The Secret Talent (13 page)

Adrenaline nodded. “It keeps me limber when I'm on the bike. I also do a lot of yoga.”

In a million years I never thought I'd be talking to a famous athlete about Greek folk dancing or ballet or yoga. The other kids were all stepping closer, wanting to be part of the conversation but not sure how.

“Uh . . . you want to talk flexible. Mitchell can bend his fingers all the way back to touch his arm.” I pointed to him.

Mitchell stepped forward shyly and showed off his talent.

“Wow! Very impressive,” said Adrenaline.

“I can do the splits!” said someone else.

“I can hold my breath for two minutes!”

Soon, everyone was shouting out their unique talents except, of course, for Ryan, who was standing apart from the crowd. I walked over to him.

“Why don't you share your talent of
blackmail?” I asked. “Or mention how your aunt is dating a Greek folk dancer?”

Ryan glared at me. “That's a lie.”

I shrugged and smiled. “Your aunt had a guy pick her up in a blue Civic earlier, right? That was my uncle. And my uncle is a Greek folk dancer.” I crossed my arms. “Just like me.”

“Yeah, well, you're lame and so is everyone at this party,” he grumbled. “And so is my aunt. She's probably dating your stupid uncle to get back at me.”

Even though Ryan was a world-class jerk, I actually felt kind of bad for him. He was so dead set on not being liked that he made himself unlikable.

“Your aunt loves you more than you think,” I said. “She bakes you cookies and worries that you'll catch cold, and she shelters you and she feeds you and she has lots of pictures of you.” I held my arms open. “You don't do all that for
someone you don't care about.”

I thought that maybe, like the Grinch, I might soften his hard lump of a heart and make it grow a little, or at least get a smile. Instead, Ryan narrowed his eyes and said, “How do you know she has pictures of me?”

“Servants get curious.” I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You look great with a mustache, by the way.”

Then I walked back to join the conversation with Adrenaline Dennis and the others.

It was a good day to be Tim Antonides.

Dear In the Dark,

As a wise man once said, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.” In other words, it's time to be honest, but not just with your friends. Be honest with yourself. If you're not ashamed of who you are,
you don't give anyone else a reason to be either. Know who you are and own who you are.

And if all else fails, tell a ton of ghost stories so everyone begs you to keep the night-light on.

Confidentially yours,

Tim Antonides

A
lways for family, friends, and God.

For Annie, my editor, and Jenn, my agent, who, even after reading the silly things I write, haven't had me dragged away in a straitjacket.

For Frank Zahradnik, who is wise beyond my years and is always willing to talk.

For Katie and Shayda, my Wednesday night writing crew, who listened to me talk ad nauseam about the best way to blackmail someone.

For Kaiya and Killian, who always make me laugh and have a wonderful innocence about them.

For Shawn and Rena Bruman, who remind me to never give up hope.

And for the makers of See's Candies, who I'm pretty sure I single-handedly keep in business.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next book in the Confidentially Yours series:

CHAPTER

I
t was a dark and stormy night . . .

Actually, it was a cold and snowy day, but no scary adventure ever starts like that. Unless there's a killer snowman. And even
that's
only scary until someone throws hot cocoa at him.

Anyway, why was I hoping for horror? Because so far my winter break had been dull with a capital
ZZZZ
. You'd think life in the Chicago suburbs would give me tons of stories to tell, but my most exciting news was Hammie and Chelsea, my cats, playing hide-and-seek in the Christmas tree.

Pine tree peekaboo: the highlight of my break.

Meanwhile my friends had awesome stories from their winter vacations. Heather Schwartz, one of my BFFs, had been in the spotlight on a holiday parade float with her choir, and Vanessa Jackson, my other bestie, had gone to Disney World with her brother and mom.

But I was probably most jealous of my friend Tim Antonides.

Not long ago, Tim became buddies with Berkeley Dennis, one of the richest and coolest kids at Abraham Lincoln Middle School. That alone wasn't very exciting, but Berkeley's cousin happened to be motocross superstar Adrenaline Dennis! He came to town for the holidays and took Berkeley and Tim to watch him practice for the X Games.

Heather and Vanessa couldn't have cared less when Tim bragged about going, but I was super
jealous. I like sports just as much as he does. In fact, I give sports advice for Lincoln's Letters, the advice column at the
Lincoln Log
, my school newspaper.
Plus,
I'm captain of my soccer team, the Berryville Strikers. But I didn't even bother asking Tim if he could score me an invite. I got a major dudes-only vibe from the whole thing . . . mainly because Tim said, “It'll be dudes only.”

So when another friend, Katie Kestler, asked if I wanted to visit a fortune-teller with her the day before spring semester, I instantly said, “Yes! Please! I'm about to start dressing up the cats!”

It was easy to talk Vanessa into coming since she's usually up for anything, but Heather was a little harder to convince. In fact, she still had doubts after Katie's mom, Bobbi, parked in front of a cottage with a wooden sign that read, “Madame Delphi: Seer Extraordinaire.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” asked
Heather, eyeing some gargoyles on either side of the front door. “I mean . . . what if we accidentally summon something?”

“Don't worry. Madame Delphi's a professional who can handle anything,” said Bobbi. “And I'll be right here waiting, so you can run out any time.”

Heather didn't look reassured but opened the car door anyway.

“Tell Madame I said hi!” Bobbi called as my friends and I got out. “And that she was right about avoiding the salmon!”

I glanced back as Katie closed the car door and waved to her mom. “Why isn't she coming with us?” I asked.

“Bobbi has to make a conference call,” said Katie, “and Madame Delphi only likes disembodied voices that come from spirits.”

Heather spun toward us, nostrils flared. “So there
are
going to be ghosts?”

“Of course not,” said V, putting a hand on her arm.

“But if there were, that would be awesome!” I charged through the snow and up the front steps, each plank of wood squeaking under my weight. “This place is creepy!”

“That's what bothers me.” Heather shivered in her puffy green coat.

“Oh come on,” Katie coaxed, putting an arm through one of Heather's. “It's a new year. Don't you want to know what's going to happen?”

I knocked on the front door, which opened by itself.

Heather turned to Katie. “Will I even live to see it?”

Vanessa stepped up to Heather's other side. “Don't worry, we'll be right here with you. The whole time.”

Then V slipped and fell on her butt.

I cringed, Katie and Heather gasped, but
Vanessa lay back in the snow and laughed.

Even when she's down, she's smiling.

“How the heck did that happen?” I asked while Katie and Heather helped her up. “The snow isn't slippery.”

“No, but the bottoms of my boots are.” V lifted a foot just high enough for us to see that the sole was worn smooth.

“Hmm. Time to trash those,” said Heather.

Vanessa and Katie gasped in unison.

“Are you insane?” asked Katie.

“They're vintage Dior!” added Vanessa.

The two of them are a little crazy for clothes. They're working on their own designer label, KV Fashions, and Vanessa offers style advice for Lincoln's Letters.

That's right; Vanessa writes the column, too, along with Heather and Tim! V, Heather, and I actually came up with the idea, since we'd been giving one another advice for years. Vanessa
answers questions about beauty and fashion, I handle sports and fitness, Tim contributes the guy's point of view, and Heather fixes friendships and relationships because she has a way with people.

Like right now.

Instead of rolling her eyes, which was what I was doing, Heather said, “You know, if those boots are special, you might want to wait and wear them in the spring. Otherwise the water from the snow could wreck them.”

Vanessa's eyes widened, and she lifted one foot off the ground, balancing precariously on the other like a fashionable flamingo.

“Oh for crying out loud,” I said, leaping off the porch and running over to her. Unlike my glamorous friend, I was wearing appropriate winter clothes: real snow boots, jeans, and a thermal jacket. I turned my back to Vanessa and crouched to give her a piggyback ride. “Come
on, V. The future awaits!”

She laughed and climbed on. “Don't drop me!” she warned.

I trudged up the steps with her, Heather hesitantly followed, and Katie ran ahead to push the door open the rest of the way.

Instead of the usual chimes to announce visitors, a harp strummed, giving our entrance a mystical feel. Goose bumps covered my arms, despite the fact that I was wearing a coat
and
a Vanessa. She slid off my back, boots thumping on the wooden floor, and said, “Whoa, check this place out!”

It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the darkened room. At one point it'd probably been several rooms, but the dividing walls had been knocked out and just a few support columns remained. The windows were covered with heavy velvet curtains, and the only light came from flickering oil lamps attached to the walls.

“This place is straight out of a movie,” I murmured. “I love it.”

“Can we please get this over with?” asked Heather, standing as close to the front door as she could without physically being a part of it.

“My mom says Madame usually has people wait in either the sitting area or gift shop,” said Katie. “So I think she'll come get us when she's ready.”

“Ooh.” I rubbed my hands together excitedly. “How will she know we're here? Will a spirit from the beyond tell her?”

“More like a security camera from the ceiling,” said V, pointing at an orb mounted above us.

“Aww.” I lowered my hands.

Katie grinned at me. “Just pretend it's an all-seeing eye,” she said in a spooky voice.

I snickered and glanced around. The sitting area to our left was decorated with a dumpy
couch and chairs that had cracked seat cushions. The gift shop area was to the right and crowded with tables and bookshelves and spinning racks, all filled with various mystical items sporting orange price stickers.

Needless to say, my friends and I were drawn to the right.

“What is all this stuff?” asked V, pulling a book titled
Blessings and Curses
from a shelf. She flipped to a random page. “‘Give your enemy bad breath.'”

“How?” asked Heather, reading over her shoulder.

“Easy. Garlic.” I ran my finger over the spines of the other books. “I wonder if Tim's read any of these.”

He was obsessed with books, particularly the classics. Although something told me
Crockpot Love Potions
probably wasn't on his list.

I moved on to a table covered with boxes of
candles, packets of herbs, and little knickknacks. “Hey, anybody wanna play poker?” I asked, plucking a deck of cards from the pile.

Katie laughed. “Good luck with that. Those are tarot cards.”

“Tarot cards?” I slid a couple out of the box. One of them had a guy in a jester's costume and was labeled “The Fool.” The other, “The Tower,” was just that: an image of a tower. “What is it, a matching game?”

She shook her head. “They're for telling fortunes.”

I put the cards back and picked up a pocket-size horseshoe. “I'd like to see the horse who can wear this.”

Somewhere behind us hinges creaked, and we all turned toward the sound. A tall, blond woman in a flowing purple dress shuffled in our direction from an open door between the oil lamps.

“Good afternoon. I am Madame Delphi,” she said with a slight bow and a breathy voice. “I understand you wish to see the future.”

“I actually wish to see a mirror,” said V, wrapping a silky scarf around her neck. “Also, do you have this in blue?”

Heather elbowed her in the side, and Madame Delphi raised an eyebrow.

“Everything in the shop is as-is,” she said. “Including my predictions.” She pressed her fingertips together. “I must warn you that people can be disappointed by what I see. They beg for a different future.” She shook her head, eyes locked on mine. “But your future will be what it will be.”

Again, goose bumps.

“Now,” she said in a soft voice, “who will go first?”

Katie hurried to the front as if Madame Delphi was handing out designer dresses. “Hi! I'm Katie
Kestler and you did a reading for my mom, Bobbi Kestler, and you told her to skip the salmon at a wedding and she did and everyone who ate it got food poisoning, but not her because she didn't eat it.” Katie paused for oxygen. “So she said to tell you that you were right, and I am more than ready to have my fortune read!” She turned to the rest of us. “I mean . . . if that's okay.”

V and I nodded.

“You can go for me, too,” said Heather.

Madame Delphi arched a brow. “You fear the future?”

“No.” Heather shrank back. “I fear this moment right now.”

“Aww.” I put an arm around her. “Heather, you don't have to go in if you don't want.”

“Yeah.” V bumped her. “We just thought this would be fun to do together.”

“Well . . . I want to have fun,” Heather said, nodding toward the door Madame Delphi had
come through. “Is it even darker in there?”

Madame Delphi approached Heather and took her hands. “Let me make this easy. It won't be as accurate but . . .” She flipped Heather's hands to face palms up. “Are you left- or right-handed?”

“Left,” said Heather, glancing curiously from her hands to Madame Delphi.

Madame Delphi studied Heather's palms for a moment and smiled. “My, you are a talent, aren't you?”

“She's an
amazing
singer,” I chimed in.

Heather smiled and blushed. “I'm okay.”

“Your talent will take you far,” said Madame Delphi, tracing a finger along Heather's palm. “And you will live a long, happy life.” She rested a hand on each of Heather's and stepped away. “There now. Was that so terrible?”

“Not at all,” said Heather, beaming.

Katie scooted closer. “Is it my turn?”

Madame Delphi nodded. “Would you like—”

“The works!” exclaimed Katie, already bounding toward the open door.

Five minutes later Katie bounded back out to the sitting area where Heather, V, and I were waiting.

“Next!” she chirped.

“I'm guessing you got a good fortune?” I asked, looking up from the pack of tarot cards I was building into a house.

“Oh, not just me,” said Katie. She flopped onto a couch next to Vanessa and raised a cloud of dust in the process. “Vanny too!”

Vanessa lowered the copy of
Natural Beauty
she was reading. “Your fortune included me?”

“Well . . . KV Fashions,” Katie explained. She rubbed the thumb and fingertips of one hand together. “Madame Delphi said money's gonna flow like a river!” She nudged V. “Ask Madame Delphi about money, but don't tell her we work
together. I guarantee she'll say we make more this year.”

“Of course we will,” said V with a smirk. “We can't possibly make less than last year's nothing.”

We all laughed.

So far KV Fashions' only big business project had been makeovers for the Fall Into Winter dance, and the price had been a clothing item for charity. It was a sweet gesture, but afterward, V told me they'd given up about twenty-five bucks each in the process.

“Go on.” Katie prodded V. “And try to get details, like what specifically makes us richety-rich.” Her eyes sparkled.

V glanced down at where I was sitting on the floor. “Would it be okay if I went next? The future of KV Fashions may or may not be riding on this.” She leaned closer. “I'm betting on ‘not.'”

“I can hear you!” said Katie from over her shoulder.

“Sure,” I said with a nod. “I've got the second story of my card house to work on anyway.”

While V walked off to meet Madame Delphi, Heather moved from one of the cracked chairs to sit next to Katie on the couch.

“What else did she tell you?” asked Heather.

“Yeah, did you ask when you were going to die?” I chimed in.

Heather turned to me with wide eyes. “Brooke!”

“What? I'm going to ask when it's
my
turn. This woman can see the future! Why stop at ‘Will I win the Women's World Cup?'”

Katie laughed. “It's fine. And no, I didn't ask because I already know I'm going to live to be super old. Everyone in my family does . . . except my great-grandpa Pete, who fell in a volcano.”