Three
‘Vania Thorn, do you have the solution to this equation?’ Mrs Hestalow said, tapping her pointer on the board.
I was in the front row and could see her bright-red lipstick staining her teeth. She was wearing a black-and-white polka-dot dress and pointy-toed black patent-leather pumps. I liked Mrs Hestalow. She looked more like a fifties rockabilly chick than a maths teacher, and she was friendly to me. Unlike Mr Barrow, who just seemed to hate me more by the day. I had bumped into him when I’d rounded a corner in the corridor on the way to maths. I’d apologised, but he’d just stood there silently, staring at me with his cold beady eyes. Thinking about it sent a chill through my body, making the hairs on my arms stand up as I replied to Mrs Hestalow.
‘49x = 147. x = 3.’
‘Very good.’ Mrs Hestalow smiled and turned back to the board. I returned to gazing out the window and thinking about something much more pleasant than my weird chemistry teacher . . . Bryce.
The bell rang and I jumped. This was the last class of the day, and I was walking home with Bryce again! He had come up to me at lunch when I was in line at the canteen and quietly suggested it.
Cassidy and one of her bitchy friends had been watching and had rolled their eyes when they saw us standing together – but thankfully hadn’t thrown an orange at me again. I was so surprised I’d just agreed by nodding at him dumbly. Bryce was Cassidy’s boyfriend, and yet he wanted to walk me home?
I had butterflies in my stomach as I dumped my books in my locker. As I was closing my locker door I saw Amelia and Alyssa walking away down the hall. They had their backs to me, but as if they sensed my presence they both stopped suddenly and turned around to wave to me. Amelia winked and then they ran off. I wondered if they psychically knew I was meeting Bryce.
Bryce and I had agreed to meet at the drinking fountain near the entrance to the school. I sat on the stone block next to the fountain as a stream of students flowed out of the building and down the stairs. It was a warm afternoon but I left my jacket on so that Bryce wouldn’t see how small my breasts were. Yes, seriously. I knew he was with Cassidy, but I still wanted to look the best I could and it seemed like all the cool girls in America looked like Barbie dolls. I would never be that. My parents wouldn’t buy me a boob job, for a start – not that I was too keen to go under the knife anyway. But I was also not too keen on advertising how flat-chested I was. And so I sat there sweating a bit.
I waited there until the schoolyard was deserted. This wasn’t good. I chewed my nails nervously. Was Bryce standing me up? Maybe all this was just a plot to make me look ridiculous. He and Cassidy and that whole group were probably hiding behind a building, watching me and laughing.
I stood up and brushed off my jeans. The butterflies in my stomach had been replaced by a lump of stone. But if I was being watched, I would not let anyone know I was upset. I picked up my bag and walked defiantly out of the front gates.
I reached the street corner and was about to step off the kerb when I heard someone calling me.
‘Vania, wait up!’ Bryce was running out of the school gates towards me. My heart leapt.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said breathlessly as he reached me. ‘The principal grabbed me after the bell rang to talk about class president stuff. She said it would only take a minute, but I was stuck in there for half an hour and I had no way of letting you know.’
I was trying to control the smile that was threatening to split open my face. ‘That’s okay,’ I said, managing to sound reasonably nonchalant. ‘I know I need to get a mobile.’ I didn’t tell him I’d thought he was plotting to make a fool out of me. We started walking.
‘What’s a mobile?’ Bryce asked.
‘Oh, a . . .’ I floundered momentarily for the American version, ‘a cell phone.’
He laughed. ‘You say funny things sometimes.’ He made a point of turning his phone off and putting it in his pocket, which made me feel kind of special. ‘How come you don’t have a . . . mobile?’
‘My parents are totally strict and old-fashioned, and they try to push that on me, too – we don’t even have the internet at home!’
‘So how do you study?’
‘Books – the old-fashioned way.’ I laughed wryly.
‘I actually love books,’ Bryce said. ‘I’m reading a great one right now.’
‘I mostly prefer science and maths to literature,’ I said.
He shook his head, and for a second I was terrified he was thinking I was a total nerd.
‘I’m useless at math,’ he said. ‘I don’t see the point of algebra – I’d rather be reading a novel.’
Now it was my turn to shake my head. Science and numbers are definitely more my thing.
The silence grew between us. I looked up at him from beneath my fringe. Maybe he was thinking I found him nerdy.
‘Umm, what’s the book you’re reading?’ I asked, smiling in what I hoped was an encouraging way. His face lit up.
‘Well, it’s called The Story of the Inexperienced Ghost. It’s a classic by the science-fiction writer HG Wells, and it’s actually pretty funny – it’s about a ghost who doesn’t know how to haunt things properly.’
‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ I asked. For some reason my heart had started to hammer.
He looked a little embarrassed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Uh, I don’t want to sound weird or anything, but, yeah, I guess I do.’
Something was happening. It felt like déjà vu. My vision went blurry and I stumbled.
Bryce caught me. ‘Hey, you gotta stop doing that,’ he said, sounding concerned.
I looked into his green eyes. His arms were around me, and it honestly felt like time was standing still. I had to get a grip.
‘I’m fine.’ I pulled away from him and took a step, so that I was out of his reach. Then I turned away and started walking ahead. ‘I believe in ghosts, too,’ I called over my shoulder.
He laughed as he caught up with me. ‘Oh, good. I was worried you were thinking I was crazy.’
‘No, I’m totally interested in paranormal stuff. I like scientific things, but I like things that can’t be proven, too. I’ve never seen a ghost, but on a scientific level they make sense. Einstein said that energy can never be destroyed. So it has to go somewhere and do something when we die.’
He nodded, and we stood there for a moment before we started walking again. I could see my house through the trees at the end of the road. He put his hand on my arm to stop me again.
‘You know how I started to tell you in class the other day that my great-grandmother was a Spiritualist? Well . . . I am, too,’ he said quietly.
‘But what does that mean?’ I asked.
‘It means my family believes the living can communicate with the spirits of the dead, and the dead can give us guidance and help if we ask for it.’
He looked at me warily. If I’m honest, what he was telling me was spinning me out a little. The idea of talking to ghosts was pretty far out of my comfort zone, even though I theoretically believed in them. But I didn’t want to scare him off, so I kept my expression placid.
Reassured, he continued, ‘It’s actually a religion, I guess. We don’t really practise it formally now, but like I said the other day, my great-grandmother was one of the original settlers here in the early eighteen hundreds, and she was a medium – one of the people the dead would communicate through. In those days it was a really big deal. Instead of a town hall there was a community séance room. Hundreds of people would come to see my great-grandmother channel the dead. The spirits would tell them things about the afterlife and answer their questions.’
I couldn’t keep my face blank any longer. I scrunched up my forehead as I contemplated what he was telling me.
‘What, are you saying everyone in town would come to talk to ghosts with your great-grandmother?’ I asked incredulously.
‘Uh, yeah.’ He smiled and looked down, looking a little embarrassed and a lot cute. ‘The town séance room is gone now, though. It was knocked down when they ploughed Highway 101 through the centre of town. But once it was like a church to people – everyone went there. My whole family did for years.’
I couldn’t say anything as I tried to picture a whole town wanting to talk to dead people.
‘My great-grandmother died a few years ago – she was a hundred and eight,’ Bryce said, filling in the silence between us.
‘I’m sorry, Bryce,’ I said. I empathised with his loss, but I couldn’t resist adding, ‘That’s a really impressive age, though!’
‘Yeah, she was amazing. Her name was Elizabeth, but I called her Bessie. We were really close. I was the last to see her before she passed. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me when she said . . .’ His voice faltered.
‘Go on,’ I said gently.
‘She said, “I will see you soon.”’
I was silent for a moment, contemplating the meaning of these words.
‘And I did see her soon after that,’ he said after a minute.
‘What happened?’
‘She came to me in a dream. Well, I don’t know if I was actually dreaming – it felt like I was awake and sitting up. She was standing at the foot of my bed. She looked a lot younger than when she’d passed. She said, “Bryce, I’ve been having trouble learning the ropes – coming back this way instead of going over – but I’m starting to get the hang of things now.” And then she disappeared.’
I was beginning to understand why I felt such a strong connection to this boy. He was different and interesting; I could talk to him seriously about this stuff. This wasn’t make-believe, like dressing up on Halloween and reading fairytales. I felt drawn to him, and maybe he felt drawn to me for the same reasons.
Oh, who was I kidding? He was super hot, and I was . . . Fish Lips.
He was looking at me questioningly. ‘Do you think I’m weird?’
‘No, Bryce,’ I said, ‘I think you’re really cool.’ And I meant it.
The next night I was scraping plates into the compost bin after the best vegetarian feast I’d ever eaten. Amelia and Alyssa’s mother had made Greek tofu salad, vegetarian lasagne and coconut soy ice-cream with hot cacao sauce for dessert, and I had gorged myself on all of it.
Mrs Torre had fire-red hair like her daughters, but while theirs was wild and curly hers was smooth and straight and hung to her waist. She looked like a hippy, wearing a yellow crocheted top and orange drawstring pants. On each finger she had big crystal and silver rings – even on her thumbs. She caught me looking at them as I helped clear the dishes.
‘Every crystal has a different use.’ She held out her index finger and I examined the large pink stone. ‘This is rose quartz: aligned with love and compassion.’
But it was the black ring shaped a bit like a skull on her thumb that really intrigued me, and I held her thumb lightly, looking closely at the stone.
‘That is one of my most potent pieces – black onyx. The ancient Egyptians carried it to protect them from the dark gods of the underworld.’
I shuddered, but Mrs Torre continued pleasantly, ‘Not that we really need to worry too much about that in these modern times!’
She patted my arm and turned to the twins, who were busy over at the counter making tea – three pots of tea, to be exact. The teapots were made from white, fine bone china and had long elegant spouts and handles shaped like pointy fairy ears. They carried them carefully over to the kitchen table and we all sat down.
‘You must each drink your own fate,’ Mrs Torre said as she presented a teapot and matching cup and saucer to each of us. The words sounded ominous, but she had a twinkle in her eye.
Amelia and Alyssa laughed. ‘Oh, Mom!’ they both said. ‘You’re so dramatic.’
‘Well, your fate is a serious thing to consider,’ Mrs Torre said. ‘The future is created by the steps we take today, after all,’ she finished.
I was excited. It seemed like all of a sudden my life had taken off at a million miles an hour. Three days ago the tree had come down, yesterday Bryce had told me he saw ghosts, and now I was having my tea-leaves read by the psychic mother of my new friends. My head was spinning. Maybe America was the place I was meant to be, after all.
Mrs Torre dimmed the lights. A candle on the table emitted a strong, heady scent. ‘Girls, close your eyes and take a deep breath.’ Her voice sounded silky and hypnotic. I did as she asked, and straight away I sensed a different, otherworldly energy starting to permeate the dining room.
‘Wonderful – I feel the energies are aligned to reveal your destinies. You may now pour your tea,’ Mrs Torre said after a moment.
I opened my eyes and watched Alyssa and Amelia pick up their pots and carefully pour their tea, not spilling a drop. I was a little nervous and had to concentrate to stop myself from splashing it. Steam swirled from the tea like mist as I gazed into the blood-red depths. What were we drinking?
‘Raspberry-leaf tea,’ Alyssa said quietly. It really was amazing the way they could read minds.
‘Drink, girls,’ Mrs Torre commanded.
Together we sipped the slightly bitter tea, slowly and constantly until the last drops were drained, each leaving a small damp pile of leaves in the centre of our cup.
‘Excellent! Now please place the cup upside down on the saucer with the handle facing towards you and turn it three times in a clockwise direction.’
I did this, but as I turned the cup the third time it seemed to get stuck and I couldn’t move the handle back to face me.
Mrs Torre looked at me intently. ‘There is a lot of fate in that cup,’ she said.
‘Really?’ I said hesitantly, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Mrs Torre smiled and turned to the twins. ‘Well, let me begin with Amelia and Alyssa. Joined at the hip as you are, my psychic goddesses, I shall read you together.’
With a flourish Mrs Torre flipped over their cups and gazed into them. Craning my neck, I could see that the leaves had formed intricate patterns that laced the sides of the cups. Mrs Torre seemed pleased.
‘Good grades and some kind of reward are on the horizon for you both. I’m very happy to see this! And . . . you both dye your hair a different colour? We’ll see about that. Ooh, and here’s what you’re getting me for my birthday . . .’ She abruptly put the cups down. ‘Well, let’s keep that a surprise, shall we?’
The twins laughed.
Mrs Torre turned to me and picked up my cup. ‘And now . . . Vania.’ She took a deep breath, and all of a sudden I felt really nervous. What if she saw something awful? Or she said something about Bryce? Although, being psychic and all, I suspected the twins already knew I was feeling self-conscious about crushing on someone else’s boyfriend – even if that someone was Cassidy.
Mrs Torre’s forehead was creased with an intense frown. I looked at my leaves. They weren’t laced like the twins’ had been. Instead, most of mine were clumped together on one side. On the other side there was a shape that looked like a bird.
At last Mrs Torre started talking. ‘At a young age your true path was diverted, but now you are finding your way back. You are smart and rational, but you must learn to let your instincts lead you so that your true power can reveal itself. You will forge a new path alone and leave a trail so others may follow.’
Alone? I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to walk my path with Bryce. Mrs Torre noticed my concern, but that didn’t stop her from telling me something even more alarming.
‘There is a mysterious dark presence around you – a person who wishes you ill.’
I gulped, and the twins looked stricken.
‘C’mon, Mom – you promised you wouldn’t get all heavy,’ Amelia said.
Mrs Torre looked at me intently. ‘Most importantly, you are surrounded by people who love you, Vania, and this love will shield you from misfortune.’
I didn’t feel too reassured.
‘You also have a unique gift, which will stand you in good stead and serve to protect you. It will soon be revealed. All will be well,’ she continued, before reaching over and snuffing out the candle flame with her fingertips.