Moon Rise

by Marilee Brothers

  When I looked at Beck, the intensity in his eyes slammed into me like an unexpected blow to the gut. Unable to look away, I gasped in surprise. Here's the weird part. I'd seen this guy every day in French class, and he'd never so much as given me an interested glance.

  Why now? Was it my fetching costume? My Mexican twin? The moonstone pendant?

  My money was on the moonstone. The scoop neck of my peasant blouse suddenly felt like a neon sign flashing, “Hey, look at my chest!” Sadly, the most interesting thing about my chest was the moonstone. I felt my cheeks growing hot as he continued to stare into my eyes. Instinctually, my right hand flew up to cover the gem.

  I felt the heat of another gaze and glanced away from Beck. Nicole Bradford had joined the staring contest. She stood apart from her friends, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. While Beck looked intense, Nicole simply looked hostile. This was getting stranger by the minute.

  Suddenly Kizzy's voice broke the spell. “Allie! Is that the Bradford boy?"

  Startled by the sudden interest in her voice, I turned to face her. “Yes,” I said. “His name is Beck."

  She pushed away from the table and stood. “Beck Bradford,” she called. “Come over here."

  Beck jerked, as if waking from a dream. He gave Kizzy a puzzled look. “Excuse me?"

  Nicole re-joined her friends, but her gaze remained fixed on Beck. Mercedes and I exchanged a worried glance. Was Kizzy having one of her bad moments?

  I tugged at Kizzy's sleeve and whispered, “I don't think he's into fortune-telling, Kizzy."

  She patted my cheek and smiled. Her bright, turquoise eyes sparkled with mischief. “Who said anything about fortune-telling?"

  Kizzy bustled around the table and approached Beck, who took a tentative step toward her. She reached out and grasped his hands. He looked startled but didn't pull away. Kizzy leaned close and began speaking to him in low tones, unfortunately way too low for me to eavesdrop. How did she know he was a Bradford? Why didn't she want me to hear what she was saying? Questions without answers made me crazy, but I knew one thing for sure. This was the Kizzy I remembered before the Trimark assault. Strong. Determined. Ready to take on the world and straighten it out.

  I poked Mercedes with my elbow and smiled. “Yes!” I said. “She's back."

  Mercedes, still drooling over Beck, nodded absently. “Oh, my God, did you see the way he looked at you? He thinks you're a fox."

  I knew better. Mercedes had no knowledge of my paranormal abilities. But I'd seen the look on Beck Bradford's face. The hostility radiating off Nicole. Were they Trimarks? Was that what grabbed Kizzy's attention? It had to be about the moonstone.

  And, oh yeah, tomorrow I was traveling to the Seattle area to be the honored guest at a Star Seeker's meeting. Every person in this ultra-secret society wanted to meet the girl in the moonstone prophecy. The girl with the star on her palm, who had the psychic ability to make bulls trot backwards and read minds. The girl who was destined to seek out Trimarks and put a stop to their evil plans.

  I had just one teensy problem. Destiny was flipping me the bird.

  My paranormal powers were gone.

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  Chapter Two

  "I don't know why you're going. Purdy doesn't care about you,” Faye said.

  My mother and I were engaged in a squinty-eyed, visual smackdown, neither of us willing to blink. I gripped the edge of the table and glared at her.

  "Just because you're bitter and spiteful doesn't mean I have to be."

  My voice was shrill with anger. “Besides, half of me came from my dad, whether you like it or not."

  Faye was sitting at the dinette in the twenty-four-foot travel trailer we called home. “Brain Dead Roy,” an underwater welder and Faye's current boyfriend, sat between her and the wall, probably so she could wait on him.

  "Yeah,” Faye said with a bitter smile. “And I'm seeing his half right now. The half that always has to be right, the half that won't listen to reason, the half..."

  I released my pent-up breath. It whistled through my teeth making a noise that sounded like, Phhhhtttuuuiii.

  Faye popped up, danger signs flashing in her eyes. “What did you say?"

  Apparently, she'd heard some kind of “f” word in that gibberish and, combined with the uh sound, it wasn't looking good for me.

  I raised my hands and backed away. “Nothing. No way. I wouldn't say that to you. You heard wrong."

  "Hey, ladies. Take a chill pill."

  Roy said lame stuff like that all the time. He stood, stretched and gazed at us through heavy-lidded eyes, Roy's version of a look so compelling, so sexy, we would stop fighting and focus on him. Maybe it worked for Faye. It definitely didn't work for me. If I hadn't been in the middle of a fight with my mother, I'd have busted out laughing.

  Faye and I spoke in unison. “Shut up, Roy!"

  He smirked and pointed at the door. “I'll wait outside ... ladies."

  The word ladies was dripping with sarcasm, another one of Roy's specialties.

  Faye stepped back to let him by. I retreated to the couch and drew up my feet, unwilling to let a single Roy molecule touch my person. Faye rolled her eyes. After Roy stepped outside, she hissed, “Why are you so mean to him? He's always nice to you."

  I hissed back. “Oh, are we talking about Roy, now?"

  The sound of a car coming down Uncle Sid's driveway put a stop to our bickering.

  Faye flapped her hands in a dismissive gesture and plopped down on the bench seat. “Your ride's here."

  Her voice was dull and she wouldn't look at me. I started to flounce off and then reconsidered. Visions of a bloody car crash and Faye weeping over my flower-draped casket flashed through my mind. Our relationship had been upside-down for as long as I could remember. It was about me taking care of her. But, in the last few months, Faye had pulled it together. She'd left her fake sick bed and gotten a job. She was trying. Now would be a good time to remember that. Plus, it was hard to ignore the little voice whispering, “She's your mother, you jerk."

  I crossed to the dinette and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “Bye, see you tonight."

  When she looked up, her eyes were still angry. “Yeah, just don't forget where home is."

  I smiled. “As if."

  When I stepped outside, Roy was sitting in a lawn chair, cleaning his fingernails with a Swiss Army knife. He smiled. “See ya, AC. Have a good time."

  "Whatever.” I headed for the limo. I would always be AC to Roy. It wasn't short for Alfrieda Carlotta. In Roy's world, AC stood for Angry Chick.

  Kizzy didn't drive, so when she wanted to go somewhere—usually every day—she hired Charlie to drive her. And today, she had decided, she and Charlie would deliver me safely to and from the Star Seekers meeting

  Charlie grinned and winked as I approached the car; he opened the door and stepped back with a slight bow. “As I live and breathe, I do believe its Miss Allie Emerson. Your chariot awaits."

  I gave him a wan smile. “Thanks, Charlie."

  Kizzy took one look at my face and said, “Fight with Faye?"

  "Yeah."

  I gazed out through the tinted window as Charlie executed what the drivers education manual called a three-point turn and headed down the driveway toward Peacock Flats Road.

  Our trailer was parked next to a cow pasture behind the big house belonging to Sid and Sandra McNeil. Sid was Faye's step brother. No blood involved. When Faye's mother died, Grandpa Claude hooked up with Sid's mother, who, according to Faye, died a few years later of terminal meanness. Last year, I'd had a mad crush on Matt, Sid and Sandra's seventeen-year-old son, but when the moonstone let me peek into his mind, I'd discovered his thoughts didn't match his friendly, private-Christian-school image.

  We were approaching the house when Matt and his younger sister, Tiffany, came through the back door. Tiffany was wearing a pink tutu, black tights and a ferocious frown. Aunt Sandra desperately wanted Tiffany to become the ne
xt Little Miss Maraschino Cherry, junior princess for the Peacock Flats Fruit Bowl Festival. A very big deal in our little corner of the world. She'd enrolled Tiffany in dance lessons to teach her poise and grace and hopefully burn off ten extra pounds of blubber. Only problem was, Tiffany hated physical exercise of any kind. She bitched and moaned constantly about how her mother was torturing her. Apparently Matt had been volunteered to take Tiffany to her dance lesson.

  As we rolled by, I zipped the window down so they could see it was me in the limo. Matt smiled and waved. I ignored him and called to Tiffany. “Have fun, Tif. No pain, no gain."

  Tiffany stuck out her tongue. Maybe I deserved it.

  Kizzy watched this exchange in silence. After we turned north on Peacock Road, she said, “What's going on with you and Faye?"

  I shook my head. “It's my dad. She hates him. I tried to tell her, it's the Star Seeker thing. He knows about it. I don't, and I need to learn from him.” I sighed and settled back into the cushions. “It seems like she's mad all the time."

  "That's because she's scared."

  "Scared? I don't think so."

  "Oh, Alfrieda,” Kizzy said, shaking her head. “Don't you see? She thinks you'll choose your father over her. She's afraid of losing you. Beneath the anger, she's scared to death."

  "Well, she's got a funny way of showing it."

  I gazed out the window and thought about what Kizzy said. Maybe I was acting like a self-centered little jerk. Dealing with Faye's emotions had never been easy, and when her boy-toy, Roy, invaded our little family circle, I'd looked for every excuse to avoid both of them. It's not that I didn't want my mother to be happy. I was all for happiness. But she had a habit of picking losers who cheated on her, stole her life savings ... well, you get the picture. If Roy was like the others, it was just a matter of time before the big crisis hit. Faye was in a good place now and I didn't want to see her knocked down again.

  A sudden thought flashed through my mind. Could I use what Kizzy said to find out what I really wanted to know?

  I turned to Kizzy and gave her a bright smile. “I'll bet you're right. Faye probably is scared. You know what scares me?"

  "No, tell me."

  "Not knowing what you said to Beck Bradford."

  Kizzy laughed and shook a finger at me. “Nice try, Allie,” she said and clammed up.

  Dang! Last night, after Mercedes took off, I'd peppered Kizzy with questions. How did she know he was a Bradford? Did she think Beck was a Trimark? Was she talking to him about me? Okay, that last question sounded a little self-centered. She'd just looked at me and smiled. When she had enough of my pestering, she lifted a hand and said, “Stop! You'll find out soon enough."

  Since nothing had happened to change her mind since last night, I stayed quiet for the rest of the two-hour trip, responding with nods and smiles as Kizzy filled me in on the shopping she planned to do while I was at the Star Seekers’ meeting.

  We were headed for the Paul and Patricia Sugden Institute for Scientific Learning in Bellevue. Bellevue was a large city separated from Seattle by Lake Washington. It was there I would join my newly-discovered father, Mike Purdy. We'd met once before, but this would be our first face-to-face meeting since he'd reluctantly copped to donating the sperm resulting in Alfrieda Carlotta Emerson. The closer we got to our destination, the more jittery I became.

  Normally, I'm not too concerned about my appearance. Remember, I'm from Peacock Flats, Washington, population 852. But when Bellevue's high rise buildings came into view, I blurted, “Do I look okay?"

  Kizzy ran a practiced eye over my attire. “Alfrieda, you look lovely."

  Without turning around, Charlie raised a thumb in the air and said, “Hubba, hubba,” which apparently, in the olden days, meant, “You look hot!"

  I'd worked in Uncle Sid's fruit stand all summer and saved my money. A nice pair of stone-washed jeans and dressy black boots burned through most of it. I'd found the scoop-necked, white silk tee and fitted black blazer at a yard sale. The moonstone pendant was my only accessory and another reason for the anxiety attack.

  The star on my palm and my status as the keeper of the light, as per the moonstone prophecy, were my ticket in the door. I had a horrible feeling I was expected to perform a minor miracle, like make all the Star Seekers float in the air above their seats or read the minds of the entire front row. I'd had nightmares for a week. I decided to broach the subject to Kizzy.

  "What if they want me to—you know—do something?"

  A look of confusion bloomed on Kizzy's face. “Do something?"

  "The Star Seekers know about the prophecy. They know I'm ‘the maid who's strong of mind.’ Purdy said they all want to meet me. I'm thinking they'll want a demonstration of some kind."

  The frustration I'd experienced for the past few months boiled up and added a bitter edge to my voice. “I've tried and tried but it's gone. The telekinetic power."

  I clutched the moonstone. “It's like somebody pulled the plug and the magic just drained away. Maybe the prophecy was wrong. Maybe I'm not the right girl."

  Kizzy patted my arm. “No, the moonstone is exactly where it belongs. Think about it, Alfrieda. You've been through a lot. You were seriously injured."

  "So were you,” I added.

  Kizzy nodded. “It takes energy to heal the body. There's nothing left for anything else. Severe trauma injures the mind as well as the body. For me, it's blank spaces in my memory. In your case, something is blocking your power. Give it time. The magic will return."

  I gave her a shaky smile. “Today would be nice."

  Charlie pulled up into a curved, sweeping drive and stopped in front of an impressive building that occupied an entire city block. Made of stucco and topped with a red tile roof, it was unlike anything I'd seen in the modern, rainy part of Washington. It looked like pictures I'd seen of the dry Southwest and somehow felt friendlier than the sleek high rises surrounding it.

  Broad stairs led to a spacious paved area in front of the building where people were clustered in small groups. I spotted my father, Mike Purdy, deep in conversation with another man who seemed to be guarding the door. It's hard to describe what I felt. Part of me hoped he wouldn't be there so we could turn around and drive back to Peacock Flats.

  The other part said, Geez, you're such a wuss!

  Charlie jumped out and opened the door. Purdy gave us a dismissive glance, returned to his conversation, then looked back a second time when he realized it was his love child stepping out of the limo, the daughter of his baby mama. Would have been downright funny if I hadn't been so nervous.

  "Good luck, dear,” Kizzy called before Charlie shut the door.

  As the car pulled away from the curb, I felt like running after it, screaming, “Wait! Wait! It's all a big mistake."

  Purdy wore jeans, a black windbreaker, athletic shoes and a black baseball cap emblazoned with a gold starburst. With his carpet-salesman smile firmly in place, he walked up to me, thrust out his right hand and said, “Hi, Allie."

  Okay, we were going to shake hands, not hug. That felt right. I put my hand in his and said, “Hi, uh, Mr. Purdy."

  "Mike,” he said. “Call me Mike."

  After giving my hand a teensy squeeze, he grasped my elbow and guided me toward the building. “A lot of people want to meet you."

  I had a feeling this was a big ego trip for him. Mike Purdy, father of Allie Emerson, the chosen one and keeper of the moonstone, whose light would reflect and enhance his light. I hoped I was wrong.

  Red brick steps led to the entry way, double-doors set into a rectangle taller than the rest of the building. To the right of the doors, an oblong wing stretched to the end of the block. Behind its façade, I spotted a domed roof.

  The guy I'd seen talking to Mike—I found out later he was Larry, an off-duty policeman—was checking people as they filed through the door. It looked like they were doing some weird, high-five thing, but before I could figure it out, another man took his place.
Larry walked toward us, a big, burly guy with keen blue eyes and a bushy, black mustache flecked with gray. He, too, wore a ball cap with the star burst.

  Mike made the introductions. No smile or handshake from Larry. Just an appraising look and a curt, “Pleased to meet you."

  He ushered us through the door. “I'll take it from here, Mike."

  My father shrugged. “Oh, yeah. Orientation. See ya inside, kid."

  He strolled away and left me with Big Scary Guy.

  Orientation? Oh, geez, did I have to pass a test? What if I didn't pass? Would they toss me out? Would I be lost and alone, wandering the streets of Seattle, a little country bumpkin abandoned in the big city? My heart began to pound.

  Before I could fake a bathroom emergency, Larry said, “Follow me."

  Because I didn't know what else to do, I trotted behind him like a faithful dog. He led me into a small, windowless room and switched on the light. When he shut the door, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I must have looked as scared as I felt, because his mustache twitched and his eyes warmed up.

  A small table and two chairs were placed in the center of the room. He waved me into a chair and sat across from me. “I don't know what your dad told you about the Star Seekers..."

  I looked down at my hands, clenched tightly in my lap. “Not a lot.” I glanced up at him. “Just that it's made up of people like me who are, well, different. Maybe they have certain psychic abilities like, uh, uh..."

  If this was a test, no way was I acing it.

  Larry leaned toward me. “Relax, Allie. I'm here to help you."

  I managed a weak smile.

  Larry lifted his right hand, fingers pointing up, palm facing me. I spotted the star in the middle of his palm. Was I supposed to show him mine? Damn, I needed a rule book.

  Larry lowered his hand and stared intently into my eyes. “Star Seeker history dates back to the twelfth century. Back then, psychic abilities were thought to be signs of witchcraft. The Star Seekers met secretly and formed a common goal: To use their powers to fight the evil in the world. Understand so far?"