Seers

by Kristine Bowe

  I had only been with Tobias a couple of weeks. Tobias said my first mission would be an easy one. One that would gauge my powers and rate me as a Seer. When I was prepped for the mission, though, it seemed anything but easy.

  The little girl was seven. A red shock of curly hair blanketed her head and shoulders. Blue eyes. Freckles, of course. Chubby cheeks. A crooked, teeth-missing smile. Basically one of the cutest kid pictures I had ever seen. And she had been missing for six days. The family had reason to suspect that the child’s aunt had something to do with the disappearance. Why? She was off. She would go away for a day. No one would know where she was. When the family questioned the aunt, she’d swear she had been home all day, cleaning. The worst of it was that the family didn’t think the aunt was lying. They thought she had lapsed into another state of consciousness, that something had snapped. They feared she was bipolar or schizophrenic. They had been seeking help for her when the girl went missing. A cousin of the little girl was a Seer; he was the one who had attempted and failed the first Navigation, and he had contacted Tobias for help.

  I started at the aunt’s daughter’s school. The aunt’s daughter, Maggie, was, by strategy, in most of my classes. All I had to do was befriend her and gain access to her house to get to the aunt.

  I watched Maggie that first day. She was a little shy. She played with her hair when she was unsure of herself or of what to say. She crossed and uncrossed her legs a lot. She wiggled her right foot from side to side when her right leg was crossed over her left, but when she switched legs and her left was crossed over her right, she didn’t wiggle her left foot at all. She seemed to be more at ease when the left leg was crossed. When the right foot was wiggling, she seemed to be agitated or bored. When she was annoyed, she flared her nostrils. When she was concentrating, she furrowed her brow. So a furrowed brow for Maggie was okay; she was just interested. A furrowed brow with flared nostrils? Back off. She used her mouth to communicate nonverbally. She smirked a lot. She smirked when she found something amusing, but at someone else’s expense. The teacher had accidentally gotten a pen mark on her own face at some point during class. Maggie smirked. So if I saw her smirking at me, I would be rushing to the nearest mirror. She bit her lower lip. This seemed to be when she looked at any boy she thought was cute. She pursed her lips. This mainly occurred when she was called on to answer a question or participate in class. So I guess she pursed whenever she felt pressured to speak. She sucked her teeth. She licked her top lip. I watched these cues. I memorized these cues. By the time we had our first conversation, she was comfortable around me at once because I knew when to engage.

  “Hi. I’m Leesie. I’m new. Do you mind if I sit here?” I gestured to the seat next to hers. “I sat in the back yesterday and had a hard time seeing.”

  “Sure.” Her right foot wiggled. “No one usually sits there.”

  Of course I knew that. The seat had remained empty the day before.

  She uncrossed and recrossed with the left leg. Her foot was still.

  “How do you like it here so far?” she asked. No flaring. She wasn’t annoyed. No pursing. She wanted to speak. Good.

  “I like it okay. Have you always gone here?”

  A slight purse. Too loaded a question. I hadn’t thought that through. What if she had moved a lot? Or wished she could get away?

  “I guess I ask that question because I’ve moved around a lot myself,” I added quickly.

  “Oh. Right. That makes sense. Yeah, I’ve never moved before. I’m Maggie, by the way.” She leaned toward me and began to fill me in on the teacher. Doesn’t give too much homework, tests come directly from lectures and not from the textbook, so take good notes, etc.

  Maggie had been a loner, which made sense, considering what she confided in me before she invited me over. It took a few weeks to secure an invite. Before I was to come for dinner, she warned me about her mother, telling me not to be surprised if she said or did something crazy. I reassured Maggie. I played the role of a wounded teen affected by the instability of constantly relocating. One wounded soul who understood another.

  I remember sitting across from the aunt at the dinner table. Her light-brown eyes were shifty. Her body language was erratic. She was definitely guarded.

  She looked up to ask me how I liked my new school. Everything about the woman shouted unpredictability. I couldn’t risk her taking off. I focused on her left eye and went in.

  Usually it feels like I am swimming through salt water. There’s a thickness to the water but I can move freely through it. This felt colder than usual. And I’d say it was thicker than usual, but it varied. There was an inconsistency to her brain that was immediately alarming. I knew why the other Seer couldn’t go in.

  I sloshed back and forth and rolled in spirals as I attempted to travel down. Was this the way down? Where was I? Was that a layer over there? How had I ended up going sideways? I started looking for clues. In an unguarded brain the layers are defined by a gel-like ribbon. It reminds me of a finish line at the end of a race that you have to break through.

  In a guarded brain it’s not defined. The only thing I had to go on was the change in consistency in thickness and the temperature changes. I decided to go on temperature. I would follow the cold.

  It was colder on my left side than my right, so I turned my head to the left and propelled myself in that direction. The cold enveloped me to my waist before what felt like ice chips began to sting my face. Was this another layer? I must be deeper down. Because the little girl had only been missing a few weeks, I didn’t want to go deep. I just wanted to be in. I strained through murky grayish-brown to See the scene in front of me. The view was from a bridge. A low cement bridge. A neighborhood bridge. A small lake. A blue car. Parked just over the bridge at the water’s edge. Two figures in the water. One tall. One small. And red-haired. A little girl flailing her arms at her sides, kicking her legs wildly. The girl was struggling to raise her head, a head that was being held down under the water by the taller, older figure. The aunt was drowning the girl.

  I immediately went back to the fact that the aunt never remembered where she’d been after being gone all day. This memory existed, but for some reason, probably due to her mental illness, this layer was repressed. She was not hiding the truth. She didn’t know the truth! She murdered her niece and didn’t know when or why.

  My eyes were kicking up to a full-on burn, so I needed to act. I reached out and down. I put one hand on the aunt and one on the drowning girl. I squeezed my frozen, clumsy fingers around the arm of the aunt and around the biggest chunk of the girl’s red hair I could grasp and yanked them both up with me. I needed to pull this memory to the aunt’s outermost layer. Into her most recent memories. If I could leave this memory with those, it would bring the scene to her current state of consciousness. The aunt would see what she had done.

  With both hands full I had to feel for the warmth of the outer layer with my face and shoulders. I began to See scenes of what must have been today, going food shopping, making dinner. This was it. Her most recent memories. I let the aunt and the little girl go. I felt the top of the layer on my head and closed my eyes. I was out.

  The room looked as if someone had put a pink lightbulb in the lamp. Pink was better than red, I remember thinking as I closed my eyes quickly, gently rubbed my eyelids, and swept pink tears off my cheeks. I knew that if my moving the memory had worked, there would be enough going on in the room within milliseconds that I couldn’t afford to call attention to my almost bleeding eyes. I heard the aunt’s shrieking before I could open my eyes again. I made my exit as Maggie picked up the phone to call the police. The aunt had thrown herself atop the dinner, which she sent crashing to the floor. She was striking herself and tearing out her hair in bloody chunks as she screamed over and over, “I killed her! I killed her! I killed Anna! God help me! I killed her!”

  So in my first mission, I proved I could read people’s cues and Navigate brains that most Seers cannot. I coul
d move memories. I proved myself to Tobias, who said he hadn’t expected so much of me so soon.

  But I also saw a dead girl.

  Remembering how supposedly talented I am does offer encouragement as I think about my current mission, but it certainly doesn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

  After journaling details from my current mission for Tobias, I put my pencil down and slide my journal under the cushion of my chair. I feel as if my brain itself is heavy and stuffed. I am almost relieved when a three-beat knock at the door pulls me from my unsorted thoughts. It’s Daniel. He’s a Preceptor who assists Tobias with his research. He is also the one sent to fetch me when Tobias wants to touch base. I retrieve my journal, slip on my shoes, and head for the door.

  “Hello, Daniel,” I say before the door is fully open.

  “Elise. How are you this evening?”

  “Okay.”

  “Tobias would like a word.”

  “Right.”

  I follow Daniel down the cold metal stairs and turn right at the landing. A long hallway dimly lit stretches out in front of me. Tobias’s office door is within a few feet.

  “Have a good night, Elise.”

  “You, too.”

  I turn the knob and slink inside. I walk briskly to the center of the room and take my seat in the padded chair in front of Tobias’s desk. He has not swiveled around to address me yet, but my job is to hustle into my seat, set my journal in the center of his leather desk pad, and wait for his cue.

  “Elise,” Tobias starts mid-swivel, “was your day eventful?”

  Tobias doesn’t have an accent. He is American-born. He told me so. But he hangs onto the ends of words in a singsong un-American, un-Philly kind of way. It makes him sound equal parts regal and condescending. Maybe it’s the power. Maybe it’s his status in the organization. Something about him has always kept me at arm’s length. He’s not cold. Chilly, maybe.

  “I did.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I fill Tobias in as he reads through my journal. I leave out nothing. I provide details from scoring the invite to Patrick’s race to dinner and our time after.

  “An eventful day indeed. What do you have in place for tomorrow? Have you secured plans with Ms. Kuono?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then, no?”

  “No.”

  “It seems that after being so readily included today, tomorrow ought to present you similar opportunities.”

  “Yes.”

  “And remember, Elise.” Tobias hangs my name in the air until he can effectively look me over. I know he is checking for clues as to my mood, to see if I am nervous or agitated. He’s the one who stresses that I must always look for similar cues in others. “This mission is of the utmost importance. Dr. Kuono’s work is vital to the future of the organization.”

  “I understand.”

  His chair squeaks as he begins to turn away.

  “Tobias?”

  “Yes, Elise?”

  “What kind of work is Dr. Kuono doing?”

  “The kind of work that could answer many questions for us. Including questions about you.”

  Chapter

  My alarm yells at me an hour and a half before I normally get up. I have to do the homework I ignored last night. I only half pay attention to the answers I put down. It’s not that I don’t care about the work, but I almost can’t pay perfect attention to it. My brain absorbs information like a sponge. I retain everything I hear in the lectures but take notes to avoid drawing attention to myself. I do the work to prove that I deserve to be in a school as elitist as Alsinboro but wouldn’t dare to strip Frances of her impending title as valedictorian. I like her, plus, after seeing her in action, I think she’d give me a run for my money.

  I keep the radio blaring on the way to school. I change channels every time the music slows down or mellows out. Like if I drown out my ears, I’ll keep myself from thinking or worrying or preparing. Wasn’t I supposed to prepare for today? What does Luke have in store for me? There I go again. I turn the radio up even more.

  Classes up to lunch go fine. Everyone stays focused, has to, in order to do well. There isn’t a whole lot of socializing, even between classes. I wave to members of the group as I see them. They all wave back in nondescript ways, except for Frances, who doesn’t even see me. But lunch is next.

  I walk into the dining hall and head for the salad bar. I fill my tray with lentil salad, an apple, and plain Greek yogurt and head their way. They are just like they were yesterday. Frances, Patrick, and Daisy are chatting and smiling away. Eri is looking at me with an expression I can’t classify. It’s just as I thought. All except for Luke. He’s smiling at me.

  I am instantly filled with equal parts of dread and warmth as I feel flutters in my stomach. Oh, great. So I am intimidated by him and infatuated with him? Awesome.

  “Hey, Diner Girl!” Patrick zings as he slaps the empty seat next to him.

  “Hey, Paddle Boy.” I smirk at him and slide into the seat.

  “Um, yeah … they’re oars, Leesie.”

  “Right. Right. Got it. Sorry. Oar Boy.”

  “That’s more like it.” He hunches down and shoves his shoulder into mine. “Respect the sport, man. Respect the sport.” He laughs and the group laughs with him. All of them. And in that moment, I am home. With a family. One that eats together, laughs together, body checks one another, and, in Eri’s case, tells each other things they don’t have to tell. Maybe even Luke is ready to embrace me as one of the family. I mean, he did smile at me just a second ago.

  As the sound of laughter is replaced with chewing and forks scraping, I am already changing my mind. He did smile at me just a second ago? Did I seriously just think that? I am in charge here! Why do I continuously allow him to dictate the nature of our relationship? When he’s all smiles, I am warm and fluttery. When he’s dark and looming, I am ready to defend my life. No. Not on my watch, buddy. You will start batting my pitches. This is my inning. Okay. Take a couple of deep breaths. Don’t look directly at anyone. Stay calm and collected.

  Frances breaks me out of it by bringing up a calculus test we have on Thursday and a paper due Monday for AP English. Daisy and Eri offer their theories on how difficult the test will be given the short time we’ve spent on this unit while Patrick and Luke compare topics for their papers. I listen, nod, and comment now and then, but I am laying low for the rest of lunch. I am going to wait until Luke addresses me again, and if it’s not in a way I like, I am going to call him on it. I don’t have to wait long.

  “So, Leesie, I know you said you ride, and I am going to the stables today. You want to come along?” Daisy has waited for a break in the schoolwork conversations to ask me, so it’s quiet at the table, and now all eyes are fixed on me.

  “I’d love that. Thanks. I miss the smell, actually. It’s been a while.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s only been a couple days for me, but I can’t wait to get there today.”

  Patrick is back and forth, watching us like he is witnessing two people who just lapsed into a fit of speaking a foreign language, ancient Sanskrit or something.

  “The smell? How does one miss the smell of manure and dirt and whatever else you find in a barn polluting our clean city air that’s ripe with the scent of automobiles and French fries?”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Daisy and I say at the same time. We are both surprised to hear the other’s voice mixed in with our own. We meet eyes, wide and understanding, sharing in something only farm people know, and we laugh.

  “I’ll drive you,” Daisy says, letting out a last giggle. “Meet me at my car at the end of the day.”

  “Great.” I’m all smiles. I don’t remember what my real-life connection to horses is, but in the moment I don’t care. I just know that for some reason I’m excited to get the chance to be around them.

  “Can I come?” Eri’s words break through the moment Daisy and I are having. Her words give a lot away.
I know that by the look on Daisy’s face. Daisy’s taken aback, surprised, puzzled. This is her best friend, though, right? Why should she be surprised that Eri would want to come?

  “Uh, sure, Eri. Of course you can come. You are always invited. I just thought, you know, that it’s not your thing.”

  Eri glances around at everyone but Luke. Her shoulders are raised slightly. She is pointing the fork, prongs down, into her tray. She’s tense.

  “Maybe I haven’t given it enough of a shot. I think I could come to enjoy it. Frances, how ‘bout you? Make it a girl’s day?”

  She’s deflecting. Nice try, Eri. Turn it into a girl’s thing. Like that’s your motivation. To make sure no girl is left out? I don’t buy it. You didn’t like it when it was just Daisy and me, that’s all. Why not? You could have invited me somewhere when we’re alone next period in art if you wanted me to yourself. Wait. That theory doesn’t work because art hasn’t happened yet. Maybe Eri had planned on that and Daisy had stolen her thunder. Or maybe Eri doesn’t like to share her best friend unless it is a group thing. Or maybe the fact that she and Daisy don’t share the animal husbandry thing and Daisy and I do makes her insecure. Okay, too many theories that make sense for me to come up with an answer.

  “Sorry ladies, but I have Future Business Owners of America this afternoon. And a study date with the math club after that. I’ll wait for the next girls’ day invite, and hopefully that one will not contain farm animals. Sorry, Daisy, but those things are just too big.”

  Daisy and I laugh again, but it lacks the ease it had earlier. This nervous laughter is covering up the sideways glance Daisy gives Eri. The glance complete with raised eyebrows and an unsaid “What the heck are you doing?” Eri looks away and starts collecting her trash. Lunch is almost over. And then I realize Luke has been silent through all of this. I look over at him, and I see his tense, furrowed brow has returned. Man, this guy is all over the place! I am starting to think that he is unhinged. Is he angry? I won’t get the answer to that question by reading his body language or waiting for him to speak because in the next second he is up with his tray and gone.