Arcadia's Gift - By Jesi Lea Ryan Page 0,42

die also?” I asked.

“Humph! Not hardly. She lives in Boca Raton and works as an investment banker. Not dead, but not much of a life either. No, I mean I know what is happening to you …emotionally.”

“That’s not hard to guess. My twin died. I feel like crap.”

Jinx shook her head. I could tell she was going somewhere with this, but hesitated to explain it to me. “No, it’s more than that. Tell me about school. How did you feel when you were around all of those other students?”

A flush spread across my face, and I darted my gaze out the window. I recalled the tornado of emotions. Could that be what she was referring to? If so, how did she know?

“Okay,” she sighed. “Let go about this a bit differently. I have this…talent…I guess. Have you ever heard of telepathy?”

“Like communicating through minds?” I snorted skeptically.

“Yeah! See, I can read people’s thoughts.”

Terrified at the idea that what this woman was saying might be true, I tensed up, wrinkling my brow.

“Whoa!” Jinx laughed, touching her fingers to her temples. “You’re a strong little thing! I can feel you trying to block me. I bet you don’t even know you’re doing it.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “No, that’s not possible. People can’t read minds!”

“Oh, no? How is it that I know about the torment you went through this week at school?”

“It was my first day back, of course it was going to be tormenting!” I yelled without meaning to. I jumped up to my feet.

The little dog was startled by my sudden movement. He hopped down from the table and waddled over next to her chair like a guard dog. Yeah, the curly hair flopping in his eyes was terrifying.

“Wait, Cady,” she said, reaching out to me. “Please sit. You promised to hear me out. I haven’t even gotten to the part about you.”

My knees locked in place. I didn’t want to sit.

“Look, I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I really can’t deal with crazy right now.” I slid my arms into the shoulder straps on my bag and headed for the door.

Jinx shot to her feet, but didn’t try to stop me from leaving. She just twisted her fingers together in frustration.

“Okay,” she said, “leave if you want. But I want you to think about something.”

I stopped in the doorway holding the screen door open, not turning around to face her.

“When your sister died, remember how you felt it? I mean really felt what was happening to her? Remember what you saw in that moment?” When I didn’t answer she continued. “Come back to see me when you’re ready to know what happened.”

I walked out quickly, allowing the screen door to slam shut behind me.

Chapter 17

The rhythm of my soles slapping the pavement in time to my breath had the power to relax me like nothing else. In the weeks since returning to school, I’d settled into a routine —school, work, jog, homework, bed.

The emotional storm of school wasn’t abating. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse. Sitting in class felt like being tugged in ten different directions. Twice I’d had teachers keep me after class, their looks of pity only slightly hidden under concern. Of course, I couldn’t tell them anything. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Mr. MacLeod, my physiology teacher even suggested I drop his class and try it again next year. I’d missed a ton of labs, and no matter how much I studied, I couldn’t concentrate enough to memorize all of the Latin terms. I finally gave in and stopped by my guidance counselor’s office to sign the drop forms. Of course it was too late for me to get into anything else, so I was assigned to a study hall for fifth period.

I rounded the corner of my street and slowed to a brisk walk. My breath sawed in and out of my chest through my mouth, and I used a cotton bandana tucked in the pocket of my jogging pants to wipe the sweat from my forehead. The autumn evening air caressed my damp skin, dotting my arms with goose bumps. From between the dwellings I could see Jinx’s house, lights blazing in every room as if she had guests. For weeks I’d been telling myself that the woman was a fake, a charlatan looking to pull something over on the poor grieving girl. But then I’d find myself wondering about the possibility that she was