Impossible Things

by Robin Stevenson

  Jeez. Victoria must have thought I was a complete idiot. Tomorrow she’d probably be calling me Cathidy and laughing at me like everyone else. I just hoped she wouldn’t repeat what I’d said.

  Ms. Allyson cleared her throat. “Okay, class! I’m Ms. Allyson and I’ll be teaching this class until Mr. McMaran is able to return.”

  A forest of hands flew up in front of me. How long would he be away? What was wrong with him? Was it true he’d been drunk? Ms. Allyson managed to answer most of them without giving us any real information beyond the official line: He was unwell and would be off work for some time. Period.

  After a couple of minutes, she waved the hands down and changed the subject. “Okay, listen up. I have some exciting news for you all. There is an art contest coming up. It’s open to all grade six, seven and eight students in the district. Each school will have a contest, and one winning piece of art from each school will be entered in a district-wide competition.”

  Joe, who rarely participated in class discussions, sat up straight. “What do you get if you win?”

  The teacher smiled. “One hundred dollars plus one year’s unlimited art classes at the Thomson Art Institute.”

  There was a flurry of excitement. Amber’s hand flew up. She and Madeline were practically bouncing out of their seats. “Ms. Allyson! What kind of art do we do?”

  “Anything you like,” Ms. Allyson explained. “Painting, pottery, sketching, sculpture, collage. It’s up to you. The theme is ‘Who Are We?’ So you might work on some kind of self-portrait or a work that reflects who you are in some way.”

  Madeline raised her hand. “Do we get to work on it in class? How long do we have?”

  “The deadline for all entries is in three weeks,” Ms.

  Allyson said. “I’ll give you as much class time as I can.”

  Amber was looking around and smiling smugly, as if she’d already decided the prize was hers. Too bad.

  I wasn’t going to let Amber win. No way. I imagined arriving home and telling Mom that I’d won a contest. An art contest. Guess what? I’d say. I won an art contest… I’m going to be an artist. She’d have time to listen to that, I’d bet. I imagined her face lighting up in a delighted smile, her arms stretching out toward me, her warm voice saying, Cassidy, honey! I had no idea you were so talented.

  “Okay!” Ms. Allyson’s voice shattered my little daydream. “Everyone find a partner!”

  I blinked, cheeks burning. Stupid sappy fantasy. I didn’t care what my mother thought anyway. I glanced around the room. Practically everyone was already paired up. Amber and Madeline were together, of course. Even Felicia already had a partner—Nathan. I stood up to look around. Was I really the only one without a partner? Newsflash: No one wants to pair up with the class freak.

  I wished Victoria was here. Though, of course she probably wouldn’t want to be my partner now.

  “Chiaki, right? And Cassidy. It looks like you both need partners. Why don’t you pair up?” Ms. Allyson ushered Chiaki into the empty desk beside mine. Victoria’s desk.

  I nodded at her, my teeth clenched so tight my jaw ached. My old thumbuddy. Chiaki smiled back, her face anxious beneath her dark bangs.

  Ms. Allyson sat on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs. “So, before you begin thinking about your art pieces, I want you first to consider what it is about yourself that you want to convey through your art. We’ll do some writing exercises, alone and with a partner, to help you get started. These exercises are to help you begin reflecting on who you are: what is important to you, how you see yourself, what challenges you face, what strengths you bring to help you meet those challenges.” She broke off abruptly. “Amber, did you have a question?”

  Amber was shifting impatiently in her seat. “I thought you said we had to draw a self-portrait. How come we have to do all this writing?”

  Ms. Allyson nodded. “That’s a good question. First, this contest isn’t about drawing a picture of yourself. It’s about exploring who you are.”

  I couldn’t see Amber’s face, but I’d bet she was rolling her eyes. Either that or her mouth would be hanging open.

  “Writing can be a way to learn about ourselves, to uncover what lies beneath the surface that we present to the world,” Ms. Allyson went on. “Try to think of writing the way an archaeologist might think of a tool she uses to uncover a treasure buried deep in the earth.” Her eyes met mine for a moment.

  Sitting so close to Chiaki was making me squirm, but I could have listened to Ms. Allyson all day. She wasn’t like any teacher I’d ever had before.

  She turned to the chalkboard and her chalk squeaked as she wrote.

  If I were an animal I would be a…

  Three adjectives that describe me are…

  Two qualities I look for in a friend are…

  One thing I am afraid of is…

  I hope that someday I…

  Then she turned back to the class. “Write quickly and don’t think too much about your answers!”

  I picked up my pen and chewed thoughtfully on the cap for a minute; then I began to write furiously. I was finishing number four when Ms. Allyson said, “Time’s up!”

  There was a chorus of protests and requests for more time. Ms. Allyson shook her head, her red hair flying. “No, that’s it! You can discuss the exercise with your partner. You can share your answers if you wish or talk about something you learned from the exercise.”

  I turned to Chiaki and my stomach started knotting up. Traitor. “So, do you want to go first?”

  She nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Okay.” She looked down at her paper and smiled nervously. “Ummm. For what animal I’d be, I wrote that I’d be a cat. I really like cats.”

  “Huh.” A mouse, more like. A scared mouse that ran around in circles, trying to impress Amber and Madeline. Maybe they were the cats. I looked down at what I’d written: I’d be a porcupine, throwing sharp quills at anyone who got too close. Or maybe a skunk. I could spray Amber and Madeline and my old thumbuddy. I gave her a phony smile. “I’d be a dog. A Rottweiler, maybe, or a Doberman. A dog that doesn’t like cats.”

  The shaky smile slid off her face and her eyes widened. “Oh. Um.”

  “What did you put for number two?” I asked, baring my teeth. She wasn’t so brave, away from her support group.

  “Umm. Three adjectives that describe me? I wrote…” Her eyes met mine for a moment and suddenly she looked like she might cry. “I wrote scared, okay? And stupid. And sorry.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

  She nodded and looked down at the desk.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. “No one forced you to dump me,” I whispered. “No one forces you to hang out with them.”

  “I know.”

  “So if you feel like that, why do you…?”

  She shook her head. Her lower lip trembled and she blinked back tears. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?

  What did you write?”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. I mean, you’ve hardly talked to me for the last year. And that almost sounded like an apology. Almost. And now you’re just changing the subject?”

  She nodded. “It was an apology. It really was.” She looked down at the ground and her thick bangs hid her eyes. “But…”

  I finished the sentence for her. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

  I was still Cathidy Thilver, class freak, and I wasn’t going to get my thumbuddy back.

  Six

  I was standing by the school’s main entrance, waiting for Ben, when a flash of movement caught my eye. Victoria. She was waving at me from the other side of the cement wall that ran along the edge of the schoolyard.

  “Hey!” I ran over, grinning. “I thought you were never going to speak to me again. I wouldn’t have blamed you. I mean, what a lamebrain thing to say. Magic. Duh. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

  I
broke off. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. “Hey, were you crying? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Sorry about getting upset before. I was an idiot. Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

  “Me?” I let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not mad at all. Are you really okay? How come you never came back after lunch?”

  “Oh, I needed to think. I had to figure out what to do.” She gave a shaky sigh. “I think…well, I shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re friends, right?”

  My heart sped up. “Tell me.”

  Her eyes darted from me, to the school, to the ground and back to me. She shifted from one foot to the other; then she sighed again, hesitating.

  “Come on! Tell me!”

  She bit her lip. “I really shouldn’t. But, well, you were sort of right about what happened in class. It wasn’t magic exactly, but I did have something to do with it.”

  “I knew it!” I yelped. “So tell me—” I broke off. Ben was racing down the steps and tearing across the schoolyard toward us, his arms and legs flying around in their usual wildly uncoordinated way. I made a face at Victoria. “That’s my little brother. Hang on a sec, okay?”

  Ben skidded to a halt in front of me. “Hi.”

  “Hey, Ben. Listen, Victoria and I need to talk privately, okay? Can you start walking home by yourself, and I’ll catch up?” I saw him hesitate and added the clincher, “You know the way, right?”

  It worked. “Of course I know the way,” he said stiffly.

  I watched him walk away. His jacket was bright red against the white snow, and he looked very small. I shook off my misgivings and turned back to Victoria.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” she said slowly. “It’s hard to know where to start.”

  “Mmm,” I said. I didn’t want to scare her off again.

  “What you said before—well, it isn’t exactly magic.”

  “Okay. Not magic,” I agreed. “Stupid thing to say. Sorry about that.” I tried to sound calm, but my heart was racing and my lisp tripped me up. Thorry about that.

  Victoria didn’t seem to notice. She met my eyes steadily. “Have you ever heard of telekinesis?”

  It sounded familiar. “Um. I think so?”

  “Telekinesis is when you can move things—like a coffee mug, say, or a piece of chalk—without touching them. By using your mind.”

  “That’s what you did? You moved stuff, like the chalk? You made it write that weird math stuff?”

  She shrugged and her eyes slid away from mine. “I guess.”

  “Yeah, wow.” I thought for a minute. “You should’ve made him write something really funny. Like, I don’t know, Maths sucks. Or Call me McMoron. Or…,” I trailed off, trying to think what I would have picked; then I remembered what we were talking about. “Wow. Wow. This is intense. So—you’re, like, psychic?”

  She snorted dismissively. “I can’t predict the future or read minds or anything. I just move stuff, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, you just move stuff with your mind, that’s all. That’s all. Jeez, Victoria, that’s, well, it’s—”

  “Impossible?”

  I hesitated, not wanting to upset her. Then I nodded. “Yeah, kind of.”

  “I know.” She shrugged casually. “That’s what my parents said when it started happening.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Your parents? They know about this?”

  “Of course.” Victoria’s voice was stronger and more confident, her chin higher. Now that she was talking about her secret—her telekinesis—she seemed more sure of herself.

  “It’s been happening practically my whole life,” she explained. “The first time it happened I was two. I saw a toy—a stuffed elephant—on the shelf at a department store. I was pointing at it and my mom said no, we’re not here to look at toys. Apparently, I threw a huge tantrum and the next thing she knew, the toy flew off the shelf and into my arms.”

  I shook my head. “Jeez.” I was starting to feel kind of uneasy. I’d used Ouija boards at camp, but I’d never really believed in stuff like this. So it was like I didn’t have anywhere in my head to put it. Every little mental compartment I tried to file it in just spat it right back out again with a big label that said IMPOSSIBLE. “Um, Victoria?” I said slowly. “Can you, like, show me? I mean, move something for me.” I glanced around for an object and saw a discarded apple core lying on the ground. “That apple core?”

  Her face crumpled. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I do! It’s just—”

  “I’m not a dog,” she whispered, staring at the ground. “I don’t do tricks on command.”

  I’d blown it again. “No, look, I’m sorry. Forget I said that. I believe you, okay?”

  She nodded but didn’t look convinced. The confidence I’d noticed a minute ago had vanished. “My parents would kill me if they knew I told you,” she said. “I’m not supposed to use telekinesis at all.”

  “Why not? Jeez, if I could do that stuff, I’d do it all the time.” I’d have a blast, I thought. I’d move stuff around until Amber and Madeline thought they were going crazy. I’d make them leave me and Felicia and Nathan alone.

  “It’s not that great.” Victoria frowned. “It’s caused a lot of problems for me. For my family.”

  “What kind of problems?” I asked curiously.

  Victoria gave a little shrug. “Just problems. Anyway, that’s all in the past. It’s all okay now.”

  I watched as she adjusted her glasses on her nose and tucked a stray lock of hair beneath her hat. She and I were kind of opposites, I figured. She looked ordinary but had this incredible secret. I looked—well, a bit freaky, I guess—but was secretly terribly boring. I suddenly had this incredible thought. “Victoria, you don’t suppose… Could you teach me to do it? Could I learn?”

  She looked taken aback. Slowly her expression turned thoughtful and then excited. “I don’t know if you could learn. I’ve never tried to teach anyone before.”

  “So, maybe? You might be able to?”

  She nodded. “In theory, lots of people have telekinetic potential, especially kids. That’s what I’ve read anyway. And it’s like anything else—if you don’t practice, you can lose your ability. Like not using a muscle, you know? Probably lots of people could do it if they worked at it, but hardly anyone does.” She made a face. “Most people are so narrow-minded.”

  “I’m not,” I said quickly. “So, would you try to teach me? Please, please, please?” If she said no, I didn’t think I could stand it.

  “It might not work, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t try.” She looked at me and her voice was intensely serious. “You have to swear not to breathe a word. To anyone.”

  “Oh, I promise! I won’t say anything, not even to my brother—” I broke off abruptly. “Oh, shoot, Mom will murder me if he gets home without me. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I waved a quick good-bye; then I turned and sprinted as fast as I could, my boots slipping on the icy sidewalk.

  I caught up with Ben about a block from our house. He smiled, his face lighting up. “Now we each have a friend,” he said. “I have Sydney and you have Victoria.”

  I remembered Victoria saying that we should start our own club. Maybe we could recruit Ben and Sydney. Cathidy Thilver, school freak. Victoria Morris, telekinetic. Ben and Sydney, third grade geniuses. It was so crazy I almost had to laugh.

  Seven

  I had finally taken Mom’s advice and invited Victoria over after school—partly motivated, I admit, by the hope that she might teach me telekinesis. Also, I wanted a demonstration. I didn’t exactly think she was lying to me, but some stubborn part of my brain still couldn’t quite accept it. It didn’t make sense. Besides, how did Victoria know all that math stuff that she made McMoron write? Calculus, Mrs. Goldstein had said. No one in grade seven knew calculus unless they were some kind of math genius. So how could Victoria have done that?

  I stood in the schoolyard, thinking and waiting for
Ben and Victoria. The rush of kids funneling out the doors had slowed to a trickle. I looked at my watch, shuffled impatiently from one foot to the other and rewound my scarf around my neck more snugly.

  On the other side of the fence, a skinny guy with a shaved head was pacing back and forth along the sidewalk. He kept stopping and looking up at the school. “Hey,” he called to me, “is school out already? I’m looking for someone.”

  I wondered who. He was maybe twenty or so, way younger than most kids’ parents. Plus he looked out of place, somehow. He had a tattoo on his neck—a spider or something with tentacles. And that shaved head and really bad skin. He looked tough and a bit creepy.

  I certainly wasn’t going to hang around and talk to him. “Ten minutes ago,” I said shortly, backing away from him. “Mostly everyone’s gone except the teachers.” I thought I’d mention the teachers just so he’d know there were adults around. Just in case.

  He muttered something under his breath about not looking for any damn teachers and shoved his hands deep into his pockets before wandering off. I watched him go, his skinny legs weaving back and forth as he walked down the sidewalk. Maybe he was drunk. I shrugged. Whatever.

  The door opened again and Victoria emerged, waving and grinning, her short brown hair tucked under her hat. “Sorry! I had to meet with Ms. Allyson about making up some work.” She wrinkled her nose. “Extra math homework. Yuck.”

  I thought of the equations on the chalkboard again. Calculus. But it sounded as if Victoria was no math genius. I hesitated, wondering whether to ask her; then I decided not to. I didn’t want to sound as though I doubted her story.

  Half a block away, the creepy guy pulled away from the curb, wheels spinning in the snow. I gestured toward his car as it drove away. “Jeez, that guy sure didn’t look like he was in any shape to be driving.”

  “What guy?”

  “I don’t know who he is. He was hanging around the school.” I shrugged. “He seemed kind of out of it, but he said he was looking for someone.”

  Victoria spun around to look, but the car was gone. She stared down the empty street for a moment; then she slowly turned back to face me. “You talked to him? What did he look like?”