Jason fidgeted with his wallet chain. “Dad didn’t give me my allowance yet. All I got’s a fiver... I’ll pay you back.”
“Hmm. So is this why you wanted me to come to the fest? ’Cause I’m the only one with funds?”
“That’s not true. It’s just that—”
“Jason, I know, and I know you’ll pay me back. You always do.” She shook her head. “But I tell you, I gotta take care of you like my own child.”
He pounded her thigh with his fist. “I’m not a child. I’m seventeen and just two months younger than you.”
“I’m teasing. And I completely understand why you’re afraid to be alone with Trish. Once she gets it in her head she wants something, she doesn’t let up.”
She pictured herself being squeezed between Trish and Jason.
“Just be easy on me. This body needs space.” She wasn’t so much worried about Trish and Jason as she was the thousands of other people and emotions that would be packed around her.
***
At the Ravenwood Oktoberfest, music came at Jackie from all directions—hip-hop from the roller coaster, rock from the Tilt-a-Whirl, pop from the Himalaya. Red, blue, and yellow bulbs blinked in rhythmic patterns; rides spun and jetted outward; and voices screamed and boomed over loudspeakers. The contrasting movements and sounds clashed in midair. She wanted to close her eyes and press her palms to her ears.
Relax, Jackie.
But she couldn’t.
As they walked down the main path of the carnival, surrounded by a drove of people, emotions swirled around her and she couldn’t distinguish one from the other. It was one huge cauldron of sensations churning inside her.
The camera strap tugged at her neck, and the camera bounced against her stomach. She wanted to hold the lens to her eye and shield herself, but she figured she’d trip.
Jason reached for her, like he wanted to put his arm around her shoulder. But then he hesitated. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded and sucked in a deep breath.
Zeta waved at her from behind a group of boys in baggy pants and hoodies. “VQ,” she called. Zeta was the only person who could call Jackie V without making Jackie cringe. Trish was with her. The two of them looked like total freaks: Zeta in black tights, pointy-toed boots, and a red-and-black striped sweater, a fuzzy scarf tied around her neck; Trish in a black tutu over her jeans, a short, black leather jacket, and multiple ponytails sticking out all over her head.
Nearing the two, Jackie stumbled and grabbed Zeta’s arm for support. Stung by raw emotion, Jackie pulled her hand away like she’d touched a hot burner. Zeta was pure electric, switching on and off sporadically and so fast that she was neither happy nor sad, but energetically sassy. Trish was usually cool to the touch, her predominant mood: melancholy. Her mind was like a snowy TV station, the images faint and ghostly.
People stared at the four of them. Though, usually, not many people ever recognized Jackie with her makeup and black hair—not many people outside of school, that is. She no longer had to worry about them tugging on her or touching her. She only had to worry about what she touched and where she stood.
Every time Trish started to walk in front of Jackie to get close to Jason, Jackie stepped up her pace and casually blocked her. When Trish bumped into her, Jackie was stung by Trish’s anger and unquenched desire.
“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel,” Zeta said. “Maybe we’ll get stuck on top.”
“Not me,” Jackie said. “I’ll probably barf. I’m just getting used to being here.”
“I’m hungry,” Jason said.
“Chow sounds good.” Trish caught Jackie off guard. She crossed in front of Jackie and squeezed next to Jason.
Jason’s eyes widened in terror. He moved behind Jackie and to the other side so that Jackie was in the middle again.
Before anyone could make another move, a woman, with red hair wrapped loosely in a cornflower blue scarf, stepped in front of them and locked her boney hands around Jackie’s.
“What the…” Jackie tried to slip her hands free, but the woman tightened her grip.
The woman was tiny, yet overpowering. Her face was narrow and fox-like. “I know who you are,” she whispered.
Jackie knew who the stranger was too, and she couldn’t pull away. It was like a magnetic force had bound their hands together.
The woman’s beady eyes looked straight into Jackie’s. “Interesting.”
What was weird was, Jackie couldn’t read her, but she knew the woman was reading her.
Zeta shoved the woman’s shoulder. “Leave her alone, you psycho.”
The woman’s eyes darted toward Zeta, allowing Jackie to yank her hands free.
Jason and Trish gathered on each side of Zeta. The three of them glared at the intruder like guard dogs.
The woman smiled, as if satisfied that she had gotten what she wanted. She walked away and sat down at a table in front of a tent with a sign that read, “Psychic Reading $20.”
“Just great,” Trish said. “That’s Madam Sophie. We’re all cursed now.”
“What do you think is brewing in her psycho brain?” Zeta asked.
“Maybe she just wanted to read your fortune,” Jason said calmly.
“Against Jackie’s will?” Trish rubbed her hands front and back against her tutu as if Madam Sophie had locked hands with her.
Dizzied, Jackie dropped down onto a picnic table bench in the food tent. “I don’t feel good. I need a sugar fix.” The thick smell of fried onions and grease gave her something solid to breathe in.
“Jackie?” Jason asked.
She handed him her satchel. “Just take it.”
A sheepish look covered his face. “I’ll pay you back.”
“I know, Jas.”
“I have money,” Trish said.
“I’m good.” Jason set Jackie’s satchel on the picnic table and dug into it.
Trish pursed her lips and turned abruptly. As she marched to the food stands with Zeta, her multiple ponytails wiggled like the snakes of Medusa.
Zeta brought Jackie a sugary elephant ear with a half-inch topping of powdered sugar, just how Jackie liked it.
“Maybe she was testing the competition.” Zeta sat across from Jackie, a green basket containing a fat gyro and a wad of napkins in front of her. “Who?” Jackie asked.
“Madam Sophie.”
“I’m not psychic, well, not like her.”
“Yes, you are,” Jason said. “You predicted—”
“Trust me,” she said, intentionally cutting him off. “I’m just really sensitive to everyone’s emotions. All I do is piece together the impressions I pick up... kind of like working a jigsaw puzzle. The images tell me things about a person’s past and about the present.”
“Uh, because you’re psychic?” Zeta bit into her gyro. Cucumber sauce rolled down the side of her mouth. She grabbed the wad of napkins and dabbed her face.
Trish’s lips turned upward into a devilish smile. “Will and Sandra are here,” she sang.
Zeta reached across the table for Jackie’s hand, but Jackie recoiled. “You going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, but already, her insides were burning. Not that she still had feelings for Will, it was just that he and Sandra were the perfect pair in their varsity jackets—Will, the class president, and Sandra, the head cheerleader. Gag!
Sandra had one tiny taco in a paper wrap. Will had a plate full of chicken and vegetables. Jackie feared her black lips were powdered white from devouring the elephant ear. She self-consciously patted her mouth with a napkin.
“Well, if it isn’t VQ and her circus crew.” Sandra slapped her thigh. “O-M-G, that rhymes.”
Will tugged Sandra’s arm. “Come on.”
Somehow, Jackie always freaked Will out. She thought it was because he was afraid she was going to throw a curse on him for dumping her.
“VQ, I’m surprised you’re not working your own booth,” Sandra said. “Give Madam Sophie a little
competition.”
“Maybe you should set up a booth yourself,” Zeta said. “I hear you’re a pro.”
Will angrily looked at Sandra, as if she’d been keeping her promiscuity a secret from him.
“A-building, boys’ room, second stall,” Zeta said.
Sandra appeared all huffy and glowered at Jackie like she was the one reading all her dirty secrets. “Weirdo,” she called her. “Come on, Will, we don’t need to watch this freak show.”
As they walked away, Will questioned Sandra.
“It’s written in black marker,” Zeta yelled. “You’ll never get it off—but then, maybe you will.”
Jackie leaned forward and eyed Zeta. “Did you make that up?”
“Make what up?”
“You know.”
“Hell, no. Last basketball game I sneaked under the bleachers to smoke a cigarette, and I caught her with Sean Perry. Then, I added a little advertisement in the boys’ bathroom in A-building—no charge, of course.”
“No shit,” Jason whispered. He looked really interested.
“Looking to take a number?” Jackie teased.
Jason blushed.
Trish glared at Jackie and then switched to sulk mode.
After they ate, they dumped their garbage in a blue barrel and walked the grounds. Together, they were one. A freak show maybe, but this show drove everyone away from them—well almost everyone.
Carnival lights swirled around Jackie, dizzying her as emotions rose through her feet. She stopped and pressed her eye to the camera lens. The lens washed the emotions away, stilled and silenced the mayhem. She could see everything like a normal person. Maybe if she had camera lens contacts she could be normal.
She shot pictures of the Viking boat, the merry-go-round, and even Madam Sophie. She was still shaken over their encounter. She was certain Madam Sophie hated her. She couldn’t blame her, though, not after what had happened. And she wouldn’t be surprised if Madam Sophie knew the truth.
For Jason’s sake, Jackie went on the Ferris wheel, the Himalaya, and the Tilt-a-Whirl, absorbing the emotions from the people who previously sat in the rides, which made her sicker than the spinning and twirling. She was physically and emotionally sapped and wanted to wrap her arm around Jason and lean on him, but she couldn’t. She was all alone with this disease.
As they walked down the main path of the carnival, heading to the parking lot, the lights dimmed and the rides slowed. Motors hummed and drained of power. The four of them stopped walking, and everyone around them stopped in the middle of what they were doing.
The carnival fell silent.
After a few seconds, the power resurged. Transformers buzzed, the lights illuminated and blinked in rhythmic patterns, and music boomed. Carnies restarted rides, and people went about what they had been doing—the carnival once again filled with sound and movement.
“Would you look at that?” Zeta pointed to the sky.
But it was the ground and the minute vibrations surging through the soles of her boots and up her legs that Jackie was focused on. Her shins ached and tickled—the same feeling as hitting a funny bone—and they were too weak to support her. She dropped to the damp ground, onto the mud-dried hay.
“Jackie, you okay?” Zeta knelt beside her.
Jackie rubbed her shins. “Did you feel that?” The nerve endings throughout her body tingled, and blue washed over her eyes and faded to black.
Chapter 2
When Jackie opened her eyes, white, ghastly faces with blackened eyes and lips stared down at her. Had she died and gone to hell?
“Guess the carnival was a bad idea,” Trish said sarcastically.
“Holy blazing balls of fire,” Zeta said. “Don’t tell me solar storms set you off too.”
“What?” Jackie said.
Zeta pointed up. “Look.”
Swirls of red and green spread across the night sky. “Was there an explosion?”
“Kind of, but it happened several days ago. All these energized particle thingies from the sun just reached the Earth now. It’s all Miss Gut Tree’s been yapping about for the past month. I had to write a freaking report.”
Jackie had Ms. Guthrie last year. She was always working current scientific events into her lesson plans. Not having Ms. Guthrie this semester, she missed this one coming. “I don’t think I can get up. I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning.”
“Magnetism,” Zeta said. “That’s why the lights dimmed. Screws up homing pigeons big time too.” She bent over and reached out her hand.
“No, I can do it.” The last thing Jackie needed was to get zapped again. She carefully rose up. She stayed bent over, her hands on her thighs, until she felt stable enough to stand up straight.
Zeta picked up Jackie’s satchel and dusted it off.
“My camera!” She felt for it. It still hung around her neck. There was a little dirt around the bottom edge and the lens where it had hit the ground. She rubbed the dirt off with her thumb.
Zeta handed Jason the keys to Jackie’s car. “Here, you drive Jackie home. Trish and I will follow.”
Trish reached for the keys. “No.”
Jason locked his fingers around them before Trish could. “I’ll do it.”
“Relax,” Zeta said to Trish. “He’s just driving her home.”
Trish’s face was red, her emotions scalding.
Zeta tugged Trish’s arm. “You’re making Jackie sick. Let’s go.” She led Trish to her car.
Trish turned and glared at Jackie.
***
In front of Jackie’s house, Jason parked the car along the curb behind Mom’s Jetta and cut the clunky engine. The silence was a relief to Jackie. The weight of the passenger door as she pushed it open made her feel like some creature pushing open the lid of a vault in one of those black-and-white horror flicks Mom watched.
She swung her legs around, mummy style with knees together. Her feet touched the curb. Her shins still tickled. She didn’t know if she could stand up without her legs giving out, let alone climb the cement lawn-steps and the eight steps to the front porch.
Jason leaned over. His angled bangs swept across his face. “I could have opened the door,” he said meekly.
“Sorry.”
He awkwardly reached out, his fingers a hair away from touching her arm.
She broke a sweat. Her shoulders tensed.
“You’re going to have to let me help you,” he said.
“This means we have to touch?” She sighed. “All right.”
Jason anchored his arm under hers. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder. He tugged her to her feet. The scent of cold leather from his jacket filled her nose.
“We’ll take one step at a time,” he said.
“Okay, then.” She knew this was more to his benefit than hers. Getting up these stairs was going to take all night following Jason’s method of stair climbing.
They climbed one step—stopped—took another step—stopped.
Jason’s emotions passed from his body to hers like mutual induction. Pain cut through her. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. “You okay, Jas?”
“Yeah.” His fingers loosened from around her shoulder.
Crossing the sidewalk, they moved at a faster pace. But then they started their excruciating climb up the front porch steps.
Zeta blasted the horn. Or maybe it was Trish.
“Ignore her,” Jackie said, but she was really hoping he’d speed things up.
By the time they made it to the front porch, she was trembling like a scolded puppy.
She slipped from Jason’s embrace and leaned against the house near the door. “That one,” she said, pointing to the gold key with the square-cut loop. She inhaled the brisk night air of fall leaves and smoke-filled fireplaces. The pleasure she found in this diluted the throbbing in her chest.
Inside, the house was silent, the front room lit by a night-light that was plugged into the outlet by the stairs. As Jason helped her up the st
airs to the bedrooms, she used the handrail for support so she didn’t have to throw her full weight onto him. The hallway was dark, but she left it that way so she wouldn’t wake Mom. She didn’t want her mother to make a big deal about this; although, it was probably too late. Her clunky car and the horn blowing were enough to wake the dead.
Inside her room, Jackie flipped on the light and then quietly closed the door. Jason walked her to the bed. Her legs felt as sturdy as cooked noodles.
She dropped onto the mattress and sat at the edge with her hands on her knees and fingers spread.
Jason squatted in front of her and raked his fingers through his angled bangs, pushing them out of his face. His big, fawn eyes gazed at her. His skin was smooth, young, and innocent, like he was fifteen instead of seventeen.
She lowered her eyes and studied the wide zipper on his jacket.
“You want me to take anything off?” he asked. “I mean, like your shoes,” he said, nervously.
She laughed. “I’m good.”
His cheeks flushed.
Nice going, Jackie. “Hey, tell Trish and Zeta I’m sorry for all the excitement,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
He stood up and burrowed his hands in his jacket pockets. He looked downward at the floor. “Sorry I made you come.”
“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to go. I know the way Trish is. You deserve better than that.”
He looked at her and cracked a hopeful smile. “Thanks.”
She smiled awkwardly back. “You’re going to have to ride home with her.”
“I know.” He looked downward again. “Could I, maybe, stay here, with you?” he mumbled.
“What? Uh, no, not a good idea.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Sorry. It’s just that you said... I mean, I thought...”
“I didn’t mean that we should be... you know... if that’s what you meant.”
He turned abruptly and headed for the door.
Possessed (Pagan Light Book 1) Page 2
