Don't Die, Dragonfly

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “I’m not going anywhere until you explain. How did you know about my mother? Did Nona tell you? Was it all some kind of trick? Or did you really see her?”

  “You were there. Figure it out.”

  “I think I have,” he said quietly. “But I can’t figure out why you lied to your grandmother about losing your gift.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And who’d believe you anyway?”

  “No one has to believe me.” He glanced at my shelves with nightlights, brushing his callused fingertips over the spiked fin of a shark nightlight. “You’re going to tell your grandmother.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes. And you have just twenty-four hours.”

  “Or what?” I demanded sarcastically. “You’ll tell on me?”

  “If I have to,” he said with an expression as impossible to read as his falcon’s.

  “Go ahead. My grandmother will never believe you over me.”

  “You sure about that? Haven’t you wondered why Nona invited me to live here?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Part of the reason is that she knew my mother. But the other part has to do with unusual gifts and Nona asked me not to tell you. She worried you’d be upset because you weren’t psychic anymore.” He snorted. “I guess the joke’s on her.”

  I dug my fingers into my embroidered cloth. “What goes on between Nona and me isn’t your business.”

  “It became my business when she asked me to take your place.”

  “My place?” His words were a hammer slamming into my heart.

  “You’re so busy running around with your friends, dating that lightweight who only plays at magic, you don’t know what’s going on with your own grandmother. You told her you lost your gift when she needed you. So she chose a different apprentice, someone she could trust with her secrets.”

  “You?” I whispered.

  He nodded solemnly.

  “But why?”

  “That’s for her to explain. I’ve already said too much.” He reached for the doorknob. “If you haven’t told Nona by tomorrow, I will.”

  Then he strode out of the room, leaving me with my mouth hanging open.

  I glanced at my watch and felt sick inside. I couldn’t face Nona, but I’d have to—in twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes.

  Just another day at school. The halls were crowded with kids hanging out or rushing to classes, and Josh met me at my locker. I smiled as he launched into a funny story about his dog “Horse.” Josh was so easy to be around and I loved his sense of humor—something that Dominic clearly did not have.

  Thinking of Dominic knotted my stomach. Trouble was closing in fast—at school and home. At least at school, I could pretend everything was okay. No one had connected the paint handprints to me, the janitor remained in the hospital, and Danielle was still skipping school.

  By the afternoon, my fake smile was ready to crack. I was tired of talking about everything except what was really on my mind. And I was no closer to solving the crime. I mean, what did I know about investigation? Nothing. I needed help, only there was no one to turn to. Penny-Love was a great friend, but she was an even greater gossip. Josh could be trusted—but would he still trust me if he knew what I’d been hiding? And the one person who had guessed my secret was the last person I’d confide in.

  To my surprise, help came from an unexpected source.

  Since I was in no hurry to go home, I told Josh I had extra work to do for the newspaper. I went into the computer lab and found the staff sports reporter, Yvette, sorting through photographs with Manny. Yvette was a tall, sharp-faced sophomore with a keen eye for detail and an ever-present camera strapped over her shoulder. She and Manny had a difference of opinion over the front-page photo, but after a heated discussion, they compromised by using two pictures. Then Yvette grabbed her stuff and left.

  Manny shut down his computer, turned as if to leave, but stopped when he noticed me. “Sabine, what are you doing here?”

  “Uh, work.”

  “What work?” He looked at my desk. “I didn’t assign you anything new.”

  “I know, it’s not really that—it’s something else.” My head ached. “I just needed to be alone.”

  “Tough day?” His tone softened as he pulled up a chair beside me. “Pour it all out to Mystic Manny.”

  “Mystic!” My laugh was bitter. “You have no idea. If you did, you’d never let anyone call you that again.”

  “Maybe I don’t really know the future, but I’m not blind. And I can tell that you’re upset. Is there trouble in Josh-Land?”

  “No. He’s great.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  I sighed. “Me.”

  “Not possible.” The barbed wire in his braids jingled as he shook his head firmly. “I don’t believe that for a minute. You’re the hardest worker on the paper, always ready to help, and the only one who doesn’t ever complain. If I were the pope, I’d grant you sainthood.”

  “Or burn me as a witch,” I murmured.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” I jumped up. “I better go.”

  “Not this time, Sabine.” He gently eased me back in my chair. “You never explained about the dragonfly tattoo and why you freaked out last week. And don’t think I haven’t noticed other things.”

  My heart jumped. “What things?”

  “How you never talk about your family or your last school. So I did a little checking—you understand, just building skills for my future as an investigative journalist—and I uncovered some interesting information.”

  I drummed my fingernails on the desktop, not meeting his gaze. Fighting the urge to cover my hands over my ears, I forced myself to act calm.

  “Nice, quiet Sabine turns out to be—and I quote: ‘Disruptive and dangerous to other students.’ That was from the principal at your last school.”

  “You can’t believe anything he said. He was a moron.”

  “You were also accused of being delusional and ordered to see a shrink.”

  “I only went once. She was a moron, too.”

  “A group of students petitioned to have you expelled.”

  “So what?” I shrugged. “I can’t expect everyone to like me.”

  “Well, I like you.” Manny chuckled. “Even more now that I know you have a dark side.”

  “Really?” I asked in a quiet voice, not really believing him. When friends found out you were different, they were afraid, they turned away.

  But Manny wasn’t going anywhere. “You’re one twisted chick.” His grin widened. “How did you manage to turn an entire school against you? I’d love to hear that story.”

  “You couldn’t handle it.”

  “Beany, I can handle anything—and anyone.”

  I stared at him, a wild idea popping into my head. He really did have a talent for investigating. Sure, he was stuck on himself and strutted around with an ego ten times the size of the football field. But underneath it all was resourcefulness and friendship. He had the skills to help me find out who vandalized the school before suspicion fell on me. And looking for vandals would help keep my mind off my other problems.

  So I gave him exactly what he wanted.

  The truth.

  *

  Instead of looking at me like I was crazy, Manny hugged me. “You’re a miracle! I’ve been wishing for you my whole life.”

  “I hope that’s not a pick-up line, because it really sucks,” I tried to joke. But my pulse was racing.

  “That’s not what I mean.” His dark eyes shone as he stared off toward a window. “The Mystic Manny column is only the beginning. Then it’s on to fame, fortune, and a Pulitzer Prize. With your talent and my brains, anything is possible.”

  “Hold it right there.” I put out my hand. “What I told you is confidential.”

  “But you said you wanted to work together.”

  “Ye
s, only it’s a secret. No one finds out I’m—I’m different. I’ll give you real predictions for your column if you help me find out who vandalized the school.”

  “Don’t you just know?” he asked.

  “I only know what I’m allowed to know.” I read the confusion on his face and tried to explain. “I can’t tell when I’m going to get a vision and then the images are confusing. Like I saw a bloody dragonfly, and had no idea what it meant until I met Danielle and saw her tattoo. Then another vision led me to the school. I think I did what I was supposed to, but I’m never sure.”

  “Are visions the only way you get psychic messages?”

  “No. Sometimes I’m contacted by ghosts or spirits.”

  “Aren’t they the same thing?”

  I shook my head. “Ghosts are confused—usually afraid to leave Earth to go on to the other side. Spirits are already on the other side, but they can come back to visit. Some are guides, like my spirit guide, Opal.”

  “Does she watch over you like an angel?”

  “Oh, she’s watching all right—but she’s far from angelic. She has this major attitude and says I have to learn from my mistakes, yet she won’t give me any hints about my own future. I know she loves me, I just wish she weren’t so bossy and critical.”

  “Sounds like my dad.” He laughed as he pulled a chair over to sit across from me. “I’m glad I don’t have a spirit guide.”

  “Oh, you do.” I closed my eyes and concentrated. I couldn’t control my visions, but I could usually get a sense of spirit guides. “His name is William.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, I’m serious. He has a dark beard and a mole on his nose. He used to be a farmer until he took a vow of celibacy and became a monk.”

  “Celibacy? You mean, none—not ever?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Poor guy.” Manny looked up into the air. “Willy, if you’re listening, just know that I really feel for you.”

  I laughed. Manny may be shallow, but he was so honest about it, you couldn’t help but like him.

  “How do we start investigating?” I asked, clasping my hands in my lap.

  “Talk to people, search online, examine the crime scene.” He pulled out a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “Keep track of everything you learn in a notebook. Dig around for holes.”

  “Holes?”

  “Yeah,” he said seriously. “It’s not so much the facts you’re looking for, but the gaping questions that nag you.”

  “Like why did the school get vandalized after I left?”

  “Exactly. Is that a coincidence or a clue?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “So we’ll find out. I’ll check out the crime scene and talk to that neighbor who witnessed someone running away—”

  “Me.” I sighed. “She saw me.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. Anymore than you can be sure about Danielle. Sneaking into the supply room seems highly suspicious.”

  “I won’t break my promise to Danielle, but she told me why she was there. It wasn’t honest, just not a major crime. She didn’t break windows or paint graffiti. And she definitely didn’t attack the janitor.”

  “The janitor.” Manny made a notation in his notebook. “I’ll check him out, too.”

  “But he’s the victim. You can’t possibly suspect him?”

  “Not really. But he chewed me out once for spitting, and I’ve never liked him.”

  “He is a jerk. And a thief, too, if what Opal told me is true. She said his car trunk was full of stolen school supplies—probably some of the stuff they think the vandals took.”

  “I’ll look into that, too,” Manny said. “And there’s something you should do, even if you don’t want to.”

  I eyed him cautiously. “What?”

  “There isn’t much point in having a gift if you don’t unwrap it.” He wagged his pencil at me. “Use your powers.”

  I thought about my talk with Manny as I walked home.

  It was amazing how comfortable he was with psychic ability. Not freaked out or afraid I was going to read his mind. He acted like it was a thrilling game. Maybe to him, but not to me. It was hard enough to survive in this world, much less deal with other worlds, too. I’d use my “powers” for the Mystic Manny column as I promised, but that was all.

  “I don’t need your help, Opal,” I thought. “You can sit on the sidelines and watch while I use my other five senses to find the vandals.”

  The smell of spicy herbs filled the house when I stepped inside. I found Nona in the kitchen, whistling while she stir-fried vegetables and rice in a skillet. I knew she was making a large batch so she’d have plenty left over for Dominic. She never talked about it, but I’d noticed her taking food out to the barn.

  Dominic.

  He’d given me until six o’clock—or else. And the clock on the VCR showed 5:49.

  I could hope he was bluffing. But that was a slim hope. Dominic took himself too seriously for idle threats. I could almost respect him for being protective of my grandmother, if he hadn’t acted so high and mighty about it. But if anyone was going to talk to Nona, it was going to be me.

  “Need a hand?” I asked my grandmother as I entered the kitchen.

  Nona turned from the stove with a smile. “Thanks, but I have it under control.”

  “Smells yummy.”

  “It’s almost ready. Then later, I have tons of work to do for a new client who is so demanding it’s driving me crazy. He doesn’t want a wife who’s too tall or too thin or paints her toenails. He insists that she be college-educated, but not too brainy. And she has to have a June birthday. Tough nut to crack, but I think I found his match. As long as I can convince her to stop painting her toenails.”

  “Do you hear wedding bells yet?” I asked. Nona could always tell when her matchmaking efforts were on track because tinkling bells would ring in her head. If it was a soul-mate match, she’d also get a vision of white doves.

  “Not even a jingle.” She put the lid on the pot. “Maybe by tomorrow.”

  “I have lots of confidence in you. It’s amazing how you bring people together. And your clients are always so grateful, inviting you to their weddings and that one lady named her daughter after you. I really admire how hard you work and—”

  “Sabine, what are you trying so hard not to tell me?” She wiped her hands on a dishcloth, and fixed me with a deep look. “Something is troubling you.”

  “Stop reading me.”

  “Is everything okay at school?”

  “Great.”

  “And with your new beau?”

  “Even greater.”

  “So why is your aura out of alignment? I get a definite sense of conflict. What are you afraid of?”

  I crossed to the table and sank wearily in a chair. The clock on the microwave showed 5:52. “Nona, you’re right. I am afraid—of telling you something.”

  “Never be afraid to tell me something.”

  “But you’re going to hate me.”

  “Rubbish. I could never hate you. No matter what you’ve done, I’m here for you.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “What is it, honey?”

  “I lied.” I sucked in a deep breath, then blurted out the rest before I lost my nerve. “When I was little and told you I saw ghosts and had an invisible friend, you were the only one who believed me. You made me feel like it was normal to talk to my spirit guide. But everyone else freaked out—especially Mom. Then I got into trouble at school, scaring people by knowing stuff. And that boy died.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I glanced away, swallowing hard.

  “Besides that’s all in the past,” Nona added, giving my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

  “Yes, I do.” My voice trembled. “Nona, I still talk to Opal and know things before they happen. I hate myself for deceiving you, but I never lost my gift. Can you forgive me?”

&nb
sp; Her hazel eyes narrowed thoughtfully. There was a ding from the timer and she turned to check on the simmering sauce. Then she fixed her gaze back on me and said, “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “Go ahead and yell at me. I deserve it.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology.”

  “I owe you much more! You were so disappointed when I said I lost my powers and couldn’t carry on the family gift. And you brought Dominic here as some sort of an apprentice. Only you don’t need him anymore because you have me.”

  “I was afraid of this,” Nona said with a sad shake of her head. “You found out I was mentoring Dominic and you’re jealous.”

  “No! That’s not it at all.”

  “You don’t resent his being here?”

  “Well … a little.” I paused. “But that’s not the issue. In fact, Dominic was the one who insisted I tell you the truth.”

  “Honey, you don’t have to pretend for me. I love you even if you didn’t inherit my gift.”

  “But I did!” I argued. “I was lying before, not now.”

  She gently squeezed my hand. “Sabine, you’re my granddaughter and I adore you more than the universe. I’ll admit, I was disappointed when I found out you’d lost your psychic ability, but I’ve accepted it. And you have to, too.”

  “But I didn’t lose anything. I still see ghosts. I talk to Opal all the time. I get strange visions.”

  “Are you sure? Or do you only want to think you have your gift?”

  “I don’t think anything—I know. Why can’t you believe me?”

  “I want to, honey, but I’ll need more.” She put her hands on her hips and gave me a challenging look. “Prove it.”

  If Opal weren’t already dead, I would have killed her.

  She could have said something—anything at all!—to convince my grandmother that I was in contact with the other side. Instead, she slammed an “Out to Lunch” sign on our communication channel. I begged and pleaded with her, yet nothing worked.

  So I tried to summon a spirit.

  I visualized a protective white light shielding me like armor against any dark spirits. Most spirits were cool and eager to find someone who could understand them, maybe pass on a message to a loved one. But you never knew when a stinker would butt in.