The Extraordinary Secrets of April, May, & June

by Robin Benway

  Well, that settles it. I’m the crappiest future-predictor the world has even known. I bet that psychic cat on the Third Street Promenade has more success than I do.

  “I just mean,” my mom continued, looking as calm as I didn’t feel, “she seems to be spending a lot more time in her room lately.”

  Oh.

  “Oh,” I said. “Um, yeah, I don’t know. You know May. She’s just weird sometimes. She likes her space.”

  “No, she always has,” my mom agreed. “And I understand. It’s just … I know she’s really disappointed about having to delay her trip to Houston to see your dad.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “Do you think everything’s okay with her, though? Besides that? I know she’s been having a rough time adjusting to your dad and I being apart.”

  I knew my mom was thinking about the tequila incident, when May got smashed and created a chain of events that led to us moving here. But was she okay? How in the world was I supposed to answer this one? None of us are okay, I wanted to tell my mom. Not in the slightest.

  But instead I just said, “I’m sure she’s fine, Mom. June and I would know.” If that wasn’t the truth, I don’t know what was. “She’s not a big social butterfly. She’s not even a social caterpillar.”

  My mom laughed and then wrapped one arm around my waist and gave me a hug. “Well, okay,” she said. “ I know it’s unfair to say that you’re the oldest, but … you’re the oldest. Keep an eye on your sisters, all right?”

  “Mom, believe me,” I told her, hugging her back before pulling away. “I’m watching them all the time.”

  I managed to finish my Plato paper during fourth period, since I knew the teacher would be too busy talking about the quadratic equation to notice me, and at lunchtime, I ran to the computer lab to print it out as soon as lunch started. It wasn’t my best work, that was for sure, but it would have to do.

  The halls were pretty empty as I walked towards my locker, since most everyone else had gone to lunch. I wondered if I’d be doing that with my old friends at my old school, leaving campus and eating french fries or fried rice or sandwiches. I hadn’t really talked to anyone since we moved away. I couldn’t even imagine the conversation. “Yeah, my summer was awesome. By the way, I have crazy brain capabilities now. And you?”

  There were only two people in the hall as I approached my locker, some girl and a guy. Great. Instead of one fleeting moment of peace and quiet, I get to witness nasty hallway making out. Only as I got closer, I realized that it wasn’t just any girl. It was Avery, the black-haired girl that May had almost hit with the car. “Great,” I muttered to myself, pulling my hair in front of my face so that she wouldn’t see me. I kept wondering if I should apologize to her or something, but what could I say? Sorry my invisible sister almost hit you with the car?

  But it didn’t look like Avery had any interest in me at all. She was pinned up against the wall by some guy who was breathing on her neck. I’m no hall monitor, but it didn’t look comfortable. She was smiling, though, so maybe it was? I don’t know; I had bigger problems to deal with than Avery’s ability to find quality guys.

  I was just coming around the corner when I saw something behind my eyes, a flash of brown liquid flying up towards the ceiling, a gasp and a shout before it was gone again.

  “What the hell was—?” I started to mutter to myself, but just then I turned the corner and slammed into someone much bigger than I was. That someone was carrying coffee and as we ran into each other, it flew out of his hand and the coffee went up in a smooth arc, almost like it was in slow motion.

  I screamed and hugged my paper to my chest.

  The person gasped and swore.

  Oh. Got it now. Sometimes the visions don’t make sense until they actually happen, which is an unfortunate side effect.

  “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” I cried, realizing the coffee has spewed everywhere except on my backpack, thank God. (I had library books in there and I hate paying fines.) “Are you okay?” I asked. “Was it hot? Did you burn yourself?” I flipped through my brain like it was a deck of cards, looking for emergency rooms, burn units, skin grafts.

  “Wow, you’re high-strung,” the person said, adjusting his filthy-looking baseball cap, and I looked up and realized that it was Julian.

  Oh, thanks, Brain, I thought bitterly. Thank you so much.

  Julian just stood there, wiping coffee off his jacket sleeve. I could barely see his face, his hat was pulled down so low, but when I finally made eye contact, I could tell he was not thrilled. His eyes snapped from me to the coffee puddle on the ground, then back to me, and I watched as he used his free hand to tuck his hair behind his ears. It looked sort of soft and straight, like maybe he had just washed it. I wondered what kind of shampoo he used, what it smelled—

  Focus, April.

  “I’m totally sorry!” I said again. “I really am!”

  “Would you relax? It wasn’t even hot. It was just gas station coffee.” Julian wiped his black sweatshirt and then shook the coffee drops off his hand. “What are you, ADD or something? You seem like you’re about to go off the rails.”

  I could only stand there in shock, opening and closing my mouth. I had never heard this guy do anything more than grunt, and now he was talking to me? Granted, it’s not like he was saying sweet nothings or anything, but still.

  “No, I’m not, as a matter of fact,” I finally said when I got my voice back. “I’m not ADD; I’m just a considerate person. Unlike some people who still use Styrofoam cups.”

  Whoa. Bitch April was here and ready to play.

  He just waited a few seconds before making a “whatever” noise and walking away, leaving the cup on the gray tiled floor where it rolled around in a coffee puddle. “Yeah, okay, never mind,” he said. “See you.”

  Wait a minute. He littered?

  I didn’t care what my brain had told me: There was no way in hell that I would ever sleep with a litterbug.

  No. Way. In. Hell.

  “Hey!” I yelled after him. “You going to pick that up, you freaking litterbug?”

  “Freaking,” he repeated with a grin. “Wow. You’re a rebel.”

  “Yeah, just like you,” I shot back. “Leaving trash on the floor in a high school. Oooh, way to be an individual.” I motioned to the A on his hat, that overused symbol for anarchy. “What, first you throw trash around and then you take over the government? Sounds like a fantastic plan.” I waggled my fingers at him, which, yeah, looked about as stupid as it sounds, but it was too late to undo it.

  Julian started to say something, but I was on a roll and it was too late to stop me. “And you know what else?” I said. “You need to get out of my way when I’m at my locker because you’re always crowding me with your stupid everything! All the time! You’re always around! Just leave me alone, okay? God, you and Plato and everyone else are so freaking—yeah, I said ‘freaking,’ by the way, get over it—annoying!”

  Julian’s eyes grew wider as he stared at me while I ranted, and pretty soon I realized that my pulse was racing and I was breathing hard. “What?” I said, glaring back at him. “Do you want an encore?”

  Julian was silent for a minute and then he said, “Myth of the Cave, right?”

  “What?”

  “The Plato thing.”

  My heart was still moving the angry blood through my veins. “Yeah, what about it?” I said. “It’s ridiculous.”

  Julian nodded. “You’re a junior.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah. I read that last year.” He rubbed his hand over his hat. “This is an ex-friend’s hat, by the way.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “So you’re not an anarchist?”

  “I’m not that motivated.” He smirked, and I noticed he had kind of an adorable smirk, if smirks can be considered adorable. “But I did steal it from my friend when I went to visit him last year.”

  “Oh.” I sighed and motioned to the floor. “A
re you gonna pick that up or do I have to do it?”

  Julian glanced down at it, then back at me. “You got some issues, you know that?”

  “As a matter of fact, Julian,” I said. “I do know that, but thank you for noticing.”

  “You know my name?”

  I froze halfway to picking up the cup. Think fast, think fast, think fast.

  “I, uh, I heard your friend call you—”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  Damnit.

  “Look,” I said, hurling the cup into the trash as I turned around, “you honestly want to know why I know your name? I’ll tell you why! It’s because I’m psychic! So there!”

  The air froze between us as the words fell out of my mouth. I had never said the word “psychic” out loud before, not even to May and June. I stood still and waited for Julian’s reaction. I waited for the straitjackets, the news cameras, whatever was about to happen. I hoped I wouldn’t cry.

  But I saw nothing coming for me, and then Julian just laughed. “Wow,” he said, “you’re crazier than I am.”

  He didn’t believe me. He thought I was joking. I had a sudden flash of him sitting at his desk in math two periods later and chuckling to himself, remembering our conversation.

  Apparently he had never heard that whole thing about how there’s truth in humor.

  “Yeah, well,” I said. “You have no idea how crazy I am. I should be wearing yellow CAUTION tape, I’m that bonkers.”

  He laughed again. He had a really deep, hearty laugh. “So what’s your name?”

  “April.”

  Julian nodded. “Well, I’m sorry I littered, April.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  I shifted my backpack from one shoulder to the other. At this point, it was getting uncomfortable with us just standing there in the hallway while everyone else in the world was eating lunch. Or maybe it was just uncomfortable the way he was looking at me all quizzically.

  “And I’m also sorry that I never said thank you,” he went on. “When you shoved me during the earthquake. I didn’t say … shit, this is embarrassing.”

  I just looked at him, trying to read what was going on behind his dark brown eyes, terrified that he would know what I was. Why did June get to be the mindreader? I didn’t know Thing One about trying to figure out what guys were thinking!

  “Thanks,” he finally huffed. “Thanks for not letting a five-hundred-pound light fall on me, even though I probably could have sued the school and made a million dollars.”

  “That’s the weirdest thank-you I’ve ever received.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “You’re welcome,” I added quickly. “No problem.”

  We stood there for a minute, a perfect portrait of awkwardness. I searched desperately for a distraction, for something that would end the uncomfortable silence.

  I was sitting on the grass with Julian, eating lunch. And I was smiling.

  “What the hell?” I started to say before I could stop myself, just as Julian said, “Soo … you eating lunch?”

  I just looked back at him. “Are you asking me to eat lunch with you?”

  “Um, you know, not unless you wanna sit with your friends or—”

  I paused for a second, then admitted the truth. “I don’t have any friends.”

  Julian grinned. “Yeah, like I said, me neither.” He looked at the students milling around us. “Not many people worth being friends with.”

  “Yeah, okay, lunch. But that’s it,” I added, quickly remembering the vision I had had. “Just lunch. No funny business.”

  Julian raised an eyebrow. “I’ll cancel the parade and fireworks, then.”

  I laughed despite myself. “Good. I hate big scenes.”

  If you had told me that Julian brown-bagged his lunch, I wouldn’t have believed it.

  But there he was, sitting on the grass in front of our school, opening up an old shopping bag and pulling out a sandwich. “You bring your lunch?” I said. “Really?”

  “So do you,” he pointed out, motioning to my Tupperware filled with carrots and hummus. “At least, I think that’s lunch,” he added. “What is that?”

  “Hummus,” I said. “It’s very healthy and packed with protein.”

  “Has someone pre-chewed it for you?”

  “That’s disgusting!” I said. “Oh my God, that is vile. And who are you to talk? You’re eating a sandwich on white bread.”

  “It’s delicious,” he said before taking a huge bite. “Deeeeelicious.”

  “White bread can kill you.”

  Julian waited until swallowing before answering. “April,” he said, “high school could kill me. So could driving on the freeway, crossing the street, or flying in a plane. I’ll take my chances on the white bread.” He took another bite and then added, “Let me guess. You’re the oldest.”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  “’Cause you’re so bossy.”

  “Well, you’d be bossy, too,” I muttered. My hummus looked completely unappetizing now, so I stuck with the carrots. “Having to keep track of everything all the time.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m serious. Pushing me out of the way—”

  “You thanked me for that,” I argued.

  “And now you’re telling me what bread to eat?” Julian smiled out of the left corner of his mouth. “Bossy McBosserson.”

  I tossed a carrot at him. It hit him in the shoulder, but he didn’t flinch or move away. “Well, you must be an only child,” I said to him. “Seeing as how you have the emotional capability of a gopher.”

  Julian smirked. “Guilty as charged, except for the gopher part.”

  “Well, then you wouldn’t get it. All the responsibility involved, especially when—” I stopped myself from saying, Especially when you can see what’s going to happen to them.

  “Especially what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, you were gonna say something.”

  “It was nothing,” I insisted. “You know, you and my sister May would really get along. You both like artificial flavoring and being rude.”

  “She sounds like my kind of girl.”

  I glared at him. “Don’t even.”

  “Fine. So I guess it’s just you and me then.”

  I choked on my carrot, and Julian had to thump me on the back while I hacked up carrot bits. “Jesus, you okay?” he said. “Don’t choke to death. They’ll blame me for it, you know they will.”

  My eyes were watering as I nodded. “M’fine,” I said. But even as I spoke, I was getting flashes of Julian’s future: him sitting at home, drawing in a composition book, headphones tight over his ears; kissing his mom good-night as she slept on the sofa, her work shoes still on her feet; Julian sitting next to me at the movies, laughing about—

  Waitaminuteagain. Was I seeing us on a date?!

  Good God, this whole “seeing the future” thing was the worst occurrence of my entire lifetime.

  I glanced back up at him, and I must have looked scary because he actually drew back a bit. “What?” he said. “Do you need the Heimlich?”

  “No, I …” I shook my head, rattling the visions around in my brain. I tried to refocus on where we were, looking at blades of grass and then the parking lot that was just over the hill, but I couldn’t stay focused. The visions were so clear, some of the clearest ones I had ever had, and I realized that the closer I got to Julian, the more I would see about him.

  That’s wonderful, I thought. Just wonderful.

  “I’m fine,” I told him. “Seriously. A piece of carrot just went down the wrong way.”

  “Well, don’t die on me or anything.”

  I smiled despite myself, but then made sure to keep a healthy distance between us. I was pretty sure my ultimate vision wasn’t going to happen right there at lunch, but I wasn’t willing to take any chances.

  Instead, I got a different vision this time.r />
  The red came back slowly, crowding into my line of sight little by little until it was all I could see. I could hear sirens now, and it took a few seconds before I realized they were in my head and nowhere else. The red light was flashing around and around, and now Julian was standing there, hands in his pockets, the red light reflecting off the features of his face. A police officer walked up to him as the sirens became so loud that they hurt my ears.

  Oh my God. Oh my God.

  “April?” Julian was saying. “April, what? Are you okay? Are you choking on another carrot?”

  “I, uh, I have to go,” I said quickly, scrambling to my feet. My muscles were all shaky, and I knew I had to get away. Julian wasn’t safe, wasn’t okay, wasn’t right.

  I should have known that the minute I saw him with a styrofoam coffee cup.

  “Wait, what—?”

  “I have to hand in my paper,” I said as I crammed my Tupperware into my backpack. My stomach was growling, but I ignored it. There was something bad happening here, and I wanted to get away as fast as possible. I could eat my stupid carrots and hummus later. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Well … okay,” he said, looking sort of bummed as I hurried away, but I didn’t turn around to say goodbye again.

  It took me until the end of sixth period to stop shaking. The visions were getting worse, I realized. First the red, then the sirens, now Julian. I tried to stop seeing it, but it kept playing over and over like a bad movie, reminding me that something terrible was on its way, and I could do nothing to stop it.

  chapter 11

  “What’s the point of crying if you can’t even see the tears?” may

  School always sucked for me. I mean, even in first grade, I was the kid who was like, “We’re here all day long? Every day? For the next twelve years? You’re kidding me.”

  But now? Now that I could literally disappear into thin air and go wherever I wanted in the entire world?

  School had officially become hell on earth.

  What good is a power if you can’t always control it?

  I had to make it bearable somehow, so I started to figure out where I could disappear without anyone noticing. At lunch, while everyone else tried to look all cool eating their PB&J sandwiches that their moms had made for them, I got to leave campus, walk three blocks to the local 7-Eleven and get a delicious snack that consisted entirely of preservatives. (I’m already anticipating the day when April sees what I’m doing and has a health-based meltdown about it. “Do you know what preservatives can do to the human body?” she always says, and I’m just like, “If they can preserve food, they can probably preserve me, too.”)