The Prophecy (17 page)

So I
walked in and sat down, waiting to take my books out of my bag until Caleb and
Adrian walked in, too. That way I didn’t have to
pretend
to be busy when
he walked by my desk. Part of me thought Adrian might stop and at least try to
make amends, so I was a little surprised, not to mention hurt, when he ignored
me altogether.

“What’s
up with your boyfriend?” Caleb said when he sat down next to me.

I
shrugged.

“He’s
acting like a girl,” he said. And then as an obvious afterthought: “No
offense.”

“None
taken.”

Mr.
Wigley came in waving a stack of papers. “Pop quiz. Hot off the presses!”

“Already?”
Caleb hissed next to me. “It’s only the third day of school.”

For the
next ten minutes I pushed Adrian to the back of my mind and worried simply about
acing the test. Toward the end of class, however, after the notes had been given
and Mr. Wigley was finishing his lecture, Caleb passed me a small rectangle of
folded paper. 

Wanna
meet after school? Check yes or no.

Under
that were two boxes. I chuckled under my breath and checked the “yes” square. Suddenly,
the note was snatched from my hands. I looked up, startled to find Mr. Wigley standing
before me with a triumphant grin.

“Let’s
remember back to our lessons in American Government for just a moment, shall
we?”

I
already didn’t like where this was going.

“Let’s
suppose this classroom represents a democracy. That means I can’t just open
this note and read it. But if we take a vote . . .”

My
cheeks burned with the realization of what he was about to do. “Surely this
violates my constitutional right to privacy,” I said, the words slipping from
my mouth before I could stop them.

There
were snickers all around. Mr. Wigley’s eyes narrowed until they were slits.

“Let’s put
it to a vote,” he said. “Those who think I should read the note aloud, please
raise your hand.”  

I heard
the shuffling of bodies and more snickering as hands shot up. It was high
school, after all. I didn’t really think my classmates would turn down the
opportunity to pry into my personal life. All I could do was sit there and wait
for it to be over.

“By
majority, the
yays
have it,” Mr. Wigley said. He unfolded the paper and
cleared his throat. “Mr. Moon wrote: ‘Wanna meet after school? Check yes or no.’
I’m sure you will all be interested to know, Mr. Hunt in particular, I think,
that Miss Redbird checked yes. What the note fails to explain is exactly what
they will be
doing
after school.”

I heard
the screech of chair legs from the back of the class and then Adrian stormed
out of the room. Mr. Wigley looked at me and smirked. His eyes seemed to say
how ashamed of myself I should be. And I was.

Caleb
passed me another note then in a very obvious way so that Mr. Wigley was sure
to see. He yanked it out of my hand before I had even opened it, a smug smile
on his face. He read it quietly to himself, his cheeks blooming red a moment
later, and then wadded the paper before tossing it into the garbage.

“What
did it say?” someone yelled.

Mr.
Wigley ran a finger under his nose. “Nothing.”

“Aw,
come on. Tell us!” someone else shouted.

And
then someone started to chant “Vote! Vote! Vote!” until the whole class was
chorusing in.

“Enough!”
Mr. Wigley yelled. He turned a glaring eye on the room. “This is an advanced
class. You all are supposed to be smarter than your peers,” he said in apparent
disgust. He huffed and shook his head as though he didn’t know what to do with
us.

“Read
quietly until the bell,” he said. And then he stormed out of the room.

As soon
as he left, someone got up and plucked the wadded note from the garbage can. He
laughed and then cleared his throat. “It says, ‘Mr. Wigley is a weenie.’ ”

Biting
my lip, I tried not to laugh. I appreciated Caleb sticking up for me in his own
strange way, but I didn’t want to encourage him. Adrian would never have done
something like that.

“I have
to stay after school,” I said to him, getting back to the original note. “Shyla
and I have to run a mile for Coach Wally.”

“Then I’ll
run with you.”

“What?”

“I’ll
run with you.”

I was
about to protest when I remembered Shyla. Positive she wouldn’t mind at all, I
shrugged as if it made no difference to me. “Okay. Suit yourself.”

At
lunch Caleb sat with Priscilla and me. Priscilla, for once, was at a loss for
words. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say around Caleb at first, but after he
chucked his roll at Jasmine as she and Katie were walking by, they gave each
other a fist-bump and that was the end of the awkwardness.

After
the final bell of the day, I met Shyla in the locker room where we quickly
changed our clothes. A very big part of me hoped Coach Wally would have
completely forgotten about us running the mile, but he was waiting for us on
the field, clipboard in his hand.

“Who
are you?” he said to Caleb, to which Caleb stated his name. “Why are you here?”
Coach demanded.

“To run
a mile. I believe in being the healthiest person I can be.” Caleb kept a
straight face the entire time.

Coach
Wally studied him for a moment as if to judge the sincerity of his words. “Fine,”
he said at last.

He
turned to Shyla and me. “Let’s try not to take all day, ladies. The guys are
coming out to practice in twenty.”

Coach
blew his whistle, but Shyla and I stood staring at him. He blew his whistle
again, harder this time, and motioned impatiently for us to move along.

The
three of us started down the track at a decent clip. After the first quarter
mile, however, I began to intentionally hang back so Caleb and Shyla could have
a little time together, by themselves.

I was
feeling good and not sucking too much wind, but I was also going barely above a
jog. Coach Wally blew his whistle at me as I passed him.

“Foul,
Redbird! Step it up! I haven’t got all afternoon.” I waved and gave him the
thumbs-up. Then I increased my speed. A little.

Somewhere
around the three-quarter mile I started to get a stitch in my side. I sucked in
a deep breath and blew it out through my nose. I even wrapped my hand around my
side and pinched, but it was only getting worse. I slowed to a walk, unable to
help it. Luckily, Coach was busy talking to some of the football players who’d
wandered out to the field, so at least he didn’t see. Looking over my shoulder,
I saw that Caleb and Shyla had rounded the corner of the oblong track and were
quickly closing in on me.

Turning
forward again—I had only one lap left—I saw a man, standing not too far away,
watching me. At first glance I thought it was Victor, and my heart leaped in my
throat. But it wasn’t him.

Aside
from the same bronze skin, there was nothing similar about them. The man
watching me was shorter and more muscular than Victor’s tall, lean frame. His
hair was longer, too, and he wore it pulled back. He was dressed in jeans, a
leather jacket, and boots, and he was leaning against a very big, very powerful
looking motorcycle.

I
fisted my hands and stared at the man, trying to place him. He stared back, not
even pretending to look away or be busy with something else. There was
something very compelling about the man, and I had a sudden impulse to go to
him. In fact, I had stepped off the track and had my hand on the gate, seconds
from walking through it, when Coach’s whistle blew through my consciousness.

“You’re
not done yet!” he yelled at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I
looked back at the man, but he’d already put on his helmet and swung his leg
over the seat. He revved his bike as Caleb and Shyla approached.

“Who is
that?” Shyla said.

“I
don’t know.”

The man
stared at us a moment longer before speeding away.

“You
didn’t recognize him?” I asked Caleb, thinking maybe it was some boyfriend of
Charley’s who had come for a visit.

“I
didn’t see his face.”

“Did
you see the way he was staring at us?” I said.

“Not at
us,” Shyla said. “I think he was staring at
you
.”

I
looked at the empty spot where the man had been just a few seconds ago, but not
a trace of him remained. Coach blew his whistle again. “Let’s wrap it up,
folks!”

“Come
on,” Caleb said. “It was nobody.”

But I
wasn’t so sure about that.

SIXTEEN

“It’s
only because I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you,” Caleb said during our
practice session later that afternoon, sensing my frustration. “You can’t
expect to get it perfect the first time.”

I
lowered my hands and took a deep breath, giving up for the moment. “I’m smart,
so why can’t I do this?”

Caleb
laughed. “It’s not some test you can study for. Quit stressing out about it.
You’ll get it. Just give it time.”

My
breath came out in a rush. I scrubbed my face with my hands, tired from a long
day of school, running a mile, and now this. It was getting late, and my
stomach was starting to make loud, rather embarrassing, gurgling noises.

“How
old were you when you first discovered you could . . .
you know
?”

“About
eleven, I guess. It was fall. My dad was raking leaves into this really big
pile for me to jump in, and I stood in the middle and started spinning, like
this.” Caleb stretched his arms wide and twirled in a circle like I had done at
least a hundred times as a kid.

“And then
it was like I was in the middle of a tornado, and the leaves were swirling all
around me. I thought it was great. But my dad just stared at me with this horrified
look on his face. I thought he was mad at me for messing up his work.”

“And
then what?”

He
shrugged. “I remember my mom and dad fighting a lot after that. And then my dad
eventually left. I never saw him again. One time my mom got mad at me and said
I was the reason he left. So of course Jasmine thinks it’s my fault. I don’t
know . . . maybe she’s right.”

I
stared at him, trying to determine if he was serious. “You don’t really think
that, do you?”

Caleb looked
down at the ground. “Sometimes I don’t know what to think. You’re confused about
why you ended up the tribe’s Spirit Keeper, but my life makes no sense. Maybe
it never will.”

Caleb
swirled his finger and a small tornado of leaves circled at his feet. “Show
off,” I muttered, recognizing a change in subject when I saw one.

He
grinned. “So are we going to practice, or what?”

I
bobbed my head. “Practice.”

I
mimicked Caleb’s motion, but nothing happened until I got so frustrated I shook
my fists at the sky and inadvertently summoned a strong wind that rained red,
yellow, and gold leaves on our heads.

Caleb
laughed. “That’s one way to do it.”

“It
wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”

“It’s
all about channeling,” he said. “Your emotions are all over the place. You have
to focus.”

“I
am
focused!”

“You’re
not. It’s like learning how to whistle,” he said. “You can’t just pucker your
lips and blow. You have to form your lips into the right shape and adjust the
stream of air just so or you won’t get any sound.”

I shook
out my hands. Little droplets of sweat had erupted at my temples despite the
coolness of the afternoon, and I wiped them away with the sleeve of my hoodie.
“I’m trying.”

“What
were you thinking about just now?”

I
didn’t want to tell him at first, but he was staring at me so intently I knew
he wouldn’t leave it alone until I did. I rolled my eyes. “Adrian.”

He
waved his hand. “Forget about Adrian.”

“I
can’t.”

He looked
to the sky as though for patience. “Yes, you can. You have to.”

My chin
quivered and throat burned. Caleb’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. You’re not going to
cry, are you?” he said.

I spun
around so he couldn’t see my face. “Of course not!” I choked out. “What do you
think, that I’m just some needy, over-emotional girl?”

Caleb’s
fingers closed over my shoulder, and I turned at his touch and slumped against
his chest. He put his arms around me, hesitantly and awkwardly, patting my
back.

“There,
there,” he said, as though I were a baby in need of reassurance. I laughed. He
was definitely out of his comfort zone.

I was
about to pull away when I looked over Caleb’s shoulder to see Adrian staring at
us, mouth hanging slack with shocked outrage. “Adrian!” I yelled. But he had
already turned and run off. “Adrian, wait!”