Dedication
To you, the reader!
Thank you for sharing in the adventures of
Brooke, Vanessa, Heather, and Tim!
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1: The Woman in the Cottage
Chapter 2: Trading Places
Chapter 3: Brooke Versus
Chapter 4: Beware of Brooke
Chapter 5: Back to the Future
Chapter 6: Bubble Bubble
Chapter 7: Happy-Go-Lucky
Chapter 8: Team of One
Chapter 9: Karma
Chapter 10: New Perspective
Chapter 11: No Fate
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from Confidentially Yours #6: Vanessa’s Design Dilemma
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About the Author
Books by Jo Whittemore
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER
1
The Woman in the Cottage
It was a dark and stormy night . . .
Actually, it was a cold and snowy day, but no scary adventure ever starts like that. Unless there’s a killer snowman. And even that’s only scary until someone throws hot cocoa at him.
Anyway, why was I hoping for horror? Because so far my winter break had been dull with a capital ZZZZ. You’d think life in the Chicago suburbs would give me tons of stories to tell, but my most exciting news was Hammie and Chelsea, my cats, playing hide-and-seek in the Christmas tree.
Pine tree peekaboo: the highlight of my break.
Meanwhile my friends had awesome stories from their winter vacations. Heather Schwartz, one of my BFFs, had been in the spotlight on a holiday parade float with her choir, and Vanessa Jackson, my other bestie, had gone to Disney World with her brother and mom.
But I was probably most jealous of my friend Tim Antonides.
Not long ago, Tim became buddies with Berkeley Dennis, one of the richest and coolest kids at Abraham Lincoln Middle School. That alone wasn’t very exciting, but Berkeley’s cousin happened to be motocross superstar Adrenaline Dennis! He came to town for the holidays and took Berkeley and Tim to watch him practice for the X Games.
Heather and Vanessa couldn’t have cared less when Tim bragged about going, but I was super jealous. I like sports just as much as he does. In fact, I give sports advice for Lincoln’s Letters, the advice column at the Lincoln Log, my school newspaper. Plus, I’m captain of my soccer team, the Berryville Strikers. But I didn’t even bother asking Tim if he could score me an invite. I got a major dudes-only vibe from the whole thing . . . mainly because Tim said, “It’ll be dudes only.”
So when another friend, Katie Kestler, asked if I wanted to visit a fortune-teller with her the day before spring semester, I instantly said, “Yes! Please! I’m about to start dressing up the cats!”
It was easy to talk Vanessa into coming since she’s usually up for anything, but Heather was a little harder to convince. In fact, she still had doubts after Katie’s mom, Bobbi, parked in front of a cottage with a wooden sign that read, “Madame Delphi: Seer Extraordinaire.”
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” asked Heather, eyeing some gargoyles on either side of the front door. “I mean . . . what if we accidentally summon an evil spirit or something?”
“Don’t worry. Madame Delphi’s a professional who can handle anything,” said Bobbi. “And I’ll be right here waiting, so you can run out any time.”
Heather didn’t look reassured but opened the car door anyway.
“Tell Madame I said hi!” Bobbi called as my friends and I got out. “And that she was right about avoiding the salmon!”
I glanced back as Katie closed the car door and waved to her mom. “Why isn’t she coming with us?” I asked.
“Bobbi has to make a conference call,” said Katie, “and Madame Delphi only likes disembodied voices that come from spirits.”
Heather spun toward us, nostrils flared. “So there are going to be ghosts?”
“Of course not,” said V, putting a hand on her arm.
“But if there were, that would be awesome!” I charged through the snow and up the front steps, each plank of wood squeaking under my weight. “This place is creepy!”
“That’s what bothers me.” Heather shivered in her puffy green coat.
“Oh come on,” Katie coaxed, putting an arm through one of Heather’s. “It’s a new year. Don’t you want to know what’s going to happen?”
I knocked on the front door, which opened by itself.
Heather turned to Katie. “Will I even live to see it?”
Vanessa stepped up to Heather’s other side. “Don’t worry, we’ll be right here with you. The whole time.”
Then V slipped and fell on her butt.
I cringed, Katie and Heather gasped, but Vanessa lay back in the snow and laughed.
Even when she’s down, she’s smiling.
“How the heck did that happen?” I asked while Katie and Heather helped her up. “The snow isn’t slippery.”
“No, but the bottoms of my boots are.” V lifted a foot just high enough for us to see that the sole was worn smooth.
“Hmm. Time to trash those,” said Heather.
Vanessa and Katie screeched in horror.
“Are you insane?” asked Katie.
“They’re vintage Dior!” added Vanessa.
The two of them are a little crazy for clothes. They’re working on their own designer label, KV Fashions, and Vanessa offers style advice for Lincoln’s Letters.
That’s right; Vanessa writes the column, too, along with Heather and Tim! V, Heather, and I actually came up with the idea, since we’d been giving one another advice for years. Vanessa answers questions about beauty and fashion, I handle sports and fitness, Tim contributes the guy’s point of view, and Heather fixes friendships and relationships because she has a way with people.
Like right now.
Instead of rolling her eyes, which was what I was doing, Heather said, “You know, if those boots are special, you might want to wait and wear them in the spring. Otherwise the water from the snow could wreck them.”
Vanessa eyes widened, and she lifted one foot off the ground, balancing precariously on the other like a fashionable flamingo.
“Oh for crying out loud,” I said, leaping off the porch and running over to her. Unlike my glamorous friend, I was wearing appropriate winter clothes: real snow boots, jeans, and a thermal jacket. I turned my back to Vanessa and crouched to give her a piggyback ride. “Come on, V. The future awaits!”
She laughed and climbed on. “Don’t drop me!” she warned.
I trudged up the steps with her, Heather hesitantly followed, and Katie ran ahead to push the door open the rest of the way.
Instead of the usual chimes to announce visitors, a harp strummed, giving our entrance a mystical feel. Goose bumps covered my arms, despite the fact that I was wearing a coat and a Vanessa. She slid off my back, boots thumping on the wooden floor, and said, “Whoa, check this place out!”
It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the darkened room. At one point it’d probably been several rooms, but the dividing walls had been knocked out and just a few support columns remained. The windows were covered with heavy velvet curtains, and the only light came from flickering oil lamps attached to the walls.
“This place is straight out of a movie,” I murmured. “I love it.”
“Can we please get this over with?” asked Heather, standing as close to the front door as she could without physically being a part of it.
“My mom says Madame usually has people wait in either the sitting area or gift shop,” said Katie. “So I think she’ll come g
et us when she’s ready.”
“Ooh.” I rubbed my hands together excitedly. “How will she know we’re here? Will a spirit from the beyond tell her?”
“More like a security camera from the ceiling,” said V, pointing at an orb mounted above us.
“Aww.” I lowered my hands.
Katie grinned at me. “Just pretend it’s an all-seeing eye,” she said in a spooky voice.
I snickered and glanced around. The sitting area to our left was decorated with a dumpy couch and chairs that had cracked seat cushions. The gift shop area was to the right and crowded with tables and bookshelves and spinning racks, all filled with various mystical items sporting orange price stickers.
Needless to say, my friends and I were drawn to the right.
“What is all this stuff?” asked V, pulling a book titled Blessings and Curses from a shelf. She flipped to a random page. “‘Give your enemy bad breath.’”
“How?” asked Heather, reading over her shoulder.
“Easy. Garlic.” I ran my finger over the spines of the other books. “I wonder if Tim’s read any of these.”
He was obsessed with books, particularly the classics. Although something told me Crockpot Love Potions probably wasn’t on his list.
I moved on to a table covered with boxes of candles, packets of herbs, and little knickknacks. “Hey, anybody wanna play poker?” I asked, plucking a deck of cards from the pile.
Katie laughed. “Good luck with that. Those are tarot cards.”
“Tarot cards?” I slid a couple out of the box. One of them had a guy in a jester’s costume and was labeled “The Fool.” The other, “The Tower,” was just that: an image of a tower. “What is it, a matching game?”
She shook her head. “They’re for telling fortunes.”
I put the cards back and picked up a pocket-size horseshoe. “I’d like to see the horse who can wear this.”
Somewhere behind us hinges creaked, and we all turned toward the sound. A tall, blond woman in a flowing purple dress shuffled in our direction from an open door between the oil lamps.
“Good afternoon. I am Madame Delphi,” she said with a slight bow and a breathy voice. “I understand you wish to see the future.”
“I actually wish to see a mirror,” said V, wrapping a silky scarf around her neck. “Also, do you have this in blue?”
Heather elbowed her in the side, and Madame Delphi raised an eyebrow.
“Everything in the shop is as-is,” she said. “Including my predictions.” She pressed her fingertips together. “I must warn you that people can be disappointed by what I see. They beg for a different future.” She shook her head, eyes locked on mine. “But your future will be what it will be.”
Again, goose bumps.
“Now,” she said in a soft voice, “who will go first?”
Katie hurried to the front as if Madame Delphi was handing out designer dresses. “Hi! I’m Katie Kestler and you did a reading for my mom, Bobbi Kestler, and you told her to skip the salmon at a wedding and she did and everyone who ate it got food poisoning, but not her because she didn’t eat it.” Katie paused for oxygen. “So she said to tell you that you were right, and I am more than ready to have my fortune read!” She turned to the rest of us. “I mean . . . if that’s okay.”
V and I nodded.
“You can go for me, too,” said Heather.
Madame Delphi arched a brow. “You fear the future?”
“No.” Heather shrank back. “I fear this moment right now.”
“Aww.” I put an arm around her. “Heather, you don’t have to go in if you don’t want.”
“Yeah.” V bumped her. “We just thought this would be fun to do together.”
“Well . . . I want to have fun,” Heather said, nodding toward the door Madame Delphi had come through. “Is it even darker in there?”
Madame Delphi approached Heather and took her hands. “Let me make this easy. It won’t be as accurate but . . .” She flipped Heather’s hands to face palms up. “Are you left- or right-handed?”
“Left,” said Heather, glancing curiously from her hands to Madame Delphi.
Madame Delphi studied Heather’s palms for a moment and smiled. “My, you are a talent, aren’t you?”
“She’s an amazing singer,” I chimed in.
Heather smiled and blushed. “I’m okay.”
“Your talent will take you far,” said Madame Delphi, tracing a finger along Heather’s palm. “And you will live a long, happy life.” She rested a hand on each of Heather’s and stepped away. “There now. Was that so terrible?”
“Not at all,” said Heather, beaming.
Katie scooted closer. “Is it my turn?”
Madame Delphi nodded. “Would you like—”
“The works!” exclaimed Katie, already bounding toward the open door.
Five minutes later Katie bounded back out to the sitting area where Heather, V, and I were waiting.
“Next!” she chirped.
“I’m guessing you got a good fortune?” I asked, looking up from the pack of tarot cards I was building into a house.
“Oh, not just me,” said Katie. She flopped onto a couch next to Vanessa and raised a cloud of dust in the process. “Vanny too!”
Vanessa lowered the copy of Natural Beauty she was reading. “Your fortune included me?”
“Well . . . KV Fashions,” Katie explained. She rubbed the thumb and fingertips of one hand together. “Madame Delphi said money’s gonna flow like a river!” She nudged V. “Ask Madame Delphi about money, but don’t tell her we work together. I guarantee she’ll say we make more this year.”
“Of course we will,” said V with a smirk. “We can’t possibly make less than last year’s nothing.”
We all laughed.
So far KV Fashions’ only big business project had been makeovers for the Fall Into Winter dance, and the price had been a clothing item for charity. It was a sweet gesture, but afterward, V told me they’d given up about twenty-five bucks each in the process.
“Go on.” Katie prodded V. “And try to get details, like what specifically makes us richety-rich.” Her eyes sparkled.
V glanced down at where I was sitting on the floor. “Would it be okay if I went next? The future of KV Fashions may or may not be riding on this.” She leaned closer. “I’m betting on ‘not.’”
“I can hear you!” said Katie from over her shoulder.
“Sure,” I said with a nod. “I’ve got the second story of my card house to work on anyway.”
While V walked off to meet Madame Delphi, Heather moved from one of the cracked chairs to sit next to Katie on the couch.
“What else did she tell you?” asked Heather.
“Yeah, did you ask when you were going to die?” I chimed in.
Heather turned to me with wide eyes. “Brooke!”
“What? I’m going to ask when it’s my turn. This woman can see the future! Why stop at ‘Will I win the Women’s World Cup?’”
Katie laughed. “It’s fine. And no, I didn’t ask because I already know I’m going to live to be super old. Everyone in my family does . . . except my great-grandpa Pete, who fell in a volcano.”
Heather and I both raised our eyebrows.
“Okay, there’s way more to that story,” I said, putting down my cards.
When V emerged from the back room, it was to find me, Heather, and Katie laughing so hard we were crying. Even though she had no idea why, Vanessa joined in.
“Poor Pete,” said Heather between giggles. “That banana sandwich just wasn’t worth it.”
We all calmed down, and I poked Vanessa in the side. “How was your time with the teller?”
“Fun!” she said. “We talked about fashion and Disney World.”
Katie, Heather, and I looked at one another.
“What about your reading?” asked Katie.
“Well, I’m going to get less clumsy,” she said, making a thumbs-up. “But she didn’t mention anything
about getting rich.” She held up a finger. “Although there are about to be major changes in my love life.”
“Ooh!” Heather rubbed her hands together. “Between you and Gil?”
Gil Pendleton was Vanessa’s boyfriend, who also happened to work at the Lincoln Log with us doing horoscopes and photography.
I narrowed my eyes in mock dismay. “V, I don’t want to be on your reality show, Middle School Marriage.”
Everyone started laughing again, including Vanessa, who placed her hands on her blushing cheeks.
“I could melt snow with my face right now!” she exclaimed.
Madame Delphi appeared in the doorway, and we quieted.
“We’re so sorry!” said Katie. “We didn’t mean to disturb the spirit world.”
“It’s all right. There was one more of you waiting to see me?” asked Madame Delphi.
“That’s me!” I got to my feet and stepped over my tarot-card house.
Madame Delphi nodded and gestured for me to follow. I waved at my friends before stepping through the doorway into a smaller, even darker room.
“Please sit,” said Madame Delphi, pointing to a small table with two chairs across from each other. There wasn’t a crystal ball like I’d been expecting. Just another pack of tarot cards and a tea set.
I scooted my chair as close to the table as possible and placed both hands in the center, palms up. Now for the real excitement!
“I won’t be reading your palms today,” said Madame Delphi. “It is a very inexact practice.”
“Oh.” I withdrew my hands.
Madame Delphi reached for the teapot and poured hot water into a cup, placing it in front of me. I peered inside and saw leaves skittering along the bottom.
“Let that sit for a few minutes while we turn the cards,” she said.
She passed them to me and asked me to shuffle. “I need the cards to pick up your energy and presence.”
I looked down at the cards. “Um . . . okay.”
When I was done, she had me spread the cards facedown across the table.
“Choose three,” she said. “To represent your past, present, and future.”
I selected three and handed them to her. As she turned them over, she explained what they meant.
Confidentially Yours #5 Page 1