In American History, she slouched in the hard desk chair and wondered who vandalized her front lawn and locker. She imagined the scene, how it would have been last night, first with Trish and Jason, which broke her heart, and then with Sandra and her cheerleading team, which totally made her skin crawl.
“Miss Turov,” Mr. Sheahy said. “You’re being paged.”
“What?”
“The intercom. You’re wanted in the office.”
Some of the class snickered. As she walked down the aisle, someone called her a liar and another, a witch.
In the B-building stairwell, she dropped down onto a step and sat there a few minutes to regain her emotional and physical strength. Homeschooling crossed her mind and the fact that she would probably get blamed for this locker thing.
Inside the main office, the secretary was on the phone verifying an absence, and Principal Mraz was shuffling through some papers on her desk. Jackie stood unnoticed for a minute or two.
Finally, Principal Mraz noticed her. “Miss Turov,” he said, a bored look on his face.
She was kind of insulted. Her life and problems were more than routine.
“Come on in my office.”
She followed him. The back of his suit was wrinkled. Grandma always said that was how you could spot a cheap suit.
“Close the door.” He sat down in an executive-style chair.
She closed the door, shutting her problems inside a tiny office with a man who was about to process them.
“We’ve already filed a police report on the vandalized locker,” he said. “It’s a crime against the school more than it’s a crime against you.”
“Thanks.” Did he really think that was going to make her feel better, or did he actually not care?
“Do you know who would have done this?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“It could have been anyone. I’m not going to make accusations.”
“There was a message written on the locker door. You must have some idea what it was supposed to mean. It was obviously for you, along with the witchcraft card.”
“Tarot card.”
“Don’t get smart.”
She huffed. She wasn’t typically a huffer, but she couldn’t believe this guy’s attitude.
“Miss Turov!”
She wasn’t even going to argue her point. “Listen, I don’t know if you know anything about me.” She really didn’t want to bring this up. With her luck, she’d piss him off too.
“Should I?”
How was she going to say this without sounding weird, without him sending her to sessions with the school psychologist? “I am—I mean, I was the girl who predicted the Holy Resurrection fire,” she said, making finger quotes as she said the word predicted.
He looked at her like he didn’t know what she was talking about. He was obviously not from around here. She wondered how long he’d been employed at this school. Surely, he’d heard rumors. “Shrine girl? Virgin Queen? Anything ring a bell?”
“The fire at Holy Resurrection was about what? Four years ago?”
“Five. I was twelve.”
“Yeah. I heard it got kind of crazy around here.”
“Yeah, it seems I evoke either the worst or the best in people.”
“So you know who would have done this?”
She shook her head. Even if Jason did do it, she wouldn’t want him getting in trouble. “Can I go?”
“For now. The police might come by your house later asking questions.”
“Wonderful.”
Her hand on the doorknob, she considered asking if she could go home for the rest of the day, but then thought against it. Going home would make her look weak, which was what everyone wanted.
“Miss Turov, if it happens to come to you who would have vandalized your locker, come see me.”
“Yeah, sure.” Yeah, right.
She sat on the steps in A-building and waited until the passing bell rang. American Lit was next. She was excited and nervous at the same time about seeing Jason. She’d know if he did it. He knew she’d know too.
In American Lit, Jason peered at her from under the thin veil of hair angled across his face. His aura was murky.
Mr. Davis walked up and down the aisles, handing back essays on Leaves of Grass and transcendentalism. She wondered if Jason ever finished his essay. As Mr. Davis walked down her aisle, he accidentally bumped the corner of Jason’s notebook, and it fell to the floor.
She practically dove for it. Jason too. Both of their hands were on the notebook. She looked Jason in the eyes as she let the emotions flow from his body, his hand, through the notebook, to her.
A deep feeling of anxiety rushed through her.
Jason let go of the notebook. “I didn’t do it.”
With the notebook in her hands, she tried to read more. She didn’t sense that he was the one who TP’d her yard and vandalized her locker. She also didn’t pick up any physical abuse.
“Do you mind?” He held out his hand.
Everyone looked at her and Jason, even Mr. Davis.
She handed the notebook to Jason and then leaned back in her chair and tapped her pen on the desk as if nothing was wrong.
“Someone’s feeling feisty today,” Mr. Davis said to Jason. “I don’t recall seeing a paper from you. Did you turn one in?”
“No,” Jason mumbled.
“You know, you lose a whole grade for late turn-ins,” Mr. Davis said. “I’d be concerned since you typically don’t have much of a grade to start with.”
Everyone laughed.
Jason leaned his head against his hand and let his hair curtain his face.
Touché.
Chapter 19
As students slowly filed into Mr. Davis’s third-hour American Lit class, Trish slumped in the desk chair. Mr. Davis, looking god-awful, shot her an agitated look and then wiggled his index finger. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
She glared at him, but got up and followed him out into the hall. “I don’t know what you did, but I want you to make it stop.”
The corner of her mouth turned upward into a half smile. “What?”
“You know.”
“Switch my lit class.”
“I told you, I can’t. Second hour is filled to capacity.”
“Then switch me with someone.”
“I can’t just pull someone out of second hour and stick them into third. I don’t have that power.”
“Then, I don’t have the power to fix your problem either.”
“You brought something in with that Ouija board.” He looked around like he was afraid someone might hear. “Was that even my wife we were talking to?”
“Ask Jackie to help you.”
Chapter 20
When Jackie got home from school, Babu was at the kitchen table peeling potatoes.
“You should be resting,” she said to Babu. “I can do this.”
Babu waved her hand at her, indicating to let her be, and issued a few words in Russian.
Jackie pointed to the front room. “Go.”
Babu reluctantly laid down the paring knife and half-peeled potato. Then, she wiped her hands on the dishtowel and ambled out of the kitchen.
Jackie picked up the knife and pared the half-peeled potato. Taking up another potato, she noticed that Babu’s prescription papers were shoved between the salt and pepper shakers. Mom was supposed to have gotten those filled yesterday when she picked Babu up from the hospital.
She washed her hands and then dialed Mom.
“Why are Babu’s prescriptions sitting on the kitchen table?”
“Because I forgot to throw them away.”
“Throw them away? Mom!”
“She’s not going to take them.”
“She’ll take them if I ask her to. I’m going to get them filled.”
“Do what you want.”
“Dinner will be on the stove.”
“I’m going to be a little late
today.”
“Madam Sophie?”
“No. Not Madam Sophie. I just have some things to do.” Her voice insinuated that she didn’t want to explain what those things were, but Jackie knew. Still, she couldn’t believe she didn’t care about Babu—not enough to try to get her to take her pills. Grandma had a heart attack about two years after Jackie had the vision. She wondered if Mom didn’t get on Grandma either about taking her medication and had just let her die. She also wondered if Grandma would have had heart problems if it weren’t for the church incident.
When dinner was ready, Jackie set a plate of mashed potatoes, green beans, and reheated pork roast from Sunday’s meal on a TV tray so Babu could watch Wheel of Fortune. She didn’t know what Babu got out of that show. She didn’t understand English. Maybe she just wanted to see what Vanna was wearing, like the rest of America.
She waved the prescriptions at Babu. “I’m going to get these filled.”
Babu ranted.
She patted her chest. “For me. Take these for me.”
Babu threw her hand, like just go away.
***
Inside the pharmacy, Jackie gave the prescriptions to the pharmacist and then moseyed toward the candy aisle. Sean Perry and his teammate John Taylor were by the cooler. John reached inside for a cold drink.
Sean shot her a look like she was some freak. “John,” he said, “don’t look now, but I think we’re being invaded by zombies.”
John emerged from the cooler, two Red Bulls in hand. “Hey, zombie chick.”
She ignored them and continued to the candy aisle where she snagged a bag of Lindor Peanut Butter Truffles. She wished Jason wasn’t pissed at her so they could enjoy these together, like they always did.
By the time the pharmacist filled the prescriptions, Sean and John were gone.
When she came out of the pharmacy, they were sitting on the bench by the potted tree. She needed to pass them to get to her car. She anticipated more comments, like, “Hey, vampire girl, bite me.”
A red Mustang pulled along the curb beside them. Sandra rolled down her window and talked to them.
Wonderful. Jackie took a deep breath and continued down the sidewalk, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead of her, pretending she didn’t even notice them.
“Hey,” Sandra shouted.
Jackie kept from looking at her, even though she knew Sandra’s call was directed at her. She wished Sandra would grow up and learn how to tolerate others who were different from her, but that probably wasn’t the core of her problem. Jackie didn’t know why, but she thought Sandra suspected Will was still hot for her. Guess Sandra was just stupid.
“Hey, VQ, I’m talking to you,” Sandra said. “I rhymed again!”
As Jackie came nearer, the hairs on her arms rose and the back of her neck tingled.
“Don’t ignore me, bitch,” she said.
That’s it! “Why don’t you get a life and quit bothering me?” Jackie yelled.
“Ooh,” John and Sean said at practically the same time. They were sitting at the edge of the bench as if waiting to see two chicks fight.
Sandra flung open the car door and pounced to the sidewalk. “Because I have a problem with you.”
Great. She’s going to put on a show.
Sandra pointed her finger at her. “You think you’re so special. You’re just a fake, looking for attention.”
Jackie wanted to grab Sandra’s finger and break it, but it was Sandra’s rage she was feeling, not her own. Let it go. Get the hell out of here. “You’re right. I just want attention.” She continued for her car.
Her coat tightened around her neck, stopping her in her tracks. Sandra had grabbed her hood. Jackie worked her fingers at the edge of the fabric to keep it and the top button from digging into her neck and choking her, but she couldn’t get her fingers under it. It was too tight against her skin.
Tugging the coat’s hood, Sandra pressed her mouth close to Jackie’s ear. “Which one of your bitch friends wrote my name and phone number in the guy’s bathroom?”
Oh, shit. That’s what this is about. It would have been funny if she didn’t feel pain in her throat. She grabbed the sides of the hood and spun around. They stood toe to toe. “I don’t have time for this. My grandma’s sick and needs her prescriptions. Take this up with my bitch friends.”
“No. I want to take this up with you.”
“Grow up.”
“You grow up.” She grabbed Jackie’s coat sleeve.
This girl wants to brawl.
Sandra’s anger flowed through Jackie, tightening her muscles, making her heart race.
Control yourself. Walk away.
Jackie jerked her arm and turned away from Sandra. An impact hit Jackie’s back and she fell to her knees. Her satchel strap slipped from her shoulder. The heels of her hands scraped the sidewalk. As she started to get up, Sandra kicked her in the side.
Jackie couldn’t believe Sandra was doing that. How could a person be so mean? She didn’t even look like Sandra. Every crease in her face was deepened, her eyes dark, and her lips contorted.
She knew she was going to have to kick Sandra’s butt to get out of this, but her muscles had slackened as though Sandra’s hateful emotions had weakened her. “Look at what you’re doing. This isn’t you.”
Sandra kicked her in the stomach. Jackie doubled over.
“Bitch,” Sandra snapped. “Have any visitors at your new shrine? We didn’t have any fancy banners to hang, so we used toilet paper instead.”
John and Sean laughed.
Sandra drove the toe of her shoe into her side and then kicked her in the face.
Jackie rolled into a ball to protect herself, but Sandra continued to kick her. She couldn’t get up. When was Sandra going to stop?
John and Sean were egging her on.
“Get away from her,” someone hawked, “or I’ll drop a curse on you so fast, your pretty golden hair will fall out right here, all over the sidewalk. And you two, you call yourselves men? You’ll be nothing more than castrated pigs when I get through with you.”
Car doors slammed, tires screeched. A small, boney hand touched Jackie’s cheek.
Chapter 21
A tiny woman with a fox-like face and wild, red hair bent over Jackie. A crystal rod dangled from her necklace.
“Wicked,” Madam Sophie said. “How can people be so mean? Can you stand up?”
“I don’t think so,” Jackie said.
“It takes its toll, doesn’t it?”
She didn’t understand what she was talking about.
“The emotions,” Madam Sophie said.
Jackie nodded.
Madam Sophie put her hand under Jackie’s arm and helped her up from the sidewalk. “Come upstairs. You need to get your strength back.”
Jackie glanced at the “Psychic Readings” sign in the third-floor apartment window. How many times had she seen Madam Sophie watching her from behind the parted curtain when she was on her way to work or walking to the coffee shop? It always freaked her out. Now, she was in her clutches, and she had been invited up.
“I’m not going to harm you. And I don’t throw curses. It’s bad karma.”
There was no way Jackie could drive or walk home at that moment. Her emotions had been pushed beyond limit, and her face and side hurt like hell. She needed to lie down for a while. “All right,” she said.
Madam Sophie led her to the apartment building. Jackie still felt like she didn’t know what hit her, or why.
“You feel so much,” Madam Sophie said. “You know, you don’t have to suffer like this.”
In the apartment building stairwell, Jackie leaned on Madam Sophie for support and held onto the handrail as they climbed three flights of stairs. On the third-floor landing, Jackie was ready to drop.
Madam Sophie pushed open her apartment door. Inside, it was dim and dusty, lit only by candlelight. It smelled like cinnamon. The front-room walls were painted burnt orange. A grouping of astrolo
gical signs painted in purple and surrounding a flaming yellow sun filled the back wall. In the middle of the room, two tapestry loveseats faced each other, separated by an antique coffee table. By the window was a round table covered with a red tablecloth, a thick candle in the middle. Two red panels curtained the window.
Madam Sophie helped Jackie out of her trench coat and hung it on a hook that was shaped like a quarter moon. A whole row of quarter moon hooks were mounted to a strip of wood with white stars and yellow astrological suns.
She led her to one of the loveseats and leaned a pillow against the arm. “Rest here while I get you something for your bruised skin and spirit.”
Jackie dropped onto the couch and slowly moved her aching body into a reclining position. Madam Sophie draped a throw over her. Jackie pulled it up to her chin, closed her eyes, and envisioned Babu.
The shrill whistle of the teakettle woke her. She must have dozed off.
After several minutes, Madam Sophie set a steaming cup of something and a tiny silver canister on the coffee table. Then she brought an ice pack.
Jackie pressed the ice pack to her cheek just below her eye.
“Your great-grandmother will be fine, but not if she sees you like this. Can you sit up?”
She nodded and then swung her legs over the couch edge and tucked the throw into her lap, letting it drape over her legs.
Madam Sophie sat beside her. Her face was narrow, and there were dark rings under her eyes. She could really use some concealer.
“Don’t be afraid. There’s no reason to fear me. I mean you no harm. I never did.” She smiled. Her bottom teeth were crooked and layered. “My bark is worse than my bite.”
Jackie tried to smile, but she didn’t feel comfortable in Madam Sophie’s apartment. It carried a lot of emotional baggage, like it was full of people.
Madam Sophie lifted the steaming cup and pressed it into Jackie’s trembling hands. “Drink this. It’ll heal your spirit.”
The liquid shivered in the cup. Jackie couldn’t believe she was sitting in Madam Sophie’s parlor about to drink some magical concoction.
Possessed (Pagan Light Book 1) Page 10