Sweet Evil(11)

“You should come! It’s gonna be crazy. Everyone will be there.”

I looked down and traced the wooden grooves in the desk with my pencil’s eraser. Could I get away with changing the subject?

“So, I’m turning sixteen on Wednesday. I’m getting my license.”

“I am so jealous!” Veronica said, smacking my desk. “I’ve been sixteen for three months already, and my dad still hasn’t let me get mine! I’m pretty sure he hates me. Are you getting a car?”

“Uh, no.” Not even close.

Everyone jumped up and grabbed their things as the bell rang, and the tension that held a viselike grip on my neck finally relaxed its vicious fingers and released me.





CHAPTER THREE

SWEET-SIXTEEN SURPRISE

I didn’t feel any older when I woke up on Wednesday morning. Patti was out on our small balcony with her coffee and newspaper. She snapped to attention, and her face brightened when she saw me.

Something misty hovered beside her like a ghost. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, but when I took them away it was still there. It was about the same size as her, maybe longer, like a fuzzy white shadow. Had I developed another sight? Please, no. I’d learned to fear the acquisition of new abilities; like the choking horror of smoke from a mile away, each came with some fresh disadvantage.

“Happy birthday!” Patti said, standing and pulling me into a big hug, then cupping my face and gazing into my eyes. “You feeling okay?”

“Um...” My eye glided to the cloud thing, which moved around her, never changing its general appearance.

“What’s wrong?” She looked down at her shoulder where my eyes were, and wiped down the length of her arm, right next to the cloud. “Please don’t tell me I have dandruff.” She ran a hand through her waves, pulling her hair to the side to get a look at it.

“No, you don’t. Nothing’s wrong. Sorry. I’m still tired, just zoning out.”

She squeezed me again, kissing my head.

“I can’t believe my little girl is sixteen! There’s a card from Nana on the counter. Let me go make your hot chocolate.” The shadow thing floated along next to her, following her into the apartment as if attached.

I sat down in a plastic chair, feeling jittery, while Patti made my cocoa. Most mornings were relaxing, sipping warm drinks on the balcony, but not today. The combination of the humid morning air and the weird vision made me feel claustrophobic.

I couldn’t believe I was seeing something else. Nothing strange had happened to me for more than two years. I thought it was over. I closed my eyes and laid my forehead on the table. Would it ever end?

I sat up when Patti returned, setting my cocoa in front of me and sitting in the other plastic chair with her coffee. I sneaked another peek at the cloud when she wasn’t looking.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked me.

Time to act normal. I cleared my throat.

“Yeah. So, there’s a party next week for the end of the school year. I was wondering if I could maybe go with Jay, if it’s okay.” I thought of Scott and hoped she’d say yes.

Patti sniffed and twitched her nose.

“Will this person’s parents be there?” she asked in a tight tone.

Would they? “I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ll need to talk to them first. If it’s just a small get-together with parental supervision, then I’ll consider it.”

Sheesh. Patti made it seem like I was prone to bad behavior or something. Me! The school’s Little Miss Goody-Goody. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t trust me. I must have been pouting, because she set the paper down and gave me a consoling pat on the arm.

“You still want to get your license after school today, hon?”

“Yes,” I answered. Because that was what normal sixteen-year-olds did. And I would feign normalcy if it killed me.

“All right. And then dinner at La Tía’s?”

“Yes!” I said, my mood lightening. Mexican food was our favorite. We went to the little rinky-dink restaurant for every birthday, and whenever Patti got an unexpected bonus, which wasn’t very often. Newspapers and other agencies hired her sporadically, so her income had never been steady. We’d struggled during the years I attended private school, despite partial financial aid. I put my foot down after eighth grade, insisting on public school when I found a pile of late notices tucked between two cookbooks.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll pick you up after school. I hate to run, but I have to get some stuff done this morning, since we’ll be busy girls this afternoon!” She kissed my cheek with a loud smack. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”