The Predicteds

by Christine Seifert

  Dizzy smiles broadly. “Thank you, Joshy. I’ll go outside and grab my bag.” She opens the patio door. “Meet you back here when you’re done.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him. He’s not my type, but he’s not awful. I’ll remember to tell this to Dizzy. I know she desperately wants me to like him.

  “This way,” Josh says to me, indicating that I should go first.

  I turn and walk down a long, narrow, dark hallway. “Up the stairs,” Josh tells me.

  The staircase curves, and at the top step, I look down a row of closed doors. “Which one?” I ask.

  That’s when everything turns black.

  chapter 28

  Help.

  —Daphne Wright

  The rose-patterned carpet of the room reminds me of the guest room in my grandmother’s house. Maybe this is the honeymoon suite, where guests are encouraged to ignore the sprawling size of the house and pretend they are at a tiny country inn.

  The side of my face is smashed against the carpet, and I can feel a hand pressing hard on the other side. “What are you going to do to me?” I ask. My head feels fuzzy, not unlike that night at the diner. A blinding pain radiates from the left side.

  “Shut up,” he says, but he’s good-natured about it, like we’re just fooling around.

  “Please,” I say, and the pressure on the side of my head eases. My vision becomes clearer.

  I lift my head as much as I can, my neck straining, my hands bound tightly behind my back.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  “We should’ve known this would happen,” he says. “It was predicted. By PROFILE.”

  “But you aren’t predicted.”

  “You are so naïve, Daphne. Do you think everyone who was originally on the predicted list is actually still on it? Some of us just had enough money to buy our way off it.”

  “You’re predicted,” I say, trying it out for size. It makes perfect sense. “But how is that possible?” I say. “Utopia had the list and they—”

  “You can’t really be this dumb. People will pay to get off the predicted list. And there are a lot of people who are happy to accept the money.”

  Melissa, I think. Would she do that? Does she know?

  “Jesse,” I say. “What about Jesse?”

  “Jesse’s dad wouldn’t pony up the money for him. Sucks, don’t it? My mom did it for me. Richard doesn’t even know. He’s too busy thinking about knots to see that a hundred grand of his money disappeared.”

  “Where’s Dizzy?” I ask.

  “She went home.”

  “No, she wouldn’t leave without me.”

  Josh laughs. “She would if she thought you left her first. She was disappointed that you left without even saying good-bye.”

  I strain my whole body, listening. I desperately want to hear sounds from the party, sounds from the house, but there is only silence, as if a layer of snow covers everything.

  “Don’t even think about screaming,” Josh says, reading my mind. “Nobody is home. The party is over. It’s just the two of us. We have the rest of the night.” Josh sits down on the floor, his back against the bed. I wriggle my hands a little bit. I can’t see, but I think he’s tied them with a bungee cord—the kind you carry in your car. I can feel the hooks on the ends of the cord biting into my skin. If I wiggle, I know I can easily get the cord off. Clearly, Josh didn’t listen to Richard’s knot lessons. This one feels pitiful.

  “I know all about you,” I bluff. Josh closes his eyes.

  “That’s your problem,” he says. “You know too much. And you talk too much. I knew you were a problem ever since that night at the diner, when I pushed your head into that window. I should’ve pushed you harder.”

  “I knew it. I knew you were evil. You might’ve fooled everyone else. But you never fooled me.” That’s not totally true, of course. I didn’t know it was him at all. I just knew I didn’t like him. And then I blamed Nate.

  “You’ll tell on me,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I realize that I’m never going to get out of here if I don’t outsmart Josh. “You know, if you let me go, nothing bad will happen to you. Nobody will even have to know. I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “You’ll tell,” he repeats.

  “I won’t. I promise. I’ll make sure January never remembers what you did to her.”

  Josh looks surprised. “You really haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

  “What?” I ask warily, trying not to show how worried and perplexed I feel at the fact that my plan to outwit Josh has gone nowhere. He might not be as dumb and simple as I had thought.

  “I might as well tell you. It’s not like you’ll be able to spread this around or anything.”

  “Don’t tell me,” I plead, knowing that if he’s ready to tell me some big secret, I’m not getting out of here alive. “Let’s just not talk. What happened between you and January is your business.”

  “I thought a smart girl like you would’ve figured it out. Maybe you aren’t as brainy as I thought you were.”

  “I honestly have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I didn’t attack January.”

  “It was Nate?” I ask. “See? You’re innocent. You can let me go.”

  “Technically, Nate did it. But it was my idea.” His tone changes, becomes more somber. “Poor January. She would’ve been better off not remembering. Why did you go and help her, Daphne?”

  “Why would you want to hurt January?” It’s basically a rhetorical question. Even caught up in my own fear, I’m aware enough to know that Josh is psycho. Nate might be stupid and mean and criminal, but Josh is crazy.

  “Oh, silly Daphne,” he says and runs his finger down my cheek. “That haircut is really cute on you. I should’ve gotten a hold of you before Jesse did.”

  He stretches out beside me, using his folded arms to prop up his head. “He might’ve gotten you, but he didn’t get January, and, oh”—he moans as he rolls onto his stomach—“she was a sweet piece of ass. If that dumb bitch hadn’t gotten pregnant…” He reaches out, and runs his fingers down my breastbone. “She was stringing me along, making me think she was going to have that baby, and then I’d be trapped. We couldn’t have that, could we?” he asks me, letting his hand stop on my stomach. “Kind of like that novel you were talking about in class, huh? Are you appreciating the irony, Daphne?”

  “I don’t think this is exactly ironic. More like psychotic. But why bring Nate into the whole thing?” I say.

  “He wanted the money. I wanted January gone. Easy. At least it should’ve been. But I guess it’s true when they say if you want the job done right, you’re better off doing it yourself.” He leered at me, his eyes wicked.

  “If something happens to me,” I tell him, “everyone will suspect you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure I care. I just want to have a little fun with you, Daph. Doesn’t that sound nice?” He tugs at the scratchy towel, miraculously still around my waist. “Nice suit,” he says, staring at my bikini bottom. “You know, Dizzy never even found out that Jan and I were hooking up. I’m grateful to you for keeping your mouth shut about that. You’re not so bad, Daphne.”

  “Does Jesse know about all this?”

  “I think he knows that my mom paid to get my name off the list. But who’s going to believe a predicted if he decides to tell anyone? You can’t trust those people.” He laughs loud and hard, truly off his rocker. He touches the strap of my bikini top. “Gormley is a problem, and he’ll need to be taken care of, but right now I think we—you and me, I mean—should just worry about what we’re going to do here. Right?”

  “I’ll scream,” I say, wondering if anyone in those houses down the hill could hear me if I really let loose.

  “No, you won’t.” I see his hand coming toward my face, and I feel it connect with my skin the first time. After awhile, I feel nothing but fear.

  “You’re crazy,” I tell him, knowing that I
won’t be able to reason with him about anything.

  “Deal with it.”

  I scream as loud and as hard as my lungs will allow.

  ***

  I open my eyes to total darkness. My hands are still tied behind me with the bungee cord. I’m facedown on the bed. I glance around, but everything is blurry—it’s as if I’m seeing everything in triplicate. Bodies are moving, but I can’t tell how many. I hear heavy breathing, grunting, and punching. There’s a fight going on. I try to yell, but nothing comes out. I clear my throat, but all I can do is squawk like a dying baby bird.

  “Hold on, Daphne!” someone says, and I can’t tell if it’s coming from one of the bodies in the room or if it’s in my head. I can’t seem to get my voice to reach a level of volume beyond a pitiful whisper. Hot tears are streaming from my eyes. “Melissa,” I call quietly, even though I know she is probably safely home in bed. “Melissa, help me.” I struggle to keep my eyes open, but my eyelids flutter like nervous butterflies.

  A long time passes. Or at least it feels that way to me. When I finally open my eyes wide, my vision is normal. The light is still dim, but the bright moonlight is pouring through the windows.

  Jesse is standing over me. “Daphne,” he says.

  I blink once. Then again and again. I am awake. And Jesse is here.

  chapter 29

  January Morrison tried to ruin my life. She got what she deserved.

  —Josh Heller

  “Are you all right?” Jesse helps me roll over and pulls me to a sitting position. He puts a stale towel around my shoulders and then hugs me so tightly that I can’t breathe. I stare wildly around the room past his shoulder. I can’t speak. “Are you all right?” he asks over and over again, and all I can do is nod my head woodenly. He sits down on the bed, pulling me in his lap. He rocks me back and forth for a long time.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. And I mean for everything.

  “I’m sorry I left,” he says. “I never should’ve left you. I knew what he was capable of.”

  “Josh,” I say, moving my head from Jesse’s chest and looking around the room. “Where is he?” Suddenly, everything comes back to me.

  Jesse grabs my face and turns me back toward him. “Don’t look, Daphne.” But he’s too late. Josh is sprawled across the rose-patterned carpet, blood seeping from his chest. “He had a knife,” Jesse says. “We fought. I got a hold of it. And then—”

  I start to laugh until I see Josh’s lifeless body sprawled on the carpet again. “He’s dead?” I ask, sucking my breath in.

  “Don’t look,” Jesse repeats. He’s crying now. “I had to do it! He was going to kill you!”

  We’re still sitting on the bed, rocking gently, when the police arrive.

  chapter 30

  Not being with her is harder than I thought it would be.

  —Jesse Kable

  “I’ve got a surprise!” Dizzy doesn’t bother to knock. As far as she’s concerned, my room is her room.

  I open my eyes and try to see the clock. It’s midafternoon. I’ve been napping for over an hour. It seems like I do a lot of that these days.

  Dizzy plops herself on the bed next to me. She’s wearing some kind of blue cape. She sees me staring at it. “Vintage,” she explains. “Hot as ice, isn’t it?”

  “Isn’t it a little warm for a cape?” I peer through the blinds. The sun is so bright that it hurts my eyes.

  “Did you hear me? I brought you a surprise,” Dizzy says again. Her eyes are gleaming. She tugs at the two French braids hanging at her shoulders.

  “Please,” I say, throwing myself back on the pillows, “not another makeover.” She’s been over here at least a dozen times bearing creamy eye shadow or fake eyelashes or an electric eyebrow plucker.

  “Better than that,” Dizzy says. She pats my forehead. “I’ve brought someone who wants to see you.” She looks at my half-open bedroom door. I don’t see anybody, but I smooth my hair anyway. “I’m really not in the mood for company,” I say.

  “Don’t be silly, Daph.” She acts as if I’ve just announced that I want to join a convent and take a vow of silence. “Come in,” she calls to the door.

  Sam steps through it. His hands are stuffed in his cargo shorts pockets, his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. “Hey,” he says.

  I give Dizzy an I’m-going-to-kill-you look, but she can’t parse it. “Surprise!” she calls.

  “Look, Dizz, I’m glad you came to visit. And Sam, it’s nice to see you, but I’m not exactly up to…” I can’t think of the right words. “I’m not exactly up to thinking about dating or whatever.”

  Sam and Dizzy laugh together. They laugh hard enough that I feel stupid. “What?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

  “Silly, Daphie. I didn’t bring Sam here for you, like some kind of male offering. Jeez.” She chuckles again. “I came here to tell you the news.” She grabs for Sam’s hand. “We’re an official couple!”

  Sam turns red, but Dizzy is clearly over the moon. She likes him. That’s obvious. I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she does at Sam. It’s not so much adoration as just general joyfulness. Frankly, she looks at Sam the way I remember looking at Jesse.

  “We’ve kinda been hiberdating. You know, just holing up together. And here we are. Together.” She beams. Sam gives me an aw, shucks look from behind those long eyelashes.

  “I’m really happy for you.” I’m sincere, because they’re obviously so smitten with each other. She fits in the crook of his arm perfectly—they are like a matched salt and pepper shaker set. “I’m really glad things are going well.”

  It’s something of a surprise to me that the world is going on without me. The weeks I’ve spent in bed or on the porch reading or watching TV while I listen to Melissa’s critical analysis have felt like an eternity. The night of Josh’s party seems so long ago. Some days it’s hard to believe it even happened.

  “Have you seen him?” Dizzy asks tentatively, her mood shifting slightly.

  I shake my head. She asks me every time I see her. I haven’t seen Jesse. “I don’t even know if he’s in Quiet.” Dizzy opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “And I don’t want to know. If he wants to call me, he can.”

  It’s been over a month since Jesse and I have spoken. After the police arrived that night, they arrested Jesse for the attempted murder of Josh Heller, his own stepbrother. It was twelve long hours before they sorted out the whole story. I was so tired by that time, I felt delirious. But I wouldn’t let myself rest until I knew that Jesse was going to be okay. I spent a day in the hospital. I didn’t have any physical injuries, but I was pretty shaken up. That time is blurry now. I really only remember Melissa standing over me, handing me a giant plastic cup with a straw, telling me not to talk. “You can talk later,” she told me.

  But later, I didn’t feel like it.

  Dizzy filled me in on the details later, when I got home, tender and bruised. Josh’s stabbing was ruled self-defense. I was just lucky, the police told me, that Jesse found me in time. Josh might’ve killed me. I didn’t mention what else he planned to do. I can barely think the words, let alone speak them. He was going to rape me.

  Josh wasn’t dead. He spent three weeks in the hospital. He’s now in jail, awaiting trial as an adult. I will eventually have to testify. I try not to think about it, though Dizzy loves to talk about him. If only she had known he was predicted, she likes to say, she would never have gotten near him. Dizzy isn’t bothered by PROFILE—she’s delighted to be part of a world where everything is determined. Or so they say.

  “Have you heard all the news?” Dizzy asks now. She brings me gossip like fruit in a basket. It’s a peace offering, a token of her affection for me. She tells me she saw January at the grocery store, but she avoided her. She doesn’t know that I see January often. We have become friends. I wonder how things will change when school starts again in a month or so. Right now, she’s a different girl, more like a clone of her mom, but there are
times when I see flashes of the old January—not the one who hated herself, but the one who was wonderfully bizarre and full of life.

  “Did you hear about school?” she asks. She’s too excited to let me respond. “We’re all going to the new private school.”

  I already knew that. Melissa told me, but I pretend to be surprised. Dizzy’s so excited to tell me, and I don’t want to ruin it for her.

  “My parents don’t want me at QH. In fact, hardly anybody is going there except the predicted. And people who are poor, of course.” Dizzy adds that last part as an afterthought.

  “It’s going to be weird,” Sam says. “It’s our senior year, and we’ll be starting over again.”

  The new school will be open in record time. A group of concerned citizens, led by Brooklyn’s mom, started the ball rolling. They remodeled an old Big Lots in a strip mall. That’ll be the new school. They won’t accept the predicted. Because it’s a private school, that’s legal. The Bass School, it will be called—named after Brooklyn’s parents, because they donated a ton of money to get the thing going.

  “You’ll be going to Bass too, right?” Dizzy asks. It’s not so much a question as a pleading wish.

  “Of course,” I say.

  I feel guilty about lying, but I just don’t want to argue with her. She’ll never understand. I’m going to QH in the fall, because I don’t feel right about going to a school designed to keep people out. Even Melissa thinks I’m nuts. “I know that what they are doing at the Bass School is wrong,” she told me, “but I can’t send you to QH, not when I know I might be putting you in danger.”

  I haven’t told Melissa yet. I will be going to QH. And she can’t stop me.

  “Sammy,” Dizzy says suddenly, “will you run to the kitchen and get us some Diet Cokes?” He smiles at her, happy to do her a favor.

  When he’s gone, she grabs hold of my hand. “I know you still love him,” she says.