Don't Die Dragonfly

Woodbury, Minnesota

Don’t Die Dragonfly
© 2004 by Linda Joy Singleton.

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First e-book edition © 2010

E-book ISBN: 9780738717364

Book design and editing by Andrew Karre

Cover design and dragonfly illustration by Lisa Novak

Cover illustration (background) © PhotoDisc

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To my husband, David, for support, friendship,
and a wonderful life together.

And with a special thanks to my editor, Andrew,
for his help with this book.

“Don’t do what?” Manny’s beaded dreadlocks rattled as he turned from his computer screen to face me. “Sabine, is this dragonfly girl for real?”

“Of course not.” My heart pounded, but I kept my voice calm as I glanced up from the article I was proofreading. School had ended, and except for our teacher, we were the only ones left in the computer lab. “You asked for prediction suggestions and I made up some. If you don’t like my ideas, come up with your own.”

“It’s just a weird thing to say—even for my Mystic Manny column.”

“Use it or don’t. Whatever.” I leaned forward so my blond hair fell, partially concealing my face. If Manny discovered my secret, everything would be ruined.

“Help me here, okay?” He held out his hands. “My column goes to press in thirty minutes.”

“Use your psychic powers to figure it out.”

“Yeah, right.” He snorted. “I don’t believe that crap any more than you do.”

I gripped my red pencil tightly. “But your readers believe.”

“Nah, most of them know it’s just a big joke. ‘Manny the Mystic knows all and tells all.’ Ha! If I could predict the future, you think I’d waste my time at school? No way! I’d pick lottery numbers and predict a sunny future of wealth, women, and tropical beaches.”

“Get over yourself already.” I checked my watch. “And you have just twenty-seven minutes till deadline.”

“Beany, you’re one cruel girl.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take it as a compliment. And don’t call me Beany.”

“Most girls would be flattered if I gave them a nickname.”

“I’m not most girls. And you have twenty-six minutes now.” I flipped through last week’s edition of the
Sheridan Shout-Out.
My job was copy editor, not columnist. Working on commas and misspelled words suited my new image: helpful and orderly. After my problems at my last school, it was a huge relief to blend in like I was normal. And being on the newspaper made me part of Sheridan High’s “In Crowd” without having to reveal much about myself—a great arrangement I wasn’t about to risk. Next time Manny asked for help, I’d shout out a big “NO!”

But Manny didn’t give up so easily. He pushed his dreads back from his forehead and then scrunched up his face into a pitiful expression. “Come on, Sabine. You have the best ideas. The part about a girl with a dragonfly tattoo—genius. Really, it’s a great image—my readers will eat it up. But I can’t just say ‘Don’t do it’ without knowing what ‘it’ is.”

It. It. It.
The word pounded like a headache and I felt that familiar dizziness. Vivid colors flashed in my head: crimson red swirling with neon black. And I heard a wild flapping of wings. Warning of danger.

Not again, I thought anxiously. I hadn’t had a vision since moving to Sheridan Valley, and I’d figured I was through with the weirdness. No longer the freak who knew things before they happened yet had no power to change them.

The dizziness worsened, and I fought for control. Stumbling, I grabbed the edge of a table so I wouldn’t fall.

From faraway I heard Manny’s voice asking what was wrong, then the lights in the classroom flickered and the drone of computers faded to a distant buzz.

Everything was dark, as if I were swimming in a murky sea at night. Then a light sparked and grew brighter and brighter, taking the shape of a girl. She was stunning, with waves of jet-black hair and olive skin that glistened like sea mist.

She lifted her hand to the sky, and a tiny purple-black creature with iridescent wings and quivering antennae fluttered to her wrist. A dragonfly. She smiled and caressed the wings. But her smile froze in horror as the creature changed, becoming a fanged monster that sank its sharp teeth into her smooth skin. Blood spurted, swelling like a tide. The girl opened her mouth to cry for help, but there was only a rush of crimson waves, then she sank out of sight.

No, no! I tried to scream. But I was helpless to save her, caught in a dark current of despair that pulled me down, down, into a pool of blood.

* * *

“Hey, Beany?”

Gasping for breath, I blinked and saw Manny’s black eyes staring at me with concern. The dizziness passed and my head cleared. “Huh?” I murmured.

“Are you sick or something?” he asked.

Lights grew bright again and I realized I was still clutching the table. I relaxed my grip. “I’m fine.”

Manny gently touched my shoulder. “You don’t look fine. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just tired.” My breath came fast.

“But you’re all trembling.”

“Guess that test in calculus wiped me out.” I managed a shaky laugh. “I—I just remembered someplace I have to go.”

“But Beany—”

“Sorry! Talk to you later.”

Then I fled—running as if flocks of winged demons chased after me.