“I’m going to put this mask on you now.” Trinity guides my head back, crosses a strap over it, and places a mask over my nose and mouth.
“Is it too tight?”
“It’s fine.” My words echo inside the face cover. I glance over her shoulder at Soraya and give her an evil eye.
“Now count backward to one, starting from twenty.”
I do as instructed, silently. Within seconds, my eyes are getting heavy, and I can’t remember the last number, so I start over.
“I’ll see you on the other side.” Soraya waves.
It’s the last thing I see before drifting off into what I can only describe as the rush your body feels when a roller coaster suddenly drops.
Chapter One
Wiping tears from my eyes, my ten-year-old self pleads with my momma once again as we sit in the police station. There’s a knot in my stomach. My legs are moving, but they don’t reach the ground, so I swing them under me. The whole time I stare longingly at my momma through my tears.
“Please, Momma, I just wanna go home.”
“Not until you give me answers, young lady. Tell me, how did you know where that girl was?”
“I already told you. She talked to me last night.”
“Ms. Beck, we’re ready for you.”
Momma stands and grabs my arm. The resistance I’m putting up is no match for her. I’m too small and weigh too little to offer a real fight.
I’m bawling; not because I don’t want to tell the truth but because no one will believe me. They never do, and usually shut me down. Then, the ones who’ll listen to me are people others don’t believe, like Mrs. Jennings who lives underneath us. Her husband told Momma the medicine she’s on makes her talk out of her head, but she’s not. Everything she says is true. I’ve seen some of it.
We’re taken into a room and told to have a seat. The lady from yesterday enters with two sodas. She hands my mother one, then me as she sits across from us, next to the guy who came in behind her.
“Winter, do you remember me? I’m Detective White, and this is my partner Detective Goodman. We came by your home yesterday.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I entertain myself by making a game out of counting the square patterns on the table. I trace the lines with my fingers, not looking up and not wanting to talk to anyone. Seeing the look in their eyes makes me feel sad inside, and knowing they won’t believe me makes me feel worse. My mother places her hand on top of mine, it stops my tracing, then she gives it a not so gentle squeeze. I don’t yell out but rather squirm in my seat. I peek at her from under my eyelashes, I know what the look she’s giving me means. I’m in big trouble.
“Winter, you’re being rude. Remember, we talked about this. Tell the truth and you’ll be fine.”
Rubbing my eyes with my free hand, I shake my head and snatch my hand from underneath hers. I don’t have to look at Momma a second time to know she’s mad at me.
“Do you want to be punished, young lady?”
I hunch my shoulders and slouch down in the chair.
Detective Goodman raises his hand and takes Momma’s attention off me. “Ms. Beck, do you mind if Detective White takes your daughter over to the play area? I really would like to speak with you alone. I just have a few questions. She’ll be in the same room, right over in the corner.” He points to the table with the toy box next to it.
“Is that okay with you, Winter?” Momma puts a hand on my shoulder.
I nod and go over to the toy box where I pick up a shaggy doll with yellow mop hair.
“Yeah, I would have gone for that one too,” the lady says, coming up behind me.
For a while, she watches me play without saying anything. But the quietness doesn’t last long.
“Winter, when I was a kid, about your age actually, weird things would happen. I would see and hear things other people didn’t. And when I told my parents, they didn’t believe me. No one believed me. Sometimes things would go missing or happen, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get into trouble. Kids at school were mean and called me names like weirdo because I would talk to people they couldn’t see.”
I look up at her. “What did you do?”
“I stopped telling what I saw. I learned how to live inside my own little bubble, which at times was a very lonely place. But about fifteen years ago, I met some people like me, and I realized I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t crazy.” She reaches for my hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you either. You see things other people don’t. You’re gifted; not weird or crazy or whatever other names you’ve been called.”
I look at her, and she smiles at me. I sit the doll down and reach for another one. “Like the girl in the dumpster?”
“Yes, like the girl in the dumpster.”
“She said her dad hit her hard and she fell down the steps. When she got up, she could see her dad lifting her, but it wasn’t her anymore. He put what used to be her inside the trunk of the car. She said she called out to him, but he didn’t answer, so she got in the car too. That’s when he drove to the dumpster and put her other self, the lifeless self in there. She told me she didn’t want her mom to worry about where she was, and asked me to tell my momma where to find her, so momma could tell her mom. I didn’t want to, but the girl said she wouldn’t go away unless I did it. I told Momma, but she didn’t believe me.”
I’m sniffing back tears. The lady reaches into her pocket and hands me a handkerchief.
“I believe you. But between you and me, most adults won’t. It’s not because they don’t want to. They’re afraid to, they don’t understand.” She cups my chin with her hand. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”
I stare at the floor and then look back to Detective White. For the first time, I feel I’m not alone, and I want to tell her more. Swallowing hard, I decide to do it.
“I…I can do things.” My words come out low and broken. I’m not sure if she can hear me.
“Oh yeah. Like what?” She arches a brow and leans in closer.
“Like magic things.” I’ve never shown anyone what I can do, but I feel comfortable with her. “Once a kid in my class saw me spinning a top around without touching it, and fell out of his chair. When the teacher asked what was wrong, he told her. When he wouldn’t let it go, she sent him to the office for lying.”
There’s a box of crayons sitting on the table. I concentrate, and it lifts up into the air. I remove each color, one by one. After a few seconds, I put them back in place and bring it back down. All I had to do was think about what I wanted to happen, and it did. I’d done it before but only when no one else was around. Once I’m done, I make the box disappear. Ms. White looks around then whispers, “Where did it go?”
I point to a shelf across from the toy box. Her mouth opens as if she’s surprised and her eyes widen. She mumbles something but I’m only able to make out “…much control.”
Ms. White shifts in her chair and looks over her shoulder. My eyes follow hers, and I realize she’s making sure no one can see what I’m doing. She looks at me strangely and for a second, I wish I hadn’t shown her what I can do.
But then, she raises a finger, puts it to her lips, and winks at me.
My attention shifts from her to the pages turning by themselves in the book on the table. This time it’s not me.
I smile.
“I told you, you can trust me.” Curving her finger, calling me nearer to her, she leans in close to my ear. “Our secret?”
I nod as we do a silent pinky swear. She strokes my hair, and I feel happy inside. She likes me and knowing that makes me feel good.
“Don’t be surprised if our paths cross again. Just remember, I’m your friend. And as for your mother, don’t worry. I’ll tell her what momma’s need to hear. Everything will be fine.”
Having someone believe me feels good.
She takes my hand and walks me back over to the table.
“Are you all done?” the man talking to Momma asks.
“Yes. I think we are,” Detective White replies.