Insight (3 page)

THREE

Mom pulls an apple from the fridge. Guess she’s dieting again, and I’ll be on my own for dinner. She goes on these apple/peanut butter diets once in a while. I keep telling her it’s not healthy, but she loses five pounds in a week and then goes back to eating normal. I’ve gotten used to it.

All week I’ve flip-flopped between the same two visions from her. The man with kind
eyes, and my blotchy, red face on our new porch.

The whole thing’s a bit unsettling because I have no idea when this guy will show up, and I’m really trying hard to keep my distance in school so no one has the power to bring me to tears.

“You survived your first week,” she says as she sits on the floor.

“Yep. It’s fine. I like it better than the last school. It’s smaller, fewer kids in the classes.”
Less people to bump into in the hallways…

“Well, good.” Stacks of spelling tests and math pages to grade are set around her in stacks. We left our furniture behind. It was all old and cheap and we were sick of looking at it, but it means that we now have nothing.

“And how’s your job going?”

“Oh, those third graders are so cute. I love eight-year olds. They’re at such an amazing point of discovery.” She takes another bite of her apple.

I pull out bread and peanut butter. A sandwich is better than nothing.

“I think you should probably go see your dad. For a long weekend at least.” She always makes sure I see Dad several times a year. They don’t fight, but they’re polar opposites and not in the way that attract. They don’t even care enough to argue. They’re just different. I sometimes wonder how on earth they were together long enough to make me.

“I’ll miss school?”

“You’re smart. You always seem to catch up.” She puts one small stack of papers into a folder and slides the next stack to the spot directly in front of her.

“Fine.” I’m sort of neutral on the subject. I know I’ll go. It’s generally a little boring, but not terrible. In a way the quiet is a vacation in itself. I see nothing when I touch him, and he tends to be a bit of a loner. Since I don’t know anything about why or how I see things, I’ve given up trying to figure out why I see nothing from Dad and take it for the peaceful silence that it is.

I sit next to her on the floor with my sandwich. “What’cha doing?” Even though it’s fairly obvious.

“Grading.” She licks her finger and turns a page.

“How is it?”

Mom’s been subbing forever working toward her degree. It’s another reason I want to go to college right away. I want her to feel like her education has had an impact on me. That she did good. Even though I have no idea what I want to do with myself.

“It’s great having my own classroom, even though it’s near the end of the year. The principal is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to be working there.”

I feel my heart beating harder as I think about the guy from my vision. “What does he look like?”

“Oh.” She leans back, eyes scanning the floor. “There’s a school newsletter around here somewhere.”

“Here.” I pick up a packet with the words. ‘School News’ on the front. I know it’s him. I don’t know why. I just know he’s the man I’ve seen from her before I open it.

PRINCIPAL VANS and a picture. I hold my breath. I’m right. Mom’s looking over my arm at his photo, and I see a look on her face that I’ve only seen a few times before. He’s Mom’s future. I’m sure of it. I need to meet him.

One mystery down. Now I just need to figure out what on earth leaves me in tears on our porch.

***

After two
weeks I’m settling into school. Q
uestions about who I am are dying down, and hopefully soon I’ll be able to fade further into the background.

“We’ll be working in our gr
oups today to discuss the myths and legends
project.” Mr. Chint
, my world history teacher,
looks my direction. “Micah, you can join in with Landon’s group.”

Landon pushes his light brown hair off his face as he turns his desk around.

The simple gesture sends my chest into flutters that I have no idea how to get rid of. Why him? Not only is a relationship impos
sible for me, but even if it were
n’t,
he
would be.

The girl in front of me turns her desk, as well as the girl to my left. Now we’re all facing one another in an awkward circle of four.

“I’m Lacey.” Auburn hair, smirk for Landon. Right. The girl from the stairs. I’ve never seen her from the front before. Her smile is wide, but relaxed. She exudes niceness, even from this simple gesture.

“And I’m Brigitte, with two T’s and an e at the end.” She has long, straight dark hair, a round little face and small pouty mouth.

“Do I need to spell your name for something?” I ask, wondering why on earth I care how her name is spelled. “It’s still pronounced Brigit, right? Not Brig-eet?”

She gives me what I call the
dumb-girl
stare—looking at me like I’m an idiot when in reality she’s just said something that goes on my
most-asinine-things-I’ve-ever-
heard
list.

“Well, yeah, but—” she starts.

Landon interrupts with the first snort of laughter. He looks down, probably trying to hide it, but we all see his body shaking.

“I just don’t know why you tell everyone. That’s all.” Landon laughs openly this time.

“You can be such a jerk.” Her face is nothing but flirtatious smile as she slugs his shoulder.

He pushes her so far that she bumps against me.

Landon’s face. His eyes are closed. Lips on hers. Warmth. His hands in her hair. Desire.

The moment is erotic. Intense. It takes my breath away. The picture lasts longer than I want it to, but I also don’t want it to end. They must be a thing, or she has a very vivid imagination. Or Landon has a new girl every week. When I can see the people around me again, they’re staring.

“What?” I narrow my eyes, daring one of them to say something. I don’t want to care if these people like me. We just have to sit through some class project.

“You look like you just got hit by a Mack Truck.” Landon chuckles.

“Really?” I cock a brow, trying to throw off a lot more attitude than I feel after that vision. “Because I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be anything left of my face if I got hit by a
Mack Truck.” It’s probably
a rude thing to say, but it comes out all the same. I’m an expert at creating space around me.

Landon laughs. Brigitte stares at her desk in silence.

“Landon doesn’t miss much
and thinks everything is hysterical.” Lacey throws a wink his way, and smiles at me.

“Okay.” I attempt a smile back, and am immediately frustrated with myself for liking her. Then I half expect Lacey to look at Landon the way Brigitte and half the rest of the girl population does, but it’s not that way. It’s more like
brother and sister
. They must be good friends.

Lacey starts in again. “So our group project was to find a myth or a legend from somewhere in the world, and we picked some island in the Bahamas because—”

“That was me.” Landon smirks. “There’s a lot of good stuff there.”

“Have you already found something?” I ask.

Brigitte starts texting on the phone resting under her desk
,
and Landon’s grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s a good one.” He nods. “So, legend says that this old woman who practiced voodoo had finished a large order for a band of pirates or something.”

“Landon made the pirate part up.” Lacey shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“Timeframe?” I ask, wanting them to know I’m someone who will actually help.

“Early seventeen hundreds—think Pirates of the Caribbean.” He grins
wider
. “Anyway. Just before the dolls were picked up, someone burned the place down accusing her of witchcraft, and all the people whose dolls were in her shop turned into shadows.” His eyes narrow and he tries to look very serious for a moment. “Neither dead nor alive, they still roam the earth, searching—”

“And that story’s enough for our project?” I ask as I try not to feel the chill roll through my
body. It’s a totally creepy legend or whatever
, but at least we’re not working on something boring like Yeti or Sasquatch.

Lacey shrugs. “Mr. Chint seemed to think so, and that’s all I need. Landon’s happy because he practically lives and breathes the Bahamas, the spoiled brat.”

It’s Landon’s turn to shrug. “My family’s always spent time there. Anyway. I wasn’t finished yet.” He hunches over his desk again and narrows his eye
s, quieting his voice and
being a bit ridiculously over-dramatic. “The old woman, as penance, found children of the people who were turned to shadows, and divided her magic among them, giving them gifts and talents that—”

Lacey holds up her hand. “We’ve got the sheet of info, Landon. Micah’s smart. I’m sure she’ll catch on.”

Brigitte rolls her eyes, and doesn’t even try to be discreet about it. Whatever.

Landon’s not to be deterred, and I find myself staring at him, holding my breath, waiting for the rest of the story.

“The shadows hide and search for their gifted descendants so they can suck them into their world and steal their magic, in hopes of returning to the living.” His hazel eyes are directly on mine, and a
nother
chill runs through my body.

I shake it off because this is a stupid class project. Nothing more. When I look down at my desk, Landon chuckles and hands me a photocopied sheet with girlie, bubbly handwriting, titled “Bahamas Legend for Group Project.”

“It’s a good one, huh?” he asks.

I ignore him because his story is still crawling up my spine. “I guess tell me what to do.” I hold my pen and wait for instruction, needing a distraction.

As Lacey describes the work left to be done—a poster, ideas for our presentation… I watch Brigitte out of the corner of my eye. She’s looking at Landon more than anything else in the room. Landon looks everywhere with his huge grin. He can’t sit still. He’s like an ADHD kid with no meds. At least he’s happy about it. He winks the next time Brigitte catches his eye.

“Landon,” Lacey says. “You’re such a terrible flirt.”

“Only ‘cause you won’t take me.” He leans toward her over his desk, grinning. But even as he moves closer, I still don’t think they’re that way. It’s not that kind of smile. Or maybe I’m not as good at reading people as I thought. Or maybe I don’t want them to be that way.

“Sit down.” Lacey shakes her head as she taps my shoulder to hand me another sheet.

Dim light. Loud music. Scattered people in a house. Stab of fear. Everything goes black.

The stab of fear takes my breath away, and once the second-long vision is over, I realize I’m clutching my desk. Okay this is it. I may need a sanity day, or to go into hiding. It’s just a little weird because sitting next to Lacey right now, she doesn’t seem like the type to drink herself into passing out. But this is the same vision I got from her in the hallway, so I guess she is.

As much as I don’t want to think about it, I can feel my wheels turning. Has this happened already? Going to happen? Do I do something?

Right.

What on earth am I going to do with a vision I know nothing about? Nothing. There’s nothing to do because seriously, what do I say—
Hey Lacey, watch how much you drink sometime in the future because you might pass out
—I don’t think so.

Besides. It could have happened a month ago.

And I wish, once again, that someone could do something as simple as tap me on the shoulder without
me getting shoved
a wave of pictures and emotions.

***

It takes me about twenty minutes to get to the elementary, which means that the sidewalk is full of kids and parents, but I’m determined to meet the guy Mom’s been seeing, or that I’ve been seeing from Mom. However my little oddity works.

My he
art pounds the whole way. I felt
how she likes him. It’s big. Huge. She’s never liked someone this way. Not that I can remember. Well, no one’s ever taken my place in the vision I get from her.

I pick Mom’s face out of the crowd at the same time she spots me. “Micah!”

I give her a wave so she knows I heard, and start to push through the kids. I don’t mind kids. Unless something really traumatic is happening in their life, all the visions are fun. I’m jostled as I walk.

A huge, white, furry cat. Phineas and Ferb. A Barbie
…

It continues like this, and I can’t contain my laugh.

A man steps next to Mom just as I reach her. It’s him. My heart stops. The man. Soft smile. Brownish, grayish hair. In person.

He’s not as tall as I expected, just taller than me, but he’s dressed exactly how I picture an elementary school principal—khaki pants, white shirt, and ridiculously juvenile tie.