Gifted Touch (10 page)

“I’m feeling dizzy,” Rae said suddenly. And it was true. Her brain felt like it was spinning inside her skull. “I want to go lie down until my dad gets back.”

“Fine,” Ms. Abramson said. “Now, Jesse, I want you to—”

Rae didn’t hear the rest. She pushed past Mr.

102

Rocha and rushed down the hall. She had to find Anthony. She had to tell him—she didn’t know what she had to tell him. But something.

He’s probably in Rocha’s office,
she thought as she broke into a run. Each step sent pain slamming into the back of her head, but she didn’t slow down. There wasn’t time.

As soon as she reached the office, she grabbed the doorknob—

/
knew Fascinelli was a bad one
/

—and jerked on it. Locked. “Anthony, are you in there? It’s Rae,” she said, keeping her voice low.

There was no answer. But he had to be in there.

She glanced down the hall, looking for Rocha. He wasn’t coming back. Not yet.

“Anthony. I . . . What I did . . . I didn’t know what would happen to you,” Rae said.

There was no answer. But she could hear someone moving around in there.

“Could you just say something. Please?” Rae begged.

Silence.

Rae didn’t know what else to say. There was probably nothing Anthony would want to hear from her right now. Or ever.

103

Chapter 6

T
here will be a day when I will want Rae Voight dead.

No, that’s not true. I already want Rae Voight dead.

But today was not the right day.

The girl has . . . abilities. I know it. I need time to discover
exactly what they are. So I must wait. I must watch. I must
smile at her as if there is nothing evil developing inside her,
as if I don’t want to destroy the bitch with my bare hands for
what she did to me. When I am finally able to learn her
secrets, then it will be time to get rid of her. Not just for
revenge—although it really will feel good. But because Rae
cannot be trusted. When she becomes confident in the use
of her abilities, whatever they are, she will be dangerous to
anyone who comes in contact with her. And I will gladly kill
her to prevent her from harming an innocent. The way her
mother did.

105

*

*

*

Anthony slammed open the toilet seat, grabbed the scrub brush, and started scrubbing away. He was the new guy at the detention center, and the new meat always got the crap jobs.

Crap jobs,
he thought.
I should be a friggin’ comedian.

“You better not be leaving any brown smears, Fascinelli,” one of the guys called from the doorway.

“If anyone in our dorm screws up, none of us gets TV

privileges tonight.”

Anthony gave a grunt and kept on scrubbing.
I
should have cleaned the floor first,
he thought.

What was wrong with these guys? They weren’t five-year-olds. They should have mastered point and shoot by now.

He dunked the brush into the water, then started working on a particularly stubborn stain. It’s not like he cared about watching some freakin’ TV show. But he knew if he made the other guys miss their tube time, they’d find a way to make him pay. Probably sticking his head in the toilet or something. Then he’d end up throwing some punches, and—it would not be a happy situation.

“Clean enough to eat out of,” Anthony muttered as he studied the bowl. He slammed down the seat, sprayed it with the noxious bargain brand cleaner the 106

center used, and started polishing away with a rag, like a good little boy. “You know who should be doing this?” he mumbled. “Rae Voight. I wouldn’t have ended up here if it wasn’t for her big, fat mouth.” An image of her big, fat mouth flashed into his head. Her lips were actually more juicy than fat, and—Anthony shook his head. He wasn’t doing mental porn with Rae. The little snitch.

Anthony shoved down the toilet lid, then sprayed it and that grungy little place behind the lid, where the screws were.

Except Rae’s not the one who set me up,
Anthony thought.
She’s not the one who put the pipe bomb stuff
in my backpack.
That just made no sense. But anyway, even though she didn’t set him up, if Rae hadn’t blabbed to Rocha, no one would have been looking in his backpack, and—

“You have a visitor, Anthony,” a voice called.

“You can finish up in here when you’re done.” Anthony backed out of the stall and saw Bible Bob smiling at him. That’s what the guys called the man in charge of their dorm—Bible Bob, because he was always quoting the “good book.” At least he wasn’t one of those jerks who took jobs like this because they got off on taking names and kicking butt.

“You know where the common room is, right?” Bob asked.

107

“Yeah.” Anthony dumped his cleaning stuff in the corner and started washing his hands. “Do you know who it is?”

“Your mom,” Bob answered.

Anthony dried his hands on the legs of his jeans.

“She alone?”

“Yep. You can have as many visitors as you want—as long as you keep your act together. If there’s someone else you want to see—” Bob said.

“There isn’t,” Anthony interrupted. He strode out of the bathroom past Bob, pasting a good-boy smile on his face, and headed down the hall.
So I don’t have
to deal with stepdad, the sequel,
he thought. Tom was a decent enough guy. But every once in a while he’d go all father on Anthony. Tom had lived in their house for, like, eight months. He knew nothing about Anthony. Nothing.

When Anthony reached the door to the common room, he hesitated, then pulled in a deep breath and opened the door. His eyes went immediately to his mother. Probably
anyone’s
eyes would have gone immediately to his mother. She dressed more like a hooker than a mom most of the time because, as she always said, with what she’d paid for her body, she had to show it off. He bet she’d given several of the guys some new images for their mental porn.
Gee,
thanks, Mom.

108

“Anthony, over here,” his mother cried.

I’m heading right toward you, so obviously I see
you,
he thought. But that was another thing about his mom. She was loud. He took one more step, and she was out of her chair and coming toward him, screech-ing his name. Then she had him wrapped in a tight, hard hug, the smell of her floral perfume almost chok-ing him.

Anthony knew that the other guys in the room had to be looking, but he didn’t let his mother go. For one long moment he closed his eyes and just held on, held on until she finally stepped away.

“Oh, baby, what were you thinking?” his mother asked.

Of course she just assumes I did it,
Anthony thought. He opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. He didn’t want to have this little talk in the middle of the room. He stalked over to the table in the corner and sat down. At least it was empty, although there were people at the two tables sur-rounding it.

His mother took her time sliding onto the bench across from him. “What were you thinking?” she repeated, her voice twice as loud as anyone else’s in the room. Anthony knew there was no point in trying to get her to keep it down. If he said something, the next few words would come out softer, then the 109

volume would automatically go back up. It’s like she couldn’t help herself.

“You realize they called me at work. I had to tell my boss why I was leaving early,” his mother continued. “Do you know how that made me feel?”

“I didn’t do it,” Anthony muttered. “And thanks for asking.”

“Anthony, they found the stuff in your backpack.” Tears welled up in his mother’s eyes.

Oh, great. Just perfect,
he thought. His mother cried even louder than she talked. In another few seconds she’d be giving everyone in the place a real show.

“Somebody set me up,” Anthony told her.

“It’s these boys you hang around with. If you had nice boys as friends, things like this wouldn’t happen,” his mother answered. The tears were hanging off her eyelashes now. “I tried to . . . to help you. Remember?

I made . . . those parties? And . . . and . . .”
And we’re off,
Anthony thought as his mother started in with the big, gulping sobs. Maybe it would have been better if Tom had come with her. He’d at least have tried to keep her somewhat in line, even though he’d have been totally pissed at Anthony.

His mother started rooting through her purse, probably looking for Kleenex, her crying so loud, it was practically echoing. Anthony focused his eyes on 110

a crack in the linoleum floor. He couldn’t look at her right now.

Just let her go,
he told himself. There was no point in trying to say anything. When she got on a crying jag, it was like she went deaf or something. She wouldn’t be able to listen to him until she was finished with her little fit.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Tell me what I’m supposed to do,” she said, snuffling and sniffling. “I can’t follow you around all day, making sure that you don’t get into trouble. I would if I could.

But I have to work. You know that.” Anthony heard a snicker. He gripped the edge of the bench with both hands. If he didn’t, he’d have to punch someone.

Her crying got a little quieter. She was winding down. “There’s nothing you’re supposed to do,” Anthony told her. “You do everything a mother’s supposed to do.”

He heard another snicker, but he ignored it.

“Look, just don’t worry,” he continued. “At my trial everything will get straightened out. Everything will be fine.” Because it’s not like there was any
evidence
against him or anything. Just a backpack full of pipe bomb crap and an eyewitness who could place him in the bathroom.

“But what if—” his mother began.

111

Anthony couldn’t let her get started again. He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek. “It won’t,” he answered. “Now, you should go. It’s almost time for Carl to take his antibiotics again. Tom won’t remember.”

His mother stood up, patted her hair, then pulled out a lipstick and added a fresh coat. “I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t ask for more time off work, okay?” Anthony said. “I’m all right.” He saw that her eyes were refilling with tears. He stood up fast, kissed her again, then hurried out of the room.

A few seconds later he heard footsteps in the hall behind him.

“Fascinelli’s mom is hot,” a voice said.

Anthony didn’t turn around.

“Yeah, did you see her boobs? She’s got to be a double D,” another voice answered. “Started giving me a stiffy.”

Anthony didn’t turn around. Getting in a fight on his first day in this place would be a total Bluebird move.

“What about you, Anthony?” the first voice called. “When you gave your mommy those kisses, did it get you excited?”

If we weren’t in here, you guys would already be
bleeding,
Anthony thought. But they were in here.

112

And who knew how long Anthony would have to stay?

Why couldn’t Rae just have given him a freakin’

break?

Rae started slowly toward the cafeteria. She wasn’t ready for another round of Who Wants to Be Sickeningly Nice to Rae? Being nice should be a good thing, she guessed. But her friends were sooo nice, it made Rae feel like a freak. Or like a charity project. Dori Hernandez was the worst. She’d stare at Rae with these big, sympathetic eyes—while practically sitting on Marcus’s lap.

When she reached the double doors, she pushed through them—

/talked to me a lot
/
my perfect brother wouldn’t
/
will Rae
go off again if
/

—without hesitation.
Attitude,
she reminded herself for the billionth time. She strode over to the food line and grabbed a tray—

/
didn’t have to act like I was
/
iced tea
/

—then took a bean burrito even though she didn’t feel hungry.
You’re eating it all,
she told herself. She hadn’t eaten anything last night or this morning. And she was
not
going to go anorexic. She had enough problems. She took a carton of milk, paid, and got change, a burst of static filling her head. Way underneath Rae thought there were words, but she couldn’t 113

make them out. She’d gotten a bunch of the little static blasts since she was hospitalized. Just another little variation on her “specialness.” Rae turned toward her usual table. Lea was laughing at something Vincent had just said.
If I go over
there, she’ll stop laughing,
Rae thought.
She’ll go into
her overprotective mode—making sure I have napkins, making sure I got enough food, making sure that
everyone is being nice to me, which of course everyone will be, at least to my face.

Still, she had to keep trying, right? One of these days her friends would have to go back to normal around her. She took a deep breath and headed toward them.

“So it’s okay if we don’t invite Rae, right?” she heard Jackie’s familiar voice say just as she neared the table. She stopped, her heart slamming against her chest. Invite Rae where?

Rae turned her back to them and rested her tray down on an empty table, holding her breath as she listened.

“It’s better for her,” she heard Lea answer, a note of defensiveness in her voice. “I don’t think she’d really be up for a party yet.”

“That’s what I figured,” Jackie said quickly. “So Dori, you and Marcus can—”

Rae jammed the carton of milk and the burrito 114

into her backpack, letting the not-her thoughts flow through her mind as she spun back around and speed walked toward the exit. No food was supposed to be taken out of the cafeteria, but screw that. If she had to sit at the table with her quote-unquote friends, she wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite. She hurried back out the doors—