with Darlene primping in front of a mirror. Her precious baby, Queenie, succumbed to my mental probing with ease. Queenie’s doggy thoughts revealed that Darlene and her gal pals had bribed one of the stage hands into hanging a bucket of Queenie’s poo poo over a letter X, chalked on the exact spot where the elected queen would make her royal appearance. The whole scene was reminiscent of a 1970’s horror movie that left the prom queen in a telekinetic frenzy.
And if that wasn’t enough to churn my stomach, Queenie’s vision featured me bowing to receive the crown, followed by the bucket tipping. The squishy brown downpour made me gag.
Should by chance Darlene win, the bucket would remain upright and unused.
How convenient.
Let’s just say that when all was said and done, I won the crown and Darlene was covered in her beloved pooch’s poop.
“How did you know?” she’d screeched through the stinking mess.
Making sure to smile and pat Queenie’s head, I replied cheerfully, “Your dog told me.” After all, Queenie had saved the queen.
The Monday following prom, Darlene told anyone who would listen that I was a mind-reading witch and explained how her parents were suing me for the irreparable damage to her dress. In the end, she succeeded in making herself look crazier; and I became, much to her chagrin, even more popular.
Rhonda experienced the exact problem as Darlene. The more she tried to destroy my reputation and make my life miserable, the less people liked her. After two years, she still couldn’t figure out why everyone favored me.
I remembered the gorgeous stranger who Rhonda favored, and who’d saved me. I felt sorry for him. Given the chance, Rhonda would pursue him like he was the last man alive.
Damn! With all the craziness, I’d failed to thank him for his lion taming heroics. I assumed Luke would know how to reach him. The least he deserved was a kind word.
With the shock subsiding, it occurred to me it was my day off. I should have stayed home. At least I’d have been safer there. With me, absolute safety was never an option.
“Ms. Carpenter, can I get a word with you?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind.
Waving him off, I exited through the side gate. Monday would be here soon enough. I trusted it would be better than today.
Chapter 2
Monday, June 13, 2011 – The Oregon Coast
When my dog, Buddy Boy, communicated with me for the first time, following what I now refer to as “the incident,” AKA coma catastrophe, I decided a smaller community was the best place for someone with my disability, or talent, to put down roots following high school and a few unsuccessful years of city living.
What I think about my special ability changes day to day, all depending on what type of trouble I end up in because of it. So far, it’s been a pretty good summer, but it’s only the second week in June. A lot can happen before September. I’ve found that out over the years.
Luke Snider loves my talent. I’ve saved him tons of money since I started working for him. At first, like everyone else I’ve told — Mom, Bob, Melanie, and Jordon — he doubted my ability. After I diagnosed his male tiger with depression and provided the solution, he was real appreciative. He knows the entire story. The other employees understand that I have a unique connection with the animals, but they give me a pretty wide berth.
The animals have shown me how they (humans) gossip — about me.
It’s something I’ve come to expect and accept. True, my ability isn’t quite as threatening as mind reading. Yet imagine if a friend (or enemy) was complaining about you, your dog overheard, and could show you the unpleasant scene’s images and audio. Pretty uncomfortable.
Yesterday had been beyond uncomfortable, but gossiping coworkers were always preferable to a near mauling. The naughty lion would be getting a serious scolding today, and I could count on Rhonda to spend more time complaining about me than working. I’d choose confronting a lion over dealing with her any day.
Cracking the window, the fresh ocean air poured in, refreshing me. I found myself replaying that fateful spring day when my life came to a screeching stop and made a U-turn toward a traumatic death. The unforeseen events from 2002 were etched in my memory:
Free from our final class, I glanced at my BFF, Melanie, and I decided a little girl-time on my fifteenth birthday might be