"Can you be more specific?
Her mouth turned down in disgust. "What's with all the questions! It's not like I have a photographic memory. Just be careful. Okay?
I nodded. I knew Revelle was dangerous. So far, Trilby hadn't told me anything I didn't already know.
"Oh, I almost forgot." Trilby floated to her feet, her voluminous gown billowing and swirling around her. "You're supposed to practice. Your life may depend on it.
Swear to God, Trilby was making me crazy. I shot to me feet and yelled, "Practice what? Concentrate, Trilby. Practice the piano? My multicultural lesson of the day? Bull riding?
"Jeez, chill out, girl," Trilby said in an offended tone. "I was going to tell you. Practice moving stuff with your mind. You know, the TKP.
"Oh," I said in a small voice. "That's why they sent you here?
With a solemn nod, Trilby said, "So I'm guessing it's important. Just do it. Okay?
Before I could answer, she was sucked into a vortex of flapping pink fabric and borne away, apparently back to preheaven and a sexy angel-in-training named Micah.
Practice, she'd told me. My life depended on it. And so I began.
Chapter Eighteen
I was scared. Yeah, tough little Allie who stood up to bullies, ran barefoot down a country road, provided an alibi for a former gang banger in front of the entire student body and bravely spent the night in a spooky old house (well, maybe not so bravely) was scared of her own power. What if I couldn't control it?
Picture this: It's harvest time. Allie is picking apples to earn money for clothes. She decides it would be faster to make the apples fly off the tree into the bin. She has an unfortunate power surge and apples begin flying through the air like hailstones. The other pickers panic and run screaming from the orchard. Uncle Sid loses his apple crop and has to go on welfare.
Telekinetic power in the hands of a novice ... scary. Despite my misgivings, I couldn't afford to be scared. Granted, Trilby was a ditz, but past events had unfolded exactly as she'd predicted. The words, "Practice, your life depends on it," resonated in my mind as I glanced around to make sure I was alone. I'd seen Uncle Sid earlier, sidling into the house. The only living creatures around were the dogs, Lewis and Clark, who always returned from their explorations at precisely 5:30 p.m. for dinner. They'd been fed, and were both lying in the grass chewing on big, meaty bones.
I set a carrot on the spool table and tried to make it roll. Nothing happened. I could hear the thudding of my heart, the rumble of a passing truck, a distant siren. I felt a soft breeze ruffle my hair, saw the sun's downward descent in the west and the yellow flash of a goldfinch in the apple tree. Too much distraction. Concentrate, Allie.
I closed my mind to everything except the sound of my beating heart. Taking deep breaths, I began to count the beats. Bump. Bump. Bump. The steady rhythm soothed me. The world fell away, and my vision grew dark around the edges. My eyes saw nothing but the carrot. My ears heard nothing but the sound of my heart. My mind contained nothing except my desire to make the carrot move. And then it did. The carrot rolled across the table and fell to the ground. I took another deep breath and re-focused my energy, thinking only, lift, lift. Yes! I pumped a fist in the air as the carrot rose and plopped down on the table top.
Before darkness fell, I'd made a garden hose slither through the grass like an enormous snake, which scared the crap out of Lewis and Clark who dropped their bones and ran for the back porch. I'd just moved a lawn chair from one side of the table to the other, when Blaster announced his presence in his usual fashion.
I turned my head slowly and found him staring intently at me through mean, little eyes. It was like he remembered when I fell off the ladder, and he wanted another crack at me. I wondered if I could make him levitate and float to the other end of the pasture. Worth a try. I took a step toward the pasture.
I was concentrating so hard, I didn't realize Faye was home until I heard the truck door slam. Her appearance jolted me back to reality and my date with doom. Confession time. I walked to the trailer on dragging feet, a dull ache blooming in the back of my skull.
It was then I had a stroke of brilliance. As Faye walked toward me, I put my hands on my hips and glared. "Where have you been? And don't tell me you've been interviewing for a job. Not at this time of night.
Faye folded her arms across her chest and studied my face. "What's with the attitude, Allie? You got something to tell me?
I'd forgotten Faye knew every trick in the book. She'd probably used them on Claude, my off-limits grandpa. I knew when I was whipped. I gulped in some air. "Yeah, actually, I do. Let's go inside.
I turned toward the door, but stopped when I heard the unmistakable sound of a low rider slowly bumping down Uncle Sid's driveway. Junior? Here? Now?
Faye's head whirled toward the sound. Junior pulled up next to our pick-up, killed the engine and stepped out of the car.
"Hey, Allie." He flashed me a smile.
Faye's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who the hell are you?
Junior stepped forward and extended a hand, "I'm Allie's friend. Junior Martinez.
I held my breath. Faye ignored his outstretched hand. Her head swiveled back and forth between Junior and me. "Allie's friend?" Her voice held a warning. She turned to me, her eyes blazing. "Please don't tell me you have a boyfriend.
I opened my mouth to answer, but Junior stepped around Faye and stood next to me. "It's not like that. We're just friends.
Oh, crap, I thought. I'm just Junior's friend.
Hastily, I added, "Yeah, it's like he said. I needed a ride to go see Kizzy. He helped me out. He's helped me out in other ways too.
Oops, wrong thing to say.
"Helped you out, huh?" Faye studied Junior like he was a dead frog under a microscope. "Exactly how did you help her out?
Junior lifted his palms and turned on his megawatt smile. "Nothing bad. I'll swear on a Bible if you want.
I saw Faye's shoulders relax and the corner of her mouth twitch. Junior was getting to her. She opened the trailer door, stepped back and waved Junior inside. "I'll see if I can find one.
Her voice wasn't exactly dripping with sarcasm, but it had a tone I recognized. What she really wanted to say was, "This better be good or Allie will be stuck in this trailer for a month.
I was usually embarrassed when people saw the way Faye and I lived. I never invited friends over. But with Junior, it was different. He seemed perfectly comfortable sitting on my couch bed, flashing his dimples at my mother, whose expression had softened considerably. I sat down next to him. Faye sat across from us.
"And you're here because...?" Faye prompted.
Junior and I both started to speak then stopped.
Junior leaned forward and spoke earnestly, "Did Allie tell you what happened today?
Faye's eyes narrowed. "No. Why?
Junior launched into the story, starting with me running, screaming, out of Kizzy's house. At that point, I had to confess I was there alone, not with Carmel, as I'd told her.
"But I had to," I said. "Kizzy only came to for a few minutes, and she wanted me to find that cedar chest. I knew you wouldn't let me stay there alone. I'm sorry I lied.
Faye shook her head slightly and sniffed, a sure sign of hurt feelings. At this point, it was more about me not trusting her. I felt my lower lip quiver in response. Junior took my hand and squeezed it.
"Nothing happened, Ms. Emerson. Honest." His clear gray eyes willed her to believe. "I haven't known Allie very long, but I know she's a good kid. If she lied to you, it's because she was trying to help.
"Maybe you better tell me the rest," Faye said.
Taking turns, we filled her in. Not wanting to worry her, I down-played Christian Revelle's role in the moonstone drama. I squeezed Junior's hand to clue him in. He picked up on it immediately.
"Revelle thinks he's a player but we've got it covered.
He told her about the fake Carmel's meeting with Revelle but skipped most of
the back story, saying only, "Next week, Revelle will be getting what he thinks is the moonstone. But it will be as fake as Carmel.
I looked at him curiously. "You won't be able to match it. He'll know it's not the real deal.
Junior said, "You told me he didn't get a good look at it. You covered it with your hand. Right?
I tried to remember exactly what had happened that day in Kizzy's hospital room. I nodded. "After I covered it with my hand, he sat down by Kizzy's bed like he was praying. That's when I moved the stone one click.
"And you read his mind.
Faye's eyes got big. "Is that true, Allie?
I nodded. "Just bits and pieces. When the words faded out, I put the moonstone inside my shirt.
"You're sure he didn't see you move the stone?" Junior said.
"I made sure he wasn't looking when I moved it.
"The meeting's set for Monday," Junior said. "The woman playing Carmel will give him the fake stone. She'll tell Revelle she's been trying to read minds, but there's nothing magic about it. Remember, she mentioned it might not work for him when they met yesterday.
I grinned. "Oh yeah, the 'supernatural chick' comment.
Junior smiled back at me. "Revelle will take it and leave town. When it doesn't work, he'll toss it in the nearest garbage can. End of story.
"Not quite." Faye rose from her chair and looked down at the two of us. "I need more information. You two spent the night together. Where did you sleep, Allie?
I blushed and stuttered, "Uh, uh, on the couch.
"And what about you, Mr. Martinez?
Junior flashed his gleaming smile again. I felt myself responding to it until I remembered; it was his charmfreshman-girls-out-of-their-panties smile. I glared at him while he attempted to steer Faye in a new direction. "Allie wanted me to watch a movie, something about music, but I got bored and fell asleep.
Faye was not easily fooled. "On the couch?
Unfazed by Faye's unblinking stare, Junior replied calmly. "It's a big couch, Miz Emerson. Nothing happened.
Faye stayed silent for a long moment then flapped a hand at Junior. "You! Go home." She turned her gaze on me. "You! Go get the mail.
I jumped up and followed Junior outside. I tugged at his sleeve. "Think it will work? The fake moonstone?
He guided me to the car. "Hop in. I'll drive you to the mailbox.
Risking the wrath of Faye, I scrambled into the low rider. Junior started the engine and backed slowly down the driveway before he answered my question. "It should work. Got a better idea?
I shook my head. Junior stopped at the end of the driveway and took my hand. I felt the warmth of his touch clear down to my toes. "You and your mom okay now?
"I think so. Thanks for coming over. It helped a lot.
He raised the back of my hand to his lips. Filled with a yearning I didn't fully understand, I caught my breath, a little frightened by the sensations sweeping through my body. Maybe I wasn't the only person in the car blessed with magic. I pulled my hand away and opened the door. "See ya, Junior.
"See ya, kid.
He stayed until I picked up the mail and walked back down the driveway. Caught in the bright beam of his headlights, I turned and waved, watching as he pulled slowly onto the road and drove away. At that moment, flushed with warmth and happiness, I knew I'd fallen in love with Junior Martinez, and that I trusted him not only with the moonstone, but with my life.
Chapter Nineteen
I stood under the yard light and went through the mail. A flyer from Tom's Corner Market. A No Bull! catalog featuring mail-order bull sperm, put in our mailbox instead of Uncle Sid's. Another tan envelope from Social Security addressed to Faye, and a small, padded envelope addressed to Allie Emerson. I tucked it into the pocket of my jeans to read later.
I climbed into the trailer. Faye sat at the table slashing a file across her fingernails, ominously quiet. When I entered, she looked up at me, her expression unreadable. Had we put the "boyfriend genie" back in the bottle, or was I about to be royally chewed out? With Faye, one never knew.
"Anything interesting?"
Without a word, I handed her the tan envelope. She slipped the pointy end of the nail file under the flap and ripped it open. She withdrew a single sheet of paper and unfolded it carefully. Her eyes moved back and forth across the page. I watched her face, praying it was good news. Bad news would trigger a week-long crying jag. I didn't need that right now. I didn't need that ever.
She blew out air and tossed the letter onto the table. "Thanks for nothing, Big Ed.
I snatched up the letter and scanned it. The words "benefits denied" practically jumped off the page. I braced myself, but Faye surprised me. Not a single tear. She stood up, slammed her fist down on the table and started cursing Big Ed. She started at the beginning of the alphabetA is for A-Hole, B is for Bastardand so on. A couple of the letters stumped her, so she skipped over them. She finally ran out of steam after Turd and Son-of-a-Bitch. But she had only just begun.
I watched, goggle-eyed, as she picked up Uncle Sid's No Bull! catalog, tore out each page and stacked them together, carefully aligning the edges to form a neat pile. Then she folded her hands and smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. Was my mother losing her mind?
"Do you have a magic marker and a big envelope, sweetie?
Without saying a word, I found the requested items. Slowly and methodically, she began scrawling, I HATE BIG ED! across the studly bull featured on each page, then folded the pages in half and stuffed them one at a time into the envelope. I guess we all deal with disappointment in different ways. Who was I to judge?
"Need some help with that?" I said. At the rate she was going, we'd be up all night.
She nodded. "Just make sure you put the message on the bull.
"Why?
She gave me a dark look. "I have my reasons.
I found another pen and slid into the bench across from her. We sat in companionable silence, scrawling our invective across various-and-sundry bull parts, a real mother-daughter Kodak moment. I noticed Faye's hands had stopped shaking. In fact she looked eerily calm.
I cleared my throat. "You're not planning to mail this, are you?
"Thought I would.
"Maybe you should wait a few days, you know, until you cool off a little.
Faye dropped her pen and reached for my hand. She pressed it against her hot cheek. "How did you get so wise, Allie? With a mother like me?
I searched her face. Still no tears.
"You do okay." My voice suddenly thick with emotion.
She dropped my hand and winked. "But I'm still going to mail it to Big Ed.
Faye got up and poured herself a glass of wine. She set the glass down on top of the torn SSI envelope. "It's not the end of the world.
"True," I agreed and crossed my fingers under the table. Maybe this was Faye's...
"Wake-up call," she said. "That's what it is.
I kept my face carefully neutral but in my head, I was dancing a jig and screaming, "Yes!
She picked up the business card from Child Protective Services and set it on top of the brown envelope. "Two wakeup calls.
She tapped her index finger on the card and mused, "I need a job.
I held my breath and waited for her to continue.
"I really did have an interview today, Allie.
"That's good, Mom," I said.
She beamed. "You called me 'Mom.'
"Oops," I kidded. "That's good, Faye.
We finished up our hate mail, and Faye went to bed. I was feeling pretty good, having dodged two bullets. Faye hadn't lapsed into a blue funk, and her anger was now directed at Big Ed instead of me. And furthermore, the moonstone was out of my control at the moment. I felt lighter than air for the first time since my tumble off the ladder.
When I pulled off my jeans, I remembered the envelope I'd stuffed into my pocket. I slipped into PJ's and curled up on the couch before opening it. No return address, but the postmark said, Por
tland, Oregon. Curious. I knew no one in Portland, Oregon. My name and address were typed and centered perfectly.
Using Faye's nail file, I opened the envelope and removed a tiny, bubble-wrapped cellular phone, a charger and a typewritten note, unsigned. When I read the note, my euphoric mood evaporated faster than a drop of water on a sizzling hot sidewalk.
Allie, This phone has a pre-programmed number. Hit Send and listen carefully. It's important. Good luck.
I stepped outside and leaned against the side of the trailer, the heavy mantle of responsibility settling, once again, on my shoulders. I punched Send. After a bit of static, the message started. The tone was eerily distorted. Had to be somebody I knew who didn't want to be identified. Man or woman? I couldn't tell.
"Listen carefully. This message will not be repeated. Because Kizzy Lovell is your mentor, you know about the prophecy passed along by her mother, Magda. You are the girl whose palm bears the sign of the star. You, Allie, are The Keeper. Your legacy cannot be denied. But first, you need to know why you must guard the moonstone with your life.
I felt a frission of fear scamper down my spine. Who was this person and how did he/she know the intimate details of my palm? And, the words "guard the moonstone with your life" sent me on a huge guilt trip. I didn't even have the darn thing!
The voice stopped, and I heard breathing, as if the speaker was gathering the courage to give me bad news. I bit my lower lip and waited, listening to the sounds of the night ... a passing car, the distant lowing of cattle, the incessant barking of a neighbor dog, the sound of a plane passing overhead. I imagined myself on that plane, flying far, far away from Peacock Flats and the screwed-up mess my life had become.
The message continued.
"Long before the moonstone came into existence, two societies were formed. One group, the Star Seekers, have a star located somewhere on their palms. A star on the palm indicates psychic abilities of varying degrees. Yours, because of its placement in the exact center of the lunar mound, is extremely rare and the most powerful of signs. In the early days, psychic powers were thought to be signs of witchcraft. The Star Seekers met secretly and had a common goal: to use their powers to fight the evil in the world. Their history has been passed down through the generations by word of mouth, and their secret is still closely guarded. Their oral history includes the story of a powerful gemstone and the maid who is meant to have it. The Star Seekers are determined to see this prophecy fulfilled.
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