I turned and saw Whitney striding over to Ms. Watson at the piano. She handed her some sheet music, then stepped up to the microphone, tugging her top down over her skirt.
I shut my eyes. I suddenly felt kinda strange. Dizzy. A little faint.
Just tension, I told myself.
Whitney announced that she was singing a number by Dvorřák. She cleared her throat noisily. Ms. Watson started to play.
Whitney opened her mouth to sing—but stopped.
She sneezed.
Ms. Watson stopped playing. She turned to Whitney. “Ready now?”
Whitney raised a hand, signaling for Ms. Watson to wait. She sneezed again. Then again. Loud, violent sneezes.
Whitney’s eyes bulged. “Aaaack!” Whitney let out a cry. She reached up to her nose and started to pull something out. Something slender and white.
At first, I thought it was a Kleenex or a handkerchief. But then I realized Whitney had pulled a feather from her nose.
Some kids giggled. I heard a few gasps.
Whitney held the feather in two fingers, staring at it in bewilderment.
“Whitney, are you okay?” Ms. Watson called from the piano.
Whitney didn’t reply. She sneezed again. “Ohhhhh.” A low groan escaped her throat. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled another long, white feather from her nose.
This time, no one laughed. The auditorium grew very quiet.
“Aaaack. Oh, help!”
Whitney tugged another long feather from her nose. As soon as it was in her hand, another feather poked out. She pulled it out quickly, and another feather appeared.
“NOOOOOOOO!” Whitney opened her mouth in a scream of horror.
Still feeling dizzy and faint, I gripped my pendant and watched the slender, white feathers float to the stage floor at her feet.
Feather after feather slid out. And then the auditorium erupted in screams as the feathers came out bright red. Blood started to flow from her nose.
Whitney sneezed hard. Again. Again.
She screamed and pulled out another blood-soaked feather.
“Help me! Somebody—HELP me!”
The feathers piled at her feet, and the glistening, red blood poured onto the feathers.
The blood ran down the front of her white blouse. Another dripping, red feather slid from her nose.
Whitney spun around and shook a finger at me. “DANA is doing this!” she shrieked. “She’s using her Fear powers! She’s doing this to me!”
Lots of gasps and startled cries in the audience. The three judges were on their feet, their faces tight with horror.
Whitney covered her face, but the blood continued to flow, pouring from her nose, puddling at her already blood-soaked shoes.
22
“Dana, my mom’s very worried about you,” Jamie said, poking her head into my room. “You didn’t come down to dinner.”
I was sprawled on my back in bed, reading an old copy of People magazine. I dropped the magazine to my side. “I’m just not hungry,” I said. “Tell her I’ll grab something later.”
Jamie crossed the room, stepping over the dirty clothing I’d tossed in a pile. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been moping around for three days. You’ve been acting so weird. Ever since . . . ”
I pulled myself up to a sitting position. I felt my stomach churning. Every muscle in my body was tense and knotted. “Of course I’ve been acting weird. I’m like a freak at school!” I cried.
Jamie narrowed her eyes at me. I could see she was surprised by my outburst.
“Ever since the thing with Whitney,” I continued, unable to keep my voice steady. “No one is talking to me, Jamie. I’m a total outcast. I say hi to people, and they cut me dead. They don’t even look at me.”
“But, Dana—,” Jamie started.
“Everyone thinks I made the feathers come out of Whitney’s nose. Because I’m a Fear, everyone thinks I used magic to keep Whitney from singing. But that’s CRAZY!”
I was screaming now, my voice so high that even dogs couldn’t hear it. Jamie tried to take my hand, but I jerked it away.
“I don’t know any magic!” I cried. “And I wouldn’t do that to Whitney. My name is Fear, but I’m not evil. I don’t know any tricks at all. How could I make feathers appear in Whitney’s nose? No way! How can anyone even think I could do it?”
Jamie stood up. She bit her bottom lip, studying me.
I had tears in my eyes. Angry tears. I wiped them away before they could slide down my cheeks.
“Can I give you one piece of advice?” Jamie asked, speaking softly.
I nodded.
“Don’t wear that amulet to school. I know you made it and everything. But a lot of kids are afraid of it.”
“Huh? Okay,” I said. I ripped it off my neck and tossed it in the trash.