Insight

by Jolene Perry

  The horrible feeling of wanting something I can’t have creeps in again, but I keep my face even. I don’t smile. I don’t look sad. It’s my disappearing face.

  Maybe I should go live with Dad. He’s the only person I don’t get a vision from. He’s never given me any reason to think he knows what I do, so it’s not like my secret-keeping would change, I’d just have one less person to worry about getting a vision from.

  “Micah Johnson?” The teacher raises his brows and stares.

  I immediately stiffen and sit up taller in my seat. I really should have been paying better attention.

  “Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?” I get the distinct impression that this is probably the second time he’s asked.

  “I believe you just did, Mr. Chint. Thank you.” I smile and relax back into my chair, hoping I’ve been polite enough for him to leave me alone.

  He’s not sure how to take my comment, and looks at me for a few moments. Was I being smart? Disrespectful? Or am I a good kid who doesn’t say much?

  I maintain my smile.

  “You’re welcome.” He steps back behind his podium. “Open your texts to page sixty-three, and we’ll get started.”

  Landon shakes in a single laugh, holding his hand on his mouth and looking down. Guess I didn’t fool him any.

  Our eyes meet, sending waves of tingles through me. Not good. I stare at the used history book on my desk. Now all I want is to not want what I can’t have. Much easier thought than done.

  ***

  Lunch is tricky. Actually hiding doesn’t work. Someone will always find me, and then it’ll be odd that I’m on my own…and hiding. This makes disappearing difficult. Today, fate works in my favor. The honor society kids are wearing their honor society T-shirts. It’s a group I can be involved in without sticking myself in any one group. The smarty nerd kids are in there. There are a few jocks, and kids who just want something to put on their college application. That’s the category I fall into. I walk and sit down. Hoping that by sitting on the end, I’ll blend but won’t look alone.

  “Micah, right?” a guy asks. He reaches his hand over the table.

  To shake.

  Crap. I brace myself and take it.

  A man’s face is angry and yelling. He raises a fist. Fear.

  I gasp. I don’t want to know this. “Yeah, Micah.” Without years of practice ignoring what I see, I probably wouldn’t be able to speak—his fear was intense.

  “I’m Steven.” He sits back and runs his hand over dark brown, curly hair.

  I find myself looking over his face for marks or bruises or something. “I just moved from Spokane. I was in Honor Society there.” I put both hands in my lunch bag, hoping no one else will touch me. Maybe I should try the whole seclusion thing again.

  “Well, I think your membership just transfers straight. No big deal.” He opens a notebook and makes a quick note. “I’m the president here.” His eyes look up at me over his narrow glasses.

  Of course he is.

  He leans forward to see the rest of the table, “Hey, Micah’s new. Can you guys all introduce yourselves?”

  Great. I lean forward and pretend to listen as everyone tells me their name through mouthfuls of food or in the middle of conversations. I see someone stop next to me out of the corner of my eye, but since this kind of meeting doesn’t normally require handshakes, I keep my eyes on the kids introducing themselves.

  The person standing next to me speaks. “And I’m Landon, but I think we’ve already met.” He winks, looks at me with large hazel eyes, and reaches out his hand for me to take. “Good one in Mr. Chint’s class today.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  I pull in a breath to brace myself while trying to look natural. I reach out and take his hand.

  The ocean’s flying by as if I’m hovering over it. Peace. Elation. Spray from the front of the boat hits me in the face.

  I can almost smell it. The feel is incredible. I’ve never gone boating on the ocean before. I want to see it again.

  “You still here?” He laughs as he lets go of my hand and walks away.

  “Landon’s just using us for college and because of his dad.” Steven whispers this to me over his lunch.

  I watch as Landon leaps onto a bench and sits on a table, his feet resting squarely on the seat. The girl who chased him up the stairs sits with her back to me, and her eyes on him. Porn-guy he teased earlier, and a few other people I can’t see, all sit laughing. Easy to know who they are. They’re the people who float through high school without a care in the world. The ones who get drunk and pass out at parties, and the ones driving the nicest cars in the parking lot. It’s a sweeping generalization that nearly always proves itself to be true.

  I’m just the crazy girl with some kind of a brain malfunction who does all she can to not touch people.

  “Who’s Landon’s dad?” I ask since Steven said he’s in honor society because of him. I stare at my sandwich as I unwrap it to keep my hands busy and try not to care about Landon and the ocean.

  “Senator Michaels.”

  “Like, U.S. Senator?” I almost drop my lunch. Senator Michaels is known for his stance on supporting education and getting funding for state and community colleges. He’s probably one of five senators who force their kid to go to public school.

  “The very same.” Steven rolls his eyes and pulls out his lunch.

  He looks up at me three or four times as I eat my sandwich and smiles. Why can’t I disappear? I don’t want to talk with him, and I don’t make eye contact, but his gaze isn’t off me for long.

  He only thinks he might like me because he doesn’t know me yet. I will avoid him, turn away from him, and keep my distance. Because it’s my way of surviving. I don’t want to feel the fear that comes from that angry man’s face.

  He’s cute though, and nice, but any kind of normal relationship would be impossible for me. My one and only boyfriend and his new girl, are proof enough of that. I saw him move on before he did.

  I stand from the lunch table early, looking for somewhere quiet to not be noticed. Just a few more days, and I might blend. Just a few more days…

  THREE

  Mom pulls an apple from the fridge. Guess she’s dieting again, and I’ll be on my own for dinner. She goes on these apple/peanut butter diets once in a while. I keep telling her it’s not healthy, but she loses five pounds in a week and then goes back to eating normal. I’ve gotten used to it.

  All week I’ve flip-flopped between the same two visions from her. The man with kind eyes, and my blotchy, red face on our new porch.

  The whole thing’s a bit unsettling because I have no idea when this guy will show up, and I’m really trying hard to keep my distance in school so no one has the power to bring me to tears.

  “You survived your first week,” she says as she sits on the floor.

  “Yep. It’s fine. I like it better than the last school. It’s smaller, fewer kids in the classes.” Less people to bump into in the hallways…

  “Well, good.” Stacks of spelling tests and math pages to grade are set around her in stacks. We left our furniture behind. It was all old and cheap and we were sick of looking at it, but it means that we now have nothing.

  “And how’s your job going?”

  “Oh, those third graders are so cute. I love eight-year olds. They’re at such an amazing point of discovery.” She takes another bite of her apple.

  I pull out bread and peanut butter. A sandwich is better than nothing.

  “I think you should probably go see your dad. For a long weekend at least.” She always makes sure I see Dad several times a year. They don’t fight, but they’re polar opposites and not in the way that attract. They don’t even care enough to argue. They’re just different. I sometimes wonder how on earth they were together long enough to make me.

  “I’ll miss school?”

  “You’re smart. You always seem to catch up.” She puts one small stack of papers into
a folder and slides the next stack to the spot directly in front of her.

  “Fine.” I’m sort of neutral on the subject. I know I’ll go. It’s generally a little boring, but not terrible. In a way the quiet is a vacation in itself. I see nothing when I touch him, and he tends to be a bit of a loner. Since I don’t know anything about why or how I see things, I’ve given up trying to figure out why I see nothing from Dad and take it for the peaceful silence that it is.

  I sit next to her on the floor with my sandwich. “What’cha doing?” Even though it’s fairly obvious.

  “Grading.” She licks her finger and turns a page.

  “How is it?”

  Mom’s been subbing forever working toward her degree. It’s another reason I want to go to college right away. I want her to feel like her education has had an impact on me. That she did good. Even though I have no idea what I want to do with myself.

  “It’s great having my own classroom, even though it’s near the end of the year. The principal is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to be working there.”

  I feel my heart beating harder as I think about the guy from my vision. “What does he look like?”

  “Oh.” She leans back, eyes scanning the floor. “There’s a school newsletter around here somewhere.”

  “Here.” I pick up a packet with the words. ‘School News’ on the front. I know it’s him. I don’t know why. I just know he’s the man I’ve seen from her before I open it.

  PRINCIPAL VANS and a picture. I hold my breath. I’m right. Mom’s looking over my arm at his photo, and I see a look on her face that I’ve only seen a few times before. He’s Mom’s future. I’m sure of it. I need to meet him.

  One mystery down. Now I just need to figure out what on earth leaves me in tears on our porch.

  ***

  After two weeks I’m settling into school. Questions about who I am are dying down, and hopefully soon I’ll be able to fade further into the background.

  “We’ll be working in our groups today to discuss the myths and legends project.” Mr. Chint, my world history teacher, looks my direction. “Micah, you can join in with Landon’s group.”

  Landon pushes his light brown hair off his face as he turns his desk around.

  The simple gesture sends my chest into flutters that I have no idea how to get rid of. Why him? Not only is a relationship impossible for me, but even if it weren’t, he would be.

  The girl in front of me turns her desk, as well as the girl to my left. Now we’re all facing one another in an awkward circle of four.

  “I’m Lacey.” Auburn hair, smirk for Landon. Right. The girl from the stairs. I’ve never seen her from the front before. Her smile is wide, but relaxed. She exudes niceness, even from this simple gesture.

  “And I’m Brigitte, with two T’s and an e at the end.” She has long, straight dark hair, a round little face and small pouty mouth.

  “Do I need to spell your name for something?” I ask, wondering why on earth I care how her name is spelled. “It’s still pronounced Brigit, right? Not Brig-eet?”

  She gives me what I call the dumb-girl stare—looking at me like I’m an idiot when in reality she’s just said something that goes on my most-asinine-things-I’ve-ever-heard list.

  “Well, yeah, but—” she starts.

  Landon interrupts with the first snort of laughter. He looks down, probably trying to hide it, but we all see his body shaking.

  “I just don’t know why you tell everyone. That’s all.” Landon laughs openly this time.

  “You can be such a jerk.” Her face is nothing but flirtatious smile as she slugs his shoulder.

  He pushes her so far that she bumps against me.

  Landon’s face. His eyes are closed. Lips on hers. Warmth. His hands in her hair. Desire.

  The moment is erotic. Intense. It takes my breath away. The picture lasts longer than I want it to, but I also don’t want it to end. They must be a thing, or she has a very vivid imagination. Or Landon has a new girl every week. When I can see the people around me again, they’re staring.

  “What?” I narrow my eyes, daring one of them to say something. I don’t want to care if these people like me. We just have to sit through some class project.

  “You look like you just got hit by a Mack Truck.” Landon chuckles.

  “Really?” I cock a brow, trying to throw off a lot more attitude than I feel after that vision. “Because I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be anything left of my face if I got hit by a Mack Truck.” It’s probably a rude thing to say, but it comes out all the same. I’m an expert at creating space around me.

  Landon laughs. Brigitte stares at her desk in silence.

  “Landon doesn’t miss much and thinks everything is hysterical.” Lacey throws a wink his way, and smiles at me.

  “Okay.” I attempt a smile back, and am immediately frustrated with myself for liking her. Then I half expect Lacey to look at Landon the way Brigitte and half the rest of the girl population does, but it’s not that way. It’s more like brother and sister. They must be good friends.

  Lacey starts in again. “So our group project was to find a myth or a legend from somewhere in the world, and we picked some island in the Bahamas because—”

  “That was me.” Landon smirks. “There’s a lot of good stuff there.”

  “Have you already found something?” I ask.

  Brigitte starts texting on the phone resting under her desk, and Landon’s grinning from ear to ear.

  “It’s a good one.” He nods. “So, legend says that this old woman who practiced voodoo had finished a large order for a band of pirates or something.”

  “Landon made the pirate part up.” Lacey shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

  “Timeframe?” I ask, wanting them to know I’m someone who will actually help.

  “Early seventeen hundreds—think Pirates of the Caribbean.” He grins wider. “Anyway. Just before the dolls were picked up, someone burned the place down accusing her of witchcraft, and all the people whose dolls were in her shop turned into shadows.” His eyes narrow and he tries to look very serious for a moment. “Neither dead nor alive, they still roam the earth, searching—”

  “And that story’s enough for our project?” I ask as I try not to feel the chill roll through my body. It’s a totally creepy legend or whatever, but at least we’re not working on something boring like Yeti or Sasquatch.

  Lacey shrugs. “Mr. Chint seemed to think so, and that’s all I need. Landon’s happy because he practically lives and breathes the Bahamas, the spoiled brat.”

  It’s Landon’s turn to shrug. “My family’s always spent time there. Anyway. I wasn’t finished yet.” He hunches over his desk again and narrows his eyes, quieting his voice and being a bit ridiculously over-dramatic. “The old woman, as penance, found children of the people who were turned to shadows, and divided her magic among them, giving them gifts and talents that—”

  Lacey holds up her hand. “We’ve got the sheet of info, Landon. Micah’s smart. I’m sure she’ll catch on.”

  Brigitte rolls her eyes, and doesn’t even try to be discreet about it. Whatever.

  Landon’s not to be deterred, and I find myself staring at him, holding my breath, waiting for the rest of the story.

  “The shadows hide and search for their gifted descendants so they can suck them into their world and steal their magic, in hopes of returning to the living.” His hazel eyes are directly on mine, and another chill runs through my body.

  I shake it off because this is a stupid class project. Nothing more. When I look down at my desk, Landon chuckles and hands me a photocopied sheet with girlie, bubbly handwriting, titled “Bahamas Legend for Group Project.”

  “It’s a good one, huh?” he asks.

  I ignore him because his story is still crawling up my spine. “I guess tell me what to do.” I hold my pen and wait for instruction, needing a distraction.

  As Lacey describes the work left to be done—a poster
, ideas for our presentation… I watch Brigitte out of the corner of my eye. She’s looking at Landon more than anything else in the room. Landon looks everywhere with his huge grin. He can’t sit still. He’s like an ADHD kid with no meds. At least he’s happy about it. He winks the next time Brigitte catches his eye.

  “Landon,” Lacey says. “You’re such a terrible flirt.”

  “Only ‘cause you won’t take me.” He leans toward her over his desk, grinning. But even as he moves closer, I still don’t think they’re that way. It’s not that kind of smile. Or maybe I’m not as good at reading people as I thought. Or maybe I don’t want them to be that way.

  “Sit down.” Lacey shakes her head as she taps my shoulder to hand me another sheet.

  Dim light. Loud music. Scattered people in a house. Stab of fear. Everything goes black.

  The stab of fear takes my breath away, and once the second-long vision is over, I realize I’m clutching my desk. Okay this is it. I may need a sanity day, or to go into hiding. It’s just a little weird because sitting next to Lacey right now, she doesn’t seem like the type to drink herself into passing out. But this is the same vision I got from her in the hallway, so I guess she is.

  As much as I don’t want to think about it, I can feel my wheels turning. Has this happened already? Going to happen? Do I do something?

  Right.

  What on earth am I going to do with a vision I know nothing about? Nothing. There’s nothing to do because seriously, what do I say—Hey Lacey, watch how much you drink sometime in the future because you might pass out—I don’t think so.

  Besides. It could have happened a month ago.

  And I wish, once again, that someone could do something as simple as tap me on the shoulder without me getting shoved a wave of pictures and emotions.

  ***

  It takes me about twenty minutes to get to the elementary, which means that the sidewalk is full of kids and parents, but I’m determined to meet the guy Mom’s been seeing, or that I’ve been seeing from Mom. However my little oddity works.