Dark Before Dawn

by Stacy Juba

  "I guess not," Jamie said after a long silence. "You just caught me off guard."

  "The thing is, I don’t really care that much about controlling other people’s minds. I just want to have control of my own mind – finally. But, to do that, I have to practice what Serina teaches me." Dawn crammed her phone back into her purse. "I don’t think either of us wants detention. How about I make sure our teachers don’t hassle us?"

  "You mean..." Jamie frowned.

  "What do you think Serina will say if we get detention and can’t go over her house?"

  "She wouldn’t like it, I guess, but still—"

  "Come on. Where’s your class?"

  "It’s in this wing. I’ll show you." Jamie pressed her history book to her chest as she led Dawn down an adjoining hallway. She stopped outside of the open doorway leading into classroom A-12. "I don’t know Dawn, maybe we shouldn’t…"

  Her voice trailed off as Mrs. Cashman, a grey-haired woman in a prim blouse and skirt, noticed them from the front of the classroom. "Jamie, how nice of you to join us," she said sarcastically. "Why is your friend wandering the halls?"

  Dawn concentrated and the now familiar whirlpool bathed her upper chakras in warm pulsing waves. Welcome Jamie to class. Give the other girl a hall pass.

  Mrs. Cashman’s stern face turned wooden and she said in a monotone, "Please come in, Jamie. I’ve only been lecturing for a couple minutes. I’ll bet your friend could use a pass." She ripped an orange rectangle off a pad of paper, signed it and handed it to Dawn.

  Accepting it, Dawn thought hard. Write out a dozen hall passes instead.

  "In fact, take more. Hold on." Mrs. Cashman hunched over her desk and signed one after the other. Dawn sneaked a look at the other students, but most were too busy talking to pay attention.

  Jamie shook her head as Mrs. Cashman presented Dawn with an orange pile of slips.

  Dawn returned to the corridor, closing the door behind her. She squeezed the fistful of passes. She’d thought landing some extra hall passes was innocent enough, but disapproval had ebbed out of Jamie. Had it really been that unethical?

  Dawn gasped as a red hot poker stabbed the center of her forehead, chiseling straight through to her skull. It shot in all directions, searing through Dawn’s chest, arms and legs, then weakening as it hit her feet. Dawn reeled against the wall, tears filling her eyes. What was happening to her?

  In the air before her, a neon sign blazed Hijacking in blood red letters. Each letter melted, leaving a sizzling scar in its wake. Slowly the white cinderblock and gray lockers dropped back into focus, swallowing all traces of the word. Finally, mercifully, the throbbing pain receded.

  Dawn sank down to the floor and massaged her forehead, making sure the agony was truly gone. She had to talk to Serina. Now.

  Chapter Twelve

  After school, the girls found Serina standing at the front door with a wide grin. "I’ve got a strong feeling that you have good news. I’ve been anxious for you to arrive all afternoon. What happened?"

  "You should have seen us in gym, Serina," Candace said, rubbing her hands together. "We were great."

  Serina ushered them into the foyer where Candace explained about the softball game. Dawn mentally framed her questions. The headache hadn’t returned, but it disturbed her nonetheless. She had never felt such intense pain, such fiery heat, as if she were being burned alive.

  "Not only that, but Renee went Picasso on her own face," Candace went on. "That’s all everyone’s talking about. I knew it must’ve been Dawn as soon as I heard it."

  "Brilliant!" Serina gushed. "I wish I’d been there. I’m proud of you, Dawn. Aren’t you proud of her, Candace?"

  "You bet!" Candace slapped Dawn a high five. "I heard a rumor that you took a picture. Send it to me and I’ll post it online."

  "I, uh, accidentally got rid of it," Dawn said.

  Jamie brushed past them into the sitting room, and Dawn remembered the hijacking image. Here she was, receiving glory for behavior that blurred ethical lines, and poor Jamie was getting zilch. Had the sign meant that deep down, Dawn believed she’d been taking innocent people hostage? She’d better not mention that part to Serina. It might annoy her if she thought Dawn was questioning the integrity of her new skill.

  Still, Dawn needed some answers.

  They all followed Jamie and Serina poured them each a cup of tea. She pulled up a chair from her work table and sat across from Dawn. Pinpoints of golden light wavered from the candelabra behind her.

  "You must be full of questions, Dawn," she said with a smile.

  "I had the weirdest thing happen to me today. Is there a limit to how much you can do mind control in one day? Could I have used it too much?" Dawn described the hall pass incident and her painful episode in the corridor, leaving out the neon letters.

  Serina’s smile cooled around the edges and Dawn wondered whether her teacher’s pleasure had slipped also. "It sounds to me like a blockage in your sixth chakra. A very intense blockage. It’s not dangerous, but it’s not necessary either."

  "But I thought using my psychic ability was supposed to unblock me?" Dawn asked.

  "You have to give yourself permission to practice. Let me guess. You feel guilty about what you did."

  "Well, yeah. I was proud of myself too, but it felt a little wrong. Especially with Renee. It seemed almost like..." Dawn decided to use the word. "Hijacking," she finished. "You could even call it brain-jacking."

  "You have to let go of your guilt, Dawn. You’re not hurting people. They’re not going to get sick from you doing this." Serina ticked off on her fingers, the candlelight sparking the gemstones on her rings. "In gym class and with Renee, weren’t you giving reminders that not everyone is fortunate enough to be graced with athletic skill or cover girl beauty? That compassion is essential and you should treat people as you wish to be treated?"

  Dawn rested her teacup on the bamboo table. Serina had summed up her intentions with startling accuracy, yet part of her still wasn’t convinced. "What about the hall passes? I wasn’t teaching Mrs. Cashman a lesson. Maybe I was being selfish."

  "Come on, Dawn, they give us three minutes to go to our lockers, use the bathroom and get to class," Candace interjected. "That’s the crime."

  "I’m sure with time, your blockage will release," Serina said. "Don’t fight yourself, just trust that you’re doing what needs to be done. Was Robin Hood wrong to steal from the rich and give to the poor? Some would call it unethical. I say it’s honorable. Enough philosophy. Let’s go over some basic ground rules so you can keep practicing."

  Dawn opened her notebook. As long as her headache wasn’t the sign of an impending aneurysm, then she could deal with it. She still wasn’t sure what to think about mind control, but she’d unravel her conflicting feelings later. For now, she’d lose herself in Serina’s lecture.

  "First, you need to be near the subject you’re controlling," Serina said. "They must be within your eyesight, at least initially. It’s not like telepathy, where distance doesn’t matter. You’re not simply sending a thought; you’re creating one in someone else’s brain.

  "However, there is something called long-range mind control. Let’s say I wanted Jamie to buy me an ice cream sundae downtown. She’d need to be in my eyesight to receive that order, but I wouldn’t have to accompany her to the ice cream shop. I could send her out to get ice cream while I stayed here. Since I wouldn’t be going with her, I’d put a lot of detail into my instructions to alleviate confusion. I would say go straight to the ice cream stand without any stops, purchase the sundae and come right back."

  Dawn scribbled in her notebook. This sounded like the falling-in-love scenario, as a boyfriend wouldn’t be in your sight every minute, except the ice cream example was simpler and shouldn’t need reinforcement. Jamie crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking panicked that she might be ordered out on a mission, a mindless puppet whose only use was to bring back hot fudge sundaes.

  Serina winked at Jami
e, as if reading her mind. "Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m lactose intolerant."

  "But I’m not," Candace deadpanned.

  Jamie chuckled. Was she warming up to the whole people-as-puppets subject? Dawn didn’t join in the laughter, staring at her half-page of notes. It sounded more foreign than French, but mind control wasn’t nearly as complicated as conjugating verbs. That was the scary part, how easy it was to transform a human being into a marionette.

  "Can I answer something for you, Dawn?" Serina asked, watching her.

  "I was just wondering. Can everyone be controlled? Are there exceptions?"

  Serina paused for a moment, tenting her hands in her lap. "Most people can be controlled, yes. However, a spiritual or metaphysical person is a much more difficult subject. Someone who meditates daily, tunes out inner clutter and listens to their own Higher Self or inner voice will be harder to crack. It’s not impossible, but you would have to try a lot harder to break through and maintain your hold. On the opposite end of the spectrum is someone who does drugs, drinks alcohol or who is addicted to work and never gives his body proper rest and exercise. Those would be easy people to control as they don’t respect their body, let alone their mind or spirit."

  Dawn swept a hand around the room at herself and her friends. "Would we be difficult subjects?"

  "Being an untrained psychic doesn’t protect you, but if you follow my advice and metaphysical teachings, then yes, you would be tougher targets," Serina said. She added lightly, "I wouldn’t worry about it. There aren’t many people out there using mind control. It’s an ancient art whose existence is known only to a miniscule part of the population. Only the most elite psychics have this as a tool."

  "What do you think of that, guys?" Candace asked with a grin. "We’re part of an elite group of psychics."

  "It does sound pretty cool," Dawn said.

  And it did. But inwardly, she cringed at the word Serina had used. Target. That implied an object of attack. She hadn’t attacked Renee, Jamie’s teacher or the kids in gym, had she? She’d used them for her own purposes, no doubt, but had it really been a form of attack?

  No, of course not, she reassured herself. Granted, in the wrong hands, mind control could be deadly, but she and her friends weren’t criminals. They were the good guys, practicing a skill that could be useful in the future, a skill that might even help others out of difficult or dangerous situations.

  Still, when Dawn got home that evening, she couldn’t muster the energy for a family dinner. She didn’t know whether it was her blocked chakra, her confusion, or normal fatigue, but her head felt spacy and her eyelids droopy. She told her mother she’d eat later and crawled into bed.

  She jolted awake a few hours later to deafening noise. Heart slamming, Dawn listened in the darkness. Her knuckle dug into the mattress.

  The ocean.

  It spoke to her, a repetitive drumming, louder, the throbbing beat pulsing in her ears. Faintly a train whistle pierced the air, the shrill vibrating in her head. Waves thundered to shore, fighting for her attention.

  She cupped her hands over her ears and twisted onto her side. Dawn reached over and turned on her clock radio in a futile attempt to extinguish the noise.

  Something bad was going to happen.

  Again.

  ***

  Two days later, Dawn and Jamie shared a plate of cheese and crackers on the couch, leafing through ads in the Sunday paper. Ken sprawled on the floor and frowned at Jamie between plays of the Dolphins-Patriots game. Jamie seemed oblivious to his suspicious looks and blushed in his mere presence. She’d curled her hair and swept it back with barrettes, probably for Ken’s benefit.

  Dawn shifted position, restless. An unrelenting sensation of doom had haunted her all weekend and she couldn’t shake the jittery feeling that bad vibes polluted the air.

  Stop worrying, Dawn told herself. She was probably nervous about her friends and her mother having dinner together. After all, if Jamie or Candace slipped up about taking psychic lessons, then Dawn was in trouble. It would be hard enough to explain Candace’s wardrobe.

  "I wonder where Candace is," Dawn said aloud. "It’s almost 5:15."

  "It’s not like her to be late. I wish she’d get here soon. Everything smells good." Jamie pointed to a glossy picture of a teenage model. "Look at that skirt. Maybe I should save up for one of those."

  "I like what you’re wearing now. Is it new?" Dawn gestured to her friend’s denim jumper and purple turtleneck.

  "Nope, it’s my mom’s. You really think it looks okay?"

  "Yeah, totally." Dawn wished her stepbrother would compliment Jamie, but that wasn’t likely.

  Hmm. This might be a good opportunity to experiment with mind control. There was no way Ken could be considered a target; he was just a means to helping her best friend feel good. What could be more harmless than that?

  Dawn sent her stepbrother a mental nudge. Tell Jamie she looks good tonight. Give her a confidence boost.

  "You look good tonight," Ken said dully.

  "Really? Thank you!" Jamie’s blush deepened.

  Dawn pulled out of his mind and turned so her friend wouldn’t see her smile of satisfaction. Ken blinked a couple times and scratched his ear before returning his attention to the television.

  Dawn’s mother poked her head into the room. "Honey, the food will be overcooked if your friend doesn't get here soon. Is she usually this late?"

  "No, Jamie and I were just saying that Candace is always on time."

  "Let’s wait a few more minutes. If she’s not here by 5:30, we’ll start eating. We can always make her a plate if she comes later." Her mother returned to the kitchen.

  Just then, the doorbell rang. Dawn found Candace shivering on the front step with her windblown mane flying out in frizzy coils.

  Candace clutched a tall leafy plant in a ceramic dish. A hostess gift? Pink satin ribbons and pastel ceramic flowers adorned the bowl. Dawn made a mental note to thank her friend for making extra effort.

  "Sorry I'm late," Candace said while Dawn hung her coat in the closet.

  "Hello, you must be Candace." As her mother joined them in the living room, Dawn made introductions.

  "This is for you, Mrs. Magnuson. Thank you for inviting me to dinner." Candace thrust the plant into the arms of Dawn’s mother.

  "What a sweet gesture. I’ll put this on the kitchen counter so I’ll be sure to water it." Dawn’s mom stared at Candace’s pierced nose and eyebrow, which no longer had the plant to shield them. Her smile died, then she swiftly resurrected it. "Thank you again."

  Good thing Candace brought the plant. Dawn directed her friends down the hall into the dining room. Ken was already helping himself at the cherrywood table. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, peas and corn overflowed in glass bowls. Jeff carried in a platter of sliced chicken breast, wings and legs.

  Dawn folded the linen napkin onto her lap. She had only eaten in this room once, their first week in the house. Both times, her mother had lit a candle in the centerpiece globe and used the gold-rimmed china.

  "It's good to finally meet you both," her mother said after making sure everyone had drinks. "I keep telling Dawn that you girls should come over after school."

  "Where do you guys go?" Ken asked. "Dawn's never home anymore."

  "Sorry, I didn’t know you were her keeper," Candace said.

  Coughing on her Diet Coke, Dawn glanced around the table at the shocked faces.

  Candace reached into the basket of warm bread. "Just kidding. You seemed so serious."

  "Funny," Ken said after a beat. "Where do you go?"

  "The mall, the movies, out to eat. The usual boring stuff."

  "You’re acting a little nosy, Ken," Jeff said.

  "I was just wondering where Dawn disappears to every day."

  "Maybe it's none of your business," Dawn retorted, sweat glossing her forehead. Did Ken suspect they were hanging around with Serina?

  "What do those earrings and necklaces mean?" Ken
asked. "Every time I see you guys, you have them on."

  "There are so many cliques at school, and having matching jewelry makes us feel like we have our own group." Jamie shrugged and cut into her chicken. "It probably sounds silly, but we like it."

  Dawn exhaled at her answer. It made them sound lame, but not paranormal.

  "It’s not silly," Jeff said. "It must be like having a club."

  "It's hard if you're not popular in high school," Candace said. "Were you popular, Mr. Magnuson?"

  He scooped another mound of mashed potatoes onto his plate and eyed her curiously. "Just in high school. Not when I was younger."

  "Well, we’ve never been popular. That's why we stick together. No matter what."

  "Like the Three Musketeers," Ken muttered.

  "Anybody for more chicken?" Dawn's mother interrupted.

  "Candace, Ken tells me that Vicky is your sister," Jeff said. "We loved having her at the paper this summer."

  Every muscle in Dawn's body tensed. She had kept that tidbit from her stepfather so he wouldn't bring it up and annoy Candace.

  "She wants to apply at the local daily next year," Candace said. "I guess small papers aren't good enough for her."

  Jeff frowned as he stuck the serving spoon back into the bowl of potatoes. "She led me to believe she was coming back."

  The phone rang, giving Dawn a start. Her heart thundered. The caller had bad news. No, not bad. Horrible. This was it. This was why she’d been feeling so edgy.

  Jeff scraped his chair against the wood-stained floorboards. "Excuse me."

  The others ate in silence as he disappeared into the kitchen. Dawn strained her ears, her food forgotten. She gulped at Jeff's low tones and the tip-tap of his pacing.

  "What! Are you sure?" he asked the caller. "How?"

  A couple minutes later, Jeff shuffled back to the dining room, his pallor gray. "That was my staff reporter. Tom Travers' son, Tim, was hit by a train an hour ago. He was killed."

  Air blew out of Dawn’s mouth. Tim was dead? She should have known. Why hadn't she known?