by Jolene Perry
I fold my arms and sit up a little straighter. Why didn’t I turn around as soon as I saw him? This can’t possibly go anywhere.
“Look at you! You’re like all tensed up.” He reaches over and shakes my arm.
My face, peaceful and sleeping, my hair, the sun… I gasp.
“Did I hurt you or something? What was that?” His eyes are wide, and his voice is a whisper. Not accusatory or frustrated, just quiet.
I don’t answer. I feel like I’m frozen in place, staring at him. How can I be significant to Landon? None of it makes any sense.
“You acted like I shocked you or something.” His eyes are so focused on mine that I feel his gaze in my stomach. “That happens to you a lot I’ve noticed.”
“I…” But I have no idea how to continue this sentence right now because of the vision and because Landon’s noticed me.
“Okay.” He chuckles. “I sounded like a freak just then. Sorry. I just, why do I feel like you know a whole lot, but don’t say a whole lot about it?”
I don’t know what to tell him. Knowing my face holds, or will hold some meaning for him should change things somehow. Should that make me trust him on some level? Yes. But how do I do that? And why are we talking?
And how could he ever trust someone who watched a girl die and do nothing?
“You’re not a witch or something, are you?” he teases. “Because I have a cousin who’s always telling me she’s a witch. She stares at people in odd ways, like she knows things. With her, I think it’s because she’s trying to freak me out.” His eyes look through me again. “With you, I don’t think that.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” I don’t. What are the odds of him believing me? I don’t trust my secret with Mom. How could I trust him?
“We’re in it, aren’t we?” A corner of his mouth turns up.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this conversation. This back and forth. I’m trying to keep it light, but it’s really real.”
“I guess.” My heart starts beating hard in my chest, like it’s hitting my rib cage with each frantic beat, harder, harder, harder…
“When I ran into you, when I was with uh…Brigitte? It was like you stared at me like you knew something I didn’t. And you did it again when I shook your arm a minute ago.”
“Fine.” I hold out my hand for him to shake, bracing myself. “Shake my hand. I’m fine. I’m not some crazy.”
“I never said you were crazy. And I also never said anything about touching you. You said that.” He’s looking at me closely. He shifts his weight to face me and holds his hand out for me to take.
I clench my jaw. I’m prepared. I reach out my hand to shake his. We touch and it hits me, but it’s different. It’s more. It’s moving. He leans in close to me, brushing our lips together. I’m frantic for details. The boathouse is behind us. His hand touches the back of my neck, bringing us close together. I’m not breathing. I jerk my hand away and take a gasp of air.
“Okay.” He scoots back. “What was that?”
Deep breath, deep breath, make your voice sound normal.
“What?” I’m still out of breath. I know I’m not hiding this well. I’m trying, but I’m shaking. How can I possibly kiss someone when I see things the way I do? I mean, I tried it once. A relationship. It didn’t work. How can I ever be close to someone like that? Every time we touch, I’d get another picture from him. Mom is one thing, but a boy? A close friend? That’s something else entirely.
“What do you mean, what? I feel this jolt of electricity from you. Your eyes go all blank, you jerk away from me, and you want to know why I’m reacting this way?” His brows are up in disbelief.
I look toward the water. What could it hurt? We don’t talk at school, and his friends all think I’m odd, which I’m totally okay with. Who cares if he thinks I’m crazy? Maybe my face will disappear from his thoughts or future or whatever. Then maybe my life can go back to the normal I’ve created for myself—the normal that’s been falling apart.
“There’s something.” He’s leaning toward me now. “There’s nothing like a good mystery, or ghost story, or . . .”
“Is that what I am? A mystery? A ghost?” I fold my arms. My heart pounds because I suddenly want to tell him like I’ve never wanted to tell anyone—all from a picture and a feeling.
“No. But there’s definitely something you’re not telling me.” He’s intent on me again. “I just got chills. Like the Twilight Zone or something.”
“I see things,” I blurt out. “When I touch people, I see things.” How did that just escape? How did something I’ve never had the guts to say just come out like that? Again my breathing fills my ears.
“What kind of things?” He leans back. From all his excitement a moment ago, he now looks skeptical.
“See? You already don’t believe me.” I shake my head. I’m so stupid. At least the pictures of me from him should go away. If this doesn’t scare him off, nothing will. Who would want some crazy girl who sees glimpses of people’s private moments? “Never mind. Ignore me.” But I know he won’t.
“Fine.” He reaches his hand out. “What do you see when you touch me?”
I purse my lips. There’s no way I’m telling him that.
“What?”
I’m looking away and he’s moving his head around to try and get our eyes to lock.
“Well, you’re not giving me a whole lot to go on then.”
“I don’t know what to do or what to say. I just shouldn’t have said anything.” I stare out at the water, wishing I could take back the words. Wishing he’d go away, but still enjoying that he’s curious. I hate feeling conflicted like this.
“Okay. Well, in the spirit of doing whatever I can to get rid of my boredom, let’s do a little experiment.” His voice is light again, more like what I’m used to hearing from him. From the Landon that has a joke or a smile about everything.
My chest slowly starts to fill with dread. “You know what? I don’t think it matters if you don’t believe me.” I don’t want to follow him around and do any experiments.
“But wouldn’t it be cool if I did? Believe you, I mean.” He stands up and offers me his hand.
I shake my head. There’s no way I’m going to be talked into touching him again, not today. And I’m still half reeling that we’re even talking.
He must read my expression. “You’re actually not kidding, are you?” He looks down at me. “You don’t want to touch me.”
“I’m really not kidding.” But after feeling the emotion behind our lips coming together, I do want to touch him. It’s a dangerous thing to want.
We stand, facing one another. I swallow needing to do something to keep my body from freezing up. I keep waiting for my feet to just take off running, away from Landon, away from the possibility of someone else knowing what I know. Or more likely, escaping from what will end up in him teasing me. When the need for escape from boredom runs out, he won’t want to believe anymore. Will it matter? Will he care?
“Why the hell did you tell me?” His eyes widen a little.
“You asked.” What else am I supposed to say? If I tell him that I see my face when I touch him now, he’ll never believe me. He’ll think it’s some desperate attempt for me to get near him when I don’t want to be. Wait.
Maybe I do want to be.
This is what Dad talked about. Sometimes we make things happen just because we know they’re going to. I could feel how Landon felt when I saw him kissing me. I know I want that. As impossible as it might be, I want someone to feel that for me. Is it because that person is Landon? Or is it because I’ve hardly allowed myself the possibility? My mind comes up with nothing. Guess there’s no way to tell.
“Okay. Fair enough,” he says.
“I’m ready to experiment. Just…not on you.” I stand up and keep my distance.
“Well, now you have me really curious as to what you see.” His smile turns mischievous, and eyes follow me
as I start walking back up the hill.
“Sorry.” No way I’m telling him anything.
“I’m going to roll under the assumption that you’re not just screwing with me and ask you, what do you see? Is it like the future? Or random thoughts? Or…”
“It depends.” I don’t look at him. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “It seems to be something significant. And not just significant, but like the most important thing. Sometimes it’s things that have affected people’s pasts and sometimes it’s what’s most important at any given time and sometimes it’s in the future.”
“Holy shit.” He’s looking at me with wide eyes like he believes me. We’re still walking up the hill to his house. “How can you tell the difference?”
“I can’t.” I stop. Emotion pours through me. He’s just hit on the most frustrating and absurd thing about it all. “I can’t tell the difference. If I see someone crash in a car, I don’t know if the car crash still just weighs on their mind or if it’ll happen later that day or later that month! Or maybe not ever. Maybe things will change and that crash will never happen. Or seeing my dad’s fiancé in a hospital bed and having no idea how she gets there!”
Or I see a girl at our school die, only I think she just passed out and I don’t know what to do with that either. And I saw myself in the middle of a situation from both you and your cousin, only I have so little to go on, I can’t even make guesses as to what it might be. Oh! And we apparently are going to kiss. My heart’s pounding again.
“Sucks.” His voice is quiet. Sympathetic. “Like what purpose would it even serve then?”
“I don’t know. Special torture?” I start walking again.
“Wait, where are we going?”
“You said you wanted to experiment. Maybe if I touch a few people you know or just anyone, I can tell you what I see, and you can decide if you believe me or not.” Am I seriously doing this? I can’t even remember the last time I had a conversation this long, much less one where I talk about what I do. He knows. He knows. He may not believe me, but the words left my mouth.
“So, now it does matter if I believe you?” He likes the idea of that, his smile is back and so is the teasing look around his eyes.
Landon’s smile is for me. My chest swells.
I desperately want him to believe me. I want him to feel whatever he feels in the kiss that I see. The realization of that has been sneaking in, but now it hits me hard.
I want him to know, and I want him to believe me.
“I still think the easiest thing would be for you to tell me what you see when you touch me.” He wags his brows.
“Nope.” And I have to keep my cheeks from turning red at just the thought of it.
“Fine.” He leans closer. “But especially when I’m bored, I have this great habit of getting what I want.”
I breathe in. Juicy fruit gum. My heart pounds hard for a completely different reason. What would it be like to kiss him? Will we actually get that far? “Good for you.” I don’t mean it to come out snappy, but it does. I don’t want to be thinking about his breath or how his mouth would taste. Not right now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Can you tell me about someone we both know?” he suggests.
I think back to last week at school. “Mrs. Hobbs.” I nod. “She touched my shoulder and I saw her crying over a huge orange cat.”
Landon bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” Why is this so funny? And maybe this is where his fascination ends, and the teasing begins.
“Sorry.” He’s still laughing. “It’s just, I always think about Calvin and Hobbs when I’m her in class ‘cause she’s Hobbs, and then you said something about an orange cat.”
“It wasn’t a tiger. Does that help?” I cross my arms across my chest. Why am I even trying?
“I’m sorry.” He shrugs, still chuckling. “I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere, though.”
“Landon!” His mom waves from next to the house.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Do you think you could act normal?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I kind of want to smack him for that comment.
“It means that you have this ‘screw you’ look plastered all over your face most of the time, and it doesn’t really suit you. I mean, I guess if I saw crap, I’d be like that, too. But you’re too pretty to be scowling all the time.” He looks from me to his house a couple times. “Let’s go meet my mom.”
“I’ve met your mom.” I’m still offended by the ‘screw you look’ comment. Though, I shouldn’t be. It’s actually what I try to do. It just sucks having someone call me on it. Wait. Pretty? No one but Mom’s ever called me pretty. My whole chest warms up.
“Yes, but not since you claimed to have this odd little talent.”
Talent? “It’s not a talent, and I didn’t claim it. You practically pried it out of me, and it doesn’t matter…” what you think, is what I want to say, but I can’t. I do care what he thinks. I don’t want to. But I do. He thinks I’m pretty…
“Can you help me with the groceries, please?” she asks as we get closer.
“Sure. Micah and I are bored out of our minds, aren’t we?” He gives me a grin of pure conspiracy and gestures toward his mom.
How am I supposed to touch her without her noticing? I widen my eyes and shake my head at him.
“Here, Micah.” He hands me a large grocery sack, completely unbothered by my reaction to his request. I have no choice but to take it and start toward the house.
He jogs two steps to catch up to me. His mom walks out of the house toward us. As she passes, Landon bumps my shoulder with his. Immediately flashes of our kiss hit me and then I bump into his mom. Landon’s dad, he hands her something shiny over a table, at a restaurant, a nice one. Her dress is red and crosses in the front. Next picture her back’s against the wall and he’s pressed against her, pulling her legs around his waist. She’s still in her dress, mostly. Passion.
I nearly fall over. Why couldn’t I see a pedicure or something? Landon as a kid?
“Sorry, Mom. My bad.” Landon shrugs. He turns to me. “You, okay?” He’s half laughing at me again.
“Fine.” I redden as I stare at the ground. I don’t want to tell him about that one either.
“So?” He looks at me as we walk inside.
I sigh, and put the bag on the counter of their massive kitchen. “Just so you know, I’m not happy about saying anything.”
He folds his arms, and raises his brows, waiting.
“I saw your dad give her something shiny over the table.”
“Shiny?”
“Jewelry. They were out to dinner, somewhere nice. But the picture was too fast for anything more.” My cheeks get hot at the next picture.
“What?” Again, his smile is mischievous.
“They’re together, after dinner.” I look away from him as I set down the grocery bag. “She’s still in her dress, a red one that looks like it crosses or something in the front, and he has her against the wall—”
“Ah, Ah!” He holds his hand between us. “Enough, enough! Those are my parents.” He shakes his body as if the motion will get rid of the picture he didn’t have to see.
“Sorry,” I snap.
He raises an eyebrow at me and makes a suggestive smirk. “If this is all some crazy made-up… You’re definitely more than what meets the eye…”
Complete humiliation washes over me, and I walk out of the house. I don’t want him thinking I’m sort of perv or something.
“Thank you, Micah.” Mrs. Michaels smiles as I step around her.
“No, problem.” I try to smile back, but when I look at her all I can see is her husband’s face and their moment together against the wall. Staring at the ground is much safer.
“Micah!” Landon calls.
I’m walking fast, but he jogs to catch up.
“Wait up!” He touches my shoulder.
I’m thrown into the vision a
gain.
His feelings. The way his hand is on my neck. Our lips come together. The boathouse in the background.
I close my eyes, and let it wash over me. The moment. The emotions. I take a slow breath in and release. Better. I’m at least not jerking away from him anymore. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me. Our faces are close, not close for a normal person, but definitely close for me.
“You’re killing me here.” His smirk is back. “I don’t know if you’re screwing with me, or if this is all real.” He’s silent for a moment, and his shoulders jerk slightly. “I just got a chill, again. No matter what, you’re expert at getting rid of the boredom.”
“Glad I could help.” But I’m not sure that I’m glad.
“Hey Loser!” I see Josh pull up in the driveway in his Jeep. Cameron, Brigitte and Lisa are with him.
“Just a sec!” Landon calls over his shoulder. He looks back at me and leans toward me, lowering his voice and smiling. “We’re not done. I’m going to find a way to make you tell me what you see when you touch me—if you’re not just making it up.”
“Hey.” Brigitte wraps herself around Landon’s back, leaning her head up to look at him. She makes more than one passing glance at me. Apparently I shouldn’t be talking to her sometimes boyfriend.
“Micah, right?” Lisa shifts her weight onto one hip, looking at me.
“Right.” I stuff my hands in my back jean pockets. I don’t know how to talk to these people. Lacey’s friends. Landon’s friends. People.
“Micah, this is Lisa. Lisa, this is Micah. If you two shake, you’ll officially meet.” Landon winks.
“I think we’re good.” I narrow my eyes.
“Micah!” Mom waves from the driveway. “I need your help with something!”
“See ya.” I quickly glance around at their small group, lingering too long on Landon’s grin. It’s a group I definitely don’t belong in.
“Come on!” Cameron yells from the Jeep. “Get back in! Let’s get out of here!”
Lisa bumps into me.
Cameron’s shirt is off. His face is above her. She’s scared. Words aren’t coming. I choke.
Lisa flashes me a dirty look like I was the one who ran into her, not the other way around. Though, I’m sure it’s Landon’s fault. I don’t want to know this.
