Confessions of a Teenage Psychic (17 page)

By the time I get close to the school building I’m pretty chilled through, wearing only a hoodie sweatshirt. And then of course I have to stop and wait for that light on the corner, the one that never seems to turn green when I need it to. I jump up and down and try to warm myself, while looking around to see if any other kids are late to school besides me.

Sure enough, off in the distance I spot Kensington Marlow, teetering down the sidewalk in her four-inch heels.

Just my luck
.

Now I’m going to have to stand in line at the attendance office with her. But wait— maybe not. Just as the corner light finally turns green, I see Kensi climb into a late-model sports car, then the driver speeds by me and through the light (risking a speeding ticket in a school zone I might add). As the car whips past, I recognize Mr. College Guy— the one she was with at the mall back in December. So not only is Kensi seeing other guys, she’s now cutting school with one.

What’s he doing here anyway?

“Spring break,” I say aloud, slapping my forehead. Colleges take their spring vacations about three weeks earlier than most high schools.

As I cross the street I see another student walking up to the main entrance. It’s Quince, and he has a look on his face I’ve never seen before. I hurry to catch up with him.

“Hi, Quince. You late too?”

Suddenly I’m not cold anymore, and in fact I’m warming up quickly. Just being near Quince makes my pulse quicken.

He doesn’t answer and then I know he saw Kensi get into that car. The truth about her is just hitting him, and apparently it isn’t the truth that’s going to set him free. But he turns to face me and forces a grin.

“Dentist appointment. I might have to get braces, and then I’ll look like a geek my senior year.”

“You won’t— ”

His smile fades and he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, frustration pulsating through every move. “It already looks like I’m an idiot. Aren’t you going to say I told you so?”

Poor guy. He’s miserable and I don’t blame him. He just saw what some of us have known for months, and the hurt, anger, and confusion all show on his face.

“No, of course not. Quince, I— ”

“Forget it.” He cuts me off and heads into school.

We both have to report for late passes, but Quince gets there ahead of me and he’s first in line. He never speaks to me again or even makes eye contact with me, hurrying out of the office while I have to stand in line behind two other kids.

“You have ten minutes left in first period, Caryn,” says the attendance clerk. “Do you want to go there now or just wait and report to second?”

“I’ll go to first, to see if I have any homework.”

And find a way to talk to Quince if I can.

I hurry to my locker and then to class. When I get there Quince is already in his seat, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard like he’s intent on reading the day’s assignment. Since he isn’t blinking, just staring, I doubt he’s really seeing anything— except red.

I look around the room and notice attendance is a little light this morning. Megan isn’t here, Kensi of course isn’t, and Emma and Ashleigh are also missing. I slide into my chair and pull out a sheet of notebook paper, quickly scribbling a note to Janae.

Where is everyone?

She scribbles a reply and passes it back to me.

Megan and Emma— office

Ashleigh— college visit

Deana— puking

Quince— late

Kensi? Who cares!

Where have you been?

I scribble back.
Overslept. Megan— why office?

Petition!
Janae scribbles.

Uh-oh, that can’t be good. I can almost hear the music of doom playing in the background.

“Caryn, it’s bad enough that you’ve missed most of class, but could you and Janae please stop passing notes and pay attention for what’s left?” Mrs. York says.

“Sorry.”

I turn my attention toward the front of the classroom. Just as I’m writing down the homework assignment the dismissal bell rings.

Since none of the other girls are around at lunchtime, I sit down alone with my food tray at our usual table in the cafeteria. Salissa Pringle is, for whatever reason, sitting at the far end of it trying to appear engrossed in a romance novel. That’s fine by me, since she and I definitely travel in different social circles. Normally she sits with Kensi and the other cheerleaders on the far side of the room, but that table is empty today too. I guess Salissa would rather sit with her social inferiors than be seen sitting alone, and I kind of smile to myself at that thought.

I fumble in my book bag for something to read, hoping to appear studious and aloof to anyone who might notice I’m eating alone. While I scrounge through old homework papers, pencils gone astray, and stab myself with a protractor, a food tray slams down next to me.

I look up, startled. “Uh, hi, Megan.”

“I’m SO mad I could scream!”

“But you practically are— screaming, that is.”

Megan plops down hard in the chair next to me and loudly scrapes its legs across the floor as she scoots herself up to the table. She turns to face me and lowers her voice slightly.

“Aren’t you going to say I told you so?”

“That’s a popular question today,” I say, poking at my food.

But Megan’s in no mood for mystery. “Make sense for once, Caryn!”

“Okay, no, I’m not going to rub it in.” I take a bite of my lukewarm pepperoni pizza even though my appetite is gone. “What happened?”

“It was horrible!” Megan says, her face flushed. “Someone ratted me out! The principal was there and they even called Mom out of her class, and they made me give up the petition. I had nearly five hundred signatures!” Tears are welling up in her eyes.

I lift my shoulders. “So why are you surprised someone told? At least five hundred kids knew what you were up to.”

She shakes her head, fighting back the tears. “Yeah, all the kids knew, but they promised solidarity. So the principal must’ve found out somehow.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she wipes it away with a quick swipe of her hand.

“Megan, I’m sorry. I know how much— ”

“It’s just so unfair!” Megan slumps down in her chair, her arms folded across her chest.

I remember what Janae wrote in that note earlier. “And what about Emma? Why was she called down?”

Megan pouts her lips. “How do I know? Emma didn’t do anything— well, except sign the petition, but so did lots of other kids.”

I’ve definitely lost my appetite and I can’t look Megan in the face, so I pick at the cold pepperoni slices with a plastic fork. “So I don’t get it. Is the principal going to call in every kid who signed it?”

“I don’t know, probably not. Just me.”

So common sense— not to mention my sixth sense— tells me that Principal MacGregor thinks punishing the ringleader will squelch this mini-rebellion. But the administration doesn’t know Megan if they think it’ll be that easy.

I quit playing with my food and face Megan. “What did Mr. MacGregor say to you?”

“That I was setting a bad example, that I’d embarrassed my mother, that I wasn’t representing Rosslyn High properly. You know, all that guilt trip stuff,” she says, tears welling in her eyes again.

Yeah, I know how adults can be, and the principal’s glare and stern voice have a way of making kids wish they’d never been born, let alone disobeyed the rules.

“So did you get in trouble? Detention? What?”

“I have to write a one thousand-word apology to the principal and superintendent before tomorrow,” Megan moans.

“That’s like three pages long!” No wonder she looks so upset.

“Yeah, and I’ve got better things to do.” Megan takes a sip of her chocolate milk while her gaze wanders around the cafeteria. “Hey, maybe I can get Harris Rutherford to do it for me.”

Poor Harris. The only attention he ever gets from girls is when they want something from him— math homework, three-page letters, whatever.

“I thought Harris was better at math than English,” I say, hoping to save him.

“Whatever. I’m still gonna ask him.” Megan sits there sulking for a few minutes, and then seems to get her second wind. “Well, it’s not over, you know! Just because they took away my petition doesn’t mean I’m letting it go!”

I can’t believe her, because getting called to the principal’s office would be enough to scare most kids— including me— into compliance. Annabeth is right— if Megan has her mind made up, nothing and nobody can change it.

I try a new approach. “Spring break is in a couple of weeks. Got any plans?”

Megan looks annoyed and I know she’s about to tell me I can’t distract her that easily, but she sighs dramatically before answering. “Sort of. My dad and step-monster are taking me with them for a trip to Vegas. I’m gonna shop and soak up some rays, maybe even see one of those shows they let kids into.”

Megan is clearly looking forward to her upcoming vacation, but I instantly know her parents have their own plans for that trip and Megan’s invitation to join them is an afterthought, or guilt, or both. An image of Megan watching TV by herself in an expensive hotel room while her dad and stepmom are out on the town flashes into my mind. I’m beginning to understand Megan’s need to grab attention any way she can.

“What about you?” she asks me, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Any plans?”

“Nothing much. Just work in the store, maybe hang out at the mall or see a movie or something.”

The truth is that I have absolutely no plans for the week-long break, since most of my friends will be out of town. I wish I could afford a plane ticket to go visit Dad, but Mom says that trip will have to wait till summer when she’s saved up enough money to pay for it.

We eat in silence for a while. Near the end of the lunch period, Emma comes and sits down with us, a glum look on her face as well.

“So why did you get called to the principal’s office?” I ask her.

Emma scowls. “Mr. MacGregor saw my name near the top of Megan’s petition. He said I’m supposed to be a role model to other kids, or something like that. He said he has bigger plans for me.”

I gulp. I already know what those bigger plans are, but I manage to keep my mouth shut for once. I try another bite of my pizza, but it’s ice cold now.

Just when I think we’re going to get away from lunch without any more dress code talk, Salissa speaks up from the far end of the lunch table.

“Hey, Megan,” she calls out, “what’s Plan B?”

Megan narrows her eyes and nods. “I’m working on it.”

“Come on, Megan, let it go,” I plead. “Nothing good can come of this, I promise you. I mean,
really
promise you. Besides, you’re the only one who thinks we might have to wear uniforms. Principal MacGregor never said— ”

Megan slaps her drink down. “If you can’t support me, Caryn, then stay out of my way!”

After that remark, I gladly pick up my tray as the bell rings, toss my trash and leave for art class. Maybe the whole uniform thing will blow over during spring break and Megan won’t get herself into deeper trouble.

“No such luck,” Uncle Omar whispers in my ear.

I groan and head for class.

I take my sweet time getting to Mom’s store after school. I have a lot on my mind and I need time to think things through. And anyway the sun is out and it’s warmer than it was this morning. I wonder if Uncle Omar is around to offer me any advice. Now that I’m getting used to him just suddenly appearing, it doesn’t seem so weird to ask his opinion about stuff. Unfortunately I haven’t heard anything from him since lunch.

I guess I have to puzzle this all out for myself— Megan’s determination to challenge the school administrators, Kensi’s cheating heart, Quince’s anger at her, Quince’s coldness to me. It’s all too much to sort through, so I decide to stall and do some window shopping on my way.

I peek into Peterson’s to see if anyone is in there, and even though the place is as full as ever, none of my friends are there today. I could’ve used the distraction of kids and their normal high school angst, but it’s not to be.

Problem is, I can’t quite put my finger on what’s bothering me so much. Is it Quince? Megan? Uncle Omar’s cryptic remarks? It’s giving me a headache.

The sun is shining brightly and all I really want to do is stay outside and enjoy it, but I promised Mom. Reluctantly I walk into the shop, the door bell jangling as I enter. I toss my book bag behind the counter, and look around for something to do to take my mind off things. Sybil isn’t around. Mom is over by the book rack, showing a rather attractive older gentleman (okay, about her age) a few copies of something or other. She looks up and smiles at me.

I lean over the counter and grin at her, sensing her attraction to the man, and then realize I really should do the dusting, since my sweater is covered in dust bunnies when I stand up. Before I even get two steps in the direction of the backroom and the feather duster, though, I hear the front door jangle and turn to see Quince walking in.

“Hi!” Boy, am I surprised.

“Hi, yourself. I owe you an apology.” The frown on Quince’s face says he’s still in a bad mood, but he
sounds
contrite.

“You do?” My palms begin to sweat. True, he cut me off this morning when I tried to talk to him, but I didn’t expect an apology.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about the way I talked to you this morning, like it was your fault or something. I was just really mad. Seeing Kensi with that other guy and all.” He looks down at the floor, pretending to scrape something off his shoe. “You tried to tell me about Kensi before and I wouldn’t listen.”

I grasp the edge of the counter to keep myself from jumping across to hug him. “I’m sorry you had to find out like that— seeing her in that college guy’s car.”

“College guy?” Quince’s eyebrow shoots up and I hope he lets that one pass, because I don’t want to talk about how I know that.

I clear my throat. “I just thought you should know what kind of girl Kensi really is.”

He doesn’t say anything for quite a while, and I wonder if he’s still mad at me. “You were just being straight with me, Caryn, which is what friends do. Sorry I went off on you.”