by Jolene Perry
My heart pounds the whole way. I felt how she likes him. It’s big. Huge. She’s never liked someone this way. Not that I can remember. Well, no one’s ever taken my place in the vision I get from her.
I pick Mom’s face out of the crowd at the same time she spots me. “Micah!”
I give her a wave so she knows I heard, and start to push through the kids. I don’t mind kids. Unless something really traumatic is happening in their life, all the visions are fun. I’m jostled as I walk.
A huge, white, furry cat. Phineas and Ferb. A Barbie…
It continues like this, and I can’t contain my laugh.
A man steps next to Mom just as I reach her. It’s him. My heart stops. The man. Soft smile. Brownish, grayish hair. In person.
He’s not as tall as I expected, just taller than me, but he’s dressed exactly how I picture an elementary school principal—khaki pants, white shirt, and ridiculously juvenile tie.
“Ethan, this is my daughter, Micah,” Mom smiles a little more widely than normal.
I try not to cringe as I hold my hand out to meet his outstretched one. What will I see? Our hands meet.
Two girls. Both with brown hair. They look like twins. They’re laughing hard. There are cards on the table in front of them. His kids?
“You have daughters?” I blurt out before thinking.
“Yes.” His soft smile again. “Your mom must have told you.”
“Uh.” Crap. I don’t mess up like this often. “Yeah.”
“Well.” He takes a step back. “It’s great to meet you. I should let you two visit.”
No. wait. He can’t leave yet. I need to know more. “Why don’t you join us for an afternoon snack down at the pub?” It comes out of my mouth so fast I almost don’t realize what I’ve asked.
Mom opens her mouth to say something, but he answers first. “Sure. Just pop by my office on your way out.” He smiles wide, turns, and walks away.
“What was that?” Mom’s eyes widen.
“Sorry. Can’t hurt, right?” But my heart’s going all frantic over my forwardness and needing to know this man.
“Can’t hurt what?” Mom’s eyes are still wide.
“He seems nice.” I look around to see the sidewalk almost cleared out. Now I just have to figure out why on earth I thought starting this would be a good idea.
FOUR
The pub sells sandwiches by day and acts like a bar at night. It’s not a dive, but it’s not stellar either. It’s what’s close by.
“How are you settling into school?” Ethan asks as we sit in the small pub.
“Fine.” What am I supposed to say? The guy with the football jersey looks at porn and the president of National Honor Society gets screamed at by his dad?
He chuckles. “My daughters are experts with that same answer.”
“Micah sort of takes care of herself,” Mom says. “She’s smart, gets good grades, and I don’t have to worry about her a bit.”
We exchange smiles. I hope mine says that she’s just embarrassed me, but we’re in the company of a principal, so I let it go.
“I’m sure that has something to do with her mother.” His eyes don’t leave Mom.
Now, normally this is when Mom and I give one another a knowing look meaning, he’s trying too hard, but this is different. Her eyes don’t leave his. I feel a little pang of something… Happiness? Jealousy?
Our meal is dropped off at the table, and I eat my sandwich quietly. Their conversation doesn’t pause. I know I invited him with us so I could get to know him better, but now that we’re here, and I know what Mom feels is inevitable, I don’t need to help them along. Anyone would know he’s a nice guy within minutes of meeting him. When I finish my snack, they both have their elbows on the table, and they’re laughing about some band I’ve never heard of.
“Excuse me for a sec.” I stand. “I’ll be right back.” I’m ready to look down at Mom so I can give her some signal that I’m totally okay, but she isn’t looking at me. That was fast. Mom’s probably already in deeper than I’ve ever seen her. I wish that didn’t come with a pang of something heavy in my chest.
I step outside and slump in one of the chairs on the porch, resting my feet on the railing in front of me. From here I can see down to the ferry dock. It’s almost the same view we have from our apartment.
“Jessica. When you asked for a ride, I didn’t know it would take forever.” Landon. They’re just out of his black mustang, and walking up the sidewalk to the pub.
I keep staring down at the docks, hoping, praying, that I won’t be noticed.
“It’s just a drink, silly. I’m thirsty.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see her try a seductive smile. She has pretty, smooth, dark blonde hair with highlights and the kind of thin, athletic body that most girls would kill for. Landon opens the door, and she runs a finger across the lower part of his stomach. His face stops, and I know. I just know he’s looking at me.
“I’ll wait for you out here.” He lets the door go before she has a chance to say anything else.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look…
“Hey, Micah. Right?”
I only half turn my head toward him. “Yeah.”
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” He takes a few steps toward me, standing close now. Close enough to touch. My fingers twitch as I wonder if I’d still see the ocean.
Should I look up at him? Should I not? I don’t know what to do. “It sounds like you have your hands full.” I smirk and let myself turn toward him. His hair hangs further over his eyes than normal as he looks down, giving me butterflies. I do not want to be feeling this for Landon, especially when it seems fairly obvious that half the girls in the school feel the same way. With the arrival of Jessica, I’m starting to wonder where they all come from.
“You could say that.” He lets out a breath as his eyes glance briefly at the door of the pub, and runs a hand through his shaggy hair. It’s actually refreshing that he’s not following Jessica like a lovesick puppy or something. Though, maybe he’s already dated her once, and now she’s old news.
“Where’s Brigitte?” I hold in a laugh as I think about her little rant over her name. “Or Lacey?”
“Right.” He looks almost annoyed. “Landon and girls. Look… Lacey’s a friend, more like a cousin, and Brigitte…” He sighs again as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.
Then I think about what I saw from Brigitte, Landon’s lips against hers and how it felt. I look away because feeling him like that makes this conversation way more personal to me than it would be to him.
“Did I offend you or something?” he asks as he leans forward trying to catch my eyes.
“Ready?” Jessica pushes her way through the doors onto the porch and speaks a little louder than necessary.
Her attention is immediately drawn to me, and I stare directly at the ferry dock down the hill. Even though I’m not looking directly at her, I can see her shift her weight to one leg and cross her arms over her chest. This is teenage girl speak for don’t talk to me. We’re not friends. And you’re too close to something that’s mine, or that I want to be mine.
The thing is—I wouldn’t mind seeing the vision from Landon again. The ocean from him felt like the ocean feels for me…alive.
“See ya, Micah.” Landon starts toward his car, and Jessica loops her arm through his as she flashes a glance at me over her shoulder. Probably just to make sure I know who Landon’s here with.
My chest falls as his car pulls away. How long have I been holding my breath? And why? It’s not like I like him, like him. Or that I can even have a normal conversation with him. But maybe I want to, and that’s probably the simplest reason for my reaction.
“You ready to head for home?” Mom walks through the door that Ethan’s holding open for her.
“Sure.” I shrug. “Whatever.”
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mom’s standing close to Ethan. Not close enough to suggest a ki
ss, but closer than you would to a friend. She reaches out and touches his arm. “Thanks.”
I watch her hand slowly slide off his forearm, and wonder again what it would be like to touch without getting visions.
FIVE
It feels good to stretch my legs as I hit the pavement, even though it’s six in the morning on a Sunday. One of the two stupid days a week when I could stay in bed as long as I want, and I’m up. Insomnia sucks, but is an occasional hazard of being me.
I walk the two blocks uphill to the café, which was a mechanic shop in a former life. My favorite thing about the place is the old garage doors—complete with windowpanes and rollers. I step inside and breathe in the smell of fresh coffee. The orange walls add another layer of warmth to the place.
Steven, honor society Steven, is sitting at a small table with a cup clutched tightly in his hands. There’s a large bruise on the side of his face. My stomach turns over, and my chest constricts. I’m sure I know where the bruise came from, but there’s really nothing I can do. I don’t think.
“Hey, Micah.” His eyes lift from the table as I order.
“Hey.” I turn away. Now I’m faced with the dilemma of whether or not I stick around. It seems rude to walk out, but I don’t know how to talk to him. The cashier slides my drink across the counter. I pick it up, still swimming in indecision. Sitting with Steven is not going to help me disappear.
Even without that thought running through my head, I take the chair across from him. Why am I doing this?
I know I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t take my eyes away from the bruise. It’s on his upper cheek and around the outside of his eye. What did he get hit with?
“Riding my bike,” he says.
Our eyes meet.
“What?” I take a sip of my drink to give me something to do. Again, why did I sit here? I know he’s lying.
“My face.” He spins his paper cup around on the table.
“You’re a senior this year.” I stare at the table.
“Yeah.” He stops moving and looks at me.
“Can’t you find somewhere else to be?” We both know what I’m talking about. I can tell because he shifts in his seat and stares at the floor.
He pauses for a moment before speaking. “It’s not…”
“Don’t lie Steven, and don’t tell me it’s not a big deal. It’s a big deal.” I keep my voice low. There aren’t a lot of people in this small place, but there are enough for me to keep quiet.
Steven stares at his cup as his face pales.
The door bursts open making me jump, and Landon stumbles through, rubbing his eyes.
Steven and I watch as his feet make each careful step on his way to order. His eyes are rimmed with shadow and stare at nothing.
“Hey, Megan.” He leans over the counter, putting his face close to the cashier, but he doesn’t even look like he’s flirting. Just drunk.
She blushes and attempts to hold in her smile. “You’re out late.”
“How do you know I’m not up early?” He’s still not flirting. Not really. He looks…black, if that’s a word I can use to describe someone.
Steven lets out a snort of disgust.
I should turn away but can’t.
“Because I know you, Landon.” She leans so far forward that I swear their noses are only a few inches apart. “What can I get you?”
“Anything with massive amounts of caffeine and sugar. I need it before heading home. My night was beyond hellish.” His weight shifts, and he doesn’t exactly stumble, but he’s also nowhere near upright. I don’t know why it surprises me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Josh were here acting the same way. For some reason I expect more from Landon, or maybe it’s that I just want him to be better than the guy staggering in front of me.
“I should probably drive him home.” Steven lets out a sigh and rests back in his chair. The bruise looks even worse now that the light is hitting him differently.
“Steven, I…” I want to tell him to get out of there. Away from his dad. But we don’t know each other well, and I can’t do it.
“Steven.” Landon’s brow wrinkles in something like confusion. He’s still leaning heavily on the counter, sideways this time to see us better. His eyes catch mine, and he freezes for a moment. He uses a finger to point between us as his eyes narrow. “Bet you had a better night than me.”
There’s a harsh, broken tone to his voice, and the counter’s still keeping him upright.
I stand up, clutching my hot chocolate. “I’ll see you guys.” Right now, I need home.
“Wait.” Steven walks behind me and opens the door. “Can we get together sometime?” He follows me out the door.
Landon walks out behind him.
“It seems a little silly to get involved with someone a few months before graduation, you know?” My body begs to turn for home. I’m just not good with people, and want away.
“Not involved.” His body is tense, leaning slightly toward me. “Just talk.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” But I don’t know if I can be friends with someone whose pictures revolve around fear and an angry father. Why does Landon have to be standing right here? “I hope things turn out okay.” And I do want that for him. Steven’s a nice guy. But as horrible as it sounds, I just can’t be in the middle of it, not with my own life in a bit of chaos.
“Don’t worry about me.” Landon frowns and gestures with his hand. “I didn’t just have the worst night of my life. Didn’t just lose a friend. Didn’t—”
“Landon!” I stare because how can he think it’s okay to interrupt Steven and I like this. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Fine. I see how you are.” He throws both arms loosely into the air, brushing against my arm.
My face. Warm Sun. A lot of like.
“You didn’t even know Lacey,” he spits out.
I drop my hot chocolate, still in shock over what I just saw. And felt. My heart sprints. There has to be something wrong with my head. Landon’s gaze shifts from the hot chocolate sprayed over the ground to what must be a ridiculous look of shock on my face.
This. Cannot. Be. Happening.
Landon likes me? Or is going to?
Wait. Lacey? Lost? How does he mean?
I turn and start for home, my head spinning in too many directions. Me seeing myself from Landon can’t be real. Can’t. It has to be because he’s drunk, right?
He lost Lacey. The vision from her hits me as I continue to move. Please let that vision be in the past. Please.
“Micah!” Steven calls.
I ignore him. Why did I have to sit down with Steven this morning? It goes against all the rules I set out for myself in how not to be seen.
“Micah! Sorry!” he calls.
I don’t look back, just give a half wave, so I don’t seem like a total nut-job.
A stab of sadness hits me. Why do I feel bad for leaving Steven behind? Why did I have to see my face from Landon? Do I want to know what he means about Lacey? She just passed out. Happens all the time. My stomach flips over, and then over again. I press my hands against my middle to stop the movement.
“Sorry, Micah!” Steven calls.
I don’t slow. I have to get home. Home is safe. Home is my view of the ocean and my quiet hammock chair. Home is away from people. Except for Mom and the man and her vision of me on the porch crying…Crap.
I round the corner to our apartment and stop in front of the newspaper stand. The headline slams into me.
YOUNG TEEN DIES OF ALCOHOL POISONING
Nononononono. I take two steps forward and kneel on the damp concrete.
Lacey Williams, age eighteen, died of alcohol poisoning at just before midnight while at a party with her classmates. She was taken to the hospital, and pronounced dead on arrival. This raises issues with our youth…
I can’t breathe. At all. There’s this crazy wheezing sound coming from my chest, but I’m still not getting any air.
Grasping onto the edges of the newspap
er stand, I pull myself up. Only I’m not myself. I’m someone else. I have to be. I saw it. Saw her. Twice. And practically rolled my eyes at the absurdity and immaturity of it all. And now she’s gone. Lost. Dead.
Why did I have to see it? Feel it? Why did I have to know?
When I step into our apartment, I have no idea how I got here. I step inside and Mom leaps off the bed at the expression on my face.
“Micah?”
Tears start streaming. I should have done something. Anything. Learned more about her. I did nothing. She died. I did nothing. I yelled at Landon. The guy who lost his friend. Lost.
Mom’s arms come around me.
Kind eyes. Juvenile tie. Soft smile. Love?
I don’t want to see anymore! I just want to be normal. And the vision from Mom brings back the vision from Lacey. It’s like I was with her when she died. Part of what happened to her. Died.
My vision from Landon had to be a fluke. He’d never like someone who saw his friend die and said nothing. I don’t like the girl with visions right now either.
My body begins to shake in sobs as Mom pulls me into bed. I want to crawl in a hole and hide. Never go to school again. Never leave the house again.
Never touch someone again.
Ever.
SIX
My blue eyes stare into my blue eyes in the mirror, and I wonder if the picture bounces back and forth between them.
The weight of Lacey’s death hangs on me. I can’t believe I have to go to school today.
“Micah!” Mom calls from our miniature living room. “We’re going to be late!”
“One more minute!” I don’t do much to get myself ready, which means I’m not usually running late.
But I’m also not usually going to school on a Monday after a classmate dies.
I still can’t take my eyes off my eyes in the mirror. Okay, gotta move.
I grab two ponytail holders for my unruly hair.
I put on mascara and lip balm.
I turn and walk out of the bathroom.
