by Stacy Juba
In this case, Scott’s funeral was the reminder and the fact that these were Jeff’s rings didn’t make a difference. Dawn recalled that her own father’s funeral had been small, mostly co-workers and friends she’d never seen before.
"If Scott was like his mother, he was popular," Jeff said. "Susan was Homecoming Queen."
Her mother settled herself in the crook of his arm and smiled up at him, as if determined to shake off her sadness. "You must have been popular, too, if you dated her."
"Then, I guess, but not always," Jeff said, kissing her cheek. "I was overweight in grade school and the other kids teased me. By the time we moved to Covington when I was in high school, I had more muscle than fat, and my build helped me to be a good football player. For once, the in-crowd accepted me. I got carried away trying to please them and did a few stupid things."
Dawn turned a page in her book, listening raptly. Jeff seemed so self-confident. She’d seen photos of him at his parents’ place and he had been on the chunky side, but it never occurred to her that he’d suffered for it.
"What kind of things?" asked Dawn’s mother.
Jeff had a faraway expression and Dawn knew he remembered the past as clearly as if it had happened that week. "Wasted my time at too many parties. Ranked on the unpopular kids. I’ve always felt guilty about the way we treated some kids. I know firsthand how hurtful it is to be teased for something you can’t control." He looked at Dawn and again she wondered how much he knew – or believed.
When Dawn spoke, she surprised even herself. "Did your parents get on your case about losing weight?"
"They never said anything about it, but my mother encouraged me to exercise and she gave me smaller portions. She’s always had a hard time with her weight, too, so she understood."
"It helps to have supportive parents. If they came down on you too, that would have made it worse. A lot worse." Dawn gathered her belongings, walked past her mother and up the stairs.
***
Sunlight bore down on the baseball field. Renee sneered as Dawn and Candace sat knee-to-knee on the metal bench, awaiting their turns at bat. She loomed over them, her curly ponytail bobbing out the back of her Covington High School baseball cap. Scott’s cap.
"What are you two, like best friends now?" Renee asked. "You guys and Pan Fry, what a combo."
Dawn stiffened. She didn’t care what this girl had endured in her personal life; it didn’t give her the right to degrade other people. Dawn’s life and Ken’s hadn’t exactly been a trip to Disney World. She turned to Candace and said loudly, "Sounds like Renee's done with her mourning. Scott must not have meant much to her after all."
Renee glowered as a few classmates shifted their way. "You'll never know what it’s like to be in love."
"Neither will you, skank," Candace muttered.
"You’re in no position to call me names."
Candace had been watching Tim pitch. Now, she gave her full attention to Renee. "Yeah, well I just did. You’re such a phony."
"Come on, Dawn, you’re up!" called Mrs. Welch.
"Easy out!" someone shouted.
Dawn forced herself off the bench and stumbled over to the plate. She seized the bat, her hands slippery. She could do it. She’d pound the ball so hard that even Renee would shut up.
The first pitch whizzed by her.
"You can do this, Dawn!" Mrs. Welch shouted from the sidelines.
Yeah, right. Not only did Dawn’s classmates know she was a freak, to their delight they had also learned she was a klutz in gym. Gulping, she swung and missed.
"What are you doing, swatting at flies?" Renee yelled.
Dawn breathed in and out, her mind on nothing except bat connecting with ball. Tim cocked back his arm, in slow motion.
"Strike three!" Mrs. Welch called as the ball crossed the plate.
"Way to go, witch," Renee said.
As they trudged toward the outfield, Candace laid a pudgy hand on Dawn’s arm. "Don’t listen to them. I used to get ticked off, too, but what we do is much better than scoring a run in some dumb softball game."
"I don’t know about that. It didn’t come in too handy today." Dawn checked her watch. A half hour left. She spent half her life counting down, waiting for things to be over.
"Don’t think that way. You can’t even imagine how far we can go with Serina on our side."
"That doesn’t help me now. This is like all my other gym classes, maybe worse. I wanted so badly to show them I wasn’t an easy out. I've always wanted that, but it’ll never happen."
"Don’t be so sure," Candace said with a wink.
***
Dawn cheered up as she ate lunch with Candace and Jamie. They occupied maroon stools built into a long table against the wall. Aromas of meatloaf and gravy mingled in the air with the noise of two hundred kids crammed into one cafeteria.
At her old school, Dawn would deliberately arrive late and buy lunch, preferring standing in line to eating alone. She’d have five minutes to wolf down her food, then the misery would be behind her for another day. Enjoying lunch with friends was bizarre and wonderful at the same time.
Candace squirted ketchup onto her mound of limp French fries, the white packet stark against her black-polished nails. Her checkerboard flannel shirt and heavy hiking boots would have suited a lumberjack. Her black makeup and piercings, coupled with her dressy blue star earrings and matching necklace, made the outfit even odder.
No wonder the other kids teased her. Dawn had seen a few Goth girls who favored dark eyeliner and gloomy clothes, but Candace had such an eclectic wardrobe, she didn’t even fit in with them. Maybe Candace didn’t want to be pigeon-holed into any group.
"Serina likes you," Candace told Dawn over the chatter buzzing around them. "She said that you’re really gifted."
"You must feel so special," Jamie said.
"Special?" Dawn had never connected that word to herself. Was it her imagination, or did her friends sound jealous? Dawn crumpled the remains of her sack lunch, her mood lightening like the paper bag. Serina’s praise almost made up for the gym trauma.
Jamie giggled. "Plus, you’ve got a hottie for a stepbrother. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him."
Tim Travers and Vicky dumped their trash in the barrel behind Dawn’s table. Vicky glanced at them, brow furrowed as she walked past them.
Candace regarded her sister coolly, then turned to Dawn. "See, she ignored us," she said smugly.
Dawn had expected a smile from Vicky, if not a hello. She tried not to let it bother her, but it nagged at her anyway. "How long have they been going out?"
"A couple months," Candace said. "It seems like forever."
"I guess it must hurt, seeing them together," Jamie said.
"Why should I care? Serina’s right, nothing would happen with him. Tim barely knows I'm alive." But Candace's voice wavered.
"Why do you like him then?" Dawn asked, and Candace sighed.
"His crowd puts on this act, like they’re hot stuff, but in private he’s different from the guy he is in gym. When he comes over our house, he talks to me like he's interested." Candace blushed a shade deeper than her red hair. "Don't tell Serina, but I’ve felt chemistry between us. We were talking about a movie once and I felt this connection."
"Really?" Jamie leaned forward, excited, one underdog rooting for another. Dawn knew better. She’d seen Tim with his arm around Vicky. He felt nothing for Candace.
"I know it's nuts, but I keep hoping," Candace said. "Victoria isn’t even that into him, so they’ll never last. She complains that he wants to get too serious. But neither of you can tell Serina. Whenever I bring him up, she gets all weirded out."
"Just don't put Tim on a pedestal," Dawn said. "He never says a word to you in school. He doesn’t speak up when his friends make fun of you in gym. You’re better off without him."
"Maybe you should mind your own business," Candace snapped.
Dawn’s spine went rigid. She couldn’t lose ano
ther friend. She’d cried in her room for days after Samantha rejected her last year. "I'm sorry. I don’t want you to get hurt."
Candace was quiet for a moment and then gave her a half-smile. "No one's ever cared whether I got hurt or not. I guess you’re forgiven. Who's Samantha?"
Dawn blinked. She’d never mentioned her former friend. Candace must have accidentally plucked the name out of Dawn’s mind. This being around other psychics was definitely an adjustment.
Renee halted in front of the trash barrel and tossed in her Styrofoam salad bowl. She sniffed at Jamie. "If it isn't Pan Fry and Company."
She sent Dawn a haughty glance. "You know why we call your friend Pan Fry? Because she can peel off her zits, fry them up in a pan, and your fat pig friend Candace could eat them."
Jamie stared into her lunch tray, but she mustered enough strength to respond in an even tone, "Don’t talk to me like that."
Good for her, Dawn thought. Unfortunately, Jamie’s comment didn’t deter Renee.
"What are you gonna do about it, Pan Fry?" Renee scoffed.
Candace rose and shook a finger into Renee’s face. "Lay off. How about I tell everyone how Scott wanted you both to date other people this year? But then you threw a crying fit, and he felt sorry for you."
Renee backed away, her gaze darting from Candace to Dawn to Jamie. "That's a lie, and you know it!"
"It’s the truth," Candace said. "And you know it."
"You think you’re so smart. Well, I’ve got news for you. You’re weird, all three of you." Renee staggered back to her table.
Candace sat down and nibbled another French fry. "Guess I showed her."
"How did you know that?" Dawn asked. "Did you read her mind?"
"I listened to her thoughts the first day of school, in gym. I was bored and wanted something to do. She was panicked he’d break up with her before Prom."
"You mean, you can read minds when you want to? That kind of thing always happens to me accidentally. Is it hard?"
"Not once you get used to it. Don’t worry, Serina will teach you when you're ready." Candace touched Jamie's shoulder and sat back down. "You okay?"
Jamie nodded and sighed. "I guess so. I mean, I will be. I know she’s horrible and I shouldn’t let what she says bother me, but it’s just so embarrassing."
Dawn felt her friend’s humiliation as if it were her own. She had to help Jamie, tactfully suggest buying acne medication, makeup and the right hair products. Candace wouldn’t appreciate such suggestions, but Jamie would.
"You know, Jamie, you’re really pretty," Dawn said. "I think with a little makeup, you'd be a knockout. Let’s do a makeover sometime."
"I'm so glad I have you two as friends." Jamie smiled first at Dawn, then at Candace, though not as brightly as usual.
"Someday, everyone will wish they were nicer to us," Candace said. "They'll regret every dig they ever made."
A disturbing thought flickered through Dawn's mind. "Who's Samantha?" Candace had asked. She hadn’t accidentally latched onto that name after all. Not only had Candace read Renee's mind on cue, she had also invaded Dawn's.
Dawn shivered, despite the warmth in the cafeteria. What other thoughts had Candace stolen?
Chapter Eight
Dawn hunched at the desk in her bedroom, scanning a web site about psychic skills. She scrolled down to a section on clairvoyance, defined as seeing beyond boundaries of time and space. That must be the visual sense that Serina discussed.
Even the game of touching objects like photographs and hair clips had a name. Psychometry. Serina made it tougher by hiding the items in a box. An excited shiver twittered down Dawn’s neck. Serina valued her abilities so highly. If she could impress Serina, then maybe she really was talented.
Dawn clicked on the next definition. Clairaudience: Hearing sounds like voices not emanating from visible sources in the immediate vicinity.
The winter her father died, she'd heard his voice twice on days she sobbed until her lungs ached. He said three words – "It's okay, sweetheart."
Dawn never took it seriously, assuming her dreams and wishes were playing tricks on her, but now a message from her father seemed like a real possibility. Her premonitions started soon after those experiences. Had the tragedy ignited something in her brain?
Someone rapped on the door.
She minimized the web page and brought up the main Google screen. "Come in!"
Ken stepped inside and arched his eyebrows. He must be comparing it to his garage sale of a room. It figured, he had to visit the one time Dawn needed privacy.
"What do you want?" Dawn forced a weak smile to cover her rudeness as Ken sat down on the bed and opened a notebook.
"I don’t think you’re leveling with me about these feelings of yours," he said coolly. "I think they happen more often than you let on. I want to try something."
"I was leveling with you," she said, her pulse rocketing. "What do you want to try?"
He scrutinized her, his head cocked to one side. "Who do you like in the Patriots game next Sunday, the Pats or the Dolphins and by how much?"
A laugh bubbled in Dawn’s throat. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t gambling.
"What’s so funny?" Ken asked.
"That you think I know anything about football. Are you serious?"
"Just give me your feeling. If you get it right, I won’t ask any questions. If you’re wrong, no biggie. What do you think?" He poised his ballpoint on the page, encouraging her with a nod.
"Does your dad know you’re gambling? Are you using a bookie? You can get in trouble with that."
"Come on, you sound like my dad," Ken said, rolling his eyes. "This is the first time I’ve bet and it’s only because of you."
"Look, I’m not psychic. I don’t—"
"Let’s just call it a history of making good guesses. What’s your guess?"
Dawn fingered a heart-shaped glass paperweight on the corner of her desk. She knew some kids at her old school who had gambled and lost big time, but if she didn’t go along with Ken, he might resent it.
"I’m sure I’ll be wrong," Dawn said. "But do you have something I can hold that’s connected to the game? Like a picture of the teams?"
"How about this?" Ken shot up to extend a small Sports Illustrated NFL schedule.
She accepted it and closed her eyes. Running her fingers along the colored boxes, Dawn visualized a football field. The stands. The players. A scoreboard imprinted itself in her mind, followed by the Patriots patting each other on the back in their red, white and blue uniforms. "I think the Patriots will win, 38-17."
"Are you sure? The Patriots are three-point underdogs."
"Of course I’m not sure. Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?" But she was sure, very sure. Rarely had Dawn summoned such a clear vision on command. As Serina had promised, the new techniques were giving Dawn control.
Ken squinted at her for a long moment before scribbling in his notebook. "Okay, thanks. So how come you’re still hanging around Jamie and Candace? You haven’t needed a ride home in over a week. What’s up with that?"
Dawn toyed with a container of paper clips near her keyboard. "I like them. We have fun."
"Did you know Candace’s family is loaded? You can't tell by the way she dresses. Her dad is this hotshot surgeon."
Candace had mentioned her father was a doctor, but hadn't elaborated. Somehow, that made Dawn like her more. She didn't parade her wealth.
"Okay, so you don't like Candace," Dawn said. "What about Jamie? She's the sweetest person I've ever met." She didn’t add that Jamie had a huge crush on him. That would be a betrayal of confidence.
He shrugged. "If you're friends with them, the other kids will make your life hell. That’s all I’m saying. You guys haven’t gone back to that fortuneteller again, have you?"
"I told you, we just went once for fun," Dawn said quickly.
"Good." Ken tapped his notebook with the pen. "Thanks for t
he guess. See you later."
After he left her room, Dawn returned to the psychic web site, but the words clouded on the screen. She rubbed her tired eyes. Ken was right. Candace and Jamie weren’t helping her reputation, and visiting a palm reader rumored to be a devil worshipper could be dangerous. She was only taking Serina’s word that she had good intentions.
But Dawn liked her new friends, and she wanted to see what else Serina had to offer. She had already learned so much in an incredibly short time.
You don’t need Serina, her mental voice said. You only need to look within yourself.
Dawn turned on the radio full blast, letting the music drown her inner doubts.
***
The next morning at school, someone called to Dawn from down the corridor. "Dawn! Wait up."
She stopped in mid-stride and turned around. Vicky halted before her, pretty face haggard. Other than a dab of lip gloss, she hadn't bothered with makeup. Dawn supposed lip gloss wouldn't smudge when she cried.
"I’m sorry Tim’s giving you a hard time," Vicky said. "I know he and his friends can be a pain. He's not as mean as you think, or I wouldn't be with him. It's his stupid friends that get him going."
"He's not that bad, really, but thanks. Renee's worse."
"No kidding. I've seen you hanging out with my sister. How did you get to be friends?"
"We're in a couple classes together. I just found out you were sisters. You're not very much alike."
"Candace complains about me a lot. It's too bad. We used to be close." Vicky raised herself on her tiptoes and searched both sides of the corridor. She turned back with a strange, fearful expression.
"You should know that Candace can be mean," she whispered. "I shouldn't be saying this, but I don't want to see you hurt."
"I won't get hurt," Dawn said, mystified.
"Does Candace know you predicted Scott's death?"
Dawn checked out the hallway, too. If Candace discovered they were talking this way, it would infuriate her.
"I don’t know. Why?"
"Nothing. Forget it." Vicky walked away, faltered and looked back. "Just be careful," she mouthed.
