Teenage Psychic on Campus

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  “Men’s room. And I told him to keep his cap on and not to talk to anyone, just in case.”

  Annabeth and Caryn exchanged glances, and Caryn said, “Brenda? You brought…our friend?”

  Brenda nodded. “I felt guilty leaving him home alone after he’d been by himself everyday while I worked. And you won’t believe it, but he’s actually read Pride and Prejudice and did a running commentary all evening on how the play differed from the novel.”

  “Of course he did,” Gary said.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Gary turned around to see Ned standing there, hanging back from the group a little, but looking eager to step in. Gary groaned inwardly, but then he noticed Brenda blanch. No way was he letting this guy make his mom feel uncomfortable. He started to step between them, but Caryn reached out and put a calming hand on his arm.

  “Let your parents talk,” Caryn whispered.

  “Ned?” Brenda said in a raspy voice. “Ned Harrington? What are you doing here?”

  Ned took a step closer. “I came to see my…to see our…to see Gary in the play.” He cast a quick glance at his son. “No ulterior motives, I promise.”

  This was awkward in the extreme. Gary’s parents in the same room for the first time since, well, probably since they were teenagers. The two of them stood mere inches apart, staring at one another, Ned towering over Brenda’s petite frame. Brenda looked like she was about to burst into tears, and Ned looked…Gary didn’t know what that look was. Regret? Gary glanced at his friends, hoping he’d get a hint of what to do about this situation from their expressions. Nothing.

  “Hey, what’s going on here?” Eddie was back from the men’s room, still wearing the sunglasses and baseball cap, but speaking way too loud if he was trying to fly under the radar.

  Gary tossed the kid a warning look while Brenda and his friends shifted uncomfortably. Caryn stepped back to survey the scene. Gary recognized the familiar tilted-head stance she always took while listening to her spirit guide.

  “Who’s this?” Ned asked, indicating Eddie.

  No one answered. Then Caryn said, “Excuse me. Story deadline,” and ran up the aisle.

  ****

  Okay, so that may not have been the coolest move I ever made. But between something I already knew psychically, my surprise at seeing Ned, and then Eddie, I knew I had to get out of there before I blurted out something I shouldn’t. I needed to talk to Gary, but looking over my shoulder I could see he was preoccupied with the awkward situation with his birth parents. I felt bad for him, I really did, but I had to get out of there.

  Since I came with Annabeth and Sean, I was forced to walk across campus on my own. My phone pinged with a text from Annabeth.

  —What happened? And don’t tell me it’s the play review deadline. That’s for Monday.—

  I didn’t know what to say.

  —Sorry I was rude—was the best I could do. Okay, it wasn’t an answer, but right now, I couldn’t tell her or anyone else what I knew. I needed to sit with it awhile, and maybe talk to Uncle Omar. I veered off in the direction of the dorm, checked my handbag to make sure I had both my notes on tonight’s performance and my room key, pulled my hat down over my ears and ducked my head against the cold November wind.

  ****

  Gary couldn’t take it anymore, this awkward silence between Brenda and Ned. Brenda had tears brimming in her eyes, Ned looked like his collar was choking him, and Eddie was standing back, arms crossed, a puzzled expression on his face as he watched them both.

  “Why did Caryn run off like that?” Sean asked Annabeth.

  She shrugged and showed him Caryn’s text.

  Sean tossed a meaningful glance at Gary and his parents. “I say we head to the Student Union for some coffee,” he said, steering Annabeth toward the exit.

  “Thanks for coming, guys,” Gary said. He faced his mom, deliberately turning his back on Ned. “I need to scrub off the makeup and get changed. I’ll meet you there.”

  Ned didn’t budge. “Brenda, would it be all right if I called you sometime? To talk about Gary, I mean.”

  Gary watched his mom as her eyes widened, but to his surprise, she nodded her head, took Eddie by the arm and hustled him out.

  Ned watched her go before turning to his son. “Who’s the kid?” he asked again.

  “Houseguest,” Gary mumbled.

  Ned shifted his stance. “Gary, I just wanted to say I enjoyed your performance, and…”

  Gary wasn’t interested in anything his bio dad had to say. “Thanks for coming, Ned.” He turned on his heel, jumped up on the stage, and never looked back.

  He reached for the doorknob to enter the men’s dressing room when he felt that familiar tingle on the back of his neck. Sure enough, there was Lucy. He sighed. “You still here? I thought you crossed over.”

  “Soon,” she replied. “Just as soon as one last piece of the puzzle falls into place.”

  Gary blew out a puff of air. “And what might that be?”

  “Well, of course it’s about Eddie,” she said with a playful grin.

  It was amazing how solid she looked, and how upbeat she seemed from the last time he’d seen her. Still, Lucy was dead and she needed to move on. “Look, my mom’s looking after your boy for the moment. Don’t worry about him.”

  The smile faded from her lips. “I can’t help but worry, especially with Clyde…”

  “What about him?”

  Lucy didn’t answer. Just as she was fading out she said, “You need to talk to Caryn.”

  “About…?” Gary asked. But she was gone. Dead or alive, women were confusing. He rolled his eyes and stepped into the dressing room.

  Chapter 14

  I never need caller ID, since I always know who’s calling before the phone rings. So when I picked up the phone and said, “Hey, Mom,” I didn’t know why she was surprised.

  “Caryn,” she said. “How did you…” She stopped and chuckled. “I wanted to talk about the holidays. Thanksgiving first, of course.”

  “I’m done with classes tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll catch a ride home with Annabeth and be there to help you shop for groceries, or cook, or set the table, or whatever you need me to do.”

  “Caryn, you have many talents, but cooking isn’t one of them. I’ll take care of all that. It’s just going to be you, me, and George anyway, so nothing fancy. What I do need is for you to come into the store and do some readings. I’ve got people calling constantly, insisting I book them a spot.”

  “Okay, sure,” I said. “Now get to what you really wanted to talk about. And I know it’s not turkey and dressing or psychic readings.”

  There was a pause on Mom’s end, long enough for me to think ahead to our usual Christmas celebration. We always start the morning with flavored coffee and her delicious made-from-scratch sweet rolls, and then Mom, George, and I open our gifts. After phone calls from Dad and Michael in Houston and George’s son in Hawaii, we set out for a late afternoon meal at whatever Chinese restaurant we can find open. But for some reason the vision for this year was really fuzzy.

  “Caryn, how would you like to spend Christmas in Houston with your dad and Michael?”

  Didn’t see that coming. But then I never do when it’s about my own life. “I haven’t heard from them, Mom. Did they invite me?”

  “I texted Guy and he’s excited about it. So what do you think?”

  “Yeah, that would be great, but what will you be doing?”

  “George has a pharmaceutical conference in Hawaii the week between Christmas and New Year’s.”

  Oh, okay. Now I could see clearly what she hadn’t been able to put into words. I knew why she was hesitating, but it was so exciting for her and I didn’t want her to worry about me. “Oh, Mom, what a great opportunity! A proper honeymoon for you and George, since you never really had one, a chance to spend Christmas in paradise, and of course George can see his son…get married, right?”

  “I can’t put anything past
you, Caryn.”

  “Go for it, Mom. I’ll have a wonderful visit with Dad and Michael. Hey, it’s warm in Houston in December, too, or at least warmer than here. We’ll both get a break from the cold.”

  I could hear Mom exhaling with relief. Like I’d try to spoil this for her with a guilt trip. “I’ll see you in a few days, Mom. And go ahead and book those readings at the store. Might as well make some money while I’m home.”

  “One client has been particularly persistent, Caryn. Said his name’s Ned, and that you know how to reach him.”

  I didn’t know if I was surprised by that or not. I pretty much knew what he wanted to talk about—Gary—but one thing Ned didn’t know was the other piece of information I was sitting on. “Okay, Mom, I’ll call him.”

  We hung up and I faced a dilemma. I knew what I had to tell Ned was important, but I didn’t know how to say it. Gulp.

  ****

  Gary only had two days of classes before Thanksgiving break, but those two days were scheduled down to the last minute. And Monday afternoon, after his last class of the day and before work, he had his all-important audition for Macbeth. Gary was determined to get the coveted part. After taking on a secondary role in a play he never would have done if there had been any other choices, he felt this was his opportunity to shine.

  Caryn Alderson wrote a surprisingly positive review of Pride and Prejudice. She called it “a pleasant diversion” and praised Foster Benning’s directorial choices. Caryn mentioned Delia with a few kind words about her performance as Jane Bennet and then expressed her disappointment in Kevin Michaels as Darcy, since literally and artistically he didn’t measure up. And she totally slammed Tricia Palmer’s mumbling and forgettable Elizabeth Bennet. But after that scathing newspaper review of his audition last month, Gary breathed a sigh of relief when Caryn gave high praise to his portrayal of Bingley, saying his supporting character stole every scene he was in. Gary carefully clipped the review from his copy of The Herald to save for the scrapbook Brenda kept of his play reviews over the years.

  Students he didn’t even know congratulated him when they saw him on campus or at the bookstore. Gary was justifiably proud of his performance, fueling his soaring confidence about getting Macbeth.

  At the rehearsal studio that afternoon, Gary scouted out the room filled with Shakespearean actor-wannabes. His only real competition for the lead was Foster Benning, but Foster was short and stocky, and didn’t have the commanding physical presence Macbeth needed. At least that was how Gary saw it.

  The audition scene was Act Five Scene Five, where Macbeth learns of his wife’s death. Each of the actors trying out for the lead read the lines, with Dr. Danson reading Seyton’s short intro line from his seat while jotting notes on a legal pad. First up was Foster, and Gary had to admit his reading was good, but he was stuck to the book like glue, never once looking up. The next actor to audition for the part was Kevin Michaels. And not surprisingly, he sucked. Gary tried hard not to smirk.

  Then Tricia Palmer hopped up onto the stage.

  “Miss Palmer,” Dr. Danson said, “we’re auditioning for Macbeth right now. Lady Macbeth auditions are tomorrow.”

  Tricia waved off his comment, pulled a ponytail holder off her wrist, and tied her hair back in a tight bun. “I’m auditioning for Macbeth. If Glen Close could play Hamlet, a woman can play Macbeth.”

  Loud groans issued from all the other actors, but Dr. Danson sighed and said, “Then get on with it.”

  Tricia pulled out her script and read the scene. Gary thought she was okay, probably good enough to get Lady Macbeth if she’d bother to actually learn the lines. But he hoped that Dr. Danson was looking to cast this play traditionally—with a man in the part.

  “And last up, we have Gary Riddell.” Dr. Danson looked at him skeptically. “Are you ready, Mr. Riddell?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gary said. He walked regally onto the stage, sans script, and delivered his lines already memorized.

  Dr. Danson read Seyton’s line, “The Queen, my lord, is dead.” He then waved to Gary to begin.

  MACBETH:

  “She should have died hereafter;

  There would have been time for such a word.

  To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

  Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

  To the last syllable of recorded time,

  And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

  The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

  Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

  That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

  And then is heard no more; it is a tale

  Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

  Signifying nothing.”

  When he finished, the room went silent. Gary had a moment of panic. Did I forget a part? Not put enough emotion into it? Then slowly everyone in the room—fellow actors, stage crew, tech people, and even Dr. Danson—applauded. Gary dipped his head in acknowledgment and knew the part was his.

  ****

  I put off making that phone call as long as I could, but after my last class on Tuesday, I couldn’t stall any longer. I definitely needed some privacy, though, because of the sensitive nature of the conversation. I was too far from the dorm, and I was pretty sure the Student Union bookstore and coffee shop would be crowded with kids who were still on campus before leaving for the long holiday weekend. The only place I could think of was the library, and it was nearby. Lucky for me it was pretty empty in there. I was able to find a vacant study room, checked my phone’s call log for Ned Harrington’s number, and dialed. I almost hoped it would go straight to voice mail. Naturally he picked up.

  “Harrington,” he said, sounding a little out of breath.

  I concentrated a little and saw him out jogging. He answers his phone while on his run? I just don’t get these corporate people. I waited till his breathing slowed before jumping in. “Hi, Ned, it’s Caryn Alderson. My mom tells me you’ve been trying to book an appointment with me. At her store.” Silence on his end, making me figure I either caught him off-guard or he had no idea who I was, so I added, “In Indianapolis?”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” he said.

  “I could see you tomorrow if that works,” I said.

  There was a long pause on his end. So long, in fact, that I pulled back my phone and stared at the screen to see if we’d lost our connection.

  “I guess that would work,” he finally said. “Of course, as always—”

  “You want to keep our meeting private,” I finished for him. “Got it. Would morning or afternoon work for you?”

  “I’ve got some clients, so what about after work. Six o’clock?”

  “See you then, Ned.” I disconnected and then blew out a puff of air. I had no idea how I was going to pull this off.

  “Don’t worry, kiddo,” Uncle Omar said loud and clear. “I’ve got your back.”

  I turned completely around, expecting to see him lurking somewhere in the book stacks or a study carrel, wearing his army fatigues and that ever-present grin on his face, but he’d chosen not to materialize this time. I put my phone back to my ear for the benefit of any onlookers and said, “Okay, thanks,” as I exited the study room.

  Naturally the phone chose that minute to actually ring, causing the few students who were there studying to give me dirty looks. And Erica Stone, the seventeen-year-old prodigy, pointed at the Please silence your cell phones sign.

  I turned my back on Erica. “Annabeth? Hi,” I whispered into the phone.

  “Caryn? Are you there? I can barely hear you.”

  “I’m in the library.” I started walking for the exit, hoping to minimize the disruption. I stepped out into the crisp November air and took a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay, I can talk now.”

  “Why were you in the library?” she asked. “I thought you were done with classes.”

  “Yeah, I…Never mind. What’s up?”

  “I’m in our room,” Annabeth sa
id, “packing. I thought you’d be here since you said you wanted a ride home.”

  “On my way.”

  ****

  “Need a ride home, dude?” Sean asked Gary.

  Gary surveyed the mess in their dorm room—okay, his side of the room. He hadn’t done laundry in a couple of weeks. He eyed the ever-growing pile of dirty clothes at the foot of his bed, and hoped Brenda wouldn’t mind when he landed on their doorstep with all his laundry. Then he remembered that his mom was still taking care of Eddie, which meant double the smelly socks, stained jeans, and rumpled T-shirts. Maybe he’d do his own wash this time.

  Gary pointed to his pile of clothes. “Do you have room for all this? Because Mom can come pick me up when she gets off work.”

  “No need,” Sean said. He picked up his small duffel bag sitting at the foot of his bed and tossed it over one shoulder. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Gary pulled his own duffel bag out of the back of his closet and crammed in dirty clothes and towels, and then stuffed in the muddy tennis shoes from the night of the snowball fight that he hoped would come clean. The bag filled up fast, leaving him wondering if he had room for the few changes of clean clothes he had left.

  “Put the rest in your backpack,” Sean said, like he could read Gary’s mind. “Your mom will make short work of that mess.”

  But instead of packing, Gary ran his fingers through his hair and sat down on the edge of his bed. “I can’t ask her to do that,” Gary said. “She’s still got Eddie there.”

  Sean frowned. “Yeah, that’s a conundrum.” Setting aside his own neatly-packed bag, he took Gary’s backpack off the chair where it always landed when Gary walked through the door, and emptied it of textbooks, loose papers, blue books, and scripts. Sean handed the now empty bag to Gary. “Your mom’s a candidate for sainthood with that kid.”