Impact

by Steven Whibley

  IMPACT

  By Steven Whibley

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2014 by Steven B. Whibley

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, please contact Steven Whibley at stevewhibley@gmail.com

  Published by Steven Whibley Publishing

  Victoria, British Columbia

  www.stevenwhibley.com

  Publisher: Steven Whibley

  Editing: Maya Packard

  Copyediting: Maya Packard; Chandler Groover

  Cover Design: Pintado (rogerdespi.8229@gmail.com)

  Interior Layout and Design: www.tammydesign.ca

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Whibley, Steven, 1978-, author

  Impact / Steven Whibley.

  (Dean Curse chronicles)

  Issued also in electronic format.

  ISBN 978-1-927905-01-2 (bound).—ISBN 978-1-927905-00-5 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-1-927905-02-9 (pdf)

  I. Title. II. Series: Whibley, Steven, 1978-Dean Curse chronicles.

  PS8645.H46I46 2014 jC813’.6 C2014-902451-7

  C2014-902452-5

  Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their products are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book, and Steven Whibley was aware of the trademark claim, the designations have been printed in initial capital letters.

  For Isaiah, and Aubree

  CHAPTER 1

  I was going to die.

  Me, Dean Curse, the guy who knows when other people are going to die. You’d think having this power of premonition would mean I’d get a couple perks. You’d think I’d at least be able to save myself when the situation called for it—like it did right now.

  From the other side of the couch, Rodney Palmer taunted, “Maybe you should start cursing, eh, Curse?” He laughed at his own pun and then added, “No, wait, you should start begging for mercy and then change your name to Dean Begs. How about that? Hmm?”

  I rolled my eyes. I’d already heard every stupid joke possible about my name. I was tired of them. And tired of Rodney, too. His jokes sucked, and I would’ve told him so, except that Rodney was about the size of a gorilla, and just as predictable. Plus, he took up most of the couch, and every time things got heated on screen he’d shift and elbow me in the arm. I couldn’t be sure he was doing it on purpose but it’s not like he was known for his fair play.

  I gripped my controller and narrowed my gaze at the screen. I shot back at him, but missed, and he nailed me again. My life meter slipped into the red. Colin lifted his controller as he tried to get his guy behind Rodney’s, but it was too late. Rodney’s characters moved a lot faster in a game than Rodney did in real life.

  My meter emptied. I died.

  Well, the me in Halo croaked, that is.

  I let my controller drop to my lap and flopped back on the big leather couch we were all sharing.

  We were supposed to be in Dr. Mickelsen’s therapy session working toward psychological healing after experiencing the school explosion that had killed my History teacher a few months ago. I didn’t really feel like I got a lot out of therapy these days, but that was probably because my dad’s a therapist, so I’ve learned to tune out anyone who uses the therapist tone on me. I also knew, though, that therapy could help a lot of people. It seemed to help Lisa. It might even help me if I could actually talk about stuff. What would I say, though?

  Hey, Doc, remember that disaster at the museum a few weeks back? The one where an entire wing was destroyed and a giant T. rex skeleton was turned to rubble? That was me. Oh, and if I touch someone, I’ll know when they’re going to die—or at least, I’ll know twenty-four hours before that they’re going to die.

  No, I couldn’t say that. My best friends, Lisa and Colin, were my partners, and they knew everything. I used them as my therapists.

  Still, Lisa found Dr. Mickelsen helpful, and Colin and I were there for her … Well, we’d intended to be there for her. Then we heard the game, found Rodney, and thought it was finally our chance to beat the giant bully at something. Who knew he was practically a Halo master?

  Most of the time, Rodney hardly said anything. In fact, before this game, I’d been pretty sure he communicated like an ape, using gestures and grunts to get his points across. But once the onscreen killing started, the kid didn’t shut up. He shouted at the screen, mocking my moves and those of my team. I figured that was the point of having a video game room in a therapist’s office—to get kids talking. Clearly it worked for Rodney.

  It was going to take a heck of a lot more than a video game to get me talking. Even if I thought the secret society I was part of—the Congregation of Sacrifice—would be okay with me telling a psychologist about them and how we all have the same ability, I still wouldn’t do it because the doctors would lock me up. I know how crazy it sounds.

  I leaned back on the couch as Colin struggled to keep his character alive a few seconds longer. I imagined going back in time to when my grades at school were the most important thing in my life. Or when my biggest problem was dealing with my bratty sister, Becky. Back before I had to deal with other people’s life or death.

  Life and death in a simple game? Easy. Reality, though? That’s something totally different.

  “Hey!” The shout had all of us jumping and turning. Eric Feldman stood in the doorway, hands on his hips like he was a hall monitor or something. Rodney dropped his controller, pushed off the couch, and slunk over to Eric’s side. He took up a crossed-arm pose like he hadn’t just been busted with us.

  I stood up to face Eric. “What?”

  “You guys probably didn’t even sign in, did you? I bet Dr. Mickelsen would love to know you’re in here playing games rather than in therapy.” Eric turned and left. Rodney followed him, a giant shadow trailing after skinny Eric.

  “What a punk,” Colin muttered.

  I tapped him on the arm. Colin’s not only my best friend; he’s also one of the nicest guys around. He has TVs the size of Dr. Mickelsen’s in pretty much every room in his house. Even the kitchen. But he never brags about it.

  I nodded toward the door. “Let’s get to Mickelsen before Eric makes it all our fault and tells him we …”

  Too late. Eric, Rodney, and Dr. Mickelsen all showed up in the doorway.

  Dr. Mickelsen’s gray hair stood up like he hadn’t combed it in weeks. Colin and I keep arguing over whether he dyes his beard black or not. How can you have gray hair like that and a black beard? He keeps it trimmed short, and you can tell when he’s thinking about stuff because he starts to stroke the whiskers.

  He wasn’t rubbing it now. Eric’s face twisted into a smug sneer. I wanted to punch him, but I knew that would just get Dr. Mickelsen talking about anger issues. Eric started to say something, but Dr. Mickelsen held up a hand. “Rodney, see if Lisa would like to join us. Maybe a game is just what we all need.”

  Eric deflated, and I really had to try not to laugh. Then I remembered we’d been coming to therapy to show our support for Lisa, and she’d been expecting us to come today and participate with everyone who was still going to the group sessions, and I suddenly felt really bad. Worse when she stepped into the room and gave us looks that said, You picked a video game over me?

  I gave her a shrug, and Colin mouthed the words “ice cream later” at her. She plopped down in a big chair, folded her arms, and wouldn’t look at us.

  Dr. Mickelsen set us all up with controllers. Networked gaming was so cool that Colin’s eyes lit
up, and I almost forgot why we were there. We all played for about a half hour. Dr. Mickelsen was actually pretty good and destroyed everyone except Lisa. So it came down to the two of them in the end. Lisa threw a grenade, and boom, she won.

  “So, what do you feel when you die in a game like this? Or when you see others die?” the doctor asked. I glanced at Colin. He stared up at the ceiling tiles. Eric poked Rodney, who sat on his hands now.

  Lisa shifted in her chair. “It’s not the same. When Dean sees people who are going to—” She broke off what she’d been about to say and shook her head, her blond ponytail swaying. She’d pulled her feet out of her running shoes when she sat down, and now pushed her shoes under her chair with her toes. “You know, it’s hard to see anyone hurt and not be able to help them. Or be too late.”

  “You’re saying you have empathy for other people’s emotions?” Dr. Mickelsen asked.

  Rodney’s face tightened. “Empathy?” The word came out like “emputty.”

  Eric snickered, but Dr. Mickelsen said, “It means you can feel the same thing as another person. You understand when someone else is happy or sad.”

  Rodney’s face scrunched up even more, but Eric muttered under his breath, “Some people shouldn’t have to die. Like Mrs. Farnsworthy—” Eric broke off. He sounded like he had trouble getting her name out. His eyes seemed really bright and shimmery, and I wondered if he’d cry. If he did, I’d give him an Academy Award for being the world’s best actor. He was only still in therapy because he knew it would score him sympathy votes. I was sure of it. Okay, I was only pretty sure of it, but he was a jerk to everyone, so I wasn’t about to feel sorry for him.

  The mention of Mrs. Farnsworth, my old History teacher, created a knot in my stomach every time. I shifted on my chair. I didn’t want to talk about her. She shouldn’t have had to die; I had even had a vision about her death. But I didn’t know what I was doing back then. I still don’t. Not really.

  No one said anything for a few minutes. Then Colin broke the silence. “I think this world would be too crowded if we all lived forever. And … well, don’t we learn more because other people lived and died before us?”

  Dr. Mickelsen sat back in his chair. He stroked his beard. Uh-oh. “Have you been thinking about the past a lot?” he asked. “Does that interest in the past have something to do with your recent museum visits? I know you were there when they had their … um … problems. How do you feel about what happened over there?”

  Colin’s mouth hung open. I heard Lisa swallow from where I was sitting. My hands had gone cold. What did he mean, he knew we were there? No one knew we were there. If they did, we’d be in jail or juvenile detention or somewhere else locked up. Eric stared at us, his eyes narrowed like he somehow knew we were to blame for a lot of stuff and couldn’t wait to prove it and get us in trouble. Rodney picked up a game controller and started to fiddle with the buttons.

  Dr. Mickelsen just waited, staring at us. After a few awkward minutes, he spoke. “Our time’s up for today. But I think it would be a good assignment, Dean, Colin, and Lisa, for the three of you to visit the museum again. Sometimes we need to find closure with our own past, and that means we need to revisit it. Write down your feelings after you stop by the museum, and we’ll talk about them. Eric and Rodney, I’ve got another idea for you two.”

  “Shock therapy?” Colin asked, hopeful. He looked at Dr. Mickelsen but gestured to Eric and Rodney. “I bet they’d really benefit from that.”

  “And Colin would benefit from a full lobotomy,” Eric snapped. He nudged Rodney with his elbow, and the goon leaned forward. One more nudge and I bet Eric had him trained to attack.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” the doctor said. “But since we didn’t get a ton of time with everyone today, I am going to make myself available in a few days for another session.” I had to stifle the groan. “I’ll let your parents know about it. And of course, we’ll still have our regular meeting next week,” he said, then gestured to me, Lisa, and Colin. “Have a good day, you three. And if you two,” he said, looking at Rodney and Eric, “would hang back just a few moments …”

  I didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. He’d dismissed us, and I bolted for the door. Outside, Colin and Lisa met up with me. I didn’t know what Dr. Mickelsen’s plans were for Eric and Rodney, but hoped it involved something really far away.

  “What are we going to do?” Colin asked. “I mean, about the museum?”

  “Uh, how about we avoid it,” I said. “And find a way to avoid this extra session Mickelsen has planned for us.”

  Lisa tucked a stray strand of her hair back behind her ear. She folded her arms and looked from Colin to me. I realized the only reason we had the extra session was because Colin and I had opted for Halo over therapy, and worse, I’d just reminded Lisa of that fact.

  “Sorry,” Colin said first. “We were coming to therapy. We were on our way.”

  “But wanted to have a playdate with your new BFF first?” Lisa asked.

  I imagined Rodney with one of those BFF necklaces on and laughed, then tried to cover it up with a cough. “We really are sorry.”

  Lisa shook her head. “I’m not mad. You guys don’t need therapy. I totally do. Thanks for even coming that far. I don’t mind the extra session. It’s not that big of a deal. But I’m still pretty torn about what to do about the museum.”

  “Not you, too,” I said. “We can’t go back there. Even though they don’t know it was us, we did wreck the place. I’d rather they never even thought about us again.”

  Lisa shrugged. “We also wrecked that T. rex.”

  “T. wrecked,” Colin said and grinned at us.

  I glanced at him and didn’t smile. “I don’t think they want us back at the museum.”

  Colin slapped us both on the back. “You guys. We saved people. We reunited a Cambodian village with their sacred relic, and we saved a Buddhist monk. Do you even realize the karma points we get for that? Besides, we’re supposed to learn more about the Society, aren’t we?”

  I was as anxious as they were to learn more about the Congregatio de Sacrificio—the Congregation of Sacrifice, or CS. Ever since I’d found out my visions made me part of the group, I’d been dying to get a formal meet-and-greet with the rest of the members. But there’d been one delay after the next. But all that was going to change tomorrow morning. It was all set. We were meeting Archer at the mall and he was driving us to the headquarters. I was trying to be cool about the whole thing, but inside I was a five-year-old on Christmas Eve. I was pretty sure Colin and Lisa were as excited as me, and were trying to be cool about it too.

  We didn’t talk a ton during the walk home, and I tried to distract myself with good thoughts about the museum, not thoughts of what we destroyed, but what we’d saved—lives. We turned onto my street, and I kicked at a rock in my path. It flew up, and the next thing I heard was a loud, “Ouch!”

  Looking up, I saw Rylee Davis.

  She’d been standing on the sidewalk in front of my house. She seemed to have just been standing there, like she might have been waiting for me. She didn’t have her bike with her or skates on or anything. She rubbed her arm and smiled when she saw me looking at her. My mouth dried. Colin snickered, and I jabbed an elbow into his side.

  Lisa called out, “Hey, Rylee.”

  Rylee glanced at her and then looked back at me, almost like she hadn’t even seen Lisa. The summer sun showed lighter streaks in Rylee’s long dark hair. Standing next to Lisa, who usually wore running shoes and clothes that made it easier for her to climb trees, Rylee looked way more like a girly-girl. She had on a sleeveless dress with little flowers all over it. For some reason, her lips always looked wet, like she’d just eaten fresh watermelon. I didn’t mind that. And I kind of liked her eyes. Green and soft like she was always smiling inside.

  “Hi, Dean.” She turned pink as she said my name.

  I nodded and scuffed my running shoes on the sidewalk. I had no idea what she want
ed. As far as I knew, she didn’t live around here. She smiled again at me. Flutters shook my stomach, and I gave her a wave.

  “Well, we’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” I said, which was awkward because of course I wasn’t going to see Rylee, and she knew it, so it was as if I was ignoring the fact she was there. I felt like such an idiot.

  Lisa and Rylee waved back, and Colin gave me a what are you doing? look. I knew I should’ve talked to Rylee, but I just couldn’t. I jogged inside, only glancing back as I stepped through the door—just in time to see Rylee’s face fall.

  Great. Way to make a lasting impression, Dean.

  CHAPTER 2

  My alarm went off and I leaped out of bed. Finally, I’d meet the other members of the Society. Finally I’d get to know others who lived with the same ability as me. I’d have people who understood what it was like, people to give me advice and teach me things that would make my crazy life easier to deal with.

  I showered and threw on some clean clothes. I knew Lisa and Colin would be as eager as me, and they’d be on their way if they weren’t already waiting in the kitchen. I felt too nervous to eat but thought a piece of toast might settle the butterflies a bit, so I took the stairs two at a time, rushed into the kitchen, and slammed smack into my sister, Becky. She gave a shriek, and the box she’d been carrying went flying, scattering white bits into the air. I reached for the box with one hand and saved Becky from a fall with my other hand.

  Instead of thanking me, Becky set up a howl. “Look at what you did!”

  “Uh, what?”

  I looked up and saw my parents staring at us from the living room. I turned back to my sister, put her on her feet, and dumped the white bits back into the shoebox she was cradling. “You’re collecting plastic now?”

  Becky scowled and then kind of smirked like she had a secret. I glanced down at one of the white bits that had stuck to my sweaty palm. The shape looked foreign at first, and then I recognized it. “Oh, no—no! Tell me this is not what I think it is.”

  “Okay, it’s not what you think it is.”