Page 2 of The Psychic

Ronnie looked across the flickering candles at her friends.

Bright pink frosting slopped across small spice cakes.

They had made the cupcakes themselves, Ronnie bet, because Mel loved everything pink and Brandy liked spice cake better than chocolate.

The candlelight sparkled against Mel’s necklace.

All three of them were wearing their pieces of the silver BFF necklace that had come broken into thirds, one for each of them.

“Blow ’em out,” ordered Brandy, nodding toward the candles.

Ronnie leaned forward, sucked in a huge breath and whooshed out all ten.

She felt a bit lightheaded afterwards, it was a big breath, but Brandy and Mel were clapping wildly, so Ronnie grinned.

Though her wish had been to just leave and save the partying till they got to The Pond, she appreciated her friends’ enthusiasm.

A dark whisper stole across the back of her brain and she felt a deep and familiar chill. Was it something about The Pond? No. Couldn’t be. It was too bright out. A brilliant, hot, summer day. This vision was dark and gloomy.

But that’s how the bad things start …

“Let’s go!” Ronnie urged, hearing footsteps overhead and practically thrusting the cupcakes back into her friends’ hands and pushing them toward the front door.

“I want to save one for Clint,” said Mel, who thought Brandy’s older brother was cute and cool.

Brandy declared, “He can get his own. And probably already has!”

“Well, it’s good to share,” said Mel defensively.

Brandy rolled her eyes toward Ronnie. They both knew about Mel’s crush on Brandy’s brother. But Ronnie was still focused on getting away before Gabrielle came downstairs and started asking questions.

They all crammed into the back seat of Clint’s SUV with Mel in the middle.

Mel was the cutest of them, Ronnie thought.

Blond, with big brown eyes like a deer, she was starting to develop breasts.

Booblets, according to Brandy, who was pancake flat like Ronnie.

Brandy wore her dark hair in a ponytail most of the time to keep it out of her face.

She was cute, too, just not as adorable as Mel, but funnier.

Ronnie leaned into their friendship the most because Brandy was dead honest about what she felt.

Mel was sweeter, but kind of not as dependable.

Wearing sunglasses, Clint was behind the wheel of the Trailblazer. Seated next to him in the passenger seat, his friend Evan messed with the radio. Clint looked back at the three of the girls and said, “Took you long enough,” as he shoved the gearshift into reverse and stepped on the gas.

“We were celebrating. I told you,” Brandy shot back. She flung her ponytail over her shoulder and crossed her hazel eyes at the back of his head.

“Sit down and shut up,” he said, but it wasn’t too mean. Just the way he and Brandy talked to each other.

Suddenly Gabrielle was running from the house and screaming, “Veronica! Veronica! WAIT!”

Uh-oh …

Ronnie dropped her chin to her chest. Caught.

Clint muttered something under his breath, but hit the brakes and slipped the SUV out of gear before it reached the street.

Reluctantly, Ronnie, her cheeks growing hot, pressed the button to lower her window, which was facing the house and closest to Gabrielle. “What?”

“Did you call your father?” Gabrielle stared Ronnie down.

“He knows where I’m going,” she lied, adding, “He’s at work. ”

Gabrielle moved her stare from Ronnie to Evan, who lowered the passenger window and said, “Hey, Gabby.”

The three teenagers were all about the same age, but Brandy had heard that Gabrielle thought Evan wasn’t cool enough to even talk to.

“Call him,” Gabrielle ordered Ronnie without taking her eyes off Evan.

When she finally looked past him to Clint she added, “This better be okay, and you better take good care of her.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he answered with a brisk salute.

Gabrielle managed a little smile for him because Clint was cool.

Evan, not so much. His nose was too big and his neck was kind of long. He looked sort of like a scarecrow with hair that stuck out above his ears.

“Call him.” Gabrielle pointed at Ronnie as she backed away from the SUV.

Ronnie swallowed hard and Gabrielle said loudly to Clint, “Drive safe,” as Clint rammed the SUV into gear again.

Gabrielle turned toward the house. Sliding her phone from the back pocket of her cut-off denim shorts, she sauntered slowly toward the front door.

“Let’s go,” ordered Brandy.

“Bitch,” muttered Evan admiringly. His gaze lingered on Gabrielle’s butt cheeks in her tight cutoffs.

“Should I wait?” Clint turned to look directly at Ronnie. “In case you can’t go.”

“She can go!” Brandy glared at her brother. “Just drive!”

“I can go,” Ronnie agreed. “I’ll call my dad.

” She’d already reached into her bag and pulled out the cell phone she’d gotten for her birthday.

She knew how to use it because it was identical to her father’s.

Still, she almost didn’t call, knowing she would be in trouble either way.

Jonas Quick didn’t like being bothered at work, but he’d also made it clear he wanted to know where she was at all times.

After a short debate with herself, she punched the buttons, then crossed her fingers and readied the lie.

She was put through to his desk phone, but luckily only heard his voice mail. With enthusiasm she said, “Hi, Dad, it’s Ronnie. I’m with Brandy and Melissa and we’re going to Brandy’s house. Be back later. Bye. Love you!”

Evan half turned in his seat, smiling as she clicked off. “So, you’re a liar.”

“I didn’t say when I was going to Brandy’s. I just said I was going.”

Evan snorted and sing-songed, “Aannnddd you’re going to be a lawyer just like your dad.”

Clint eased the SUV onto the street and muttered, “God, I hope Shana’s there.”

“Shana has big boobs,” Brandy related to Melissa and Ronnie.

“Epic casabas,” agreed Evan as they drove through the neighborhood.

“Epic?” Brandy snorted. “Big,” she corrected.

Clint grinned and Mel’s lips tightened, but Ronnie wasn’t listening any longer as she stared sightlessly out the window. The bad feeling was pressing down on her and she had to take a couple of deep breaths, in and out. Luckily her friends were too excited to notice.

Staring out the window, not seeing the town give way to countryside, Ronnie was desperate to clamp down on her brain and keep the creeping dark from spoiling the moment as it had in the past. Her father hated it whenever she complained about the bad feeling coming over her, so she didn’t anymore because everyone acted like she was crazy whenever she mentioned it.

Worse yet, Dad seemed to blame Mom for it even though Ronnie’s memory of her mother was that Winnie Quick was always singing or humming to her. It had really been nice. Soothing.

“You are not like your mother,” Jonas would say in that warning voice, whenever Ronnie mentioned the oppressive sensation. “Whatever you’re feeling, or seeing or whatever, it’s not real.”

“Mom saw things, too?”

“Your mother wasn’t well and it killed her,” he always snapped back, and then he would shut down. He’d been shut down for a while now. Wouldn’t talk about Mom at all.

Over the years Ronnie had tried to talk to her Aunt Kat, who was Mom’s sister and had taken care of Ronnie for a time after Mom died.

But Aunt Kat would just hug her and tell her everything was going to be all right.

Aunt Kat was the one who directed her to Patrice, but Ronnie couldn’t really talk to the therapist, as Patrice seemed to only be interested in exploring Ronnie’s emotions.

Was she sad? Did she blame anyone for her mother’s death?

Did she think about death herself? Her questions just made Ronnie want to clap her hands over her ears and scream.

If she tried to explain the pictures of the badness, they all looked at her as if she were crazy, so she just stopped. Not even confiding in Patrice.

Now the only people she confided in were Brandy and Mel and they kind of got quiet whenever she told them about her “dreams,” so she limited her confessions to them, too.

And she never mentioned that the dreams sometimes happened when she was awake …

and that they sometimes came true. She kept that information to herself rather than have either of them thinking she was weird and risking their friendship.

Not worth it.

When Clint parked in the gravel-strewn lot at The Pond, the river and shoreline were already teeming with kids.

There was hardly a free stretch of sand, but Ronnie spied a space that was barely big enough for their blanket and picnic basket right near the river’s edge, in the shadow of a tall cliff.

It meant they were going to have to walk over small, jagged stones to set up camp on the hard, bumpy ground.

Still, it was just good to be here. The damp smell of the river filled her nostrils while the rush of the rapids upstream was nearly drowned out by the sounds of laughter and splashes and conversation.

Clint had carried three sand chairs from the back of the SUV and now he dumped them at their camp. Then, as if staking his claim, he threw down his T-shirt and stood in his green swim trunks near their blanket. He did stuff like mowing lawns and so his arms and chest were tan and strong.

Mel couldn’t stop staring at him like he was a god , which really bugged Brandy.

Ronnie totally understood. It was annoying.

And Clint was always yelling at Brandy, telling her what to do, which made Ronnie want to yell back at him.

Not that she needed to. Brandy could take care of herself.

She always ignored her brother, and once while they were hanging out at Brandy’s house, Clint had really pissed her off.

Brandy even gave him the finger, which only served to make him see red.