Lost in Thought (22 page)

I wanted to argue that I’d spent plenty of time in Saks, which is where we’d started our quest for the perfect Winter Ball dresses, but mostly I went with my aunt or by myself. That didn’t exactly make my case.

Instead I said, “I think some of the kids I met last night cared. I swear, I could barely talk to them, and I don’t usually have trouble talking to people I don’t know. I mean, I grew up having to do it on an almost daily basis. Everyone last night was just so…normal, I guess.”

“God, would you get over the ‘normal’ thing? There’s no normal.

You’re not abnormal. Just different. We’re all different. And those kids at the party aren’t normal either. They’re…average,” she said, and then giggled. “Is it really so upsetting that you can’t figure out how to talk and flirt with average guys? You’ve got me. And
Carter
. What on earth could those so-called ‘normal’ guys have to say that could intrigue you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh with her, and silently thank my lucky stars or whatever it was that had given me such a great friend. “You’re right.

There is no normal. I don’t know what I am, but it’s not normal. And I guess neither are you. And that’s okay.”

“Hells yeah!” she said, then added, “And neither is
this
.” She held up a black dress in front of me. But it wasn’t just any black dress. It was, I couldn’t deny,
the
black dress. It was short and strapless, with a

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sweetheart neckline and intricate folds of expensive satin that looked like they’d hug everything just right. I was in love. And afraid to put it on.

“I…I’ve never worn anything like that,” I stammered. I’d worn plenty of dresses to art events and galas with my aunt, but never anything quite so…drop dead sexy.

Amy rolled her eyes before laying it over her arm along with the few dresses we’d picked out for her. “There’s a first time for everything, Lainey.”

It fit even better than I’d imagined.

he return to campus after winter break was a flurry of both snow and activity. I was quickly back in the routine of classes, sports practice and matches, work hours, homework, T

and friends and Carter whenever I could fit them in. Sometimes it seemed as though the most alone time I had with Carter was during our weekly practices.

I was steadily improving, quickly even, I thought. The more I used it, the more I learned not to fight my gift. I hated having to witness death after death, was sure I would always hate it, but I found by accepting it was part of being me—like it or not—and that the visions were inevitable anyway, I was able to control my abilities, rather than let them control me. I secretly practiced all the time, whenever I had the opportunity or a handy object. The only thing I avoided practicing on was people, for obvious reasons. I’d already witnessed one of my classmates’ deaths this year and had no interest in seeing more.

Though it had been somewhat dangerous, I’d risked having an “episode” and practiced while I was on break. It had helped me, actually, because I was relaxed, without classes or homework or anything to worry about. Exercising my Diviner sense was easier than usual, and

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after the third week in Mexico, I felt my risk of passing out or developing a migraine was pretty low. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only risk involved. A few days after I’d arrived at Amy’s, I was nearly caught.

“What are you doing?” Amy had asked me, one eyebrow arched in curiosity and a little bit of suspicion, as she stood in the doorway to her bathroom, tightening the belt on her bathrobe.

I was so startled, I squeaked and dropped the gold and opal ring I’d been holding. Thankfully it landed on the dresser and only skittered a little across the surface before I caught it. I’d been so intent on letting the vision of Amy’s grandmother’s death play out, I hadn’t heard the door open.

“S…Sorry!” I stammered, wracking my brain for an excuse. “I’ve seen you wear it before and I just love that ring. I think it must be an antique.”

In fact, I knew it was an antique, simply by looking at it, but also because it had most definitely belonged to Amy’s grandmother and she’d most definitely been wearing it when she’d died. Normally, such a simple death—she’d passed peacefully in her sleep—would amount to a split-second awareness on my part, barely a vision at all. But after concentrating on replaying it like Carter had coached me, I’d seen more. None of it was particularly interesting—an old woman brushing her teeth, putting on her pajamas, and climbing into bed—but I’d never before been able to force more of a vision to develop. I was fascinated by the truest form of morbid curiosity.

Amy made a sad sound. “Yeah, it is. And I love it too. It was my grandmother’s. She died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It is beautiful though. You’re lucky to have it to remind you of her.”

“I am, I guess. I always think of her when I wear it…but what’s with you?” I gulped, probably audibly, but before I had to ask what

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she meant, she was continuing her thought. “I mean, I swear that’s the third time this week I’ve seen you touching something like…like you’re meditating on it or something.”

“I…” and I blushed, I could feel it, but it gave me inspiration for my excuse. “This is lame, sorry, but I love antiques—you know that, right?” She rolled her eyes at this. Everyone knew I loved antiques.

“Well, sometimes I like to imagine stories about their history. I guess I do it more obviously than I thought I did.”

This excuse worked because it was the tiniest bit true. I did that.

Sometimes. Much to my relief, Amy seemed to accept it. She smiled and then laughed at me as she came over to the dresser where I was standing. She picked up her grandmother’s ring, turning it over in her hand. “You really are strange sometimes, Lainey, but I love that about you. If you want, though, I could tell you a little about my grandmother. Then you wouldn’t have to imagine this ring’s history…”

I listened gratefully to her stories about her grandmother. She seemed like a wonderful lady, and I was happy to let Amy talk about her, but I was even happier to have gotten out of my predicament. In my eagerness to explore my Sententia abilities, I’d been reckless with guarding my secret. I was afraid of what Dr. Stewart would say if she found out I’d slipped up.

“It’s harder for you, because this is all so new to you,” Carter said.

We were in the library for our first official practice after break and I finally admitted to my almost screw-up with Amy. “It gets easier. The hiding. Becomes second nature, really, the longer you do it.” At this, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then stood, pacing near his chair. “About being Sententia, I mean…” He trailed off before sitting back down abruptly. “In a way, we all have to live two lives. You’ll get used to it,” he promised, and, in a gesture of affection I never tired of, reached over to brush his hand through my hair, distracting me completely from his odd behavior of a moment ago.

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I wasn’t entirely sure I would get used to carrying my secret, but I supposed I had no choice. What I
was
getting used to was my gift itself. I improved noticeably every week. If I wanted to, I could stop myself fairly regularly from having a vision, which was an important skill, but at the same time, having the visions wasn’t as burdensome as it had been in the past.

This week we’d gone back to the wooden stool, and, much like when I’d been holding Amy’s ring, I’d been able to regress my vision to see several pertinent scenes leading up to the man’s unfortunate accident. Not in a time-lapse replay of his last days or moments, but a replay of scenes that had some relation to the impending death. With Amy’s grandmother, I hadn’t initially seen the connection. Now I realized how in each scene, she’d rubbed her chest a little, the only indicator of what was to come. If I were a detective, these would be the clues I uncovered.

This development was a major breakthrough, one I was proud of and knew I’d continue to explore, but it had made me tired of practice for the night. Thankfully, my favorite distraction was sitting across from me, and still had his hand resting warmly on the side of my neck.

I put the stool on the table and climbed out of my chair and onto his lap. His eyes flared in a tantalizing way as his hands circled my waist to steady me.

“I can get used to this too,” I said, brushing my fingers over his lips before I kissed them.

At almost the exact moment our lips touched, we heard the elevator bell ding across the room. Carter hastily slid me from his chair onto my own, as I reached for the stool and pulled it back into my lap.

The elevator doors glided open, revealing Dr. Stewart striding into the room. Just as hastily, we stood up to greet her.

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“Ms. Young, Mr. Penrose. Hard at work, I’m pleased to see,” she said, coming to a halt in front of us and looking us both up and down suspiciously. “How are your studies progressing?”

Carter jumped in immediately. “Lainey’s progressing amazingly,”

he said, giving the headmaster a full-wattage smile I knew would do nothing but piss her off. “She’s come even further than the last time we spoke. Right before break.” If possible, his smile grew, and I knew it implied the…
which was the last time we met, so why are you here asking this
question?
that he’d left unsaid.

I had to stifle my own smile, since I could see how Carter irritated her, but as always, she was collected and straight-faced. She turned her direct scrutiny on me, where I stood, stupidly holding the stool.

“Do you agree with Cartwright’s assessment? Are you progressing ‘amazingly’?” Even if her face didn’t sneer, her words certainly did.

Sometimes I really disliked the headmaster, but respectful—and honest—were the keys to living with her while a student.

“I’m not sure I’d describe it exactly that way,” I replied, “but I do think I’ve come a long way.” I recounted to her everything I’d been able to do.

“Impressive,” she said when I finished, though she didn’t honestly sound impressed. It was better than condescending, at least. Then she surprised me. “It’s time for your first test.” She held out a short length of rope I hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying.

I glanced at Carter but all he did was give a minuscule shrug. I held out my hand to take the rope and was nearly knocked over by a wave of dizziness. A
strong
wave of dizziness. And I hadn’t even touched the rope yet. This time I glanced at Dr. Stewart, but she simply stared back. I knew this couldn’t be good, but I took a deep breath and reached for the rope again.

Almost as soon as my fingers touched it, I was overwhelmed by visions of deaths. I saw men, women, even children swinging from the

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end of the rope. Somehow, gruesomely, the headmaster had gotten hold of a length of rope from a gallows. These might not have been the most grisly deaths I’d witnessed, but the problem was that there were so
many
of them. The visions came so quickly I could barely process them. In fact, I
couldn’t
process all of them.

I dropped the rope and quickly followed it to the ground.

LIKE THE LAST time I’d been in this room, I found myself waking up on the floor with my head in Carter’s lap. This time, however, I was looking up not at the ceiling but at Headmaster Stewart’s disapproving face. As I opened my eyes, I heard Carter saying “…happy now? Did you
want
that to happen?” before his face—a solid mixture of concern and anger—briefly replaced Dr. Stewart’s in my line of sight. I took his words as an indication that I’d only been out for a moment or two, which was actually another improvement. He saw my eyes open and softened.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re awake. That was quick.” His hand gently brushed my hair, just like last time, and I’m sure I saw Dr. Stewart’s disapproving look deepen.

I smiled at him weakly. “That was a tough test.”

“Yes, it was,” Dr. Stewart confirmed. She conspicuously failed to ask if I was all right, I noted, but I honestly didn’t think she’d wanted me to pass out. If I had to guess, she seemed disappointed that I hadn’t handled it better. “And it appears as though you’ll need more practice before we can consider your ‘migraine problem’ cured.”

Carter looked at her almost murderously, but I broke in before he could say something to further damage their already strained relationship. I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to say something flippant either, so I swallowed my anger and said, “You’re right. I do need to keep working. I really need to be able to do this without passing out.”

“Indeed. I’m sure that’s enough practice for this evening, but I’ll check in again shortly. Are you able to leave?”

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I pushed myself into a sitting position and fought off the headache I could already feel blooming. What I wanted to do was finish out one of the only private hours I got with Carter, but any weakness was surely something a woman like Dr. Stewart would exploit, and hell if I was going to show her one. “Yes, I’m ready.”

I picked myself up off the floor as gracefully as possible, with Carter’s help. He kept his arm around my waist and grabbed both my backpack and the stool before we left. Then the Headmaster escorted us out of the library and ordered Carter home with a stern, “Good night, Mr. Penrose,” before I could get a proper good night for myself.

To my further dismay, she insisted on walking me to my building herself.