'm right, I get to use the bra with the squishy cups. It'll hold bigger rocks."

"Can I please be excused?"
I stood up and everyone's silverware clattered off the table and onto the floor.

My dad sighed and leaned back in his chair. "All right, everybody settle down. Ram Dass, stay out of your sister's room, and that's the last I'd better hear about a slingshot. Summer, finish your dinner and stop splashing the gravy."

 
"I can't help it."

"Summer, you have no idea how long this is going to last, so you may as well learn how to manage it. You can't go destroying everything around you."

*****

Days passed since I'd talked to Joshua. My next work shift wasn't until the following week, so rather than risk more public humiliation, I hung around the house, reading, listening to music, and trying not to strangle Ram.

"Summer," my mom called from the first floor, "I'm going to pick up your brother."

I bounded downstairs and cut her off at the door. "I'll do it," I said and held out my hand for the car keys. I was dying to get out of the house, even if it meant listening to Ram Dass complain about his Youth Conflict Mediation class. Besides, cruising around town was the perfect activity. I'd get some fresh air and stay out of the public eye. Why didn't I think of it sooner?

"His class doesn't finish for an hour. I want you to stop by the co-op and pick up a few things."

I grumbled and waited while my mom made out a list. This was ruining my plan, but if I said anything, she'd only argue.

Fifteen minutes later, I was driving my parents' electric car down Anapamu Street, the windows rolled down and the wind in my hair, enjoying a perfect California afternoon. I parked in front of the co-op and darted inside.

The store was empty except for the hippie dude who ran the register. Once I reached the far aisle, I slowed my pace and strolled in blissful solitude. I dropped items in the grocery cart, feeling like a normal teenager. I was in such a good mood that I even bought a box of Mary's Gone Crackers to share with Ram Dass on the way home.

I was loading the last bag of groceries into car when a passing Jeep honked and slowed in the far lane. Next thing I knew, Joshua hopped out the passenger side. He dodged traffic and jogged over to me.

My jaw dropped. All the effort I'd made to avoid familiar faces and Josh shows up, tall and tan and thoroughly discombobulating. A million little pinpricks gathered in my nerve endings and threatened to cause a scene. But the image of Josh asking for Audrey's number flitted through my memory. The prickling faded.

 
"Hey, just the person I want to see," he said. His smile was shy and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well, here I am," I muttered. "But I really gotta go."

"I jumped out of a moving vehicle to talk to you."

I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. "Me?"

"Yeah. You want to…" he looked up and down the street. His eyes settled on Café Dulce. "…grab some coffee?"

I studied his awkward stance, the hopeful look on his face. Had he changed his mind about calling Audrey? He hadn't asked her out yet or she'd have told me. She and I may not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but she was no backstabber. Audrey would have declined his offer or asked for my okay to date him.

"If you want to know more about Audrey, maybe you should give her a call?"

His brow crinkled. "Why would I want to talk about her?"

"The other day, you were all about, you know, ‘is she seeing anyone?' "

"That was for my brother. Audrey's into older guys, right?"

"She is."

"He might ask her out. But he's kind of a flake, so no promises. So, you want to hang out?"

The little pinpricks returned. They skittered up the back of my neck to the top of my head. My greatest fantasy was being handed to me, along with a ginormous problem. The guy of my dreams was asking me out, and I was without Audrey, my usual cover. I swallowed, hard. I could do this. I
had
to do this.

"Coffee would be great," I beamed.

While Josh ordered lattes and sweets, I scanned the café for the safest place to sit. A table in the back held the most promise. The windows were bare and the surrounding spaces were empty. I took a stack of newspapers—already ruffling and falling onto the floor—and dropped them in the recycle bin on the opposite side of the room.

Josh set our order and a few napkins on the table. I tucked the napkins under my cup and hoped for the best. Talking to Josh was easier than I'd dared to hope. At one point, I fell into a dreamy haze, mesmerized by the way his teeth flashed when he smiled and said my name. For all the time I'd spent dreaming about him, I never imagined that we'd hit it off this well.

I looked into Josh's eyes, and he held my gaze. A heartbeat passed, two, then three. That proved to be my tipping point. Our table started to shake. I grabbed it and held it still.

"Whoa, that was creepy," he said.

"Uh, that
was
kind of weird," I said innocently. A tingling sensation twitched in my nose. "Hey, do you smell smoke?"

Our eyes dropped to the table.

"Oh!" I said. The unused napkins were smoldering. Flames flared up.

Josh calmly grabbed a rag off the counter and tamped the fire down. He laughed and leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "I'd say that's proof that this place is haunted."