And then of course there was the problem of transportation. I had never walked to and from school in King; my mother had driven me for the few days before Michael had swooped in to change my life, and this year he had let me use his beloved ’65 Mustang.
Obviously my parents had been thinking about it, too. The night before school resumed, my father broke into what had become typically silent meal.
“Tasmyn, your mom and I wanted to talk to you about school tomorrow.”
I swallowed whatever was in my mouth—all the food tasted the same to me now—and glanced up at him.
“I figure I’ll be walking now, right?”
“Actually,” my mother answered, fiddling with her silverware almost nervously, “You won’t need to. I got a job. And it’s right near your dad’s plant, so we can carpool. You’ll have my car to use. You can keep driving yourself to school.”
I stared at her. “A job? Since when? And doing what? You’re not going to do your illustrations anymore?”
My mom smiled. “No, I’ll keep freelancing. I’m going to be working at a greeting card company, doing some of their artwork. The opportunity came up, and your dad and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to put away some money for your college tuition.”
College. I closed my eyes for a minute, absorbing another twinge of pain. My plans for the future had been set for almost a year; I knew I would follow Michael to Perriman College. I had received my early acceptance last fall, and I hadn’t bothered to apply anywhere else. One more major item on my new to-do list.
My parents were looking at me with the now-familiar concern. “Are you going to be okay with all of this?” I heard and felt the undercurrent of guilt in my mother’s words.
I forced a smile. “Of course I am. I’m eighteen. Next year I won’t even be here. That’s really great, Mom.”
And so the next morning, I left an empty house, driving my mother’s silver sedan in place of the Mustang. I lingered at home as long as I could, hoping to avoid everyone at school. But the hallways were still crowded as I headed for my locker.
“Tas?” I heard the tentative voice before the solid wall of worry and confusion hit me. Amber was standing next to my locker.
I pushed down the memory of all the unanswered telephone calls from Christmas break and tried to smile at her.
“Hey, Amber.”
She moved as though to hug me before I heard her think better of it. I must have been giving off a pretty strong keep-away vibe. I opened my locker and began rummaging through the books.
“Are you...are you okay? I was really worried. And I missed you over vacation.”
“Yeah, well...you know how it is. It was-” A sudden lump in my throat made it impossible to continue. I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the locker frame and tried to will the tears away. This just wouldn’t do.
I felt Amber’s hand on my back. “I heard. I’m sorry, Tas—but what happened? Anne called me, she said Michael was just—it was bad. She said you told him you didn’t want to see him anymore?” There was disbelief in her voice.
I realized at that moment that Amber was really my closest friend. She knew my secret, and she had kept it. Her loyalty to me went beyond anything I understood. I could trust her, and suddenly I had an overwhelming need to share with her.
“Amber, I heard...he’s not sure. He was having second thoughts about us. But you know Michael. He would never do anything to hurt me. He’d stay with me out of—out of some misguided sense of right...” My voice trailed off into a sob and I bit down hard on my lip.
“Tas, are you sure that’s what you heard? It sure didn’t sound like he was second-guessing anything. Maybe you misunderstood?”
I shook my head. “Amber, I did what I had to do. I haven’t told anyone else about this, and I need you to keep it quiet. Please? No one. Not Anne, not Lela—no one.”
Miserably, Amber nodded. “If you’re sure. You know I can keep a secret.” A ghost of a smile played around her lips. “I think I’ve proven that by now.”
I squeezed her arm in agreement. “Of course you have. And I’m sorry to have to put this on you. But it means so much to be able to talk to someone. Thanks.” The bell rang, and I slammed my locker shut. “I’ll see you at lunch?”
Amber nodded again before she disappeared into the crowd. Following suit, I hurried to history class.
The morning was better than I had hoped. No one looked at me strangely or treated me any differently than they had a month ago. I let down my guard just a bit, and I didn’t hear anyone thinking about me, either. Obviously the word about my break-up with Michael hadn’t made the rounds yet, which meant that I could stop worrying about that and focus on looking forward to my hour with Marica.
We had abandoned our scheduled meetings last year after I had willingly agreed to become her protégé, but we had planned to meet today after vacation. I was impatient. After Calculus ended, I took the familiar path toward the chemistry classroom.
I had just turned the corner when I was struck by an odd sensation that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. A tingle ran down my spine, and I shivered.
“Hey, stranger.”
Rafe. Someone else whose unacknowledged voicemails lingered on my cell phone. I figured that Amber had told him what happened with Michael. I turned to smile at him.
“Hi, Rafe. Did you have a nice break?”
He really was devastatingly handsome. His looks were often overshadowed in my mind by his annoying thoughts, but as his bright blue eyes bore into me, I couldn’t ignore it.
He shrugged. “It was decent. Pretty boring, I guess. Not much goes on here. My grandparents had a party. But whatever. How about you?”
What’s going on with her? I thought she was stuck for life on that guy. But she looks...different...wonder if there’s a chance for me now.
I barely managed to swallow back an angry retort. “Rafe, if you have something to say, just come out with it. I’ve got to get to class.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re listening in on me, huh? I thought you were all ethical and didn’t do that to people. But okay, let’s lay it all out. What happened to you? I heard you dumped the college guy.”
“I couldn’t help hearing you. Sorry.” I drew in a deep breath. “Yes, Michael and I have decided to. . to take a break. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Rafe lounged back against the wall. “Funny, that’s not what I heard. It didn’t sound so mutual. Amber said he was like, suicidal.”
My throat closed against the tears that threatened. “What does ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ mean to you? I’ve got to go. I don’t want to be late.” I turned and moved away from him, but he easily caught up and fell into step next to me.
“You have independent study now, don’t you? I thought you were doing some kind of research project and didn’t have to meet with the witch anymore.”
I whipped my head around to look at Rafe. “What did you call her?”
“The witch. You know, it’s nicer than the other word. She’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy type.”
“You don’t know her,” I muttered. “She’s just very focused.”
“Yeah, focused. Right. Are you heading to the—focused one’s lair right now?”
I wheeled around and stopped. “I am going to meet with Ms. Lacusta right now to review my research project so far. And then I am going to lunch. I’ll see you there, but I don’t want to hear another word about Ms. Lacusta or Mi—anything that happened over vacation. Unless it happened to you.”
Without giving him the chance to reply, I rounded the corner and slipped into the chemistry classroom.
There was very little light in the room. Marica kept the overhead lights off whenever she was alone; she had told me once that they interfered with her thoughts. Instead she kept a small decorative lamp on her desk, and it threw off a soft glow all around her.
It seemed odd to remember how many times I had entered this classroo
m filled with dread. Today I only felt anticipation and a strange relief.
“Tasmyn!” Marica rose to her feet and opened her arms to me. “You don’t know how glad I am-” She stopped abruptly and stared at me. “So. It’s as I thought. Something happened over your holiday. I knew it—I could feel it, and you don’t know how close I came to calling you or trying to see you—but then I thought you would find me if you truly needed me.” She peered at me suspiciously. “Tell me. What happened?”
If anyone had said six months earlier that Marica Lacusta would be one of my closest confidantes, the one person to whom I could spill my heart, I would have been aghast. But now I fell into a seat and sobbed out the whole story, pausing only to use the tissues she silently passed to me.
When I was finished, Marica didn’t offer the platitudes or advice I might have expected. Instead she leaned across and gripped my hands.
“You have done the right thing. As I told you before, nothing happens without a good reason. Can’t you see it? You are free now, free to become who you are meant to be. No more guilty feelings or anyone standing in the way of your destiny.”
That new voice in me—the one that had carried me over the past week while my soul had suffered and grieved—hummed in agreement with Marica.
“But-but,” I stammered weakly, “it hurts.”
“Use the pain,” she answered, her voice steely. “Embrace it.” Obviously if I were looking for sympathy, I’d come to the wrong place. I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say a word, her eyes caught mine.
“Tasmyn...” Her voice had taken on a completely different quality. “Tasmyn, look at me. Let it go...”
I couldn’t look away. Marica’s dark eyes dilated, and as I stared, I felt myself being pulled into them.
The ache in that raw part of my heart surged for a moment, and I heard Marica clearly. Take it. Make it yours. Turn it to power, to strength.
My shoulders relaxed, and deep within me, I felt that familiar exultance. I visualized everything that had happened from the moment I overheard Michael’s doubts; just as Marica had taught me, I pushed it into the well of energy that was the source of my power.
On the desk, a metal pencil holder began to tremble. I was only vaguely aware of the sound as I forced myself to go deeper, to strengthen the connection between us.
Ah, Tasmyn, I’ve missed this. Fall into the power. Focus. Concentrate on the desk and together we will—
Under my hands, the desk began to vibrate. My breath quickened and I leaned forward, closing my eyes and summoning just a little more—
The pencil holder lifted off the desk and flew across the room, slamming into the wall behind Marica. I jumped, sucking in a deep breath and losing the connection.
Marica smiled at me across the now-still desk. “So close,” she observed. “Amazing really, after the time apart...but not surprising, given our connection.”
My hands were shaking as I tried to restack my notebooks. “I feel like I’ve been drained,” I said, and my voice sounded thin and reedy.
“That’s not unusual. Before long, you’ll find yourself energized by our sessions. Which brings me to our next order of business.” She glanced up at the clock and nodded. “Just enough time left. So...now that you’ve ended your association with the Sawyers, I assume you will not be keeping your job.”
The pain, which has abated during our connection, flared again. I bit my lip and nodded.
“As I thought. It seems to me that perhaps you might find a tutoring job here at school.”
I looked at Marica, confused. “Why would I do that?”
She sighed in long-suffering patience. “Because it would give you an excuse to be away from home after school. It would give us a chance to work, for you to continue to learn and grow. We can do so much more outside of school.”
I frowned. “I would be lying to my parents...even more than I already am. Don’t you think they would notice that I’m not getting paid?”
“I’ve already considered that. I’ve arranged for you to work with several ninth and tenth grade students during this class period, when you would be doing your...independent study. So you see?” She spread her hands on the desk with a small smile. “All taken care of.”
The bell rang just then and I nodded slightly before I stood up to leave. My legs still felt a little rubbery, but I managed to make it to the doorway. I paused and turned before leaving.
“When...?”
“Monday afternoon. Meet me in the parking lot.”
I nodded again. It wasn’t until I was out in the hallway that it occurred to me to wonder how Marica had made all these arrangements without knowing until today what had happened with Michael.
A nagging uneasiness hung over me for the rest of the day.
Tas, it’s me. Tomorrow I go back to school. When I thought about what this Christmas vacation would be like, I definitely didn’t expect this. I thought the hardest part would be leaving you again. Turns out...it’s actually kind of a relief. At least at school I can pretend. . well, anyway. You know where I am. I might be going away, but I’m not giving up. I love you, Tas. Call me.
Despite everything that had happened in the last months, deception was not easy for me. I didn’t like keeping anything from my parents, although it seemed that lately I was getting more and more practice at it. When I told my mom that I was going to be tutoring at school, I could tell that she was relieved.
“Oh, that’s great, honey!” she exclaimed. “I was afraid. . well, with everything with—everything changing, your dad and I were worried that you might feel isolated again. I’m glad you’re doing this.”
Her easy acceptance almost made me feel worse. I nodded and smiled and escaped to my room as soon as I could.
When the phone buzzed that night, I was more tempted to answer it than I had been since I’d ended everything with Michael. I craved his voice, his easy understanding, and the small quiet part of me that was being drowned out more and more each day spoke into my yearning.
Answer it. Talk to him. Tell him you made a mistake, that you still love him. It’s not too late. He could be here in fifteen minutes—
NO! The other, stronger voice broke in. No. I’ve come this far. I don’t need to go back. I would only hurt him again, or worse, end up being hurt by him. No. Leave it alone.
When I listened to his voice mail message, pain exploded within me. He was leaving. I had missed all that precious time with him, and now he was going back to school, where he wouldn’t have to really think of me, where there were certainly plenty of girls willing to help take his mind off his troubles. I remembered one girl in particular, Cathryn Whitmore... .I’d met her at the homecoming dance last fall, and her interest in Michael had been obvious. Would he turn to her to help forget me?
Not your business. Not anymore, I reminded myself. Lying back on my pillow, I closed my eyes and tried to do as Marica had suggested. I took the pain and channeled it into that part of me that housed my abilities. The room around me fell away as my mind moved. Slowly, I began to hear more clearly the thought-noise of my parents. I skittered over that, still unwilling to break the long-ingrained habit of respect for their privacy. Instead I pushed further into the night, moving beyond the boundaries of my house and out into the neighborhood. I heard a harried mother a block away, trying to put her kids to bed ...and maybe have an hour of peace to myself... An elderly man a few houses down from her was missing his late wife; his longing struck too close to my own, and I shied away from him. I stretched my inner hearing, pushing it a little further as Marica had taught me, testing the limits of both ability and courtesy, breaking all the rules my parents had always imposed.
When I began to grow bored with the exercise, I pulled my focus back into my own room and toyed with the idea of another sort of experimentation. I hadn’t tried to use any other kind of power without Marica, but I wondered...sitting up and perching on the edge of the bed, I reset my focus on a small glass vase that sat o
n my dresser. Narrowing my eyes, I concentrated, visualizing it moving across the room.
Nothing. I frowned, annoyed, scooted to the end of my bed, closer to the dresser, and redoubled my efforts. I thought perhaps I saw the vase slide a fraction of an inch, but that could have been imagination. I remembered the pencil holder flying across the room and wondered why I couldn’t seem to accomplish anything remotely similar on my own. Was I so dependant on Marica’s connection?
Use emotion, suggested the cunning inner voice. That’s what worked today. Think of. . think of Michael with that other girl, that Cathryn...
Suddenly glass was everywhere, and I cried out in surprise as a shard of the now-destroyed vase struck my face. When I touched the spot that hurt, my fingers came away wet with blood, and I shuddered, remembering another time when my blood had flowed, down my neck.
“Tas?” I jumped to my feet as my mother opened the door and peered into my room. “Are you okay? I thought I heard...oh, you’re bleeding! What happened?”
“I...” I struggled to bring myself back to the present, to give my mother a rational answer. “I dropped the vase. I was moving things around and...” I shook my head and indicated the mess of glass all over my floor.
My mom looked at me in confusion. “But it’s shattered. If you dropped it on the carpet, that shouldn’t have happened.”
Instead of the guilt I expected, I felt a surge of annoyance. Why is she questioning me? Why won’t she just accept what I say and leave me alone? I pushed it away and made myself answer carefully. “I think it hit the dresser as it fell. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. Don’t worry.”
Her eyes clouded with concern, my mother reached out to touch the cut on my cheek. “I’ll help you. Let’s take care of this first. I don’t want you to have a scar.” She darted her gaze away from mine and I heard her think, Another scar, anyway. Instinctively my hands went to my neck, to the old marks Nell had left when she tried to sacrifice me at Lake Rosu. The uneasiness I’d felt earlier about Marica resurfaced, and nausea rose within me.
King Series Box Set Page 57
