Foretold (18 page)

The last I heard, Ms. Gill had been let out of prison after doing three years, and had gotten a job at the Museum of the School, in Fresno.

I flew over there one day. Did I expect to run into Ms. Gill? I don’t know. Maybe.

Maybe I wanted to say, “See, I turned out okay.”

And maybe I wanted her to say, “You know, I was wrong about you, Tomaso. You turned out to be a fine young man.”

That would have been nice. Because the one thing a Link never really does is look you up and down and say, “You turned out to be a fine young man.”

Yeah, that would have been nice.

Really nice.

Instead, I did run into Ms. Gill, and when I smiled at her and said, “Hey, it’s me, Tomaso!” she Tased me and tried to shackle me to one of the desks in the life-sized holographic diorama of the Ancient Schoolroom.

Don’t worry about Ms. Gill, though—she didn’t get sent back to prison. Only the worst cases get sent to prison. In Ms. Gill’s case, for this second kidnapping they just performed minor surgery.

Yep. She has a nice fresh Chipster in her head now. It warns her when she’s having crazy thoughts. And if she
does
something crazy, it messages the police.

And as a bonus, with just a thought she can instantly access whatever there is to know about mitochondrial DNA.

Misery was a strange name for a town, and Alek wasn’t at all certain that it was fitting. He had, in the three years that he’d called Misery home, experienced nothing worse than a strange sense of loss. An odd, unexplainable grief wafted through its windows and doors at every hour, as if the town’s inhabitants had been glazed in a thin film of sorrow and, perhaps, regret. But even with that strange, ever-present gloom, the town’s name had never made much sense to Alek. No one who lived here was miserable, exactly. They simply
were
. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And just as Misery simply was, so too were its citizens. Alek could not recall, no matter how terribly he strained to do so, his life before Misery. Nor could he remember having moved here. Not exactly. One day, he wasn’t here. He was somewhere else—somewhere with many colors. And the next, he was.

He supposed he should be grateful for remembering the
colors of his past. The only colors in Misery were black, white, and a palette of grays. Apart, of course, from the eyes of everyone who lived here. Alek’s eyes were a vibrant green. His best friend, Sara’s, were bright blue. He loved looking at his neighbors’ eyes. They were a brief reminder of something before Misery. Something that Alek could not recall, and could not identify with any measure of certainty.

Not that he minded being here. Not really. After all, it wasn’t exactly a miserable kind of place.

“Morning, Alek.” Mr. Whirly passed by on the street, tipping his bowler hat in Alek’s direction. He didn’t have a smile on his face, but no one ever seemed to smile in Misery. It was, Alek thought, strange that he recalled what smiling was at all.

Mr. Whirly was dressed in a three-piece suit of varying grays, his silver cuff links gleaming in the morning sun. He always looked so dapper, and made a point of greeting everyone he passed. Except, of course, for Sara, whom he still hadn’t forgiven for running over his freshly sprouted daisies with a lawn mower last spring. Alek smiled and nodded his hello. “Morning, Mr. Whirly.”

It was never a
good
morning in Misery. Just morning. Then afternoon. Then evening. Nothing was good. Or bad, really. So Alek felt rather guilty about questioning the absolute blandness of it all. Like the colors, the actions they all took here seemed so repetitive. It worried him sometimes, though he’d never had the guts to voice his concerns to anyone but Sara—who was currently waiting for him near the town center.

The town’s center was marked by a massive, ornate fountain. At its peak stood a large crow. Its shiny glass eyes peered down at passersby. Alek didn’t much care for it, for reasons
he couldn’t quite explain. The statue unsettled him, tying tight knots in his stomach whenever he looked at it. But he couldn’t stand to not look at it, either.

“You’re late.” Sara cocked her head to the side in a way that reminded Alek of someone’s mother, rather than their best friend. But then, Sara had been like that since the day they’d met—judgmental and protective of him in only the best manner.

Alek half shrugged. “I was busy.”

“You were delaying the inevitable.” She cast him a concerned glance, one that said that she hadn’t forgotten about their conversation the night before. “Still nervous?”

Alek swallowed hard. Nervous? He was actually pretty terrified. So much so that he hadn’t slept a wink last night, and every moment this morning had been consumed by his absolute fear of what was to come today. Not that he should be worried or anything. He didn’t know of one person in the town of Misery who’d received a Gift they hadn’t liked. Of course, his subconscious continued to insist on reminding him, there was always the first time. What if that first time belonged to him? “Yeah. Kinda.”

“You are the only person I know who gets nervous over receiving their Gift.” Sara frowned. It wasn’t that she was upset or anything. She was merely concerned for him. Still … Alek could have done with a reassuring smile from her this morning. “It’s not like you didn’t receive a Gift last year, y’know. Or the year before. And have any of them been bad? No. So what are you worried about, exactly?”

Sara’s irritation merely framed the obvious in gilded, extravagant swirls. Alek’s nervousness over something so simple, something so very ordinary, made her nervous too. And that was precisely why Alek hadn’t told anyone else in town about the way his stomach clenched every time he thought
about receiving his upcoming Gift. It was better, in a place like Misery, to just go with the flow, and not upset anyone with his strange reluctance. He couldn’t explain why, exactly. It was just … 
better
this way.

Alek shrugged, trying like hell to keep his attention off the stone crow perched atop the elaborate fountain, despite the fact that its glass eyes were sparkling brightly in the sun, begging to be examined closer. “Two years ago, my Gift was you. Last year, my Gift was my own room at the boarding-house. What if this year doesn’t compare?”

She examined his face carefully, narrowing her eyes just a bit in suspicion. When she spoke, her voice had fallen into mere whispers. “That’s not really it, is it, Alek? You’re afraid of something. I know you. I can tell. What are you afraid of?”

It amazed him at times how well Sara knew him, and how she could predict so easily when things weren’t sitting so great inside his mind.

When it came to predictions, to knowing things that were unknowable, the citizens of Misery turned to a woman by the name of Jordan. Jordan was psychic, or sensitive, or just incredibly talented when it came to understanding the annual blessings that were bestowed upon the people here. No one knew where the Gifts came from or who sent them. Like anything else in Misery, people simply accepted the Gifts as the norm, refusing to make waves by questioning the Gifts’ origins.

Two years ago, Jordan had told him that a new friend was coming to Misery, and that she and Alek would become very close in a relatively short period of time. Maybe it had been Alek’s loneliness talking, but he’d doubted at the time that his Gift of friendship would ever come true. The very next day, Sara had found him at the town center, not so far from the spot they were standing at now. He’d vowed that day that
he’d never doubt Jordan or her abilities ever again. And yet here he was, his stomach all tied in knots, his palms slick with anxious sweat.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Sara folded her arms in front of her and turned, leading Alek down the sidewalk in the direction of Jordan’s house. As they came to a stop at the corner across from Vinnie’s Sales and Sundries, she continued her thought. “But I’ll bet you just about anything that you’re wrong. It’s your
Gift
, Alek. How can that be anything to worry about?”

“Morning, you two. Causing trouble early today, are you?” Virginia called to them from where she was kneeling in her flower beds. Beside her was a pile of weeds, as gray and dull as the flowers themselves, but somehow more lifeless. She wore a big floppy hat to block out the sun’s rays, and had to hold up the brim just to meet Alek’s and Sara’s eyes.

Sara put on a pleasant demeanor. “No, ma’am. Just walking over so Alek can receive his Gift.”

“Oh, has it been so long already? I swear, after so much time here, every year seems to blend into the next.” Virginia stood and brushed dirt from her knees before approaching the white picket fence between her and the sidewalk they were standing on. “Are you looking forward to your Gift, Alek?”

Alek gulped as silently as he could manage, swallowing his hesitancy at receiving something he knew on the surface would be satisfactory. Then he nodded at her. “Every year. When do you receive your next Gift, Virginia?”

She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand as she considered his question, leaving behind a smudge of soil. “Well, let’s see. If you get your Gift today, my next Gift must be in about two months. But, you know, after last year, I don’t really need another Gift.”

Alek shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get some new flowers to put in your garden.”

Virginia sighed. “You know what I’d really like? Some color. Maybe some color for my roses. Oh yes, I’d like that very much.”

The three of them exchanged looks. Looks that spoke volumes.

Then Virginia stammered, as if she were afraid that someone might overhear them. “Of course, I’m not complaining. I like Misery just the way it is. It’s just that you have such beautiful green eyes, Alek. I wish I could see that in my garden too. Anyway, you two should scoot. Don’t want to be late to receive your Gift.”

“Yeah.” Alek’s heart felt hollow and heavy. His voice dropped off, into an almost whisper. “I wouldn’t want that.”

Alek moved down the sidewalk, his steps hesitant. Beside him, in direct contrast, Sara’s stride was confident and sure. Lining the street were large oak trees. A strong wind gusted high above the two friends, blowing several leaves in varying shades of gray from the branches. The leaves danced and fluttered on the wind before settling gently on the grass and in the street. High in the sky, tucked halfway behind a gray cloud, was a hot white sun. The scene should have been serene, should have settled any upset in Alek’s nerves and calmed the churning of his stomach. But it didn’t. The quiet simply added to his stress, though he couldn’t exactly point to what was stressing him out or why.

At the end of the street stood a large Victorian house, with three floors and a high-peaked round tower that loomed above the surrounding homes. The house was painted a charcoal gray. The front porch was wide and inviting, and in front of the stark white door sat a mat that read “Welcome All.” Under each window was a charming flower box, and planted inside were small blooms that seemed cheerful, despite their lack of color. The shutters were carved with amazing detail—
storybook images on each piece—and painted stark black. Alek’s favorite image was carved on the shutters surrounding the window nearest the front door. One side featured a house made of candy, with two children skipping merrily up to the door. The other showed a woman peering out of the home’s window, grinning menacingly. The image had always appealed to Alek, but today it felt sinister. He tore his gaze away from it and rapped on the front door, ready to receive his Gift. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe he was just being stupid about the whole thing.

Besides, the last two Gifts he’d received had turned out even better than expected. So what was he so worried about?

A singsongy voice called from within, “Be right there!”

Alek’s heart skipped a beat, but he willed it to steady its rhythm, and cast Sara a reassuring glance—not that she was the one who needed any reassuring. He hoped it reassured her, at least. But he was pretty sure she knew he was full of crap. He was scared, and they both knew it. They just didn’t know why.

The door opened in, and Jordan poked her head out. Her brown eyes were bright and dazzling amidst all the gray. She wore a floral apron around her waist, over her tasteful dress. Her curly hair was held neatly back from her face with a floral scarf. On any normal day, Alek really liked coming to visit Jordan. There was a motherly quality to everything she said, everything she did. It was comforting. It was nice. But today, it wasn’t helping. “Come on in, Alek. Sara, you can wait on the porch swing. I left you some lemonade and cookies to munch on, but this shouldn’t take long.”

Sara gave Alek’s shoulder a comforting squeeze and turned on her heel toward the porch swing. He watched the bounce in her step for a moment before turning back to Jordan.
She held the door open for him and he stepped inside. The table just inside the front door held its usual platter of fresh-baked cookies. As he grabbed a gooey snickerdoodle, Jordan closed the front door behind them and said, “Are you excited about your Gift, Alek?”

He really wished people would stop asking him that. He bit into the cookie, which wasn’t as sweet as he’d wanted it to be. The cookie he’d had last year had definitely been sweeter. But then, last year he hadn’t been nervous at all. He chewed and swallowed, and the bite went down hard. Suddenly, he wished he had some lemonade to wash it down with. “To be honest … not really. I’ve felt a bit … off all day. Is that weird?”