Foreseen (The Rothston Series)

by Smiles, Terri-Lynne

  “Right about what?” I asked with too much of a snap in my voice. Why was she playing games, making me guess the answer to a simple question? But Kinzie didn’t notice the tone, or at least, she ignored it.

  “Nobody’s smarter. Not me. Not even The Seven. I’m just as arrogant as Rex. I thought I was better than everyone else – no, I knew I was better than everyone else because I’m smart. But I’m not that smart, Greg. No one is. It isn’t even about being smart.”

  “You’re not like Brolie,” I assured her, hoping to get her to focus. “Are you going to tell me what happened? What was this mission?”

  She looked at me blankly for a moment, like she thought I knew. “Oh, right. Nothing major, we …” She took a deep, stuttered breath as she prepared to explain. “We influenced the vote on the military presence in North Africa.”

  My brain jolted in shock, missing her next several sentences. Changing a vote on the use of the military? Changing the course of the nation? The world? She’d told me that’s what Rothston did, but until that moment, I hadn’t believed it was true. And I never thought it would be her. For a moment, I felt stupid for having thought she was just full of herself. She was important. But did that matter? Did it change anything? I sank onto the step. My arm brushed against hers, and an electric jolt from her touch spread through my body, relaxing my aches away and making me long to hold her. But I thought about the crane operator and the guy who missed his exam. They wouldn’t think their jobs and futures were worth Kinzie learning to save the world. And they’d never been given that choice. After a moment, she looked up.

  “That helps,” she said curiously.

  “Helps what?”

  “Everything. When you touch me, it clears my head. I can … my adept sense gets clearer, and I can think better.” Her eyes looked hopefully into mine.

  I took a deep breath. I needed to cut this off, now. “Look, Kinzie. I’m not sure why you’re here, but …” Boomer’s head peeked curiously out of his room at that moment, pointing out this wasn’t the most private of spots. I glared at him and he vanished, but I helped Kinzie into my room. She clung to my arm as if her life depended on it, and I had to push her hands off me as she sat down on the couch.

  “I don’t know what you want from me Kinzie,” I said as I moved to the other end. “We both know this isn’t going to work. Neither of us wanted to be in a relationship. And I can’t deal with all this adept crap, sneaking off on missions you can’t tell me about.”

  She nodded to say she understood. “I … I know,” she said, but her voice was thick with the pain she was trying to hide. God, I felt like a heel. But this wasn’t my fault. I never asked for any of this. What else could I do?

  “I … I just need someone to talk to.” She swallowed hard. “And … and I don’t have anyone,” she choked out through a new set of tears.

  I scooted across the couch and rubbed her arm with the back of my fingers. The energy flow between us calmed her down, just like it always had. And calmed me too. I was going to miss this. “That’s fine,” I said softly when she stopped sobbing. “We’re still friends.” She nodded but seemed hesitant to go on. “So tell me what happened,” I prompted after a moment.

  She went back to her story, telling me about a congressional hearing and some big-wig party that didn’t mean anything to me, until she mentioned a Congressman she’d met.

  “Brady? Jake Brady?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “We were laughing about him at lunch. The jerk’s a pedophile.”

  “He’s not,” she shot back. “He’s a good man. A nice guy, and smart.”

  “They caught him in the act, Kinzie. I don’t think he’s so nice.”

  She looked down at her hands. “He is,” she said quietly, and explained what happened and I remembered how she’d manipulated me with the magazine at the hospital. Brolie made this guy drop his pants in front of a girl – his daughter’s best friend. Kinzie’s voice quavered as she lamented the pain, distrust, chaos, and humiliation they’d rained down upon Jake Brady’s family, and the decimation of a life-long friendship, simply because he was doing what he believed in – following the will of those who elected him.

  My stomach tightened. Fucking Brolie would do anything to anyone who got in his way, and never give a second thought about who got hurt – or even a first thought. And Rothston – this place was a menace if they condoned this shit. And from what I could tell, they didn’t just condone it, they encouraged it, rewarding the asshole for his successes. If I knew how, I’d stop them.

  Kinzie was still rambling, talking about not knowing what will happen in the long run from what Brolie did to Brady, or what she had done to the crane operator. “I never thought about what would happen to the crane operator’s life,” she admitted. “And the car was an accident. Collateral damage. I didn’t see it coming. Jake Brady was more collateral damage. I saw him. I talked to him. He was a good person. I saw how he looked at his wife, and …” Her words choked off at that point. Her dark eyes, brimming with tears, rose to my face and she took a deep breath. “People need to care about … about people. People are important – they’re the only thing that’s important,” she said, leaning against me. “I was stupid to think I was above that.”

  I stroked her hair, as she hiccupped through some final sobs. Maybe she’d learned her lesson. Maybe this would be okay. She snuffed as her nose ran from crying, and a tissue from the box across the room appeared in her hand. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe she hadn’t learned anything.

  Chapter 22

  Kinzie

  I sat at the small desk, staring through the wavy glass of the mullioned window as I prepared myself for seeing Mel. But I didn’t know how. I’d never had to deal with any serious illness before, and certainly nothing like Alzheimer’s. The benefit of coming from such a small family, I suppose. Just me and my dad. But Rothston was my family now; I had no one else. That’s how it was supposed to be, Sasha kept reminding me. Commons would always be jealous. I guess she was right. I’d been stupid to think I could have anything else – even just friendship. It seemed obvious now why Rothston and adepts remained safely secret.

  For the past two weeks, since returning from D.C., I’d thought I could be friends with Greg, and I thought it was going okay. But his pronouncement yesterday stung, and the wound kept digging deeper. I knew it would heal in time, but right now, all I could see was that my last tie to the world of commons was gone. Not even my dad linked me to that world – all he ever talked about anymore was Rothston. Greg had been the only person I’d had left from believing I was a common. And now he was gone. This was harder than when we broke up.

  For those two weeks, Greg had still sat with me in the Pit. My arm would barely graze against his as we talked, venting my frustration after training with Rex, or bemoaning the changes that were about to occur at Rothston, and he let me. Mostly, he listened, never saying much. But I’d expected too much and yesterday, he made that very clear. Greg told me very bluntly that he never wanted to hear about Rothston or adepts again. That the friend thing wasn’t working. And then he’d walked out. I closed my eyes, as I felt the pain stab into me again. It struck harder each time.

  With a deep breath, I opened my eyes and shivered as a spider slowly sank into my view, its legs meticulously tended the silk thread on which it was descending. I hated spiders, but an entire colony had taken refuge in the room Brenda had assigned to me and Sasha. I let my vision blur for a moment, and the spider vanished just as I expected. I pulled a tissue from the box beside me and moved my hand to the far end of the desk to scoop up the mangled arachnid remains, but jumped back in my chair. The spider twitched. I didn’t dare to move closer until I was sure it couldn’t move. Five of its legs were broken and twisted, but it was definitely alive.

  “What are you staring at?” Sasha asked, crossing the tiny room in one step. This was one of the children’s camp rooms at Rothston. Too many people were expected at Rothston this we
ek for anyone to have our usual private rooms. From what I’d heard, we were lucky there were only two of us in here. Sasha peered over my shoulder. “Ew. What happened to it?”

  My heart hammered. “I … I brushed it across the desk,” I lied, crushing the evidence with the tissue. I hadn’t meant for her to see that. “So how many people are coming to this ceremony?” I asked to change the subject.

  Sasha leaned against the wall beside the desk, and swished her hair over her shoulder. “Lots,” she said impressively. “When Marci Lee ascended onto The Seven last year, there must have been … I don’t know … Two thousand? It’s big. All the adepts who are part of Rothston come if they can make it. And a lot of the places in other countries send people as well. Or at least the big ones. Of course, this Ascension Ceremony was put together pretty quickly, so maybe not as many people will be here. But you’ll love it, Kinzie. It’s like a giant party, and you’ll finally get to meet everyone!”

  I stared back out the window, nodding at her words, although I couldn’t imagine loving it. Two thousand people, all in the library. My heart pounded uncomfortably at the thought. The back of my hand tickled, and I jumped as another spider skittering across it. Instantly, it vanished, reappearing where its cousin had been moments before. Sasha’s mouth fell slack, and I felt my cheeks burn. She’d seen it.

  “Oh. My. God,” she said with deliberate awe, as the spider recovered from its shock and began a limping scurry for cover. I grabbed another tissue and squashed it before it escaped. Sasha’s eyes grew wider. “It … it was alive,” she stammered, staring at the spot where the spider had been. “How did you do that?” she questioned.

  “Uh … do what?” I asked, stalling for time to work out what to say. I read her to see if she was deciding to turn me in for translocating an animal. But that hadn’t entered her head. Instead, she seemed to be swelling with pride over my feat.

  “You translocated that spider,” Sasha said with increasing awe. “And it was perfect!”

  “Not perfect,” I corrected her with a half-hearted smile. “And besides, I suppose I really screwed up. It’s supposed to be dead.”

  Her eyes were glistening with excitement. “How come you never told me? What else can you do?” she chattered excitedly.

  I threw the second tissue into the trash as I told her about the paper clip, and the Christmas presents, and other random times I’d used this skill, like the shampoo I’d accidently left in the shower at school.

  “I can’t believe you’ve hidden this. That’s like … like being a billionaire and pretending you’re starving!” she trilled, and I could see the gears working in her head. She was going to make a big deal of this.

  “I’d rather you not say anything, Sash,” I told her, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

  “Why?” she asked, but then she stared at the spot where the spider had just been. “Oh. My. God,” she said again, but this time her tone was more ominous than impressed. “You aren’t supposed to do that.”

  “I know. The first time was just an accident,” I confessed. “But then it seemed like a better way to kill the spiders than touching them.”

  “Cool,” she said, sounding like she wanted to accept my justification, but her face twisted with an internal struggle. She stared at the spot a moment longer before lifting her eyes to me. “I won’t say anything about that,” she promised. “But only if you let people know you can translocate. Then, when people can see how good you are, you can get permission to try translocating animals – like Rex did.” I nodded in agreement and her eyes dropped back to the spot on the desk. “My god,” she gasped, thinking about the spider. “You’re better than Rex! A lot better than Rex.”

  The memory of my CZR initials over Rex’s KNGs on the arcade machines flashed through my head, and then his descriptions of the worms he’d mangled in his translocation attempt. None had survived. I smiled. Yes, I was better than Rex. And maybe it was time to stop hiding it.

  ψ

  “I don’t know why you are trying to talk me out of this, Mr. Jamison. I’ve prepared for this, and I intend to see it through,” Mel snapped as I entered the Charrington room. I stopped in my tracks, thinking I might have interrupted a private conversation. But Brad Jamison, who was at the far end of the table, nodded discretely for me to stay.

  “It’s just unnecessary, Mel,” Brad Jamison soothingly answered the old woman. Mel hadn’t noticed I was here. He smiled kindly at her, reminding me of what he’d said in his email. Anger and frustration were part of Alzheimer’s disease, and I needed to be patient with whatever she said to me, just like he was being now. “Others can complete any materials you haven’t covered with her,” he explained. “I am concerned that you might overtax yourself.”

  “No. You are concerned that I might tell her things that you don’t want her to know,” Mel accused.

  I shifted uncomfortably. I was dreading this. The shock of hearing Mel had Alzheimer’s was bad enough. I didn’t want to face her like this. I’d rather remember the kind, sharp-witted woman from my last lesson in January. How could two months have played such havoc with her mind? I’d refused to believe it when Sasha told me, but then I checked with Curtis who’d seen the effects for himself. She’d forgotten what she was doing in the middle of an awards banquet for the school, talking about a hair ribbon she wore when she won the Spelling Bee in grade school instead. It had made everyone uncomfortable until Mr. Jamison escorted her off the podium. I didn’t want to see her like that. But this was her final wish as a member of The Seven – to teach me one last time. And that’s why I’d come here for spring break.

  I took a deep breath and stepped further into the room as Mr. Jamison tried to reassure her. Mel’s face snapped around. The angry contortions dissolved into a smile and she welcomed me back to Rothston. Mr. Jamison nodded encouragingly, beckoning me to the table.

  “How are you feeling, Mel?” I asked, carefully taking the seat beside her.

  “I am fine, Kinzie. Thank you,” she replied with none of the hostile tone she’d used with Mr. Jamison. “And how are you? Is your training progressing well?”

  “Yes, I think so,” I answered politely, uncertain how to talk to her anymore. We felt like two strangers.

  “Good, good. Keep it up and perhaps this summer we will try you on some practical tasks to move beyond the abstract training.”

  “But the mission – to Washington?” I prodded, thinking it must have slipped her memory.

  “A mission?” She gave me a patient look. “You’re too anxious, Kinzie. You must get further in your training first,” she stated. Mr. Jamison nodded from the other side of her, and I realized this was an effect of the Alzheimer’s. She had no recollection that they’d sent me on the mission with Rex. I dropped the subject, searching for something to say next.

  “When … uh … when did they find out about your … your condition?” I asked after an awkward silence.

  She patted my hand to let me know she wasn’t uncomfortable with my question. “Two weeks ago,” she answered. “I had been getting confused for several weeks before that, but it seemed more like normal old age forgetfulness until recently.”

  “That had to be hard – finding out,” I said to sympathize.

  “Yes, it was,” Mel agreed. “I’m afraid I did not react well. After all, even objective tests can lead to erroneous conclusions. For example, perhaps you will recall one, Mr. Jamison,” she said to her colleague. He dipped his head as she continued. “There was a little boy who went to this school a long time ago. He concluded that the ocean must be hot because the sun rose out …” Her eyes were still sharp, but the story she was launching into was random. Bradley Jamison cut her off.

  “Mel, we aren’t talking about the school or little boys now,” he said patiently.

  Mel responded firmly. “No, we are discussing how the wrong conclusion could be reached from seemingly valid data …” She faded off, with a puzzled look. “Why were we talking about that?”


  I shifted in my seat, as Mr. Jamison leaned forward. “Maybe you should start the lesson, Mel,” he suggested.

  “Yes. Of course,” she said with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

  She handed me a printed list and began to talk about the history of The Seven. The number seven had been considered a special number by adepts – a prime number, representing the unity of The Seven in their loyalty to each other – indivisible. That struck me as odd, or at least time-warped, given the argument I’d overheard this winter. The Seven were divided now, even if they used to be a unified force. Seven was also considered to be a large enough group to resist being misled by momentary whims or trends. I fingered the chivasta that hung around my neck as she spoke. Seven curves of pewter formed the outer circumference. Seven had been sacred to adepts for a long time, and to many ancient cultures. I wondered if there was a link.

  Mel spoke of the original members of The Seven, appointed when the Rothston Institute separated from L’Academie du Beauregarde in Belgium in the early 1800s. The names meant nothing to me, but Mel pointed them out at the top of the papers she’d handed me. I scanned down through them as she continued to speak. It was a timeline, listing every member of The Seven, past and current. I saw the names Clarison and Prescott listed a half-dozen times. My family, as the chivasta reminded me. Ancestors I never knew. I read down the list to more recent times and names I recognized. Bradley Jamison had been ascended onto The Seven ten years ago, and the group had been stable for quite a while after that. But then, Bart Pasternak replaced someone named Melhorn just two and a half years ago, and Marci Lee became a member when Gordon Prescott was killed. The last entry on the list showed the current activities at Rothston. Mel’s date of retirement, two days from now, and Rex Brolie’s ascension. I wondered what excuse he’d given Alicia Myers that he wouldn’t be accepting the coveted White House position. I looked at the list again. Three new members of The Seven in less than three years. That was a massive change. I’d be excited about what it meant for Rothston’s future, if it hadn’t been Rex. But he would only be one vote, I reminded myself. Rothston would survive.