Zara

by Mary Hooper

  GEMINI

  Get ready for the next

  CANCER

  Can you do the next girl now?

  LEO

  Leading up the next girl now

  VIRGO

  Very good so far, now try this one

  LIBRA

  Look into your heart and tell us what this one is

  SCORPIO

  See how you get on with this one

  SAGITTARIUS

  Someone new is here now

  CAPRICORN

  Coming up with someone new now

  AQUARIUS

  Another girl’s standing here now

  PISCES

  Please can you do this one

  It had been impossible to work out the wording just as we’d wanted it to, but it was close enough. And as Zara said, if she got one wrong it would look more plausible. It wouldn’t do to be absolutely perfect, she said.

  Finding out the girls’ zodiac signs had been easy. There were thirty-two girls in our class and we knew the signs of at least half without having to look them up. The birth dates of the others – those who didn’t join in the reading of newspaper or magazine predictions – we found on our class register and I’d jotted their signs down and tried to learn them off by heart. We didn’t reckon on having thirty-two girls all in at once, anyhow – or anywhere near that number. Some girls just weren’t interested in that sort of thing.

  It was dead easy getting the subject introduced. What we did was start talking about psychic stuff at our table at lunchtime and then, in a dramatic voice such as one of The Four would use, I said that Zara was probably a witch; that she was just amazing at predicting things.

  ‘She’s always telling me weird stuff,’ I said. ‘And she’s seen a ghost.’

  Some of the others had already heard about the man in the flat incident. Now Lois, really interested, wanted to know what else Zara could do.

  ‘Well, I don’t really know because I’ve only just started developing my psychic side,’ Zara said earnestly. ‘Up till now I’ve been pushing it into the background and pretending it doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Why would you want to do that?’ Sky said. ‘It would be amazing to be psychic.’

  ‘It can be pretty scary, though,’ Zara said, and she told them about when she’d gone past the train station and started crying, and how she’d found out about the accident in the papers the following day.

  As I listened to her I suddenly felt uneasy. This was obviously something that had actually happened … Did this mean Zara really was psychic? And in that case, was she just pretending to me that she wasn’t in case it scared me off?

  ‘I felt bad about it afterwards, wondering if I could have done anything to save the people on the train,’ Zara finished with a sigh. ‘And I’ve never forgotten about it.’

  ‘It was probably all just a coincidence,’ Sophie said – she had just squashed herself down on the end of the table next to Sky. ‘Because mostly it’s just a lot of rubbish. I know we read our horoscopes, but we don’t really believe all those things are going to come true, do we?’

  There were several voices of protest, some of the girls saying that they’d met someone special or come into a sum of money exactly when their horoscope had said they would.

  ‘More coincidences!’ Sophie said, shaking back her hair so that it rippled across her back. ‘How can someone predict what’s going to happen to one twelfth of the population?’

  ‘They can predict a trend,’ I said, because I’d been reading up about that sort of stuff myself. ‘Like, if two warring planets are coming up against each other in your chart it might signal that you’re going to have a row with someone.’

  ‘Huh!’ Sophie scoffed, and a couple of the others looked as if they agreed with her.

  ‘But being psychic can mean lots of different things. In the olden days people who could see into the future were called sensitives,’ Zara said. ‘It just meant they were finely tuned into the feelings of other people, and sometimes those other people were alive and sometimes they were dead. I like to think that’s what I am – a sensitive.’

  A couple of the girls started laughing, then, and Zara protested. ‘You can laugh! I am, though.’

  ‘She is. She gets feelings about things,’ I said earnestly. ‘And I know it’s true about that train crash.’

  ‘OK! Prove you’re psychic, then,’ Sophie said bluntly.

  Zara smiled. This was just what she’d wanted. ‘What d’you want me to do?’ she said to Sophie and the small crowd which had gathered round our table.

  ‘Tell me what’s going to happen to me and when I’m going to meet the love of my life,’ someone said.

  ‘Yeah, I want to know that, too,’ said Sky.

  Zara shook her head. ‘I can’t predict big, important stuff like that for all of you. For one thing there’s not enough time, and for another it would be really tiring. You’d have to have a one-to-one personal reading for that.’

  ‘Do something about star signs, then,’ I said, because although we’d agreed that it would look better if the suggestion didn’t come from me, there didn’t seem to be any other way of bringing it up. ‘Why don’t you try and sense what everyone’s star sign is?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s a good one,’ Poppy said.

  ‘But you know most of our signs already,’ Sophie objected.

  ‘OK, I know!’ I said to Zara, as if it had just occurred to me. ‘We’ll blindfold you, and then I’ll lead the girls up one by one and you’ve got to say what their star signs are.’

  Zara put her hands to each side of her temple (so it looked as if she was communing with the spirits, she told me later) and closed her eyes briefly. Then she opened them and said she thought that was possible, and she would try to do it. ‘We’ll need to go somewhere quiet, though,’ she said, looking round the teeming dining hall. ‘And I can’t promise it’ll work, but I’ll do my best …’

  Eleven of us went off in the end. Our own tutor room was empty and though we weren’t really allowed in there at lunchtimes, that’s where we went.

  I took a quick look round at the girls who were coming with us, feeling excited. I knew the phrases we were going to use off by heart, and already knew the star signs of about seven of the girls. The other four I’d have to look up, but I’d written down everyone’s signs in a code on the back of my timetable, and I took a quick look at this whilst pretending to see what lesson we had next period. Someone went off to their locker to get the scarf which was to be tied around Zara’s eyes, then she sat on a chair out at the front and everyone gestured quietly among themselves as to what order they were going to go forward.

  I didn’t have anything to do with the choosing, but just led each girl down in turn and let Zara know by our prearranged phrase that someone was there in front of her. I was nervous at first, but the words I had to say sounded completely natural with a laugh here and there, a hesitation or a few words tagged on at the end.

  There was a lot of giggling from the girls at first, and some scoffing, but after about three girls had been up to stand in front of Zara and she’d got their signs right, everyone fell silent and the mickey-taking stopped. Zara got quite bold then and started adding little bits of information along with the star sign. When Poppy went up she said, ‘Virgo. And someone who loves to write lists.’ Which was perfectly true of Poppy. Of Sky she said, ‘Sagittarius. And here’s someone who loves enjoying herself and is always out and about.’

  Sophie, unfortunately, was the only one that she got wrong. Or I got wrong, actually, because Sophie was Capricorn, and by mistake I gave the other ‘C’ phrase, for Cancer.

  ‘No!’ Sophie said triumphantly, when Zara said she was the sign of the crab.

  Zara put her hands to each side of her head again. ‘Ah. I got it wrong because this person is putting up barriers,’ she said after a moment. ‘She’s blocking me out.’

  Sophie grinned round at everyone, nodding agreement.

  ‘This is a girl
with secrets to hide,’ Zara went on. ‘And one big secret in particular.’

  To my surprise, Sophie’s smile dropped and a tiny twitch came at the side of her mouth. ‘Rubbish,’ she said. ‘It’s me – Sophie. And you’ve got me completely wrong!’

  ‘Have I?’ was all Zara said, quietly and meaningfully. ‘Have you no secrets at all?’

  Sophie didn’t say any more, just sat down. The next girl waiting to go up was India; she was Pisces for sure.

  I led her up to stand in front of Zara. ‘Please can you do this girl next. Maybe you’ll have better luck with her …’

  ‘How was that, then?’ Zara said as we closed my bedroom door behind us that evening. ‘Wasn’t it brilliant? They fell for it every inch of the way!’

  I nodded. ‘And even when I got Sophie wrong it didn’t really matter, because you turned it to your advantage by saying she was blocking you out.’

  ‘Which she was.’

  ‘But how did you know those other things,’ I asked curiously, ‘about Poppy liking to write lists and all that?’

  ‘I’m psychic!’

  ‘No, don’t mess about. How did you know really?’

  Zara shrugged. ‘It’s just typical behaviour for that star sign. Virgos like things neat and just-so – list-making is one of the things they do. And Libras spend so much time weighing things up that they can’t make decisions.’

  ‘What about Sophie, then? You said she’d got a secret.’

  ‘Everyone’s got secrets,’ Zara said. ‘Everyone’s got something they don’t want anyone else to find out.’

  ‘She went all tight-lipped and twitchy when you said that.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Zara said. ‘She’s got a really big secret.’

  But when I asked how she knew this and what it was, she just laughed and said the spirits hadn’t revealed that so far. And then she wouldn’t say anything else about it.

  We made plans to follow things up by doing something else psychic the following week. Everyone was going to put something small of theirs – a ring or a watch or whatever – into a covered box, and Zara was going to pull these things out one by one, hold it in her hand and then say something about its owner or its history. The proper name for this, she said, was ‘psychometry’.

  ‘Where do I come in?’ I asked, not wanting to be left out. If Zara became really popular and in demand, then I wanted to be part of it.

  ‘Well, you’re my psychic assistant,’ Zara said. ‘I’ll say I can only work with you because you give out the right sort of vibes.’

  ‘But when you take objects out of the box, how will I tell you who owns what?’

  ‘Just with your eyes,’ she said. ‘All you’ve got to do is watch what everyone puts in and then, when I pull it out, signal who it belongs to by glancing at them. Easy!’

  ‘It sounds a bit hit and miss,’ I said doubtfully. ‘Aren’t we going to have a code to back things up?’

  ‘No need!’ Zara said.

  We talked a bit more about this and when it was time for her to go home I went downstairs to see her out. Unfortunately, Dad was just coming in.

  ‘Not you here again!’ he said to Zara. He was making out it was a joke, but I knew he really meant it.

  Zara pretended to smile. ‘Afraid so!’

  ‘Had any new holes put in your body lately?’

  ‘No, but ask me same time next week,’ Zara said flippantly.

  Dad looked at her, shaking his head. I knew he was going to come out with something awful but had no way of stopping him. ‘How sad,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope you grow out of it before you’re completely riddled with cavities.’

  She glowered at him. She’s quite good at glowering if she doesn’t like someone. ‘None of your business,’ she said and walked straight past him.

  I was embarrassed for both of them. ‘Sorry about him,’ I muttered as I opened the gate for her. ‘He thinks he’s being funny.’

  She shrugged. ‘Dads, eh?’ she said, and then added, ‘Not that I’ve ever had one.’ Her eyes gave a sudden gleam. ‘You know I said something about everyone having secrets?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, your dad’s got one.’ She gave a shudder. ‘And I don’t think it’s a very nice one. Bye!’

  And before I could ask what she was on about, she walked off.

  Chapter Four

  ‘What did you mean?’ I asked Zara as soon as I got on the school bus the following day.

  ‘What did I mean about what?’

  ‘You know – about my dad. About him having a secret.’

  She turned in her seat to look at me. ‘It’s just …’ And then she hesitated and her face became closed and guarded. ‘No. It’s probably nothing.’

  ‘But you said he had a secret and it wasn’t very nice.’

  She was looking out of the window now, and wouldn’t turn her head to look at me. I could see by the way her face was set that she wasn’t going to say anything else. She often did this: started saying something, then changed her mind and clammed up.

  I’d hardly slept the night before, just lain there tossing and turning and imagining all sorts of things about my dad. What was this secret? It could be one of a number of things and they all went through my head one by one. He was having an affair. He was a bigamist and had another family. He was leaving Mum. They were getting divorced. He’d lost his job. He’d done something bad – a robbery/drugs deal/hit-and-run and was being put in jail.

  It was a horrible feeling. OK, I knew he was a bit of a pillock sometimes, but that didn’t mean I wanted him out of my life. I’d got used to my dad. Annoying as he sometimes was, I couldn’t imagine life without him.

  About two o’clock in the morning, utterly fed up at being awake, I’d thought I’d try the automatic writing business. I got up, went over to my desk and pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. Then I sat there with the pen hovering over the paper and my eyes closed, thinking, Tell me what my dad’s secret is …

  But it hadn’t worked; the pen hadn’t made as much as a mark on the paper. In the end I’d gone back to bed and eventually fallen asleep.

  ‘I tried that automatic writing,’ I said to Zara as our bus swung through the school gates. ‘I wanted to know my dad’s secret.’

  ‘And what happened?’ Zara asked, turning to me, suddenly interested.

  ‘Nothing.’ I shrugged. ‘It didn’t move.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not psychic.’

  ‘But nor are you, are you? You’re not really.’

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ she asked. But while I was working out what to say the bus pulled up at the stop, there was a big rush to get off and I never did say anything. I didn’t know, was the answer. I didn’t know if she was really psychic or not.

  That week we realised it was working – the popularity thing. At break different girls would wander over to talk to us, and at lunchtime would look to see where we were and come to sit on our table. Sky and Sophie and Poppy and Lois came too, and it might sound batty but it was strangely thrilling to have The Four actually seeking us out and wanting to sit with us. Sophie, actually, was the only one who was a little reluctant; not so interested in us as the others. She was the one who’d ask if we could please talk about something else and said it was boring hearing about star signs and creepy stuff the whole time. She preferred talking about soaps and bands and fashions.

  As we were talking, Zara would every so often throw a little crumb into the general conversation, ask someone how their parrot was (‘How did you know I had a parrot?’ they’d say in awe) or tell them where they were planning to go on holiday next year (‘How did you know that? My dad’s only just booked it!’).

  Afterwards I would ask Zara how she knew this sort of stuff and she’d say it was because she actually listened to things, had heard Chloe talking about taking her parrot to the vet a couple of weeks back, or remembered Danielle mentioning ages ago that her family were looking at holiday brochures for the Car
ibbean. ‘It’s just being open to things: listening between the lines. Remember what I said at the start?’

  I thought about this. ‘What about my dad, though?’ I asked. ‘What could you have found out about him from listening to stuff?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘You said it was probably nothing…’

  She sighed.

  ‘Tell me what it is – what you think it is,’ I said, for she was about to turn away again.

  ‘Look, the honest answer is, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just got this weird feeling about him the other evening.’

  For some reason I felt my mouth begin to go dry. ‘D’you think it’s something very bad?’

  She shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ She looked at me. ‘Nah, it’s probably nothing. Forget it.’

  As if.

  On Thursday we were told that the following afternoon we’d be having an extended lunch hour because the teachers had a meeting, so that was the day we decided to do the psychometry thing. We told certain girls (it felt odd to be the ones doing the choosing – selecting and rejecting) to bring in a piece of jewellery or something small; something that Zara wouldn’t recognise.

  ‘It’s got to be something of your own, though,’ I explained in my role as psychic’s assistant. ‘If it belongs to someone else then the vibes will be wrong and Zara will get confused.’

  I didn’t ask anyone what they were going to bring, but Sophie came up to me and whispered that she was going to bring a silver bangle she’d been given when she was christened. She’d never actually worn it, she said, did I think that would be all right? Surprised at being asked, because she’d said all along that she didn’t really believe in it, I told her that that sounded fine. Chloe, too, came up and said she was bringing a signet ring which had been given to her by her brother; would it matter that she hadn’t bought it herself? I assured her it wouldn’t.

  Going home on the bus that day, Zara asked me if I knew what any of the girls were bringing and, though I felt a bit uncomfortable about doing so, I told her about Sophie’s silver bangle and Chloe’s ring. It was silly to feel guilty, I said to myself, when the whole thing was a trick anyway. Zara seemed pleased with the information, especially when I said that Chloe’s ring had belonged to her brother, but I didn’t think any more about this at the time.