Confessions of a Teenage Psychic

by Pamela Woods-Jackson

  “NO numbers games!” Emma stomps her foot. “It’s easy for you but not for the rest of us.”

  “Well, at least it’s something different,” Ashleigh mutters. “We always play Hearts.”

  “Hey, what do you guys want on your pizza?” Megan retrieves her cell phone from the coffee table. “Pepperoni, veggies, what?”

  “Both,” Ashleigh says. “Symmetrically divided in half.”

  Megan has the pizza place on speed dial, so she punches in the number and places our order. “They said they’re running behind tonight because of the holiday, so it’ll be awhile. Can we make do with popcorn?”

  We all nod. There’s limited sofa space in the small living room, so I sit down on the floor and begin playing with the dog who, just like Megan said, wants to be in the middle of the action. Pretty soon, all the other girls are sitting on the floor too, laughing and playing keep-away with Honey as she wrestles for her favorite stuffed toy.

  “So what are we doing? Movie, cards, what?” Megan strokes Honey’s head after her dog is finally tired of the game and plops down on the floor.

  “Let’s play Hearts!” Emma insists. “Everyone knows that game.”

  “We should. We play it enough,” Megan says.

  “You are SO terrible at that game anyway. Go Fish is about your speed,” Ashleigh snipes.

  “It is NOT!” Emma pouts.

  “Maybe playing cards isn’t such a good idea,” Megan says, frowning.

  Megan is right, because Emma and Ashleigh are still glaring at each other, and if we want to have any fun at all tonight we have to keep those two from arguing.

  “I still say we get out the Ouija board!” Annabeth smiles conspiratorially.

  Suddenly the focus is off Emma and Ashleigh and centered on me and Annabeth. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence with everyone hoping the tension between me and Annabeth eases. It doesn’t. I must have a panic-stricken look on my face, since I’m sure my social life is about to go up in flames and I’m on the verge of being friendless again. Suddenly all four of them are looking at me like I’ve seen a ghost. And this time I haven’t.

  “Caryn, what’s wrong?” Megan looks intently into my face. “You’re pale. Do you feel okay?”

  I can’t say a word, so I grab my can of soda and swallow a big, long gulp. No one speaks. Even Honey senses something is wrong and climbs onto my lap in sympathy. I stroke her fur and try to regain my composure.

  Megan looks from me to Annabeth, then to Emma and Ashleigh who are clueless. “Will one of you guys PLEASE tell me what’s going on?” Megan says, scowling.

  Annabeth waits for me to speak up, but of course I don’t, or can’t. “Yeah, okay,” she says with a shrug. “There’s something about Caryn you don’t know, and if she doesn’t tell you, I will. Seriously, Caryn, it’s time they knew.”

  “What’s the big secret, Caryn? Are you some kind of ax murderer?” Ashleigh giggles at her own joke, but no one else is laughing. “Well, it can’t be that bad, whatever it is.”

  I scan their faces and feel tears stinging my eyes. Can I trust these girls with the truth? Will they laugh at me, or worse— quit being my friends? Or maybe, just maybe, will they accept me for who I am? Annabeth did, so maybe they will too. But I still can’t get the words out, and we all sit there in an uncomfortable silence.

  “See, Caryn here, she’s psychic,” Annabeth finally says.

  “What?” Megan exclaims. “No way!”

  Ashleigh tilts her head. “Like Psychic Hotline fake-psychic or really psychic?” she asks. At least she knows there’s a difference.

  “Ohmigod, it’s all starting to make sense!” Megan slaps her forehead. “When you knew Kensi was going to have that car accident, the school carnival, knowing Quince was in the mall in December. Wow! Now I get it! But, hey, why didn’t you just say so?”

  “Because I don’t want to end up with friends who think I’m a weirdo, or no friends at all, like in Houston.”

  “You didn’t trust us?” Megan sounds incredulous.

  “Well, I… ” I stammer, surprised. I’d spent so much time fearing their rejection, I hadn’t considered they might be annoyed with me.

  “And how come Annabeth knew and we didn’t?” Ashleigh looks indignant.

  I shrug, embarrassed. “Last November I blurted out the truth to Annabeth because I didn’t know her and never thought I’d see her again.”

  “So, can you, like, really predict the future?” Emma asks, wide-eyed.

  I look from Emma to Ashleigh to Megan who are all staring at me. Emma looks stunned, Ashleigh disbelieving, and Megan excited. But not one of them looks like she hates me. “Uh-huh.”

  “Cool! You really are Madame Wilhelmina! Does Janae Thomas know? She’ll freak!” Really, Megan is getting a little carried away.

  “If you tell Janae, it’ll be all over school in a nanosecond,” Ashleigh says matter-of-factly.

  “So tell us our futures!” Megan squeals, thrusting her palm out in front of me.

  “The part I said at the carnival about reading palms? I really can’t. But… ”

  They’re all looking at me expectantly. I know I’ve been blurting out stuff accidentally all semester, but here they are, actually asking me to do it and I don’t know what to say. And I don’t know if it’s such a great idea anyway, since I never know exactly what’s going to pop into my head and come out of my mouth. Sometimes it’s like I’m floating up on the ceiling watching myself babble about someone’s life, and from up there I can’t make myself shut up.

  I sigh. “Are you sure you really wanna know? ‘Cause I’m almost always right, and sometimes people don’t want to hear all that stuff.”

  Ashleigh is the only one who looks hesitant, but the other girls nod enthusiastically.

  “Go on, Caryn. Show ‘em your stuff.” Annabeth has a huge grin on her face, as if she’s my psychic agent or something.

  I have to laugh in spite of myself. “Well, okay, but just remember you asked. Who’s first?”

  “Me!” Emma waves her hand in the air.

  “Well, you probably won’t like this, but you’re going to be elected president of the student council.”

  To say Emma is very startled is a huge understatement. “No way! I HATE politics, and I’d never run. You’re so wrong.”

  I just shrug my shoulders and don’t say anything else, but my instincts tell me I’m dead-on.

  “Do Megan next,” Emma says. “Let’s see if you say anything about her that makes sense.”

  Megan nods, so I take a deep breath. “Okay, Megan, first of all, your sister’s getting married in the new year.”

  “Allie? Not a chance!”

  “Not her, the other one.”

  “Caroline? I doubt it. Her boyfriend got dumped by his fiancee on their wedding day last summer, so I’m pretty sure he’s not ready.” Megan shakes her head.

  “Well, she is, and you’re going to be in the wedding. But there’s more.” I pause, because the rest of Megan’s prediction gives me serious qualms and I don’t even know why or where it’s coming from. “I really don’t understand this part, but I just know you’re going to be in the middle of something huge at school, and it’s going to affect lots of lives.”

  “Hmmm,” is all Megan says.

  But now I’m on a roll, so I point to Ashleigh. “You already know you’re gonna be valedictorian.”

  “Duh,” she says.

  “But you’re off to some Ivy League college after graduation.”

  “Yeah, right. Who’s gonna pay for that?” Ashleigh is more than a little skeptical.

  “I don’t know, but there’s a full-ride scholarship in there somewhere,” I say as she squints at me. “Really, it’ll happen.”

  “What about Annabeth?” Megan asks.

  Since Annabeth got me into all this, I like being able to turn the tables on her. I face the other girls. “Well, first of all she’s going to make honor roll this spring.”

  “Y
ou have GOT to be kidding. Annabeth?” Megan smirks.

  “Yes, Annabeth, because she’ll be motivated, and I’m not saying about what. And that’s not all.” I point a finger at her. “You’re going to have to make a choice later in the spring, and it won’t be easy because of the people involved.”

  For once, Annabeth’s eyes get real wide and I know I’ve taken her by surprise.

  “I hate to be the voice of reason here… ”

  “No, you don’t, Ashleigh,” Emma says.

  “But does anyone really buy all this mumbo-jumbo? Caryn hasn’t said one single thing that can be proven.”

  Well, Ashleigh is right of course. It’s hard to prove something that has yet to happen, despite how confident I feel in my predictions.

  “You just haven’t seen her in action.” Annabeth always seemed to be my champion.

  “None of you have to believe me if you don’t want to, but Megan, your mom’s on the phone.”

  “Huh? It’s not ringing.” Naturally, the phone rings about half a minute later. “OHMIGOD, you’re too weird!” Megan fairly shouts at me as she reaches for her phone.

  “Hello? Yeah, Mom, we’re fine.” Megan rolls her eyes and then gives me a questioning glance. “I ordered a pizza. It’s okay, you have fun. Love you too. Bye.”

  “Okay, Ashleigh, there’s your proof!” says a grinning Annabeth.

  Ashleigh does have a sort of strange look on her face but she just waves her hands and goes into the kitchen for another soda. I guess she doesn’t accept something that defies logic.

  “Now I’ve got goose bumps, Caryn,” Emma says, hugging herself. “How did you know the phone was going to ring?”

  I study my friends’ faces intently. At least I hope they’re still my friends. “You guys think I’m weird, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, this is pretty weird,” Megan says, a smile creeping onto her face. “And I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

  “Wait till I tell Kevin!” Emma exclaims.

  More people? “NO! Please, can we just keep this between ourselves?”

  “Who’d believe us anyway?” Ashleigh grumbles and gingerly pops open another soda can, taking a swallow when she’s sure it isn’t going to fizzle over.

  Megan is the first to speak after what seems like an eternity. “Maybe you shouldn’t just blurt random stuff out, Caryn. It’s unnerving. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us. Right?”

  “Right,” Emma reluctantly agrees.

  Ashleigh is silent a moment longer while everyone waits. She does some serious thinking, the kind she probably does when she’s working out some complicated math problem, and finally says, “Oh, okay. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

  A thought occurs to Emma. “Hey! You didn’t tell us about you. What’s in your future?”

  I shake my head. “I have no idea. I’m not psychic about myself.”

  “Well good, at least you don’t know everything,” Ashleigh says.

  “Now you can answer the door,” I tell Megan.

  Sure enough, the pizza guy rings the doorbell. Megan gives me another wide-eyed look before getting up to pay for our food.

  “Thank goodness. I’m starved.” Annabeth goes to the kitchen to retrieve paper plates and napkins.

  Emma pops a movie into the DVD player. “Is 27 Dresses okay with everyone? I guess witches and devils are a bad choice.”

  Pretty soon we’re all eating pizza, guzzling soda, laughing at the film, gossiping, and just doing what normal teenage girls do at a sleepover. Even Ashleigh is starting to come around. For the first time since I moved to Indianapolis, I feel like I can finally relax. I reach over to pat the dog, but she pulls away, growling at an invisible nothing in the corner of the room.

  “Be quiet, Honey,” Megan says distractedly, turning up the volume on the TV.

  The dog is still sniffing and pawing at the floor and I’m a little surprised to see Uncle Omar standing there with his trademark grin, giving me two thumbs up. I smile at him as he slowly fades from view, leaving Honey to go off in search of other prey.

  The Universe approves. What a great way to start the new year.

  When school starts again after winter break, I discover my schedule has changed a little. I still have classes in math, science, English and art, but my first period geography class has been replaced with an elective called Love of Lit being taught by Mrs. Elizabeth York, in a part of the building I haven’t been in yet.

  I locate the classroom, walk in and smile at the teacher standing by her battered metal desk. I wonder if she’s new because I’ve never seen her before. Mrs. York is about forty years old, attractive for an older woman (my mom would kill me if she heard me say that, since Mom is forty-two), stylishly dressed in a grey pinstripe wool pantsuit with a white camisole and black pumps. She has long reddish-brown hair tied back in a big clip, reading glasses with tiny modern frames, and a large diamond ring on her left hand.

  “Do we have assigned seats?” I ask her.

  “Not yet. I plan to wait until everyone arrives to determine seating. You are… ?”

  “Caryn Alderson.”

  “Nice to meet you, Caryn. Just sit anywhere for now.”

  I find a desk in the middle of the room and put my book bag on top of it.

  “Welcome back, Mrs. York.” Janae Thomas claims a desk next to mine and piles her stuff on top of it.

  Turning to Janae I whisper, “Where’s she been?”

  “In the hospital. Missed all of first semester.”

  A picture of Mr. and Mrs. York in a hospital room with a nurse doing a sonogram flashes into my head, or at least it looks that way based on my extensive viewing of TV hospital dramas. Oh, I get it. Mrs. York was undergoing treatments for infertility.

  Eek! I slap my head. That really is TMI! Janae looks at me funny.

  “Mosquito,” I say, pointing to my forehead. Mosquitoes in January? Not in Indianapolis. And Janae doesn’t seem to buy it anyway.

  More kids filter in and claim seats as Mrs. York greets them. This class is turning out to be a regular Who’s Who of Rosslyn High School— Harris Rutherford, top of the freshman class; Emma, Ashleigh, and Megan grab seats near mine as Janae Thomas, Jeremy Harper, and Mark Evans, sophomores like us, trail in; the junior class is represented by Quince, Kevin Marshall, Salissa Pringle, and Kensington Marlow; plus the seniors, Connor Stevenson and Deana Pruitt.

  The bell rings, but kids are still milling around the room chatting. Mrs. York walks out from behind her desk, smiles at the class and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, please find a seat— anywhere for now. Tomorrow I’ll make up a seating chart.”

  The other kids move around and do as they’re told, but I decide to stick with the spot I’ve already chosen.

  “Some of you chose to take this class, while others of you got stuck in here because of scheduling problems. Either way, welcome to Love of Lit and I hope we have a productive semester.”

  Ashleigh raises her hand. “What’s this class all about?”

  “As the course title would suggest, we’ll be studying the great love stories of literature. We’ll start with sonnets and then move to Romeo and Juliet.” Naturally there are groans around the room.

  “We read R&J freshman year,” Kensi says, flipping her hair.

  “I’m aware that you’ve already read it, but I’m sure we’ll approach the play differently than you did in Freshman Lit,” responds Mrs. York. “Maybe even do some Readers’ Theatre.”

  Ashleigh interrupts again. “Can I go see my counselor? Being in this class is going to look like I goofed off a semester when I fill out college applications.”

  “See your counselor on your own time, not mine,” Mrs. York says sternly. “Now, does everyone have a copy of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnets? If so, let’s begin.”

  I’m starting to like Mrs. York. And I might even like the class if Quince gets assigned a seat next to me. I look over at Kensi across the room and see her in a h
ead-to-head with Salissa, neither of them listening to the teacher.

  And if we could get rid of them.

  “Mrs. York?” Deana asks, waving her hand wildly in the air. “Can I be excused?”

  “Yes, Deana, the pass is on a hook next to the… ” but Deana is already out the door with it.

  “She always knows where the passes are,” Janae explains to the teacher.

  The teacher sighs.

  Mrs. York is as good as her word, and the next day she has a seating chart all drawn up. I thank the Universe when I learn Quince is seated right in front of me, and Kensi’s desk is on the far side of the room next to the windows and right by Salissa. The two of them have their heads together whispering most of the time anyway. Harris is sitting on the front row next to Ashleigh, who wasn’t allowed to change her schedule but was reassured by her counselor that a literature elective won’t hurt her chances of being admitted to a top-notch college. Mrs. York makes the mistake of seating Emma right next to Kevin, and I doubt either of them will get much out of the literature we’re going to read, since the only romance they’re interested in is their own.

  Quince periodically glances over at Kensi. She always smiles in return, but there’s something in that smile that says she’s holding back. Maybe it’s just me thinking that, since I know for a fact she was cheating on Quince in December, but he seems clueless.

  The second day of the semester is a cold, dreary January day, and I’m dreading my walk to the store after school. Fortunately, I do have my new coat and accessories to keep me warm, but I still haven’t adjusted to temperatures hovering around zero.

  “Wanna go to Peterson’s?” Megan asks as we gather our belongings from our lockers at the end of the school day.

  “Yeah, sure, it’s a good day for something hot to drink. But I can’t stay long. I have to help my mom in the store.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Megan heads off down the hall but turns around walking backward and calls out, “Emma and Ashleigh are coming too.”

  I bundle up as best I can, refusing to step foot outdoors until every possible body part is covered. I hoist my heavy book bag onto my shoulder (trying not to think about all the homework I have to do) and head out the front door of the school building.