Impossible Things (9 page)

I stared at the counter. “Yeah, well, you've been busy.”

Mom reached out a hand toward me. “Not too busy for you, honey. I'd never be too busy for you.”

I pulled away and shrugged. “Could've fooled me.” I didn't meet her eyes. There was a long tense silence; then I changed the subject. “Mom,” I whispered, “did Tyler hit him?”

She sighed and let her hand drop back to her side. “No, Tyler and some other boys were calling him names and throwing snowballs at him. Ben was running away and he fell. His lip got cut on his bottom teeth, but he'll be fine.”

I fiddled with a mushroom, peeling off its thin translucent skin and watching it blur through my tears. “Mom, I really am sorry.”

“Oh, honey.” She put down the knife. “I know you are.” She slid the chopping board across the counter to me. “Here, chop some peppers for me.”

I chopped peppers ferociously. If only there was something I could do. Ben was so smart that sometimes I forgot how young he was. I mean, this was the kid who would help me with my math homework when I got stuck. I remembered him sitting on Mom's lap, his face covered in blood, and I felt a surge of hot anger. How could Tyler and his friends do this to him? I wished there was some way I could get even.

If Victoria was telling me the truth—if telekinesis was real and if I could learn it—then maybe I could.

Fifteen

The deadline for the art contest was sneaking up fast. Only a week to go, and what had I done? Squat. Zero. Zilch. All around me, the classroom was filled with people painting, sketching, sculpting and gluing. Then there was me. I had nothing that resembled an art project: just my notebook of scribbling. I flipped back to the beginning.
Who is Cassidy Silver?
I'd written pages and pages, but I wasn't sure I was any closer to an answer.

Ms. Allyson appeared beside me. She had a way of doing that—you'd think those red cowboy boots would be kind of clunky on the hard floor, but she walked lightly. She looked a bit like a dancer, I thought. I wished I was graceful like that.

“I like your T-shirt,” she said.

I glanced down. I was wearing a very old and faded T-shirt that said
Nobody Knows I'm Elvis.
“You do?”

“I'm a big Elvis fan,” she admitted. “Don't spread it around.”

I laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“So, how is the art project going?”

I shrugged. “I sort of got stuck. Then I thought writing would get me unstuck but, well, now I seem to be stuck in writing.”

“Hmmm. Have you tried collage? There're several boxes of magazines just waiting to be cut up. You could take a look through them, see if some of the images call out to you.”

“Sure. It's not like I have any better ideas.”

Ms. Allyson laughed. “Oh, dear. You do sound discouraged.”

“It's, um, I just seem to have a bit too much on my mind. Or something.” I didn't know quite why I'd said that and I started backpedaling. “I mean, I'm fine. It's nothing major, just sort of busy.”

“Uh-huh.” She started to walk toward a student who was waving a frantic hand. “Give collage a try,” she said over her shoulder.

I nodded and headed over to the art supply corner. It wasn't Ms. Allyson I wanted to talk to. It was my mother. And I couldn't help thinking that winning the contest would make things between Mom and me better somehow. I'd told her about getting teased and about Chiaki and everything, and she hadn't even mentioned it again. She'd just gone right back to having no time for me.

I sighed, picked up a box of magazines and started flipping through the pages. Trees, faces, animals, cars.
Images that call out to you,
Ms. Allyson had said. If any images were calling out to me, they were doing it too quietly for me to hear. I sighed again. I really didn't like art very much.

I wanted to ask Victoria if she'd seen Rick again, but Felicia joined us at lunch and I didn't like to bring it up with her there. Instead I told them both about what had happened to Ben the day before.

“Tyler Patterson!” Felicia wrinkled her snub nose. “Is he Amber's brother?”

“It figures, huh?”

She nodded. “I wonder why those two are so mean.” I shrugged. “Who cares why? They're both bullies and they're probably going to grow up to be bigger bullies.”

“Like Mr. McMaran,” Victoria added.

I imagined Amber wearing Mr. McMaran's old suit and reading a cigar magazine. “Yuck. Imagine having Amber as a teacher. At least we'll all be long gone by then.”

Felicia started to laugh. Then she stopped, frowning. “It's awful about your brother,” she said. “Is your mom going to call the school?”

“I don't think so.”

“She should,” Victoria said. “There's got to be something the school could do.”

“There's a zero tolerance program for bullying,” I said. “I totally think Mom should call Mrs. Goldstein, but Ben begged her not to. He says if Tyler knows he told on him, it would make it worse.”

“Yeah, it probably would.” Felicia looked away, staring down at the ground.

I wondered if she was thinking about her own experiences. “It sucks, doesn't it? I mean, Ben gets picked on because he's small and smart.” And because he's my brother. I pushed the thought aside. “And me, because of the stupid lisp, and Victoria, because she's new, and Nathan, probably because he's the only black kid in the whole school, and…”

Felicia finished my sentence. “And me, because I'm fat.”

“You're not fat,” I said automatically.

“I am though. I mean, I know you're trying to be nice, but it's a fact.” She looked at me. “I've always been overweight. My whole family is.” She grinned. “Mom and I have started going to the gym together.”

“I think you look fine.” I did too. She had a round pretty face with huge dark eyes and a wide full-lipped smile and masses of gorgeous, curly, black hair.

“Thanks,” she said. “I sort of think I do too. But it's hard, hearing the stuff Amber says all the time.”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed.

Felicia raised her eyebrows. “You look like it rolls right off you. Like you couldn't care less what Amber says. Honestly, I think you intimidate her.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm a good actor,” I said. “I don't want to give Amber the satisfaction of knowing she bothers me.” I thought about it for a moment. “You know, now that we're all friends, it doesn't really bother me so much.”

“At least Amber doesn't threaten to hit people,” Victoria said. “Poor Ben. Did you get in a lot of trouble from your mom?”

I made a face. “She was pretty upset at first.”

“But you're not grounded or anything?”

“No, Mom doesn't really do that.” I thought I'd prefer it if she did. I could still hear her saying she was disappointed in me, and that was far worse than a simple punishment would have been. “I'm trying to think of a way to get back at Tyler and his friends,” I said. I gave Victoria a meaningful look, hoping she'd understand.

“What can you do?” Felicia asked. “I mean, if you talk to Tyler, he'll take it out on Ben.”

“I hate bullies.” Victoria closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was thinking hard. When she opened them again, she was looking right at me.

My heart leapt. The last time she'd said that she'd been talking about McMoron. I didn't want to say anything about telekinesis in front of Felicia. “Maybe we can do something about it,” I said carefully.

Felicia shrugged. “I don't see what.”

“No.” Victoria met my eyes for a second; then she dropped her gaze and her cheeks turned pink. “I don't either.”

Sixteen

Ben and I were standing side by side at the sink, washing the dishes from dinner, when he suddenly crashed a saucepan down on the counter and turned to me.

“Cassidy, can I talk to you about something?” he asked.

“Sure.” I hoped it wasn't about what had happened yesterday. I couldn't look at his bruised face without feeling guilty.

“It's about Tyler Patterson.”

“What about him?”

“He grabbed me in the hallway today and called me a little nerd. He says he's going to get me.” Ben's voice wobbled, and he dropped it to a barely audible whisper. “Cassie, I'm scared of him.”

“Maybe you should talk to Mom,” I suggested. Even as I said it, I knew he wouldn't.

“I can't.” Ben's eyes filled with tears and his lower lip trembled. “If she knows I'm scared, she'll call the school for sure.”

“Well, maybe she should. Tyler shouldn't get away with this kind of bullying.”

Ben shook his head vehemently. “No way. If Tyler finds out I told, he'll slaughter me. Seriously.”

I stared into the soapy water, trying to make a decision. “Look,” I said finally, “I think I might have an idea. I need to make a phone call. Can you finish up the dishes?”

He looked at me sceptically. “What kind of idea?”

“I can't tell you yet. But let me see what I can do, okay?” I rushed up to my room, sat down on my bed and held my breath for a moment. I didn't want to make Victoria mad. But she'd said she hated bullies. And what was the point in having these powers if you never used them? If she really was my friend, and if she really was telekinetic, she had to help Ben.

I dialed her number. The phone rang and rang.
Pick up, pick up.
As soon as she answered, I jumped right in. “It's me, Cassidy. Listen, Victoria. You know what we were talking about at school? About bullying and what happened to Ben?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he's pretty scared. Tyler's been threatening him.”

“Jeez. Poor little guy.”

“Yeah.” I hesitated. “I was thinking, couldn't you help him?”

“Me? How?”

“You know. Do some tricks or something to scare Tyler. Like you did to Mr. McMaran. Maybe if we set it up so that he thought Ben was doing it?”

Victoria cut in. “No. You know I can't.”

“Why not?” My voice came out sounding sharper than I meant it to.

“I promised my mom. I told you that. I'm not allowed to do that stuff at all.”

“Yeah, but this is different. This is really important.” I stood up and paced a few steps to my dresser. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror. “You did it that other time. With Mr. McMaran.”

There was a long pause.

“Victoria? You did do that, right?”

She sighed into the phone. “Yeah, but I shouldn't have. I just got really mad.”

“And what happened to Ben doesn't make you mad?”

“It does,” she protested. “But I can't do anything about it. Please don't ask me to.”

Her tone warned me to back off, but I couldn't stop myself. “Just this once. Why can't you do it once more to help Ben?”

“Cassidy, please stop. I don't want to talk about this.” I stared at my reflection and twisted a lock of hair around my finger. My heart was beating fast, and I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out: “Maybe you won't help because you're not really telekinetic.”

There was an awful silence. I wished I could snatch the words back, but it was too late. They hung sharp and heavy between us, threatening to ruin everything.

“I have to go,” Victoria said flatly.

I blinked back tears. “No, Victoria. Wait. I didn't mean it.”

Click.
I listened to the dial tone for a minute. I felt like hurling the phone across the room, but instead I set it carefully back on its stand. Then I sat down on my bed, cross-legged, pressed my hands together like Victoria had shown me, and took some slow deep breaths.
Visualize the energy.

If Victoria wouldn't help Ben—or couldn't help Ben—I'd have to do it myself.

All that evening I practiced. I sat on the floor in my room, visualizing energy and trying to form it into a ball between my hands. I placed a pencil on the floor and willed it to move. I even looked up telekinesis on the Internet. I figured I could say that it was for a school project if Ben or Mom noticed. I didn't find anything helpful. Just once, for a few seconds, I thought I could feel the energy growing denser between my hands, but it dissipated before I could be certain. It was like trying to grasp a sunbeam.

At least it took all my concentration, which meant I couldn't think about Victoria and whether I'd just wrecked our friendship.
I'm glad you trust me,
I'd told her. What were the chances of her trusting me after what I'd said? I shook my head hard and tried to focus.
Green ball of energy…

After a couple of hours, Mom poked her head into my room. I jumped off the bed, startled. I didn't want to have to explain what I was doing.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You've been hiding out in your room all evening.” She frowned. “That's not like you.”

I was surprised she'd noticed.

“Look, I know I've been busy lately.” Mom stepped into my room. She was wearing her painting things and she looked tired. “The other day you said you felt like I'd been too busy. Like I didn't have time for you.” She cleared her throat. “If you want to talk…but you never do, Cassidy. You always say everything's fine. If I ask if you're okay, you snap at me or push me away.” She lifted her hands, palms up, in a helpless shrug. “I don't know what you want me to do.”

I stared at her. I didn't know what to say. If I started talking, I didn't know what would come out. How was I supposed to talk to her about getting bugged by kids at school when she spent practically every evening at the hospice talking to people who were dying? How was I supposed to tell her that I couldn't even come up with a project for the art contest when she was this amazing artist? I couldn't tell her about the telekinesis, so I couldn't tell her about the fight I'd had with Victoria. It was my fault Ben was in trouble, so I couldn't talk about that either.