7
At school, I’m in a miserable fog. I’ve seen Miranda once or twice on campus, and she’s turned and walked the other way. As I go to my classes, I feel like a ghost—unseen, unnoticed, bumped by people rushing past. I never realized how much Miranda was my anchor, the friend who buffered me from the stark feelings of loneliness that have arisen so quickly now that she’s not here.
While the teacher in class drones on, I sit playing with my pencil, not much caring if I miss important information that’ll be on tests. I try to write Miranda a note to tell her I’m sorry, but have a hard time finding the words. Besides, she would probably just throw my note in the trash unread, so what’s the point?
At lunch, she doesn’t meet me as she usually does and is nowhere to be found. I eat alone in the quad as groups chat around me, oblivious to my despair as they discuss the latest viral YouTube video or who hooked up at last weekend’s party. I spot Annika and Jason sitting together on the lawn. Instead of feeling jealous, I remember the flashes of Annika’s sad life and am glad she has someone nice like Jason to be her friend.
The rest of the day drags on like slo-mo shots in a kung-fu movie. As I get closer to last period, I dread the thought of seeing Miranda and Billy face-to-face. I almost considered ditching P.E., but it’s the day before our first track meet, and I can’t afford to miss practice.
In the locker room, I change into my shorts and lace up my track shoes as slowly as I can. Other girls are getting dressed around me, but Miranda is nowhere to be seen. Is she skipping track? I walk slowly toward the field, dragging my feet. The white and maroon uniforms of my team swarm up ahead.
I walk as slowly as possible, dreading every step, almost not caring if I’m late. Miranda crouches near the outer edge of the field, lacing up her cleats. Billy is at the far end of the warm-up area, sitting by himself with a sour expression on his face. He catches me looking at him and shoots me a nasty glare. I turn my head quickly.
“Hey Winter,” someone says. Jason passes on my right, jogging toward the field.
“Hi,” I reply, my stomach doing a little back-flip at the sight of him.
He flashes a smile that could break my heart if it wasn’t already broken, then jogs off to find a spot on the grass. I’m tempted to follow. I would love nothing more than to sit and stretch with him, but I’m too nervous. I get tongue-tied and sweaty whenever he’s around. I don’t think I can handle being near him today.
I step onto the grass as Kirby Cahill barks out stretching orders. Coach Ted looks on, arms crossed, eyes inscrutable behind his wrap-around reflector shades. I sit down alone, stretch my legs out in front of me, and reach for my toes. I catch Annika’s eye. She waves, and I wave back. Miranda glares at us with jealous, pinched eyes.
Annika motions for me to come sit with her, but I shake my head and politely wave her off. I just want to be alone.
Kirby Cahill is suddenly behind me, massaging my shoulders. “You look tense. Need a rub?”
I shrug away from him. “No thanks.”
“Whatever,” he says, walking off with that cocky swagger I so hate. He thinks he’s God’s gift, and there’s nothing more annoying.
If Miranda was next to me, we could exchange our usual glances, sharing like-minded thoughts without uttering a word. I love the way she raises her eyebrows with a suppressed snicker when Kirby’s around, rolling her eyes in a way that says, “This guy’s such a joke.”
I look over at her, hoping to catch her eye.
She’s deliberately sitting as far from me as she can, her body turned away. It’s clear she’s actively nursing her anger by the stiff way she holds her shoulders, her stony profile, and even the tilt of her blonde head. She doesn’t hide her feelings well, though I doubt she’s even trying to.
I still can’t wrap my brain around her pregnancy. That horrible Billy Timmons! The least he could have done was use protection. Miranda must be so scared and confused. I want to help her but she has completely shut me out. Every time I try to get her attention, she abruptly turns away.
It’s time to warm up, and all I can do is plod along morosely with a knot in my stomach. Miranda is running up ahead, her blonde ponytail bobbing. My legs are longer, so even at my slow pace I soon find myself alongside her. Her jaw is clenched and eyes hidden behind large sunglasses.
“Miranda,” I plead. “Please. I have no interest in Billy, you have to believe me. I was only trying to help. I’m sorry about what I saw in his thoughts.”
She halts in the middle of the track, and I almost pull a Stumblemeyer trying to stop beside her.
“I don’t believe a word you say. Stay away from me!” Her face twists in rage and pain, her expression slapping me like an open hand.
“But I want to help you with . . .” I lower my voice. “You know. The whole pregnancy thing.”
“That is none of your goddamn business,” she snaps.
I reach out to her, but she bats my hand away. I bite my lip, blinking back tears as people jog by around us.
“Move on, girls!” says Kirby in that stupid wanna-be authoritative tone as he passes. We ignore him.
Miranda crosses her arms and glares at me. “Why don’t you go find your new best friend, Annika,” she says, enunciating each word.
Kirby, jogging up ahead by a few paces, looks over his shoulder at us. He circles back and sprints over. “I said, get a move on, girls! I want to see those tight little booties in action.”
I grit my teeth in annoyance and roll my eyes at him, hoping Miranda will do the same. Maybe this can bond us again. Kirby, panting and leering, has a mean glint in his eyes, showing he’s not afraid to abuse his power. I expect a sharp retort from Miranda, but instead she runs off with a fierce stride I’ve never seen in her short legs. It’s clear she wants to be as far away from me as possible. Kirby takes off after her, presumably so he can get a good view of her back end.
I stand by the side of the track, fighting off a flood of devastation. I hope no one can see the tears welling up. Billy plods by, smirking. I hate him with a vengeance. I’m tempted to stick my foot out and trip him, imagining his scrawny smoker’s body sprawled out on the track, but I stop myself just as Annika and Jason jog up.
“Why aren’t you running?” asks Annika.
“I’m not much in the mood,” I say.
Jason looks at me quizzically. Our eyes lock for a moment, and a tingle goes down my spine. He is just too damn gorgeous. He smiles, his face warming and eyes crinkling at the corners.
My God, those eyes.
“Come on,” Annika says. “Join us.”
Jason looks at me expectantly.
“No, that’s okay. But thanks,” I say. I appreciate Annika’s kindness but would rather be left alone right now.
Jason and Annika shrug and jog away.
Then, Kirby is on me again. “It’s clear you’re not into practice today,” he says in a snide tone. “Go get dressed. I don’t tolerate slackers.”
Humiliated and numb, I trudge to the locker room. All I want is to curl up and hide away from the world.
I step into the shower, fighting back a sob. Jason’s such a nice guy. What would he think if he knew who I really am—some sort of witch?
And what about Miranda? Will she tell people my secret to get revenge? I wouldn’t put it past her. It hits me once again that I’ve really, truly lost my best friend. I doubt anything can bring her back, not even the elimination of this awful power.
A power which, unfortunately, seems here to stay.
***
After the shower, I comb my wet hair into a ponytail, forcing myself to think about something other than my crappy day. The track meet is tomorrow. I hope I do well, especially with Jason there. The last thing I need is to do a face plant in the middle of a race, but with my luck lately, it might just happen.
Annika enters the locker room and comes to stand next to me in front of the mirror. I say hi, wondering what she wants. Part of me is afraid she’s go
ing to burst out sobbing or something because ever since I read her mind, I know what a walking bundle of raw nerves she is. It makes me anxious, especially since I’m trying to hold it together myself.
“Jason is interested in you,” she blurts out.
I continue combing my hair, feigning nonchalance and forcing myself not to react. Jason likes me? Did I hear her right? The butterflies are starting up again, flipping around in my stomach. A tiny bright spot starts to form in my heart.
“How do you know?” I ask, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“I can tell. It’s pretty obvious.”
It is? I want to do a happy dance but keep myself composed. “But, what about . . . you?
“What about me?”
“You guys seem close.” I know full well she’s not interested in Jason, but I still can’t be sure of his feelings toward her.
“We are close. Close friends. That’s it. He knows I’m not interested in dating right now because I’m getting adjusted to my life here. Not that it ever was an issue, anyway. All he ever does is talk about you.”
Jason talks about me all the time? To Annika? I’m flabbergasted. Jason has never shown interest in me beyond a few words of small talk. Well, we have locked eyes a couple of times, but I’ve tried not to read too much into it.
“He says you’re the ‘ungettable girl,’ whatever that means.” Annika watches me, looking waif-like with her wispy body and large dark eyes.
A flash of sadness passes through my heart because I know somewhere inside she wants a boyfriend one day but is too damaged to go there.
“I just thought you’d want to know,” Annika says. She watches as I comb and re-comb my hair like an idiot.
“Thanks,” I reply. I don’t know what else to say. I’m excited and flattered but a little nervous too. I almost wish Annika hadn’t told me because now I won’t know how to act around him. I hardly act normal as it is.
Annika twists a corner of her polyester tank, shifting awkwardly as if she wants to say something else but doesn’t know how. I remember how much I’d seen in her thoughts, how she’d wanted my friendship so desperately. It had scared me with its intensity, but now I force myself to reach out. What can it hurt, as long as I don’t get too involved? I slick on some lip gloss and gather my things.
“Want to go get a burger?” I ask.
Her face lights up. “Sure!” She rushes off to change.
As we walk to my car, I notice that her jeans are a little too short. Floods. What is she thinking? Poor thing doesn’t really know how to dress, even though she has a cute body. Maybe I could help her revamp her style.
Victor is absent from Fast Thru today. I feel a pang when I remember the last time I was here, laughing and joking with Miranda. Annika, with her hollow-eyed intensity and quiet clinginess, is a poor substitute. I’m instantly ashamed of myself and am glad she can’t read my mind. I wonder if judging a person by their thoughts is as bad as judging them by their outer masks. At any given time, I could be thinking positive thoughts or vile ones, depending on my mood.
Is it fair to judge someone on something as fleeting as a thought?
What would Annika think if she could know how I view her—as a tragic character whose needy desperation makes me nervous—all because I read her mind in one brief moment? Based on what I saw, I know I can’t give Annika what she needs in a friend. I doubt anyone can fix the hole in her psyche. In a way, being able to read her mind was a curse because it changed our budding friendship into something I can’t help but shy away from. I’m not proud of this in me. I saw the raw pain of Annika’s past, felt the deep clawing need she hides so well, and experienced her hopes that she could lean her full weight on me.
But I’m not up to the task. I have to be honest with myself, no matter how guilty I feel.
We order and find seats. I’m checking my cell phone when Annika says, “Hi, Miranda.”
I glance up to see Miranda entering Fast Thru. She’s wearing a pink jogging suit, a pink bow in her ponytail, and Victor is holding the door open for her. He’s all teeth, glowing under his blue Fast Thru cap. Miranda looks equally happy. Her bright smile fades when her gaze meets mine.
“Hi, Annika,” she mutters, gliding past our table. Victor nods hello. At the counter, Miranda tosses her blonde hair, making a point of not looking in my direction. I can tell by the set of her shoulders that she knows I’m watching her. Victor orders a lemonade and hands it to her. He kisses her tenderly before heading around the counter to begin work.
Miranda turns to leave but glances over at me despite herself. I catch her eye, mustering up the courage to give her a thumbs-up and a nod toward Victor. I give her an enthusiastic grin: You guys are together now? I’m so excited for you!
Miranda shoots me a dark look and casts a glare at Annika. She tosses her head and stalks out.
Annika’s eyes are troubled. “Aren’t you and Miranda friends anymore?”
“Apparently not,” I say. My stomach twists in knots.
“Why?”
“Long story. She thought I liked her old boyfriend, Billy Timmons, but nothing could be further from the truth.”
“But she seems happy with her new boyfriend,” Annika replies.
“Exactly,” I say. I’m starting to get mad at Miranda for holding this grudge when I was only trying to help. She knows the truth but pride is preventing her from admitting it. She’s obviously much happier with Victor. Can’t she see she’s better off without Billy, and that I had something to do with that? She should admit that things have worked out for her, in part because of what I did! If she can’t see that, then maybe she isn’t the friend I thought she was.
“Friends are so important, don’t you think?” says Annika. “It is nice to have someone to share things with.”
Uh oh, here it comes.
“So tell me about Jason,” I say, reaching for a quick excuse to change the subject. I would rather talk about anything except my friendship with Miranda or Annika’s problems.
“What do you want to know?” Annika asks. The burgers arrive and she begins eating like a ravenous little bird pecking non-stop at its food.
“Is he as great as he seems?” I ask, swirling a fry in ketchup.
“You have known him longer,” she says.
“Yeah, but he was different a few years ago. He wasn’t called Stumblemeyer for nothing. It was hard to see past his klutzy image. Or ranch dressing all over his face.” I smile.
“He hated that time in his life,” Annika says. “He was glad to move away.”
I nod. “I feel bad for my part in it.”
“He said you turned him down for a dance, but he understood. He said he would have turned himself down, too.”
I’m quiet, thinking about him. It must’ve been hard to have been teased like that, to be the laughing stock of the school. I’m glad I never participated in any of the taunts. But I’m ashamed I didn’t give him a chance and go to the dance with him. We probably would have had a nice time, although I don’t know how I would’ve handled having my dress ripped off by his bumbling feet in the middle of the dance floor. At least I would have worn better underwear than Miss Saggy Leopard Bra!
Yes, it’s a good thing Jason has finally grown into his limbs and himself. For everyone’s sake, especially his own.
“Are you looking forward to the track meet tomorrow?” asks Annika, polishing off her chocolate shake with a noisy slurp.
I shrug. I’m a little nervous because I don’t know if I’m ready. I’m not the fastest sprinter on the girl’s team, and I’m not the best distance runner either. I’m somewhere in the middle. I just don’t want to come in last, especially with Jason watching.
“It’s an away meet, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” replies Annika. “You should try to sit with Jason on the bus.”
We smile at each other before gathering up our trash. I like her. I just hope she can keep it light and easy. Knowing what I know, though, I doubt it. It
’s only a matter of time before the dam bursts and she pours out all her troubles on me and hopes I can fix them.
I already know I can’t.
8
The bus lumbers along, crawling up the 405 freeway in rush hour traffic. We’re on our way to Westchester for our first track meet as a team. Jason is sitting next to me. I’d kept my gym bag beside me on the seat until he got on the bus, then moved it in a not-so-subtle way as he walked up the aisle. He took the bait and sat next to me, giving me a sidelong glance and slight smile. My heart has been doing flip-flops ever since.
Annika, who passed by shortly after, gave me such a wide, conspiratorial smile that I was flooded with embarrassment. Could she make it any more obvious? But Jason seemed oblivious as the bus started up with a rumble, his head bent as he tied his shoe. I noticed his calves, hairy and strong-looking, and felt a tingle up my spine. What a hunk of a guy, and he’s sitting next to me!
Miranda sits up ahead, chatting with the coach. She doesn’t even know that Jason is next to me—hot Jason Brackmeyer—because she’s so far away and hasn’t looked back once. I wish we were still friends so I could see her excitement for me. The old Miranda would be thrilled that I’m sitting with the cutest guy in school.
Jason smells good, some sort of pine scent, fresh. His arm, muscular and tanned, lightly grazes mine every time the bus jostles. I look out the window, too shy and nervous to attempt conversation. He’s busy with his phone, checking the news and downloading songs.
He finally puts his phone down. “So what have you been up to, Winter?”
I glance over and catch him staring at me. His eyes are a deep velvety brown with impossibly long eyelashes. His lips are full, jaw square. He half-smiles at me, and I see the flash of one perfect dimple, something I’ve never noticed before. I’m absolutely tongue-tied. He raises his eyebrows at me, waiting.
“Not much,” I say, attempting a casual tone.
“You seem distracted lately, doing your own thing. Kind of in your own world at practice.”
“Yeah.” Surreptitiously, I rub my sweaty hands on my shorts, hoping he doesn’t notice how nervous I am. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. My best friend isn’t speaking to me.” I can’t exactly tell him that I’ve also been wrestling with a newfound psychic power, this minor problem of being able to read people’s minds.
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