“He looked sort of, umm, like a drug dealer or something.” I made a face. “Okay, I know that’s a stupid stereotype.”
She cut in, her voice urgent and her face suddenly pale. “Describe him.”
I frowned. “What’s the problem? You know him or something?”
There was a silence for a moment; then she laughed. “Nah. Just curious.”
“Huh. You sounded kind of…,” I broke off. I didn’t want to pry. “Well, he was tall and skinny. Maybe twenty or so. Jeans. Shaved head. Long coat, kind of an army coat or something. And he had a tattoo of a spider or something on his neck.”
Victoria didn’t say anything. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth so tightly that it was almost as white as her face.
“Are you okay? I mean, if there’s something wrong, well, you could talk to me. If you wanted too.” My stomach tightened. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I wished I’d never mentioned that stupid guy. I didn’t get it. Victoria had just moved here. It wasn’t like she’d know anyone, let alone creepy-looking guys.
She kicked at a frozen lump of snow. “Nothing to talk about,” she said.
There was an awkward silence. I cleared my throat and changed the subject. “So how come you moved here anyway?” I asked.
“Um. Well, bunch of reasons, I guess.” She switched her schoolbag from one shoulder to the other. “My dad got a job here. He works at a bank.”
“Yeah? What does your Mom do?”
“She used to work in a veterinarian’s office before we moved.” She made a face. “Now she’s taking some courses at the college and working part-time at a coffee shop.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. It’s just something she and Dad are always arguing about—her being out in the evenings.”
“My dad’s in the Middle East.” I watched the doors, waiting for Ben to appear. “He’s an engineer. He gets these contracts, you know? He’s been gone for months.”
“Wow. Don’t you worry about him? I mean…”
I shook my head. “No, it’s pretty safe where he is. I miss him though.” Just thinking about him made me want to cry. Mocking myself, I pretended to play a violin. I could make a pretty good violin noise too. “The worst part is that since he left, my mom’s been…I don’t know.” I swallowed hard and broke off. I never talked about this with anyone.
“What?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t know how to explain, and I kind of wished I hadn’t brought it up. To my relief, Sydney and Ben meandered through the doors, chattering away to each other. “Hey, there he is.” I waved. “Let’s go, kid.”
Ben glowered. He hated being called kid. “Sydney’s coming too,” he informed me, his voice cold and dignified.
I grinned at him apologetically. “I’d like to get home some time this year.”
He gave me a reluctant smile, and we all set off together. It had been drizzling freezing rain all afternoon, and a thin layer of ice had formed on the surface of the snow. Our boots crunched noisily as we walked. I glanced across at the three of them, all walking almost in unison. Hmm. Obviously I wasn’t really going to start a club for social outcasts, let alone hang out with a couple of third graders, but I found myself playing around with the idea anyway. What would we call ourselves, I wondered. Freaks United, maybe.
“Cassidy?” Sydney looked up at me.
“What?”
“Well, Ben and I were wondering, since there are two of us today, we don’t really need you to walk us home, you know?”
I could feel my eyebrows fly up. “You guys can run ahead. I don’t care.”
She grinned, and the two of them shot off.
It looked as if the club was back down to two members.
Eight
Ben and Sydney were waiting on the front porch when we got home. I could hear Ben rattling on and on about the efficiency of magnetic levitation trains and his theory that the personal automobile would soon be replaced by mag-lev transportation systems. Sydney, miracle of miracles, actually looked interested. Of course, she hadn’t heard it a thousand times before.
“You should’ve given me the key,” Ben said as I stomped up the steps, kicking the snow off my boots.
“You should get your own,” I retorted. “Mom’s not home?”
He rolled his eyes. “She never is.”
I unlocked the door, and we all tumbled in, shedding layers of hats and coats and snow-clumped boots. Sydney and Ben disappeared into the family room to play chess, and Victoria followed me up the steep stairs and into my room. She rubbed her fogged up glasses on her sweatshirt, put them back on and looked around. “Great room,” she said softly.
I grinned. “Yeah, thanks. I love it.”
My room was small and cozy, with a ceiling that sloped from high above the door, to very low over my tiny dormer window. A couple of years ago Mom let me pick out new paint, and we painted the walls a bright lime green. I’m kind of addicted to secondhand clothing stores and I’ve got some amazing clothes, way too cool to hide in a closet, so I’d covered one wall with hooks for all my scarves and hats. I love hats. Plus I have all these movie posters that I ordered online: Rocky Horror Picture Show, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, stuff like that. They’re fabulous. Of course, Mom won’t let me watch the actual movies.
I flopped down on my bed; then I leapt up again. “Wait. We need snacks. We need vast quantities of junk food.” I winked. “I want you to tell me how to do that teleky-whatsit thing, and I’m pretty sure that junk food will help me.”
A minute later I was back from the kitchen, a giant-size bag of Doritos in one hand and a bag of fudge cookies in my other. “Salt or sugar? Pick your poison.”
Victoria’s smile was as bright as summer sunshine. “My mom always buys those puffed rice things or banana chips. Plus, we’re vegetarian.”
I held the chips out of her reach. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you eat these. You have to build up a tolerance for this stuff gradually.”
She jumped up, tried to snatch the bag from my hand and missed. “Hey! Hand them over!”
“Uh-uh. Now that I think about it, you’d better stick with your tofu burgers and steamed kelp. This stuff’s full of chemicals. It might wreck your powers.”
She snorted. “If you don’t hand them over, I guess I’ll have to use my powers to get them from you.”
I wished she would, but she was obviously touchy about being asked to perform, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I didn’t want to get my head bitten off. I handed her the chips and sat down beside her. “So, can we start? Can you show me how to move something without touching it?”
Victoria nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it.” She looked at me, the corners of her mouth lifting in a catlike smile. “It’d be cool if I wasn’t the only one who could do this.”
“I’d love to be the only one who could do something,” I said. “Seriously. My brother is a genius, my mom is this famous artist, my dad is kind of a big shot in his field…I don’t know. I’m not really good at anything.”
“Sure you are,” she said. “You’re good at lots of things.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s the problem. I’m pretty good at lots of things. But I’m not great at anything, I can’t do anything special. I sure can’t do something that no one else can do.”
“Yeah, well, believe me, it’s not so wonderful.” Victoria didn’t meet my eyes, and again I had the feeling there was something she wasn’t telling me. I was debating whether to ask her about it when she snapped her eyes back to mine and flashed me her big pink-gums-and-little-white-teeth smile.
“Okay,” she said. “I think the best way to start is to do an exercise to help you feel the energy that you need if you want to move an object.” She sat up, crossed her legs and faced me. “Okay. Hold your hands like this.”
I copied her, holding my hands so that my palms faced each other. Her fingers were curved and her fingertips not quite touching.
I opened one eye. “Move it? Umm, how exactly do I move imaginary energy?”
Victoria frowned. “Try to visualize it. Picture it. It’s real, you just can’t see it. Once you learn more, you will be able to feel it. At least I hope so. Trust me, okay?”
I closed my eyes again. “Okay…I’m visualizing the energy.” Lime green or forest green, I wondered. I tried not to giggle. It was like being at camp with those girls who brought the Ouija board: everyone else all solemn, and me sitting there with my fingers on the sliding plastic thing, thinking how crazy it all was. Except, I reminded myself, this time it wasn’t. This time it was for real.
“Okay. Now imagine that the energy is moving into the space between your hands. Keep taking slow deep breaths. Imagine the energy getting denser and denser, forming a ball of energy between your hands.”
Nothing happened. After a few minutes, I broke the silence. “What’s supposed to happen?”
“You didn’t feel anything at all?”
“No, not really.”
“Don’t get discouraged, okay? Maybe it’ll take practice.” She smiled, but I couldn’t help wondering if she was disappointed in me.
“What should have happened?”
“You should feel some pressure between your hands. You know if you put two magnets together the wrong way? And they push each other away? It feels kind of like that.”
“Maybe if you showed me?” I asked hopefully.
She bit her lip and frowned. “I told you. I’m not allowed.”
I sighed. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll try again.” I put my hands together and closed my eyes. There was a knock at the door, and my eyes flew open. “What?”
Ben opened the door and poked his head in. “Dinner’s ready.”
“No! Seriously? Don’t tell me you made something.”
He shook his head. “No, Mom’s home. She brought Chinese.”
Mom was unpacking cartons and putting plates on the table.
“Sorry,” she said as we came in. “I know I said I’d cook tonight, but I got held up. Got a really serious call on the crisis line and couldn’t get away.”
“You got your hair done,” I said accusingly. She didn’t look like herself at all. Her dark curls were gone and instead she had a sleek chin-length bob.
Her hand flew to her hair. “This morning. What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Victoria said shyly. “You look like an actress or something.”
Mom laughed, shaking her head so that her hair swung smoothly from side to side. “Thank you. You must be Victoria.”
I opened the fridge and grabbed a jug of filtered water and a big bottle of soda. “What do you want to drink?”
“Oh.” Victoria turned to look at me and picked a glass up from the table. “Water’s fine.”
Ben and Sydney came running in. They reminded me of a couple of little wind-up toys, always buzzing from one place to another.
Ben sat down and Sydney dropped into the chair beside him. “Wow,” he said. “We look like a big family. Imagine if Victoria and Sydney were our sisters and there were always five of us here.”
“Six,” I said quickly. “Don’t forget Dad.”
“Six, then,” Ben agreed. “Hey, Victoria? Do you have any siblings?”
I laughed. Siblings. Ben’s vocabulary cracked me up.
There was a pause, and I turned to look at Victoria. The glass slipped from her hand and smashed on the floor. Broken glass all over. “Oh,” she gasped, “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Mom said quickly. “They’re nothing special, just cheap ones.” She bent to get the brush and dustpan from under the sink.
“Let me do that,” Victoria said, reaching for the brush.
Mom hesitated before she handed it to her. “Be careful,” she said. “Don’t cut yourself.”
Ben had forgotten the conversation and was chatting with Sydney about their chess strategies. I watched Victoria sweep. Her face was pale and her hand was shaking slightly. I hadn’t forgotten what Ben had asked her.
And I was ninety-nine percent sure she hadn’t dropped that glass by accident.
Nine
The next day, Ms. Allyson was back. I hoped Mr. McMaran would be away for a long, long time like until the end of the school year. Not because I didn’t want to see him again, though obviously I didn’t, but because I really liked Ms. Allyson. It was the first time in ages that I’d actually been interested in anything we were doing in the classroom.
Our first class was Social Studies. I had hoped to pair up with Victoria, but Ms. Allyson had us number off to form groups. We were going to be having a class debate on whether or not it was better to be alive today than at any other time in human history. It didn’t matter what you really thought. I was in group four, and therefore I had to argue that it was.
I grabbed a pen and my notebook and walked across the classroom to join the other number fours in the front corner. Nathan and Felicia had pulled a couple of desks together and were already sitting down, their expressions apprehensive. Amber was pulling up a chair to join them. A look of dismay crossed her face when she saw who she was stuck with, and my stomach clenched tight. No doubt she’d be less than thrilled to discover she was stuck with me too. I looked around for Victoria. She was a number two, along with Madeline, Chiaki, Joe and a couple of others. I caught her eye and felt a little better. I winked at her; then I took a deep breath and dragged myself over to my group.
Amber took one look at me and groaned. “What is this? Ms. Allyson must hate me.”
“Yeah, sucks to be you,” I said, meeting her eyes. I didn’t want her to know how nervous she made me. I lifted my chin a little higher. What could she really do to me anyway? So what if she thought I was a loser. If I had to choose between having no friends or hanging out with Amber, I’d pick no friends. A smile twitched at the corners of my lips as I remembered. I had a friend. I had Victoria. And I was going to be telekinetic. Beat that, Amber.
“What are you smiling about?” Amber spat.
The butterflies in my stomach felt more like small birds, crashing around wildly. I ignored them and grinned widely, just to annoy her.
Felicia cleared her throat. “Umm, shall we start by brainstorming ideas? I can take notes if you want.”
Amber was quick to pounce. “Who died and appointed you group leader?”
“Sorry,” Felicia muttered, looking down at the desk. There was a long silence. Nathan looked like he was trying to be invisible. Felicia had picked up her pen and started doodling on the margins of her paper. Amber was staring at me.
“What?”
Amber smiled at me. Not her usual smirk but something that resembled an actual smile. “Can you believe her nerve? She’s like the last person we’d want as group leader. I mean, I can’t even understand her, her accent is so weird.”
This was freaking me out. Amber being mean I could handle, but Amber smiling at me was scary. It slowly dawned on me that she was looking to me for support. Apparently she had decided that while Cathidy Thilver might be a bit of a freak, Felicia was even more of a loser.
Too bad for Amber. I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Amber’s mouth fell open slightly. Inside my stomach, the birds turned back into butterflies and folded up their wings. “Felicia sounds fine to me,” I said. “I think her accent is cool.” I turned to Felicia and grinned. “You’re from New Zealand, right?”
Felicia nodded gratefully and pushed her heavy dark hair off her face. “I am. I lived in Auckland. We moved to Canada two years ago. I still have lots of family back there.”
I’d never heard her say so much all at once.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Nathan broke in shyly, “I like her accent t
oo. And I think she’d be a good group leader.” He grinned at me and Felicia, his skinny face lighting up.
An odd expression flickered across Amber’s face. Disconcerted. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she looked afraid. For once, she was at a loss for words.
I cleared my throat and turned to the others. “So shall we brainstorm then? Like Felicia suggested?” I chewed on the end of my pen and tried to think about the assignment. “It seems to me that whether this is a good time to live in totally depends on who you are. Like, if you’re a kid in Afghanistan or Iraq, now is not so good. But if you’re black and live in the States, now is probably better than a hundred years ago.”
“Mmm. But still not so good,” Nathan pointed out. “And Canada isn’t that different.”
I looked at him in surprise. I’d never heard him voice an opinion before. “True enough,” I acknowledged.
Felicia tapped her pen on the table. “We’re not supposed to debate it,” she pointed out. “We just have to argue that now is better.”
Amber hadn’t said a word. I snuck a sideways peek at her. “What do you think, Amber?”
She shrugged uncertainly. “I guess now is okay.”
“Riigght,” I drawled. “Words of wisdom from Amber, who thinks now is okay.”
Amber flushed and turned her face away. I felt a heady surge of power, an odd exhilaration. Then I looked at Amber again and a wave of shame swept over me. I bit my lip. “Umm, Amber? I didn’t mean that. I’m thorry. Sorry.”
She looked right at me and gave me a tiny almost-smile. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Cassidy.”
Cassidy. Not Cathidy. Cassidy.
That afternoon, Ms. Allyson had blocked off some time for us to work on our art projects. The contest deadline was only two weeks away, and I hadn’t even started. Actually, that’s not quite true: all I had done was start. Over and over. Start one thing, mess it up, toss it out, start another. I couldn’t seem to figure out what I wanted to do.
Who Are We? I sighed. What the heck did that mean? I pulled out my notes and read over what Ms. Allyson had said. Writing can be a way to learn about ourselves, to uncover what lies beneath the surface…like a tool an archeologist uses to uncover a treasure buried deep in the earth. Well, I wasn’t convinced there were any treasures to unearth, but maybe writing would at least be something to do. I couldn’t face too many more crumpled up paintings and squashed clay sculptures.
Impossible Things Page 4