Crossed Out (3 page)

No, Mom didn’t know about that. She’d birth puppies if she knew Ricky wasn’t the innocent she believed him to be.

The urge to spill the truth about what had really happened – first, Allison’s reappearance in the garage and then some dead woman appearing in the mirror at Hillary’s place – overcame me.

But all it took was the memory of the visit to the shrink to erase that thought.

I got up and went up to my room. The experiences of the last couple of hours still hung over me like one of those cartoonish black clouds drenching me in spirits instead of rain.

But even worse was Mom’s little revelation. I knew she’d be pissed – but come off it. Make me see another counselor?

I couldn’t believe she’d actually made an appointment, but I knew I’d better go if I wanted her to forget this whole nightmare.

I’d deal with the cross of the other spirit later.

Oh, no, I totally forgot about the cross in the garage.
But even worse, what do I do for dead people who get swallowed up in some kind of portal?

I shuddered remembering the ghost from Hillary’s. mirror But another more horrific picture came to me. An uglier image that didn’t deal with ghosts.

What I feared was everyone’s reaction come Monday. By now, the whole incident had undoubtedly been text messaged to everyone. Memories of how the school reacted to Hillary’s betrayal hit me like a hammer. Just remembering the words, ‘
She sees dead people’
, scribbled on my locker in bright red made me want to hurl.

Why doesn’t someone just kill me now and get this over with?

Chapter 3

I almost expected to see Allison again. Her warning of danger haunted me, making it impossible to get any sleep.

But then again … it could be the embarrassment I felt for running out of Hillary’s house during that stupid Bloody Mary thing, embarrassing my perfect mother who was getting back at me by forcing me to this lame session with a new counselor. I’d hated the last one, Mr. Carter, who – besides Hillary – had been the reason I refused to tell anyone about my ability to see the dead.

Mom drove me down to the counselor’s office.

“You’ll like this new counselor,” she said. “According to Debbie, he has a way with the young people.”

Debbie was one of Mom’s sorority friends.
Boy, she must think I’m a certified nut case if she confided in Debbie.

“I thought you didn’t like to talk about my ‘little’ issue? Why did you tell her?”

“No matter what you think, I care about you. Don’t be giving me that look.” She pointed her finger at me. “It can’t hurt to at least talk to someone.”

Yeah, right.
I turned my iPod classic up louder, drowning out my mother’s words.

Her disgusted look ended the conversation.

Mom drove past a huge complex that housed a Borders bookstore, a Starbucks, and numerous other shops. She signaled and drove across the street where an old office building stood, but all I saw were the shops. Oh, just great. See a counselor then go shop.

“We’re here. We can meet at Starbucks in an hour or so.”

“Don’t you have to sign me in or do one of your caring motherly things?”

Mom sighed. “He already knows about you coming.”

“He? Jeez, Mom aren’t you afraid he might molest me or something?”

“Okay, that’s it.” Mom opened her car door. “You complain about me not trusting you. Here’s an opportunity to show me I can. Anyway, I already had a meeting with him. And your father looked him up. He’s legit. Come on, let’s go.”

I turned my iPod off, avoiding her.

We both got out of the car. My mother kept glancing around.

I resisted the urge to laugh. So much for the shrink being legit. She might tell herself it’s okay, but Heaven forbid if anyone saw her taking her daughter to one.

So far so good. No one I recognized. Mom probably planned it that way.

OMG.

A familiar face appeared. I stopped. My mother gave me a dirty look. That is, until she glanced across the way.

I could tell she was thinking the same thing.

What’s Dylan doing here?

Dylan had a big Sport Chalet bag in his hand. Probably getting yet another bodysuit for his surfing meets. I didn’t know how he could stand surfing in the cold water.

I didn’t have time to talk. At least the counselor’s office was inside the huge brown building across the way. There was no way Dylan could know where I was going. Still I couldn’t be too careful.

No such luck. Dylan glanced up and smiled, just as I closed in on him.

My mother looked very uncomfortable. She looked away, fumbling with her car keys.

“Hey, Mrs. Stewart. Stephanie.”

Dylan was one of those guys you could always count on. He had the most amazing smile I’d ever seen. He so could have been boyfriend material, except for one major fact – he knew me
too
well.

There were times I could’ve sworn he wanted more than friendship. Dylan might be cute, but I couldn’t get one thing out of my head. It would be like kissing an older brother.

Eww
. I don’t think so.

Also I swear I could sense him checking me out like some humongous radar. I could feel him searching and prodding for something. But what? The hairs on my arms would rise up under his intense stare.

“Hi, Dylan,” My mother said, glancing down at her watch. “Stephanie, you know the number. I’ll meet you later, okay?” She then turned back to Dylan. “Nice seeing you, Dylan. Say hi to your mother for me.”

Without another word, she walked away. Not once did she glance back. I watched as she made her way across the street to the shopping mall.

“Hey,” Dylan said, watching the retreating back of my mother, “was it something I said?”

“Nah, she’s always that way.”

“Where you going?”

“Oh, nowhere. Just need to pick something up.” I avoided glancing at the paper in my hand.

“Over there?” Dylan pointed at the dreaded building. My heart missed a beat. You’d think the words
Psychiatrist for Crazies
flashed in neon lights for everyone to see.

“Yeah, what of it?”

Dylan raised his eyebrows. “Just asking. You don’t need to bite my head off.”

I leaned over to playfully punch his arm. He pulled away and scowled. Jeez, he’s even cuter mad.

“Oh, sorry. I’d love to chat but I really got to go.”

Dylan followed me past the water fountain to the glass door. I put my hand on the door, then turned to face him. I couldn’t believe he didn’t take the hint and leave. But then again, why should I be surprised? It seemed like Dylan always showed up at the weirdest moments.

He stood there, staring at me. I could sense him trying to pull out the truth. For a brief moment, I succumbed to those huge hazel eyes. It would be perfect to finally have someone with whom to share my secret. Why not Dylan?

Let me list the reasons why I couldn’t trust my secret to him. First, he’s a guy. And second, he is a
friend
– a friend who at the moment annoyed the hell out of me.

Suddenly I was angry. I cursed under my breath. Where did he come off trying to read my mind or whatever?

I shook my head. “Well, I got to go.”

I nudged the door open with my shoulder.

“Wait!” Dylan put his hand on my shoulder. “Want to talk afterwards?”

My heart raced. I couldn’t hide anything from him.

“No. Later, okay?”

His face crumpled.

I stepped away. “See ya later.”

I let the door drift shut. Even with the door closed, I could sense him. Boy, I really needed to get a life. One that didn’t involve friends with intense radar or dead chicks bugging me.

Well, so much for the idea of bolting out of this visit.

I didn’t really want to see this counselor, but I was afraid I might run into Dylan again if I left too soon.

What was it about him anyway? He seemed to always pop up when I least expected it. My gosh, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was stalking me.

I glanced down at the number on the paper: 282. All the rooms looked the same. The hallway stretched on for like forever. Then the number 282 showed up.

Light Bringers Family Support Services

A funky emblem that looked like a lightning bolt burst out of the plaque. Jeez, were these people real? Maybe they took their own Prozac or whatever other meds they prescribed.

I opened the door and walked in.

The office looked similar to the last one I’d been to. In the middle of the room was a glass table covered with old magazines. Lime-colored, cushioned chairs were pushed against the equally hideous colored walls. The oversized generic paintings did nothing to perk up the office. Over to the side was the reception desk with a clipboard.

It looked like an office that a shrink would have, but different.

There was something funny about this place. I could just sense it. For one thing, there was no secretary sitting behind the counter.

Jeez, I’d been around Dylan too long. Why not add paranoia to my list of crazy behavior.

Mom did say he knew I was coming.
I shrugged my shoulders and walked over to the counter. I signed my name on the list and went back to one of the chairs.

Picking up one of the ancient
People
magazines, I thumbed through, snickering at the photos of last year’s fashions.

A cough caught my attention.

“Stephanie, is it? Hello, I’m Anthony Warner. Call me Dr. Anthony.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

Great.
Was this going to be like a Dr. Phil session? Why did these counselors think that if you called them by their first names, you’d feel more comfortable and want to spill your guts?

I reached out and was surprised by his grip. Strong and firm not damp and wimpy like the last counselor. So far he had one point in his favor.

I pushed that thought aside and glanced back at the new counselor. Not bad looking for a shrink – tall, not too old and he still had his brown hair.

“Come on inside.” He motioned to one of the rooms in a corner.

“This is weird,” I said, glancing around at the empty room. “Don’t you have someone who takes info and stuff?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already talked to your mother.” He held his door open.

His small office held the usual nondescript Monet-like painting, that I’m sure was meant to calm patients. Some framed diplomas hung by the desk. I didn’t recognize the university names. Must be back East or something. Books filled a built-in bookcase at the back. On his wooden desk, an assortment of candy filled a glass jar to the brim.

Oddly enough, I saw no pictures of a family.

I sat down on one of the green cushioned chairs. The backing felt good. Dr. Anthony walked around to his desk and sat down.

“Would you care for one?” He held the jar out to me. A few Tootsie Rolls spilled out. “I keep them for the children but I have to confess I have a sweet tooth myself.”

“No, thanks.” I glanced down at my watch. If I played this right I could leave and still have time to look around in one of the shops before catching up with Mom.

“Okay, let’s get something straight. I know my Mom wanted this meeting. So I’m here. Now can I leave?”

Dr. Anthony laughed. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Okay.
Nada.
”

“You sure?”

I sank further in the chair, wishing I could just disappear.

“I heard last night you went to a friend’s house for a sleepover.”

“Yeah, what about it?” Maybe if I acted indifferent he wouldn’t sense how scared I was of him knowing the truth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dr. Anthony said with a smile.

“What’s to talk about? It was a lame sleepover. I can’t believe I went.”

“But you did.” Dr. Anthony leaned back against his desk. “Why is that?”

So he doesn’t know
. Relief flooded my body.

“I’m sure my mother told you everything. Anyway, nothing happened.”

“Really?” He strummed his fingers together.
Very annoying.

I glanced around the room. Maybe if I didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“
Hmm.
I think you did do something. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Huh?” A cold feeling grabbed me.

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he continued. “Someone came to you, right? But you couldn’t help her.”

My heart missed a beat. Did I hear him right?
Oh, my God, does he know?

I frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Stephanie, I’ll stop beating around the bush. Your mother did ask for this meeting. She’s concerned.”

“All right. I did run out. But I can explain.” Then I stopped when his words came back to me.

“Wait a minute, what do you know?” An image of a frantic Allison came to me. Did he know about that?

“Look around and tell me what you see.”

I turned my head and noticed the usual shrink stuff – books, boring painting, and—

My eyes widened.
It couldn’t be, could it?

Dr. Anthony smiled. “Yes, Stephanie. I think we might have something in common.”

“But....” I didn’t know what to say. The last time I had confided in my counselor about my visits from the dead, he had my parents send me to a psychologist who said I was delusional. Then came those horrible anti-depressants. Nasty stuff, I shuddered reliving the painful memory.

But in the corner of his office, a battered wood beam stuck out.

No way, he knows
. My mind told me to get out of there but my body refused to move.

“Yes, Stephanie.” Dr. Anthony got up and picked up the cross. “We have a little problem. Someone else knows about ‘our’ gift and wants to stop us. I was sent here to help you.”

I looked at the door, frantic.
Oh, please don’t let anyone be listening!
I prayed that Dylan hadn’t followed me.

“Don’t worry. No one knows about this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I got up from the chair. “I’m leaving.”