My Name Is Karma

by N. A. Cash

  “But that’s ridiculous, right?” he asked. “Young people nowadays and their imaginations.”

  I smiled. “Yes. Yes, they do imagine a lot of things.” At that time, I was imagining Bes being committed into a mental institution. I imagined Bes being dragged out of her home in the middle of the night because of wild speculations, not being able to tell reality from fantasy. I imagined Bes being locked up in an eight by ten padded cell, wrapped cozily in a white straight jacket. I imagined Bes no longer being able to give her opinion on the Board anymore.

  Dr. Brown smiled, shaking his head. He pushed the folder closer to me and said “Sign, please.” I picked up the pen, glanced at him with a smile, then read and signed the papers. After I was done, we stood up, shook hands, and I walked out of the building. I noticed while outdoors that goosebumps from my excitement covered my arms. I gave my arms a quick rub and smiled.

  I started work the next week teaching geology classes to freshmen. So I wouldn’t intimidate the students with my eyes, I went to a store and bought some dark-brown contact lenses, which camouflaged my eye colors perfectly.

  On my first day, I walked into my new room one hour earlier than usual. I felt a sense of pride, and bursts of happiness pulsated through me. I did it! I let out a squeal of delight as I jumped in elation.

  As that hour quickly evaporated, I reviewed my notes once more. At ten minutes to the hour, the first few students straggled in. Considering it was an 8:00 a.m. class, I wasn’t surprised they all appeared dreary eyed and fatigued.

  “Good morning!” I almost sang with delight as a thin guy with oversized clothes and glasses dragged past my desk. He grunted as he lumbered over to a seat in the third row, dropped his head on the desk, and snored. Two other students followed closely behind—a young female, who also wore glasses and appeared to be on the timid side, and a tall guy who looked as if he had just finished his morning workout with a football team. I repeated my greeting. The timid female looked up and raised a frail arm in a flopping motion as a greeting. The jock stopped for a moment, tilted his head to stare at me and was about to reply when several of his cronies rambunctiously entered the class and playfully shoved him and dragged him over to their seats.

  During the next few minutes, the class slowly filled up with a variety of students with various energy levels ranging from zombie like to over caffeinated. As the clock struck 8:00 exactly, I took my position in the front of the class and cleared my throat as a signal to begin. It took a couple of seconds for the more active persons to realize I stood waiting. They quieted down when they did.

  “Good morning, class. My name is Miss Patel. I’m your new Geology professor.” I paused to study the room. I saw dozens of eyes staring back at me. Three particular set of eyes caught my attention, however. I didn’t see them come in. I didn’t know how they could have passed without me noticing. One of the pairs of eyes stared back at me from behind reflective shades. The other two beady sets of eyes glared in my direction. The one with the shades had the same attire on as the other day, along with that same smirk. I stared back at them, fury slowly bubbling beneath the surface, but I decided to stay cool.

  I pointed at the one with the glasses. “Mr.…” I waited for him to acknowledge I spoke and to fill in the blank for his last name. His smirk widened into a smile as he spoke.

  “Vang. The name is Owen Vang.”

  “Mr. Vang,” I spoke smoothly, “We are inside. Can you please remove your glasses?”

  He paused for a moment as if deliberating my request. He reached up and slowly took his shades off. When he did, I noticed his piercing eyes were pitch black, blacker than I’d ever seen. It took me a moment to realize the uneasy feeling building up in my chest. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong. My inner voice began to playfully chant, like a taunting child. I turned and walked towards the white board, mumbling, “Thank you.”

  For the remainder of the lesson, I tried my hardest not to look at Vang and his midnight eyes. I tried to ignore the presence of him and his crew at the back of the room as I launched into my introductory lesson.

  The two hours of class flew by as I engaged the rest of the students in discussions and questions. For the most part, I enjoyed the lesson. Occasionally, the knot in my stomach would return as I glanced at the back of the room, but it would dissipate as students engaged me in questions about our topic.

  The class finally ended, and I handed out their first homework assignment. I stood behind the desk as the students filed out in small pockets. The tiny girl with the big glasses paused by my desk to ask a question about the homework. In my peripheral vision, I saw Vang and his two friends linger behind, taking their time and meandering slowly out of the room. I kept my peripheral view on them as I spoke with the tiny girl, who told me her name was Nancy. Eventually, Jumpy pulled on Vang’s arm, urging him to leave. The threesome strolled past me. Vang, who had put his shades back on, glared as he passed by. I glanced up briefly and saw him mouth the word “Freak” as he passed. They disappeared down the hallway.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Over the next few weeks, Vang and his crew didn’t show up to class. I must admit; I was incredibly relieved to not see them. The semester was progressing quite nicely. The grades from my students reflected that they understood the work I gave them. They also seemed to be taking to me personally.

  I began to feel like a normal human being—no special gifts, no powers, no incidences. During one of these so-called “regular days”, I completed a review session with my class, preparing them for the rapidly approaching midterm. I felt pleasantly tired, feeling like I was accomplishing something outside of my comfort zone.

  I slumped into my chair when the students left, exhaling a huge sigh of relief, my legs aching from walking so much during the class. Turning to glance out of the window, I basked in the sunshine pouring in gentle lines through the window. A pang of jealousy hit me. I should’ve been outside instead of cooped up in the classroom. A rumble of hunger from my stomach reminded me that it was lunchtime, so I got up and decided to enjoy my meal outdoors. The sun felt soothing on my skin. It invited me to bask in its glory, which was a pleasant welcome to the frigidity of the air-conditioned classroom.

  A partially occupied bench on the expanse of lawn stood out in the quad; a girl who looked to be about twenty years old was sitting there. I approached, noticing the fashionable, yet casual clothes she wore on a slightly plump body. She had a delicate nose and heart-shaped face, framed by a tumble of unruly strawberry curls. She seemed engrossed in the pages of a thick textbook. She sat pressed against the armrest of one of the benches, her short legs and petite feet dangling slightly over the worn concrete. Since she appeared gripped by the text and a lot of space remained, I settled in on the opposite end of the bench, pulled my lunch bag, and rummaged around for the first thing to calm my growling stomach.

  “Hi.”

  The voice was so small that I almost mistook it for a wind whispering through the tree limbs over my head. I looked up and around to see where the tiny sound came from. My eyes finally settled on the figure beside me. She had closed her book and had her hands folded on her lap. Her face turned towards me. Her generous lips were parted in a slight smile, her blue eyes staring at me.

  “Hello,” I said tentatively.

  She reached out a plump hand for a handshake. Since I had already started eating, my right hand plunged into a bag of chips, I extended my left hand to her. Her skin felt baby soft and warm beneath my touch.

  “I’m Cicely. Cicely Grove. I want to take your class next semester, because I heard you’re a great professor. Not that I’m a geology major, oh no. Because I’m fascinated by what you do.” She finished her rapid-fire introduction and took a deep breath.

  I smiled broadly at her, slowly pulling my hand out of hers. “Nice to meet you, Cicely. I’m glad you heard good things about me. I’d welcome you into my class next semester.”

  Curiosity masked her face. “You’re wearing co
ntacts,” she stated as a fact after looking into my eyes. “Why?”

  I was slightly taken aback by the question. “Umm…I need them; they’re prescription.” I figured she would not know the difference between my telling the truth and fibbing a bit.

  Her face fell as she blushed slightly and looked away. “Oh.”

  “You seem disappointed.”

  Her face sharply turned towards mine and back towards her hands on her lap. “It’s just that,” she paused as if searching for the right words to say. “Well, you see, there’s a rumor going around here that you’re…special.” She turned her blue eyes towards me again.

  “Special?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “They said you can see into souls. I guessed because of the way you look at people.” She giggled slightly at the thought of what she just said. “It’s silly now that I think about it.”

  I kept my facial expression neutral, trying not to show how amused I was at the thought as well. She looked away and mumbled, “I’m special too.” She studied me for any indication that I might make fun of her.

  Surprisingly, I was open to her, hoping that she could sense that I cared. “Really? What do you mean?”

  “I can…see things.” She breathed a sigh of relief when she confessed her truth, as if those four words could and would explain everything.

  “See things?” I asked curiously.

  “Yeah, you know. See things.” She emphasized the word “see” by waving her open palms in the air as if saying hi to someone across the campus. I turned to see who she greeted, then realized it was her way of explaining the universe.

  “Oh! See things.” I tried to sound as if I understood, but I didn’t.

  She slumped just a little with relief, as though I just took a burden off her shoulder and she could now relax. She breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought you were going to think I am crazy.” She smiled brightly, sliding closer to me.

  “I heard you came from a family of witches.” She spoke it in a rushed whisper. “I heard it when I visited the office to get some copies made and the Board was having a meeting. The door was cracked open so I could hear what they were saying inside, you know. It’s not like I was eavesdropping or anything, ’cause I don’t do that. Anyway, one of the ladies insisted that you were a witch and you came from a family of witches and that’s why the school shouldn’t hire you. I thought it was so cool to finally get an interesting professor.” She smiled and scooted a little closer, as if mesmerized.

  “Really?” At my apparent infamy, I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

  “Yes,” she gasped, seemingly awestruck. She reached over and lightly touched the edge of my jacket. At the risk of seeming rude, I pulled my hand away.

  “Cicely,” I said, firmly and authoritatively.

  She appeared to snap out of whatever trance she drifted into and shook her head violently. “I’m, I’m so sorry.” She stuttered, her head hung as she scooted back over to her side of the bench.

  “It’s ok,” I said softly. “I’ve heard the rumors before. None of them are true. I’m just an average woman. Nothing special about me.” I turned and surveyed the campus. I felt a sudden pang of sadness as I remembered Mam and Aunt Vern.

  Cicely spoke after a few moments. “You’re sad, huh?”

  I turned towards her, and she sat with her back straight, staring into the distance. “You miss them. You want to know where they are and what happened to them.” She spoke in a low monotone voice, her head twitching slightly as she spoke each sentence. “You never found out. You never knew. Now you want to know. You’re close to finding out.”

  I stared hard at her and watched her slump once again on the bench. She shook her head and turned to me with a bright smile on her face. Her smile faded when she saw the shocked look on mine.

  “Ugh! I did it again, didn’t I?” She turned and spanked her hand. “Bad Cicely!”

  I recovered from shock and reached over to touch her hand where she had just spanked it. It already started to turn pink. “It’s okay. Really.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not good with controlling it yet. My mom said it’s normal to have certain ‘peculiarities’, and, eventually, I’ll learn how to use the visions properly. It just happens now. I don’t know what I say. I black out, and the words tumble out like word vomit.” She began to smack her lips and extend her tongue as if she just tasted real vomit and tried to cleanse her palate. “So, what did I say this time?”

  She didn’t pause for me to answer; she rambled on. “One time, in class, you know, I worked on a chemistry project with this guy I liked. I really, really liked him. I had a crush on him since elementary school. Yep. Before I even knew myself properly, I had a crush on this guy. His name was Authur Wells. He was so gorgeous. Anyway, we were working on our project together, and I felt so happy I got to work with him. I had been trying to work with him for all my school life!” She took a short breath, then continued. “So, finally, I get to work with him. We were mixing some liquids together, and I blacked out. Can you believe it?! I blacked out!”

  Her voice raised an octave, and she flailed her hands around to emphasize her point. “When I came to, I looked at him, and his eyebrows were singed, and smoke spilled everywhere. I noticed the table had a small burnt spot where our flask had been. I panicked, you know. Just panicked. He just sat there, staring at me. I reached over and grabbed a towel, wet it, and put it towards his face. He jerked away. By that time, the teacher already came over and pried the flask from his hand. He looked to be in shock and couldn’t move.” She sighed heavily. “I later found out from a friend who sat at a nearby table that I had apparently told him the date when his father was going to die. She spoke to him and said he was in shock because no one knew about his father’s illness. In fact, his father just told him he had cancer that morning.”

  She shook her head as if to clear the memory. In a softer voice, she said, “I never spoke to him again. I actually changed schools. The chemistry teacher said I was dangerous to have in the class…blowing up stuff, you know.” She shrugged her thick shoulders in resignation. I stared at her.

  “You know what was the worst part?” she asked.

  “No, tell me,” I said.

  “The rumors that started afterwards. I didn’t leave school because of a small chemical miscalculation, I left because people called me ‘freak’ and ‘blackout’. It was horrible.”

  She reached in her pocket and pulled out a small object that looked like a crystal stone. She held it in her open palm and showed it to me. The clear almost transparent crystal sparkled, casting a small rainbow in Cicely’s hand as the sunlight beamed through it. “My mom gave me this. She said it would tell me when I am going to have a blackout so I could be excused. It gives me just enough time for me to be alone.” She stared hard at the object. “It’s like it knows what I’m thinking sometimes.” She clamped her hand around it and shook it. “I think it’s not working. It didn’t tell me a vision was coming with you.”

  I pondered everything she said as she shook the object again and held it up to the light to see if there were cracks in it or if it was, indeed, broken. You’re close to finding out. These words played over and over in my head like a broken record. A voice inside my head rang out. Maybe she could help you find them?

  I pondered this as I watched Cicely’s movements. For the most part, she looked like a happy person. Even with her current frustration with the stone, she had an aura of joy about her. Despite her youth, a deep wisdom shrouded her. She had childhood experiences like I did; she could understand some of what I had gone through. Maybe she could help? The voice got stronger now. She’s just a kid.

  A counter thought played in my mind as I continued to stare at her. In the distance, I could hear the old school clock’s bell clanking once. Lunch time had ended.

  Cicely placed the stone back into her pocket, then stood up and grabbed her backpack and book. “Well, it was nice
to meet you, Miss Patel. I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble.” As she turned to walk away, I reached over and touched her arm.

  “Cicely,” I said tentatively, “How would you like to have lunch here again tomorrow?”

  Her blue eyes widened. “Are you serious?!” she asked excitedly. “I mean, yes! Of course!” She rushed over and gave me a brief squeeze.

  Stunned at the open display of affection, I stiffened. She quickly let go and rushed in the opposite direction shouting, “Going to be late for class! See you tomorrow!”

  I hoped I was doing the right thing.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Cicely became a regular lunch buddy. Her fun-loving company brightened my days. She was filled with tons of humorous stories and witty quips to share. She did most of the talking while I ate. She was knowledgeable about so many topics. She blamed this on reading too much when I mentioned it in passing. Her infectious smile and the way she told stories made it hard for me to not laugh out loud at some of her adventures.

  She didn’t have another one of the visions during our time of eating lunch together. I found myself bracing for the impact. I was in a constant state of hyperarousal during the first few weeks, expecting the worst prediction about my Mam and Aunt Vern. After none came, I began to relax and enjoy her company. I even opened up a bit about myself—my likes, dislikes, books I read, and songs I enjoyed. I told her I preferred smooth jazz over any other genre of music, specifically, the jazz artist George Benson. The next week, Cicely had downloaded all his albums on a portable media player for me. I thanked her by buying her a small, zippered leather pouch that she could keep her stone in. It also had a clip she could use to attach it to her clothing or her purse to prevent her from losing it.