Before Chase could reply, Mike laughed. Chase met my eyes, both as wide as his, and we stared at the man across from us. He removed a hat modeled from Alice and Wonderland, along with a beard fifty years in the making. As he leaned back, face smooth and wrinkle free, I realized Super Swami Mike wasn’t much older than me. He smiled wide and the metal lining his teeth forced me to laugh.
“Most don’t believe. I’m not here to impress people, just entertain them.”
Chase frowned. “Then you can’t really see the future.”
Mike ran a bony hand through his hair, short on top but below his shoulders in the back. He searched Chase’s eyes and his smile disappeared. “You are a believer.”
Chase squirmed and I bit my lip, wanting to say ‘I told you so’ on many levels.
Mike lowered his head. “A few years ago, I dreamed about getting in a car wreck with some friends from school. For an entire week, the scene played out in my head each night. From the backseat, I saw the tree flying at us, felt that screeching stop. ‘Lightning Crashes’ drummed in my ears. On the following Friday, I watched us hit the tree for real, and when it was all over, that song played. Half the engine was in the front seat, but the radio still worked.”
I swallowed hard while Chase stared, eyes glued on Mike.
“Most people never make a connection between what they feel will happen and what actually does happen. I can either tell people what they want to hear or the truth, but most won’t believe the truth.” He pointed beyond us. “They’ll walk right out that door and dismiss what I’ve said because they already know what’ll happen and refuse to face it.”
“Because it’s bad,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter, good or bad. People don’t want to know their future is already written.”
Mike glanced from me to Chase, his expression melting into a smile. “Sorry you guys. Didn’t mean to get all gloom and doom on you. I’m just a southern boy from a small town in South Carolina, not too far from here. I’m big on trucks, the bigger the better. That’s how I got the nickname Super Swamper Mike. When I got this job, I thought the ‘swami’ part fit perfect.”
Chase’s eyebrows rose. “What does a swamp have to do with a truck?”
“He’s not from around here,” I said.
“I know.” Mike said, reaching across the table. “Give me your hand and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“The future?” I asked.
“If that’s really what you want to hear.”
I eased a hand across the table and Mike laid his over mine, gently gripping my sweating skin.
Music filled the air, rumblings from a faraway fair. He closed his eyes. “You are important to many people. They are searching for you, some good and some not so good.”
My stomach churned.
“You should beware of the not so good. Not everything is as it seems. You will be fooled by those around you.”
“What do you mean fooled?”
“Your gifts will keep you safe. Your heart will save those who need you. Remember where you’ve come from.”
His eyes pressed tighter. “You are searching for someone.”
“My real parents.”
“One of them is closer than you realize.”
I held my breath, desperate for more.
Mike released my hand and opened his eyes, leaning back again. “One day you’ll be on the run and traveling through South Carolina. I’m originally from a town called Gaffney. Don’t look so worried, you can’t change what’ll happen. It’s fate.”
I thought of Mom. “Fate?”
“Look it up when you get the chance. How do you think I can see the future?” Mike waved his hand in a motion meant to silence my questions. “We don’t have much time. Just remember to stop at a small diner about mile marker ninety-five off the interstate. You’ll know when you see the sign. My mom works there as a waitress and she’ll help you. Her name is Faith—just don’t forget to mention mine.” He nodded at the door as a deep-throated man entered and said our time was up. “Never give up the fight only you can win.”
I tried clinging to the chair, but Chase dragged me out the door.
“That was cool,” he said, but his words didn’t mesh well with the anxious tone of his voice.
We walked back to the midway in silence, despite the air of noise and electricity that surrounded us. As we rounded the last row of games, Bill stood, forking over several dollars for a shooting game. His lady was at the other end of the tent, eyes fixed on a TV blaring the local news. I started in her direction and Chase followed, eyes averted.
A man was on the screen, pointing as white balls bounced inside a plastic cage. The balls began to fall and he lifted a microphone. “Tonight’s jackpot is two hundred and fifty million dollars.” He called a series of six numbered balls. With each number, the lady’s excitement grew. After the last, she ran to Bill and grabbed his arm.
“Hey,” he whined. “You made me miss my shot.”
“Bill, I just won the lottery.”
“Chase,” I said, but he was pulling a device from his pocket that flashed with a tic-tac-toe board of lights. “Is that a phone?”
“If you choose tool eighty-three it is. Looks like your mom’s home.”
In less time than it normally took Mom to crank the van, I was back in my room, surrounded by the safety of four walls in Alabama.
Homecoming
On Monday, Chase and I were the first to find our seats at the back of Mrs. Pearson’s class. We whispered about Saturday night until after the bell rang, and neither of us noticed Mrs. Pearson until she stopped by my side.
Chase was silent while she laid composition books in front of us.
“You two are getting along well,” she said.
Since no judging entered her voice, I wondered how much of our conversation she overheard as I slid my fingers along the ridges of the black-marble cover.
“The formula for your final grades has changed,” she said from the front of the room. “From now until the end of the semester, everyone will keep a journal.”
A series of groans sounded around the room and she turned to the board. “I planned for this assignment to comprise five percent of your grades. Would you like to make it twenty-five?” No surprise, all groaning stopped.
When class was over, I approached her desk. “Mrs. Pearson, I’m not sure how to do this assignment.”
“I have enjoyed the privilege of viewing your art. With the level of narrative on display in your drawings, this assignment should seem like a book report written for fun.”
“But drawing is easy. I don’t think about what to draw, I just draw.”
She leaned back with an expression that bordered a smile. “Drawing is only one way to express the world around you. Writing can also be used to convey your thoughts.”
Students began to file in for their second block and my voice clashed with the rising noise level. “What should I write about?”
“Start with what you know and the rest should fall a step behind breathing.” Mrs. Pearson dismissed me with a wave.
Outside, Skip Greene called from across the sea of voices. “Can I walk you to second block?”
Despite a stumble comically timed with ‘walk,’ I recovered with a small “okay.”
“How’s it going?” he asked when he reached my side.
“Okay,” I said again, though my hands flexed with the raw need to hit something.
His voice lowered. “I was wondering if you’re going to the dance on Friday. I thought, that is if you aren’t going with anyone…” He coughed. “It’s just that I thought maybe we could go together.”
I walked faster. “You don’t have a date?”
“Yeah, maybe if you slow down.”
Something felt wrong. He should be asking Angel. “There’s no one else in first block, no one—?”
He grabbed my arm, spinning me around. “I promise, there’s no one else.”
Mr. Larso
n’s class was up ahead. The bell would ring at any moment. “I guess that would be cool.”
“Thanks,” he said, launching down the hall before I could change my mind.
* * * * *
The cafeteria was full by the time I reached the table, tray in hand. Angel and Rachelle were sitting on one side laughing, with Bailey and Chase directly across. I took the empty seat next to Bailey and shoveled something resembling spaghetti into my mouth.
Bailey leaned close. “Chase just asked me to the dance.”
Angel laughed. “You don’t have to whisper about it. Everyone in school will know by fourth block.”
“Probably by the middle of third,” Rachelle said. “It won’t take long with the way Bailey is spreading the news.”
“Jealous?” Bailey drummed her fingers on the table as her cheeks reddened. “Admit it, you’d all be spreading the news too. Especially Angel.”
Rachelle grinned. “Yeah, when Skip gets around to asking her.”
I dropped my fork. “Skip?”
Bailey sighed, disgust on her face. “You really shouldn’t eat so fast. One day you’ll choke and I’m not giving you mouth to mouth.”
“You mean CPR,” Rachelle said, watching me closely. “You were saying about Skip?”
Chase’s eyes were on me. “Weren’t you talking to Skip after first block?”
Lips moved at every table in the room, but I only heard silence until Angel spoke. “I was late this morning. He asked you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
Angel stood, throwing her backpack and purse over her shoulder. She pulled a pair of sunglasses from her purse, hands shaking while she lifted the dark shades to her face. “Later,” she said, but the voice wasn’t hers. Each step Angel took toward the doors was faster than the last, and she stumbled twice.
Bailey turned to Rachelle. “Aren’t you going to follow her? Check and make sure she’s alright?”
Rachelle’s eyes locked with mine. “No.”
“Well then,” Bailey said, rising. “I guess I’ve got this.”
Chase stared at me, both eyes wide, and jumped when Rachelle slammed the table with her fist.
“Chase, you need to go,” she said. Though her voice was calm, chills danced across my skin.
Without a word, Chase stood and lifted his bag.
“You’re going to the dance with Skip?” Rachelle asked.
I looked down at my hands. “He asked me after first block.”
“Do you ever think about anyone but Jes Delaney? Poor, pitiful, adopted Jes whose real parents didn’t want her? Don’t you ever notice how the people around you feel?” She shook her head and dragged a hand down one side of her face. “How long have you known Angel likes Skip?”
“Angel has liked Skip since I’ve been in Credence, but that doesn’t mean…He asked me, I didn’t ask him.”
“Now I have my answer.” Rachelle gathered her books and circled the end of the table, dropping into Bailey’s seat. “I bet you haven’t heard about Pade. He’s taking Mia.” She laughed. “From the look on your face, I’m glad I got to tell you.”
“I’ll tell Skip no.”
“But you can’t. If you back out, he’ll know something’s up and there’s no way we’re telling him about Angel. She’s liked Skip since sixth grade and I’m not messing up any chance she has.”
“All this time, I figured if Angel had been interested in Skip they would have gone out.”
Rachelle’s voice softened. “The way you should have gone out with Pade?”
“You knew,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s why you enjoyed telling me about Mia. Maybe if I stay home Friday…”
“No,” she said, standing once more. “Go to the dance with Skip. Just watch your back when it’s break time.”
* * * * *
The hall was empty when I stopped at the locker or so I thought. As I concentrated on the door Bailey would soon rush through, two hands slammed me back against the lockers.
“Delaney,” Tosh said.
I winced and closed my eyes, pain shooting across the back of my skull.
“Hey Lamo,” she said, grabbing my arms. “I’m talking to you.”
We both jumped when someone threw open the next locker. “Hey Jes, what’s up?”
Tosh’s eyes were wide. “How…how did you do that?”
Chase’s voice was guilt free. “Do what?”
She released my arms, glaring at Chase. “Are you here to back her up?”
“Do I need to back her up?” he asked.
She laughed and I almost pitied her. Before Tosh could grab me again, Chase glanced up and down the empty hall. He punched the locker door with his hand. With a loud crash came the opening of every locker, top and bottom, from one end of the hall to the other. Mountains of books spilled to the floor, sending Tosh stumbling back. She looked at me, rare fear shining in her eyes. Tosh first walked, then ran out the closest door.
With glowing satisfaction, I turned to my rescuer and smiled.
His eyes were blazing. “How long are you going to let Tosh talk to you like that?”
I dropped to the floor as satisfaction drained with my strength. “I figured she’d eventually get tired of messing with me.” I yanked the tie from my hair, brown cascading in all directions. “My dad always says ‘fighting isn’t the answer’.”
Chase slid a strand of hair from my eyes. “My father always said ‘sometimes fighting is the only answer’.”
His fingers, meant to console, brought a smile to my lips, though swirling emotions drove me to push Chase away. Eventually he’d leave, like almost everyone else in my life had. It was time to kill the attachment I’d grown for him, somehow escape the pain that threatened our horizon, though a part of me would never let go. Anguish forced my eyes shut as I leaned back against the lockers.
“Your hair is a strange color,” he said.
The statement sounded weird coming from his not-so-human mouth, but I knew the brown had grown out considerably since the last time Mom brought home a box, as usual matched perfectly to her own true brown. I felt as if all the energy had drained from my body. “My roots are beginning to show.”
“You dye your hair too?”
“I’m such a fake. Sometimes I think nothing about me is real.” I sighed, but Chase remained quiet. “I think I’ll ask Mom to color it again before the dance.”
“You’re going to the dance?”
My eyes shot open as I realized the sound didn’t match Chase’s voice. Above me stood Pade, smiling.
I scrambled to my feet so fast my head swam, glancing up and down the empty hall before looking at him. No books. No open lockers. No Chase.
Pade stared. “Well?”
I kneeled and wiped a hand over the mirror hanging from my locker door, the only locker still open. My eyes were glossy, but my face looked almost normal. I grabbed two books at random and stood.
“Let me help with those,” he said.
Pade wanted to carry my books? Chase had disappeared? I drew the books to my chest, desperate to grip something not breakable. “I’ve got them. But thanks.” Looking down the hall again, Bailey was nowhere in sight.
“I thought I heard you mention the dance. Who were you talking to?”
“No one, I was just thinking. But yeah, I’m going.”
Pade flashed a smile that no longer made my stomach flip. “I was hoping you’d go with Bailey. She’s been talking Homecoming for the last two weeks.”
Yes, Bailey. No wonder she was late to the locker. “Bailey’s going with Chase.”
Pade’s smile died. “When did she say that?”
“He asked her at lunch. I’m sure she wasn’t keeping it from you.”
“Yeah, right.” His face soured. “How do you feel about being left out?”
“She’s not leaving me out.”
He laughed sardonically. “Yeah, Jes, keep on believing that. What are you going to do, tag along?”
&nbs
p; “For your information, I’m not ‘tagging along’ with anyone. I have a date.”
Pade’s laughter stopped. “With who?”
“Skip.”
“You’re going to the dance with Skip, the Jolly Greene Giant?”
“So what? He’s really tall to me, but you’ve only got about three inches to call him by that stupid nickname.”
“You know he should be in eleventh grade, but his mom held him back.”
“Why are you being so mean to Skip?”
“What did you expect me to say?”
“Uh, maybe good for you, Jes. Landing a date who can actually take me to Homecoming is better than going alone, but what would you know about that?” I gave a big, fake smile. “You’re taking Mia Stevens.”
“I’m meeting her there.” He leaned against the locker next to me, head lowered. “Mia asked me, and I owe her a favor. Plus, you’ve already turned me down once. What’s so great about Skip?”
“He’s a nice guy,” I said.
“Nice is boring.”
“You probably think so.”
Pade’s head rose, his voice melting into anger faster than I could take back my words. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged and he shouted. “What do you mean?”
Anger burst from my mouth. “I mean Skip and I will have an awesome time at the dance. I’m sure he’ll treat me well.”
“You want to go with Skip because you think he’ll treat you well?”
“I’m sure I won’t catch him kissing anyone in the bathroom.”
Pade slammed a fist against the locker to my side. “Thanks a lot, Delaney.”
I pressed my lips as he walked away, not bothering to look back.
* * * * *
Bailey and I skipped the game on Friday.
When Mom dropped us off for the dance by the office, I touched my lips, just to be sure the smile had not faltered. “Thank goodness she didn’t volunteer to chaperone,” I whispered to Bailey.
“Jes,” Skip said at the doors, leading our way inside. “You look really pretty.”
Leftover Girl Page 17