by Reece Evhans
"Now you don't want it, huh, slut?" He pulled back and slapped her. "Shut the hell up and take what's coming to you. You trap me by getting pregnant and now you won't put out?" He roughly turned her around, shoved her face down on the table, and reached under her short skirt to pull down her underwear.
Oh, God, I couldn't believe what I was seeing! This man was actually raping Veronica! He undid his belt, stepped close to her, and began. She cried out in pain and sobbed all the way through the violent act. He called her names that I never imagined a man calling a woman. When he was finished, he stepped away from her, fastened his pants back, and then grabbed her roughly into his arms, soothing her, smoothing her hair and kissing her face.
"Baby, I'm sorry. You know I love you. You just make me so mad sometimes. Why do you make me punish you?" Veronica just continued to sob.
I felt sickened to my very soul by what I had just seen. He claimed to love her? That violent act had nothing to with love!
As the vision faded, all I could hear was the buzzing in my ears and the classroom floor rushed up to meet me as I passed out. I came to very quickly, but Mr. Chiszowski was completely freaked out and insisted that I go immediately to the nurse. Surprisingly, Veronica volunteered to escort me, which was actually a good thing since I was clammy and shaky, and had a difficult time walking unassisted.
In just a few minutes I was resting on the cot in the nurse's office with a cold compress, trying to calm down after the horrifying vision I had seen. The nurse was trying to talk to me but Veronica kept interrupting with such thinly veiled questions about prenatal care that I'm sure the nurse was not fooled for a minute. I knew Veronica was dumb, but really? And I'm the one who passed out; could we focus on me for just one tiny minute? And yes, I did feel bad for thinking those things about her right after seeing a vision of her getting raped.
At that moment, Jack burst through the door. "Ally, what the hell happened? They said you passed out!" He knelt down beside the cot and took my hand, brushing my hair out of my face with his other hand. Just looking into his concerned eyes had a more calming effect than the compress. "You ok?" he asked quietly. I looked past him and could see that the same strange man who had been outside of the physics classroom was standing in the doorway.
Before I could say a word, the nurse came to my bedside and said quietly, "She's fine. Are you the father?" she whispered. Ok, so maybe the nurse wasn't as sharp as I'd given her credit for. She apparently thought Veronica had been asking about prenatal care on my behalf.
"The what?" Jack practically shouted. I noticed that the man suddenly looked very interested.
"She's not pregnant!" Jack, Veronica, and I all said at nearly the same time, only I said I'm and Jack said, "she's not pregnant!" while Veronica said, "she's not pregnant!"
The nurse looked dubious, but at that same moment Grams walked in the door looking every inch the consummate professional in her business suit and heels, saying sternly, yet calmly, "She's not pregnant. Now, may I have a moment of privacy with my granddaughter?" I admired the way she took control of the situation, shooing the nurse, Veronica, and the man out of the room. "Jack, I'd like you to stay, please."
"Grams!" I cried. She came towards the bed and I stood up and threw my arms around her. She soothed my hair back from my face and told me to start at the beginning. I told both of them about the horror of the vision, how I'd seen the whole vile act, but never the face of Veronica's attacker.
"Son of a bitch!" murmured Jack as he paced the room, his hands running through his hair in agitation. "You shouldn't have to see that kind of stuff! What kind of a 'gift' makes you watch sick stuff like that?"
"Jack," Grams put her hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture. "I know this seems very disturbing, but imagine how it must be for that poor girl," she motioned toward the door, which Veronica was just beyond. "Ally is much stronger than you give her credit for. She's going to have to be, since it appears that she has been given an extremely powerful gift. I've never heard of anything like it."
"Grams, I'm scared. I don't know what to do."
"I know, sweetie," she came over to sit beside me on the cot. "We'll figure this out. I have a few ideas. Now," she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. "If you, Jack, would be so kind as to help Ally get her things together, I would like to take her home for the day. Meanwhile, I will just step outside and have a little chat with your probation officer and assure him that not only are you not about to become a father by a 16 year-old girl, but that you have actually become a rather upstanding young man." She winked at him and left us alone.
I swung my legs over the edge of the cot and stood up, rather wobbly at first. I hate passing out. The last time it happened was when I was 13 and had cut my finger all the way to the bone while I was trying to peel an orange, and when I saw some gross white stuff that looked like a little worm coming out of the cut, I crumpled to the floor. Lucky I didn't land on the knife and gut myself. This time, Jack was right there, holding me up (no, I wasn't faking just to get him to touch me! As if.)
"Hey, take it slow. Did they give you any juice or anything?" His arm around my back, supporting me, was insanely warm and hard.
"No, the nurse hadn't got around to it yet. Veronica was talking her ear off, so she didn't get a chance."
He said another bad word under his breath, sat me back down, and began rooting around in the mini-fridge on the counter. He found a small bottle of orange juice, shook it, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to me with an imperious look. "Drink."
"Yes, sir," I muttered and took a sip. "So, that was your probation officer?"
He sat down next to me on the cot with a sigh. "Yeah. He shows up for these fun-filled, unannounced visits occasionally."
"What for? I mean, just to check up on you?" I continued sipping the orange juice, which was helping. I was beginning to feel more normal.
"Yeah, he wants to see if I'm actually at school for one thing. Then he escorts me to the bathroom and watches me pee in a cup so he can do a drug test. Then he searches my backpack for any contraband or weapons or whatever and looks through any recent discipline reports. Really makes my day."
I reached over and took his hand. I love holding his hand. I love touching him in any way. "Hey," I just gave him a little smile.
He squeezed my hand and asked, "How did your grandmother know who he was? Is it that obvious? And how did she get here so quickly? When did you call her?"
"I didn't call her. And no, it's not obvious who he is, at least not to me. That's just Gram's gift. Remember the tea party?"
He chuckled. "Oh, yeah. How could I forget?" He became serious for a moment. "Ally, are you going to be ok, you know, after what you saw? That's some pretty heavy stuff to deal with."
I nodded, but I couldn't look him in the eyes. The scene ran through my head again and I felt my chin tremble and tears behind my eyes.
"Hey, it's gonna be alright. Shh," he pulled me into his arms. "You know, what you saw? That's not what it's supposed to be like. Don't let it mess you up, ok?"
I didn't let myself dissolve; I hung on and just breathed in the scent of aftershave and soap and felt myself calming down.
He gently disengaged and stood up, shouldering my bag yet again. "Come on, I'll walk you out to your car.
CHAPTER SIX
"The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is."
-Winston Churchill
On Saturday morning Grams took me out to breakfast to The Range Cafe. Over Huevos Rancheros for me and fruit and oatmeal for her, she told me that she had set up an appointment with a friend of hers for later in the morning.
"Cassandra McTeague is an old friend of mine who, I think, just might be able to give us some help and advice, " Grams said over a final cup of tea.
"What does she do? Why would she be able to give us advice?" I wondered as I sopped up the last of the red chile sauce with a tortilla. Huevos Rancheros is a real farm-hand kind of breakfa
st, one that my slender grandmother would never consider indulging in, but, hey, I might as well enjoy my teenage metabolism while I can.
"Cassandra is a very powerful Seer, and although I had my doubts about it when she started, she has set up shop as a sort of fortune-teller. I can’t really approve, but she seems to make it work."
I pictured a toothless old woman, swathed in scarves, waving her hands over a crystal ball. Or maybe she was a gypsy, reading people's fortunes in tarot. Maybe we would have to cross her palms with silver. Which is why I was surprised when my grandmother pulled into a parking spot in front of a newly renovated, ultra modern office building in downtown Albuquerque. I had fully expected us to head to one of the skeezier areas of town, like along Central Ave. I gave Grams a surprised look; she just shrugged and got out of the car. I followed her inside to an office suite labeled McTeague and Associates Lifestyle and Wellness Coaching in burnished silver lettering. I could swear Grams hmmphed as we entered. A gorgeous, blonde young man greeted us as we approached the reception desk.
"Good morning, how can I help you?" He had one of those phone headsets on and looked very official. He was wasting his talents here; he should clearly be a model. Grams informed him that we had an appointment with Ms. McTeague. "Please have a seat. It will be just a few minutes."
We sat on one of the plush grey couches that furnished the waiting room. "Grams," I whispered, "why did you bring me here if you don't like this lady?"
"Not like her? Who says I don't like her? I like Cassandra very much! She's one of my oldest friends."
"But," I sputtered, "you said she was a fortune-teller and you didn't approve."
"That doesn't mean I don't like her, dear. We don't always approve of everything our friends do, but Cassandra is very gifted." At that moment, the beautiful receptionist (I'm sorry--guys can be beautiful, and this was one beautiful hunk of man) called us to follow him back for our appointment. He ushered us into a large, well-appointed office.
"Adele, how are you dear?" an attractive black woman in her maybe mid-to-late forties rose from behind a desk and gave my grandmother a hug, kissing both her cheeks. "You look wonderful! And this must be Alethiea." Her voice was pitched low and smooth.
"Cassie, it's been far too long," said Grams. "The new office space is lovely, much better than that musty old space in Nob Hill."
"Yes, well this recession has actually been good for my business. So many people are desperate to reinvent themselves. Now, both of you have a seat and let's see what we have."
She sat beside me on one of the couches while Grams sat in an armchair. I waited for the questions to begin and was therefore surprised, yet again, when Cassandra took my hand and began rubbing it between hers, closing her eyes in apparent concentration.
"Umm," I began.
"Shh," Cassandra soothed.
I raised my eyebrows at Grams who just shook her head slightly. Cassandra continued rubbing my hand for several more minutes while Grams and I sat quietly, waiting.
At last she sighed, set my hand in my lap with a pat, and sat back on the couch, saying, "Wow."
"Cassie?" Grams sounded worried.
"Adele, your granddaughter has a great amount of power coursing through her mind right now. I can literally feel the power humming through her veins."
I did not like the sound of that at all. "Ms. McTeague, you can tell that just by touching my hand?"
"Please, Ally, call me Cassie. Yes, my gift comes through touching another person. I can tell a lot just by touching you. If you will concentrate now on one of the visions that your grandmother told me about, I will be able to see it through you."
"Are you kidding me? That's incredible! And scary."
Both Grams and Cassie laughed.
"I'm serious. This stuff is freaking me out," I cried.
Cassie took my hand again, soothing it between her warm palms. "Ally, it's alright. I know this is disturbing, especially what Adele has described to me. I can help you make sense of it all. Just close your eyes and concentrate on your first vision."
I closed my eyes and let my mind wander back to the first vision I'd had of Veronica in English class. I saw her leaning against her bathroom cabinet, then looking at the pregnancy test and dissolving into tears. I felt her sink down to the bathmat.
I opened my eyes when Cassie put my hand back in my lap with a soft pat.
"These visions are so unusually strong," Cassie said, surprised. "I thought you must be exaggerating, Adele. I've never heard of a Seer having such clear visions. And she hears what is being said. That is exceptionally rare."
"So, she is a Seer?"
"That is not yet known. It certainly appears that she is headed down that path, but she is young; much can happen before her 18th birthday." Now she sounded like a fortuneteller. "Her prophetic gift is quite astounding."
"But these visions aren't of the future. These things have already happened," I interjected.
"Yes, that's true. But I'm using the word 'prophetic' in a general sense, for an uncovering of the truth. How do you know the visions have already happened?" Cassie asked me.
"I don't know how; I just know. Cassie, I don't know what to do with these visions. Grams says they are always meant to help people, but I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help Veronica." I could feel tears welling up, but I willed them back; I had cried more in the past few days than in the past few years.
"I don't have all the answers, Ally. I do know that your grandmother is correct; a true Seer is always called in a time of great need. You just need to listen and be open to what these visions are trying to tell you. The path will be revealed." More fortuneteller speak.
"But I passed out yesterday when I had a vision. That's going to be very inconvenient on an ongoing basis."
"Now, there I can help you. I can teach you some 'tricks of the trade' that could help you learn to cope with these visions and eventually control them. If you continue on the path of a Seer, you may well begin to experience other types of powers."
Grams looked at her sharply when she said this. "Cassie?"
"Adele, I think she should be prepared, " Cassie said quietly. Grams continued to look at her for a moment, then nodded slightly.
"Now," said Cassie, "let's set a time for me to see Ally privately, perhaps later this week, to begin her lessons." She scribbled something on a pad. "Give this to my receptionist. He'll get you scheduled. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paying clients to attend to."
As we drove home, Grams seemed unusually quiet and lost in thought. "Grams," I ventured, "what was all that about 'the path of the Seer'? I gotta be honest, it sounds pretty crazy."
"I know, honey," she sighed. "Most people would think we are crazy. That's why true Seers tend to keep it to themselves. The ones who advertise themselves as psychics and the like rarely have any true power."
"So is that why you disapprove of what Cassie's doing? The life-coaching gig?"
"Oh, I don't know," she shook her head. "It just seems a bit dubious to me. I love her dearly, but I can't approve of making money with a gift of this sort."
"Well, you called her a fortune teller, Grams. I was picturing something you'd find at a carnival, not that sleek set-up she has. That was totally impressive."
"Yes, well, I admit that she seems to have done well for herself. And I'm sure she doesn't pull out a crystal ball for her clients. At least I hope not," she finished with a mutter. "But I digress. You asked about the 'path of the Seer'."
"Yeah. Cassie said 'if' I follow the path. Is there a choice?"
"Of course. There's always a choice, Ally. Always remember that."
"So how do I follow the path? What happens if I decide not to follow it? And how do I know what the right choice is?"
"Whoa, slow down. Cassie will be able to help you figure all these things out, which is why your mother and I decided it was time for you to see her. This has gone beyond either of us."
"Grams, I'm scared by all of
this. I didn't ask for it. I don't think I can help Veronica."
She reached over and patted my hand. "It will all turn out to be alright, you'll see. Now, why don't we talk about something different? Why don't you tell me how things are progressing with that young man of yours?"
"He's not 'my young man'," I protested. "I don't even know what that means. We're friends. I think. I mean, I've only really known him for a couple weeks. I hope we're friends."
"Of course, you're friends. Anyone can see that. A more discerning person, like myself, can see that there's more to it than mere friendship though, don't you think?"
"I don't know, Grams," I dropped my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. "Of course I hope there's more to it, but I don't think he agrees."
"You don't see what the rest of us see," Grams said.
"I wish that were true. But, Grams, he has issues. He thinks he's too old for me because he's 18. And he's on probation."
"Yes, well he's managed to turn himself around. Just be patient with him, Ally. Give him some time. He has a good heart. I can tell." She gave me a secretive smirk, which for some reason both of us found hilarious.
****
The next week at school was fairly uneventful as far as Veronica was concerned. We did nothing more than exchange the barest of greetings. At this rate we would be graduated before I was able to figure anything out. Equally concerning, at least to me, was my relationship, or lack thereof, with Jack. Was it just my imagination, or did he seem to be cooling off toward me? Last week we had been laughing, spending time texting, and talking at lunch. This week he seemed more distant. We still worked together in physics, but he seemed to sit farther away from me. In English he didn't lean forward near as often to crack a joke. And worst of all, he didn't text me in the evenings. There were no offers of a ride home in his newly painted Mustang. What had I done? Did he decide that I was just too freaky? Had he found someone he liked better? Someone maybe closer to his own age, like some skanky senior girl? The possibility of a nice senior girl was, of course, impossible.