Teenage Psychic on Campus

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  “My great-grandson is just angry,” Olivia said as she faded out.

  “Your grandmother is stepping back,” I told him, “so let me…” I silently asked for help from Uncle Omar. My answer came in the form of his voice in my head.

  “Tell him to keep trying, even if the kid acts like a jerk.”

  “Don’t give up on your son,” I told Ned, filtering out my uncle’s commentary. “He’s had years to build resentment, but deep down he wants a father.” Then something else, a vague feeling or hint of a future event flashed into my head, but it was fleeting, like waking up from a dream and not being able to remember it. “I don’t know why I’m getting this, but there’s something coming up related to another relationship you had. But I can’t quite see the outcome.”

  Ned seemed puzzled. “Okay…” He shook his head, stood up, pulled some cash out of his wallet and handed it to me. “Thanks for your help, Caryn.”

  When he was gone, I asked Uncle Omar, “Why couldn’t I see the rest of Ned’s future?”

  I could hear my uncle laughing. “Not psychic about yourself, remember?”

  I scrunched up my face. “Please don’t tell me I’m going to meet Ned’s son. He sounds like a royal pain.”

  More laughing, then silence. Great. I’m about to meet the jerk.

  ****

  “Where are you going?” Mom asked me, checking out my outfit.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to dress for a hot June evening of sitting in a park on a blanket. Since I was going with Annabeth and hoped to not be too much of a fifth wheel on her date with Sean, I went for understated New Age-y. Not only am I really into all that stuff like what’s in Mom’s shop, which had now been renamed Bethany’s New Age after she bought out her business partner Sybil, I’ve always loved browsing the consignment store across the street. I went over this afternoon after my last client left—a twenty-something who wanted to know when she’d meet her soul mate—and picked up this vintage outfit. It was a dark blue maxi peasant skirt, which I paired with a blue and orange striped t-shirt. Then on impulse I bought a crochet handbag that was on sale.

  “Annabeth’s picking me up.” I glanced at the digital clock on the kitchen stove. “Five minutes ago, actually. We’re going up to Belford for Shakespeare in the Park. You and George got any plans?” I stifled a giggle at the metaphorical image that floated across my brain: Mom in the ocean, standing on a sofa as if it were a surfboard.

  Mom kinda pointed at her black capri-length leggings with an oversized white t-shirt, an apron that read Kiss the Cook, and flip flops. Before she got married she used to have to work six days a week, but after our financial situation improved, she was able to hire help in the store and take Saturdays off.

  The stove timer dinged. “My plans include keeping this crab meat tetrazzini warm till George gets back from his golf game.” Mom stuffed her hands into potholders and opened the oven door. “And then planting myself on the couch for the rest of the evening.” She gently set the casserole dish on top of the stove.

  Yeah, so I’d already picked up on the couch surfing. “And maybe watch that Michael Bublé special on TV, right?”

  Mom smiled. “How was that client today? The nervous guy?”

  “Interesting. And he tipped well.” I displayed my new handbag.

  “Can you share?” Mom’s face lit up, making her look younger than her forty-five years. A few little lines were starting to appear around her eyes, and there were flecks of gray in her short brown hair, but she still had the figure and energy of a woman half her age. I was pretty sure it was her youthfulness that George found attractive when he came into our store that cold November day three years ago. And Mom thought George, with his tall athletic build and head full of white hair, was “hot.” Her word, not mine.

  “I have to respect the client’s privacy, but I can tell you he didn’t ask the usual questions about his love life.” Just then I heard a car honk outside. “Annabeth’s here. I’ll see you later.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and headed to the front door.

  “It’s good to see you so happy!” Mom called after me.

  I guess she was as tired of seeing me depressed about my breakup with Quince as I was tired of being depressed. Maybe Annabeth was right. A night out with friends would do me good. After all, it was late June, we were high school graduates, and only had two months left before we started college.

  “Hi, Annabeth.” She had the car windows rolled down because it was a nice evening. I jumped in the passenger side and fastened my seatbelt.

  Annabeth readjusted her rear view mirrors and slowly pulled out of the driveway onto the busy street. “Sorry I’m late. What’s with the traffic in this neighborhood?”

  I shrugged. “People have to get home from work.” George’s house—now our house—was in a neighborhood a few blocks from a private university and close to, but not in, an area of Tudor-style homes built in the 1920s and priced close to a million dollars. Our house was big, but nowhere near that price range. It was more what you’d call upper middle class. The exterior was gray brick, the big picture window in the living room looked out onto the busy street, and the house had what Mom called curb appeal—big trees, flowers and plants lining the front walk, and a well-manicured lawn.

  “Where’s Sean?” I asked Annabeth.

  “Sean’s going to meet us there,” she said. “He’s giving Gary a ride.”

  “Oh, okay. Gary doesn’t drive, right?”

  Annabeth took her eyes off the road to glance at me in the passenger seat. “How did you…?” Then she burst out laughing. “Never mind.”

  For some reason I can’t get a clear picture of this Gary guy in my head. But I did see—and by “see” I mean the psychic hit that ran through my mind like a mini-byte on steroids—a generic guy with an over-stuffed backpack strolling across a college campus. I figured that symbolically meant he didn’t have a car.

  Annabeth shoved in a Taylor Swift CD, and for the rest of the way up to her hometown we sang loudly off key and laughed a lot.

  Once we got to the large open-air park in Belford, the hunt was on for a parking space in the small lot. After several passes, Annabeth finally found one about to become available. She put her signal on and endured honks and glares from cars behind us, but it took forever for the family to load their kids and gear into the car, start the engine, and back out. Annabeth tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. “While we’re young!” she muttered. Once they were out, she zipped into the spot and popped the trunk to pull out two lawn chairs, each in its own carrying bag. She shifted hers onto her shoulder, handed me mine, beeped the car locked and off we went.

  This Shakespeare performance was being held in a big city park with walking trails all around and through, a fountain in the middle of a paved square, and a large white gazebo, which sat regally in the lawn. The stage was set exactly as I’d seen it in my vision, with fake greenery and Styrofoam boulders to create a forest, spotlights strategically placed in the roof, and a curtain in the back for actors to enter and exit.

  We both scouted out the grassy seating area surrounding the gazebo. I guess we were late, because the place was already crowded and all the good spots near the stage were taken.

  Annabeth sent a quick text to Sean. She sighed with relief when his answer pinged right back. “He says he’s got us a spot saved.” She shaded her eyes and did a quick search. “There!” She pointed off to the right, where Sean was waving both arms at us.

  Sean had managed to get a great spot near the front. I guess that’s what comes of giving a ride to an actor with a six-thirty call time. As soon as we got close enough, Sean pulled Annabeth into a big hug followed by a mushy kiss.

  “Get a room, you two,” I grumbled.

  Sean let loose of Annabeth and winked at me. “Good to see you too, Caryn.” He chivalrously relieved us of our chairs and set them up on either side of his.

  Just in time, because an unseen announcer came on the PA to announce the start
of the play. It included the usual admonishments to not snap photos of the actors during the performance, turn off cell phones, and of course no smoking. Ewww.

  It was eight o’clock, which in late June meant broad daylight, so the few spotlights on the stage merely created ambience. Four actors, three men and a woman, entered from behind the backdrop, and the play began. Luckily the actors were miked up, because the audience was still noisy, powering down cell phones, shushing restless kids, or gathering picnic trash. The girl playing Helena was particularly hard to understand, since she was delivering Shakespearean dialog with a thick Middle Eastern accent. But overall the actors weren’t bad.

  Act One ended and they went right into Act Two with no break, opening with Puck speaking to a Fairy. A very tall, handsome, slender guy with slicked-back blond hair appeared onstage, dressed in what looked like bike shorts covered in plastic leaves, his shirtless chest adorned with something like a Hawaiian lei. For some reason, he looked familiar, even though I knew we’d never met.

  “How now, spirit? Whither wander you?”

  Well, I didn’t have any trouble hearing this actor. His presence onstage was commanding, as was his delivery of the complicated Shakespearean dialog. He almost didn’t need a mic. “Is that Sean’s friend?” I whispered to Annabeth.

  She nodded and put her fingers to her lips. I turned my attention back to the play.

  Two and a half hours, lots of mistaken identity and scurrying through the woods later, Puck appeared onstage for the final time.

  “…Give me your hands, if we be friends,

  And Robin shall restore amends.”

  The audience clapped on cue. He bowed from the waist, gave a wave, and the rest of the actors joined him onstage for their curtain call. The applause was polite as each actor took a bow, that is until Gary stepped forward and received what could almost be called a standing ovation. I say almost, because in all fairness, some of the people standing up were just stretching, while others were busy gathering their chairs, blankets and picnic baskets so they could get to their cars before traffic got bad. But still, of all the actors in the play, Gary got the most recognition. True, his part was important, but he was good.

  “Come on, Caryn,” Sean said. “I’ll introduce you.”

  “Uh…” I started a silent prayer to the Universe to somehow be excused from a very obvious fix-up, but before I could finish the thought, Sean had his hand on my back, steering me toward the gazebo. Annabeth was right behind me, so there was no hope of escape.

  “The guy’s harmless,” my uncle whispered in my ear.

  “Now you show up,” I muttered.

  “What did you say?” Annabeth asked.

  I just shook my head and allowed Sean to lead me through the adoring fans over to Gary. He was smiling and chatting with an attractive thirty-something woman and some of his cast mates, and being that close, I noticed he was dripping with sweat. I guess it was to be expected since it was over eighty degrees out here and he’d been in full body makeup under spotlights. Still, not a good look.

  “Hey, dude.” Sean reached out and shook Gary’s sweaty and probably slippery hand. “Excellent!”

  “Thanks,” Gary said. He even blushed, or at least it looked like he did. Maybe it was just the heat.

  “Yeah, Gary,” Annabeth said. “You were awesome.”

  I noticed she didn’t try to shake his hand or hug him, or even get too close. Couldn’t blame her.

  “Dude,” Sean said, planting me in front of him, “this is Annabeth’s friend Caryn Alderson. She’ll be starting at Hamilton Liberal Arts next fall with the rest of us.” Sean patted my shoulder. “Caryn, this is my soon-to-be roomie Gary Riddell.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Gary stuck out his sweaty palm.

  I cringed as I gave him a wimpy and very quick handshake. “Pleased to meet you,” I mumbled. I surreptitiously wiped my hand on my skirt and reminded myself to do laundry the minute I got home.

  The attractive older woman Gary had been talking to reached over and hugged Gary’s shoulders. Just as I was thinking how creepy it was for a woman her age to be so friendly with a guy in his teens, one of those mini-flicks went through my mind. I relaxed a little. “Is this your mom, Gary?”

  “Brenda Riddell,” she said as she turned to me with a smile that lit up her face.

  Despite Annabeth and Sean’s efforts, I wasn’t the least interested in Gary, but I liked his mother immediately.

  Gary ran his fingers through his dripping bangs. “Come on, Mom, I gotta hit the shower.”

  Brenda nodded but stopped to speak to some other adults as Gary playfully punched Sean in the arm. “Thanks for the ride, Sean. And for bringing”—he glanced at me with either disdain or indifference, I couldn’t tell which—“friends.” With that, he gave Sean the universal fist to ear signal for “call me” and turned to leave.

  But then he stopped mid-stride. I watched in amazement as Gary stared at a tree, then put his hands on his hips and spoke to…the tree? Huh?

  I grabbed Annabeth’s arm and pulled her back. “What’s that guy doing?”

  Annabeth followed my gaze and saw the same thing I did, but seemed a lot less concerned. She shrugged. “Rehearsing?”

  Rehearsing? After the play? That made no sense.

  ****

  Annabeth called me the next day. “Well, what did you think?”

  “About what? The play or the fix-up?”

  “Both,” Annabeth said with a giggle.

  “The play was okay,” I told her. “Sean’s friend was good. But as for me and him…” I tried to think of a diplomatic way to say it. “Actors aren’t my type. And he’s weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  “You know, the talking to the tree thing. Totally creeped me out.”

  “There’s a reason for that, Caryn. See, Gary’s…”

  “Annabeth,” I interrupted. “I’m leaving in a couple of days for Houston and I won’t be back till mid-August. All I want to do is spend time with Dad and Michael, maybe see an Astros game or two, hit the pool and museums, and relax. I’m not interested in dating.”

  She let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, okay. Maybe once we’re all in college—”

  I cleared my throat and she stopped.

  “Have fun in Texas.” Annabeth sounded resigned. “And happy birthday. I’ll text you.”

  “Sounds good.” I clicked off. My birthday was coming up soon, on July Fourth, and Dad always had something special planned. And what I told Annabeth was true. I just wasn’t up for dating. Especially a guy who talks to trees.

  Chapter 2

  “Hey, Riddell. Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Gary asked without looking up from his laptop. He wished yet again that Sean hadn’t insisted on bringing that fifty-two-inch TV into their dorm room. The only place to put the thing was on top of the built-in dresser on the longest wall in the room, making it too high, too big, and too much of a distraction. Gary preferred to study, listen to music, or maybe just sleep in peace, while Sean was constantly watching sports, campus TV, or the local news. Gary snatched the remote control from the nightstand between their beds, switched it off, and set the remote back down. “Whatever they’re talking about on campus TV, you can read about tomorrow in the campus news rag.”

  Sean reclaimed the remote and turned the TV on again as he nodded toward the screen. “But this is so cool! Didn’t you hear that announcement? Some woman has reached out to The Ghost Stalkers Club to investigate her family’s old farmhouse.” Sean stretched out his arm, using the remote as a pointer. “Look!”

  Gary raised his head in time to catch a quick glimpse of the information crawling across the bottom of the television screen, just before it cut to a pizza commercial. He went back to his preparations for his Oral Interpretation midterm. “So?”

  “So?” Sean repeated. “This woman needs help.”

  Gary shrugged. “You and your fellow club members are always going off on wild-g
oose—excuse me, ghost—chases. What’s different about this one?”

  “That farmhouse, it’s over a hundred years old, and it’s right here in Hamilton County. I’ve heard it’s really haunted. We could use your help, man.”

  Gary groaned. “Seriously? No way.” He turned his attention back to Shakespeare.

  “Come on, Gary. It’s just one night. Think about it?”

  “No.” Gary didn’t have time to humor his roommate’s interest in the paranormal, and ordinarily he wouldn’t have even been in his dorm room for Sean to bug him, but he needed to rehearse this speech out loud. The librarians frowned on that.

  Gary’s first college midterms were a big deal, considering that the fate of his scholarship money depended on decent grades. Brenda had offered to pay for as much of his schooling as she could, a huge sacrifice for a single mother on a tight budget, but Gary wouldn’t let her. “I’ll figure it out, Mom. We’ve done okay all these years, just the two of us.”

  Brenda had guffawed. “Gary, I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the concept of student loan debt. It can be killer.”

  Gary tried to focus on his script, but he couldn’t. The TV was too loud. “Sean, I need to study. B average, remember?” He shoved his laptop aside and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Hey, instead of channel surfing, why don’t you do something useful? Go to the library. Or the gym. Go do laundry.”

  Sean muted the TV and sat up on his perfectly made bed. He lifted an eyebrow as he pointed to the floor by Gary’s bed, which was piled high with clothes. “Dude. You’re the one who needs to do laundry. And you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  Gary thumped his fingers against his script. “‘To be or not to be…’” he said in full voice.

  “All you ever do is study.” Sean hijacked Gary’s laptop, punched in some keys, and pulled up the Ghost Stalkers Club website. “There,” he said, pointing to the screen, “that’s the information. Read up on it. You might change your mind.”