Confessions of a Teenage Psychic (18 page)

Friends? He said we’re
friends!
I’m so happy I want to do a little dance, but he’s standing here looking at me all serious and stuff, so I force myself to contain my enthusiasm. “Quince, you know you can always count on me.”

“It’s kind of funny if you think about it,” he says, but he doesn’t look amused. “I had a feeling for a long time that she just wasn’t into me as much, but I wouldn’t admit it. Nothing like finding out the hard way.”

I
so
want to reach out and squeeze his hand, but I resist the urge. “Yeah, that’s gotta hurt.”

Quince shrugs, then zips up his jacket, pulls the hoodie up, and gives me a wide grin.

“Well, I need to go. Baseball practice, and Coach’ll have me running extra laps if I’m late.”

“I’m glad you came by, Quince. See you tomorrow?” All right, I know I’ll see him at school, but what I’m really hoping is that I’ll see him AFTER school— like for coffee or something, and not just in a group of kids.

Quince nods, hesitating. “Uh, Caryn… ”

My heart is pounding, hoping my wish is about to be granted. Now that Kensi is out of the way…

“This morning you said something and I cut you off.” He’s frowning again, rubbing a finger across his lower lip.

Yes! Of course! I’d love to go to Peterson’s with you after school tomorrow
.

“You know, about my trip to the dentist.”

The dentist. Oh yeah. Back to Earth. “Right. The dentist.”
Wake up, Caryn. He said we’re FRIENDS, not a couple.

I try to look casual, which isn’t easy with my pulse racing and my imagination on overdrive. I swallow hard. “I was going to say you won’t look like a dork, because you’re getting those invisible kind of braces.”

Quince shrugs and shakes his head. “I think my original word was ‘geek,’ and I don’t get how you know that stuff, but that’s a relief anyway.” He winks at me as he leaves.

I close the door after him and think about our conversation. Maybe Quince didn’t mean to ask me a psychic question— even in a roundabout way— but he didn’t make fun of me this time either. Maybe he’s ready to accept the real me, warts and all!

Mom has a funny smile on her face as she brings the man she’s been chatting with to the register to ring up his purchase. She takes a little too long handing him his change and giving him her business card, and then walks him to the door. As for me, I practically dance to the back room, grab the feather duster, and proceed to dust the counters with vigor. It seems the Universe has brought both of us interesting conversations with attractive men.

The next day Kensi’s name is on the school’s cut list, which means she has to report to the dean’s office first thing in the morning. I figure she’ll be suspended from school for a few days, Quince will have time to cool down, and I won’t have to look at her smug face in first period.

But
no-o-o-o
, that girl lives a charmed life. Kensi is back in class in record time, smiling as she hands her pass to Mrs. York. She then triumphantly crosses the room to her seat by the window, and casually turns her back on the teacher to begin a conversation with Salissa that they take no pains to keep private.

“I thought you’d be suspended,” Salissa says in a too-loud whisper.

“Me? No way. I just told the dean that my brother came to pick me up because I had
female
problems. He turned all kinds of red, wrote me the pass, and here I am!” Kensi shakes her hair back with a laugh.

“You don’t have a brother,” I mutter.

“Did you say something, Caryn?” Mrs. York asks.

“Uh, no, sorry.”

But it really makes me angry that Kensi cut school, lied about it, AND got away with both. She has such a self-satisfied look on her face I want to scream!

The class is whispering among themselves about Kensi’s nerve, when Mrs. York briskly gets everyone back on task.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today we’re beginning our study of
Pride and Prejudice
by Jane Austen. Let’s examine women’s roles in the nineteenth century. Shall we open our books?”

Gladly
.

I’d much rather talk about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy than think one more minute about Kensington Marlow and her flavor-of-the-month boyfriend. I steal a glance over at Quince as he pretends to listen to the teacher, but I know he’s really brooding about Kensi. My heart goes out to him, and naturally I wish I could be the one to ease his hurt feelings.

No one in class, except maybe Harris, is paying very much attention to Mrs. York. Megan is intently sketching something in her journal, Kevin is “reading”
Pride and Prejudice
propped up on his desk with a baseball statistics book hidden inside it, while Emma doodles his name dreamily on her notebook. Deana’s asleep as usual, Janae is staring out the window, and Salissa and Kensi still have their heads together giggling and whispering.

I sigh. One more week till spring break.

The Friday before spring vacation, Quince catches up to me in the hall before first period.

“Hey Caryn! Wait up!”

Ever since our conversation at the store, Quince has actually started acting like we’re friends, just as he said. He talks to me in classes and in the halls during passing periods, and sometimes we don’t only talk about school stuff, but about other things we have in common. Like baseball— we found a connection in our mutual love of the sport.

“Hi, Quince!” I smooth out my hair, which is curled and hanging loose around my shoulders, and hope he notices I took pains with my appearance this morning.

His baby blue eyes are sparkling and I can barely breathe. “Hey, how ‘bout those Astros! Did you see the game on ESPN?”

“Yeah. Oswalt pitched a no-hitter!” I exclaim.

“It was amazing! Hey, I was wondering, since you’re such a baseball fan and all, if you’re planning to come to our game tonight. Turnout’s been kinda light the last few games, and Coach says to bring our friends.”

I haven’t been to any of Rosslyn High’s baseball games yet, since in my opinion late March is still too chilly to be outdoors, but this is Quince asking.

“Sure, I’d like that,” I say, hoping he can’t hear how loud my heart is pounding. “What time?”

“Six. Stop at the dugout and say hi!” And with a wave, he’s gone.

Well, by the time my pulse returns to normal, I realize the tardy bell has rung and I just hope Mrs. York lets me into class without a pass.

Quince invited me to his game!

Maybe spring break won’t be so boring after all.

Spring Is Breaking

With the exception of that Friday night Wrangler’s baseball game (which we won by a score of 5-4), my spring break is a bust. As eager as I was for it to start, I’m more than ready for it to be over.

Megan is in Las Vegas, just like she said. She called me late one night our time, although it was early evening in Nevada, to tell me she was watching pay-per-view in the hotel room and waiting on room service, since her dad and stepmother were in the casino with friends. I sighed, sorry my earlier vision had been right.

All my other friends are gone too. Quince is on the beach in Florida with his family, Emma is spending every waking minute at the mall, Ashleigh is taking special violin lessons in Chicago, and Annabeth’s school break isn’t until next week. Except for sleeping later in the mornings, my routine hasn’t changed one bit. There are only two days left till school resumes, and I haven’t done anything except watch old sitcoms and movies.

It’s Friday evening and Mom has just come home from work grinning like she has some huge secret. I try to get a read on it, but for some reason I can’t pick up anything. She waltzes into the apartment, humming a tune as she glides into the kitchen and begins rummaging around in the fridge for something to cook for supper.

“Why are you so cheerful?” I throw myself onto the sofa and reach for the TV remote.

“No reason,” she answers.

I guess it isn’t cool to call your mother a liar, but I know she’s holding something back. As I sit there trying to puzzle out what she’s up to, she calls out to me from the kitchen. “Is spaghetti okay for dinner tonight? And, Caryn, dear, answer the phone!”

What? Answer the phone? That’s MY trick!

And even though it doesn’t feel like the phone is about to ring, sure enough it does about five minutes later.

“Hey! No fair! How’d you know that?”

“It’s for you, and you’re not psychic about yourself, remember? Now answer it before the machine picks up.”

I’m really puzzled. “Hello?”

“Hey, Caryn, it’s Annabeth. What’s up?” Annabeth sounds bubbly and a little giggly.

“Hey, Annabeth, what’s up?” Annabeth always seems to appear just when I need her most. But what I can’t figure out is how my mom knew she was going to call.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Well, no, just having dinner with my mom,” I say, and hear a snicker from the kitchen.

“What if I come over and pick you up and you spend the night at my house? Say eight o’clock?”

“You got your new car!” I shout that out almost at the instant I flash on a picture of her dad handing her the keys to it.

“Darn it, Caryn, you’re such a killjoy.” I can almost see Annabeth rolling her eyes, one hand propped on her hip. “I can’t get anything by you.”

“No, really, I
am
surprised.”

“Uh-huh,” she says.

“Well, then, I’m happy for you,” I say, trying not to laugh at her annoyed tone. “And sure. Eight would be fine.”

As I hang up I see Mom giving me the thumbs-up sign. I grin back at her, having figured out already that she’s in on this. After dinner I pack a few overnight things in my backpack and go out front of the apartment complex to wait for Annabeth.

It’s a lovely evening in early April. Sunset comes later now, and there’s a warm, gentle breeze blowing that gives me a fuzzy, nostalgic feeling as I sit on the front steps. I think of Houston this time of year, how warm it is, flowers in full bloom, and remember taking long after-dinner walks with my dad. I wonder what he’s doing right now.

I don’t have too much time to dwell on it, though, because Annabeth pulls up in her brand new compact car— one of those hybrids that’s supposed to get such great gas mileage— and honks the horn.

“Wow! Is this cool or what?” I open the passenger door and slide in, tossing my backpack on the floor between my feet.

“Sure is,” she says, shifting into gear. “My parents bought it for me last week after— ”

“— you made Honor Roll!”

Annabeth blushes. “Yeah, like you told me New Year’s Eve. And no ‘I told you so’s,’ okay? So do you like it?”

What’s not to like? It has leather seats, GPS, CD player, Onstar— in fact everything a rich girl from the suburbs is expected to have.

“It’s really nice.” Okay, I admit it, I’m envious, but I try to sound enthusiastic.

“Come on, Caryn, don’t go all weird on me.” Annabeth makes a scowly-face and I can’t help laughing. “Anyway, I can’t wait for you to meet my folks. Ready?”

I fasten my seatbelt and off we go, windows rolled down to catch the breeze, CD blaring. I’ve never been to Belford, even though it’s just over the county line, and I’m amazed at the change in scenery in a mere thirty minute drive from Rosslyn Village to the wealthy suburbs. Don’t get me wrong— I’ve seen big houses before. They’ve got them in spades in Houston, but it’s just that I never knew anyone who lived in one. And boy does Annabeth live in a big house! We pull into her driveway and she parks the car behind a late-model Lexus, which is parked next to a Mercedes convertible.

A picture pops into my head of a house a lot like this one in a nearby neighborhood, and I realize it’s the house Megan used to live in. I can see Megan swimming in the backyard pool, running through the half-acre yard playing tag with her sisters, and a whole extra outdoor kitchen in the backyard for entertaining. I now understand what a culture shock it must have been for her to move from one of these sprawling mansions to their little home in Rosslyn Village.

I’m gawking as I stumble out of the car, dragging my old backpack. I follow Annabeth in the back door to the kitchen which is bigger than our entire apartment. The house must have over 10,000 square feet, and every inch is decorated luxuriously.

“How many people live here?” I ask, trying to keep my jaw from dropping.

“Just the three of us right now. My brother’s away at college back East.”

A house this huge for four people. It boggles my mind. “Wow,” is all I can think to say.

“Come on, let’s put your stuff in my room.” Annabeth leads me down a hallway, through a dining room that could seat a dozen or more, past a couple of living rooms, and finally to a winding staircase that goes up to the bedrooms. At the top of the stairs there’s another well-appointed hallway with thick plush carpeting and so many closed doors I lose count. Annabeth finally opens one of the doors and as I look into her bedroom, I nearly burst out laughing.

“Did the maid forget to clean in here?”

She has a canopy bed with a black-and-white toile top, a painted-white antiqued dresser and armoire, a matching desk with a laptop computer on it, and a cushioned window seat under a large picture window. But every square inch of the room is covered with clothes, shoes, tennis equipment, schoolbooks, papers, crumpled bath towels, makeup, hair styling equipment, and stuffed animals. Suddenly I don’t feel so out of place.

Annabeth shrugs. “I don’t let her in my room. She just messes up my stuff trying to straighten up and then I can never find anything.”

We both giggle and I toss my backpack on the cluttered bed.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Annabeth says, waggling her eyebrows at me.

“I thought the car was the surprise.”

“You weren’t surprised by the car,” Annabeth reminds me.

“Sure I was.” I widen my eyes, trying to look convincing, but Annabeth isn’t buying it.

“Anyway, your mom says you can’t predict stuff in your own life, so this is going to be so cool!”

Mom is in on this mysterious surprise? I wrack my brain trying to figure out what the two of them have cooked up, but I can’t do it.