Page 4 of The Psychic

Sloan was standing near, in a cluster of boys about the same age, all in swim trunks or cutoffs, all hooting and whistling and teasing Clint for getting yelled at by his little sister.

“You gonna take that?” one guy taunted.

“Shut up, Townsend,” muttered Clint.

The guy he meant pointed to his own chest and mimed, “Who, me?”

Clint didn’t appreciate any of it. “Get away from me, Brandy. Go back down before you hurt yourself!”

“You said you wouldn’t come up here!” Brandy screamed. “I’m telling , Clint! I’m telling !”

“Tell away!” he roared, getting nose to nose with her. “Be a little snitch! I don’t care!”

“Slow it down, Mercer,” suggested Sloan. He looked like he might try to intervene as Mel finally reached the summit.

“Brother and sisterly love,” remarked Evan with an exaggerated yawn.

“You’re lucky you don’t have a sister,” Clint threw at Sloan, as if all the drama was his fault. Then to his sister, “Brandy. Goddamn it! Get off this cliff before I throw you off!”

“If you jump, I jump!” Brandy shot back. One of her legs was trembling, and Ronnie knew her well enough to see past the bravado to how scared she was.

But still, Brandy rarely backed down from a fight. Even a stupid one. “Brandy, come on,” Ronnie coaxed. “Let’s go back.”

“Goddamn babies are coming up here,” muttered one of the other guys, rolling his eyes toward Townsend and his other friends. They all chorused, “Yeah!”

“You said you wouldn’t,” Mel also reminded Clint in a quavery voice.

He threw up his arms. “Okay, fine. Fine! Let’s all go back down the cliff!”

Relieved, Ronnie started to turn to go, Brandy and Mel behind her. But a flash of movement stopped her. Clint had suddenly whipped around, legs churning as he raced for the edge.

No! Oh, God, no!

Brandy shrieked and half-lunged for her brother. She gathered speed, kicking off her flip-flops as she ran after him.

Clint suddenly leapt into the air.

Brandy slipped at the edge. Flailing, she started to tumble off the cliff.

Ronnie and Mel screamed as one.

Sloan’s hand shot out. He grabbed Brandy’s arm, yanking her to safety, holding her fast. “Don’t!” he warned as she struggled to get free. “Damn it,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Still holding tight to Brandy, he shouted down at Clint, “You’re an ass, Mercer! You hear me? An ass!”

“Yeah!” Evan seconded, peering over the edge. He tsk-tsked with his finger, staring downward.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Brandy snapped, trying to rip her arm back from Sloan.

He wouldn’t let go.

“Where’s Clint, man?” one of the other guys asked. He, too, was peeking over the edge downward, searching the water far below.

Evan, inching closer to the edge had grown sober. “I don’t know,” he said. “I can’t see him.”

Ronnie hurried forward. She forgot to be scared of the height because she was suddenly so scared for Clint. Frantically, she surveyed the river—the kids on rafts, the swimmers, but … but there was no sign of Clint. His head didn’t surface, not beneath the rock. Not downriver. Not anywhere.

Her heart clutched.

The other boys, too, eyed the river. All the teasing and joking had stopped. Their faces paled. Their brows drew together.

“Where is he?” Brandy demanded, but she read their worried expressions. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, her ponytail swishing across her shoulders. “No … oh, no.” Her eyes rounded and then she suddenly burst into tears.

Mel, too, was crying, starting to sniff loudly.

Ronnie just stood near the edge of the ledge and quivered from head to toe.

Evan kept straining to see, half bent forward, leaning over the precipice. Then as he looked over his shoulder, his foot slid in the dirt, his weight shifted and suddenly his arms started pinwheeling, his feet sliding perilously close to the edge.

Oh, no!

Sloan was still looking at Brandy. One of the other guys said something like “Whoa!” Without thinking Ronnie leapt forward and clawed for Evan’s hand. His fingers surrounded hers, squeezing hard.

Someone—Sloan, maybe?—barked in fear at her. “Hey, stop! What the—?”

“Oh, fuck,” Evan gritted out. For a moment he seemed to catch himself, but too late. Overbalanced, he tipped over the edge, seemingly in slow motion. Ronnie tried to wrench her hand free, but Evan held on with a death grip.

Her feet slid atop the rock, little pebbles loosened, released over the edge, sprinkling down, down, down like raindrops.

She felt someone reach for her, almost catch her by the hair … Sloan …

Then she was falling, falling, falling …

The wind whistled by her ears. Somewhere along that forever fall Evan released her hand. She heard a faraway voice telling her to knife in. Straightening, she made herself as narrow as possible, holding her arms down, pointing her toes, closing her eyes.

It seemed forever before she plunged into the river, the water closing over her head, the cold enveloping her.

She opened her eyes but it was too murky and dark to see.

She squeezed her lids tightly shut. Swallowed water.

Couldn’t hold her breath. She kicked but her legs wouldn’t move.

They felt wound up, caught in something.

Panic was ice in her veins. I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

In a black distance, far away, she saw indistinct figures. Heard them arguing. Ronnie tried to speak but couldn’t. She needed to talk to them, have them hear her. She needed help! The big darkness was coming toward her, fingers of it clawing forward.

Don’t go in the water.

I’m already in the water! she wanted to scream at them, but were they even real? Was she even in the water? Where was she? It felt like she was floating.

Am I dying?

“Veronica!”

Am I dying?

A deep calm descended on her. Yes , she thought … I’m dying . I’ll die and then I’ll be with Mom .

The darkness slowly shifted to a blue haze.

Someone was coming out of the haze toward her, a man, a man in a gray suit.

His strong arms wrapped around her and he lifted her up.

She was all in white and there were yellow roses and sunshine.

He was whispering in her ear, telling her wonderful things …

that he would be with her … that she was the one …

she could smell the roses. It was beautiful and—

“VERONICA!”

She came to with a full body spasm at Mel’s cry.

Her eyes flew open and she stared into the blue sky above and the blasting, bright sun but there was something in the way.

Some one. A dark shadow above her. Mel and Brandy were both screaming.

It was dizzying. Someone was pounding on her chest, blocking the light, blowing into her mouth, pressing her into the sharp rocks beneath her back.

At The Pond … they were at The Pond … Her head was full of noise. It was TOO LOUD! Her chest hurt. She felt sick.

Her body convulsed and she coughed. The pounding stopped. Hands roughly turned her to one side and she threw up a flood of water. Over and over again. Retching violently.

The screaming changed to cheers.

“She’s okay? She’s okay?” That was Brandy.

“She’s okay!” Mel repeated, crying with relief.

“I got him, I got him, I got him … !” a male voice suddenly yelled.

Clint … Clint’s voice, Ronnie realized dully.

She tried to focus. His voice was coming from somewhere beyond the shore, in the river.

Her eyelids felt weighted down by stones, but she forced them open again and saw Clint dragging Evan’s limp body out of the river.

Others came to help him. All the guys who’d been on the rock cliff were now on the pebbled shore, a crowd of horrified onlookers surrounding them.

The boys stretched Evan out beside her. His face was dead white. He didn’t seem to be breathing.

Clint thunked his fist down on Evan’s chest. Hard.

Ronnie felt woozy. Brandy was yelling. Mel’s crying increased. Everyone’s voices were thundering in her ears.

She realized Sloan was hovering over her, his attention now on Evan. He’d been the one to block out the sun, the one to save her, the one to pound on her chest and press his lips to hers as he blew in her mouth.

All as if in a dream—

With a rattling cough, Evan started choking and sputtering near her.

Ronnie could feel Sloan’s relief, telegraphed from his body to hers. He turned to her again, gray eyes searching hers, his dark hair dripping water onto her cheeks.

“You okay?” he rasped.

Ronnie swallowed and tried to nod, though she wasn’t okay, not really. But she would be. She would be. She would make herself be.

She forced herself not to cry. She should’ve listened to the warning. She should’ve known not to come to The Pond.

But the white dress, the candles, the kiss …

As Sloan glanced over at Evan, she announced, “I’m going to marry you,” knowing it to be a fact.

Sloan shot her a quick, baffled look, but then his attention turned back to his friend.

All around them there were snickers, chuckles, even a big guffaw.

And it was catching. More laughter, lots and lots of laughter.

From the “friends,” the “bros.” They were nervous, relieved, glad to have something else to think about.

Thunk, thunk, thunk . Clint pounded with more force on Evan’s chest. She heard a crack , cartilage or bone.

She cringed.

The laughter died.

“Come on. Evan, come on!” Clint pushed rhythmically on Evan’s chest, willing life into his friend.

Evan’s head was turned in Ronnie’s direction.

Slowly his eyes opened and he stared at her. Through her. A smile full of secrets crossed his face.

A shudder ran through her.

No one else seemed to notice.

She wanted to let everyone know that he was awake. She tried to speak but somehow couldn’t.

“I’ll take a turn,” Sloan ordered Clint.

“Nah, I got it.” Clint was determined.

Evan’s eyes were wide and dark. Not their usual blue. He stared at Ronnie and silently said: It should have been you, not me.

Ronnie blinked. Did he say that? Did he? His lips hadn’t moved. Or had they?

The darkness she’d felt came upon her again and it was suddenly everywhere. Engulfing her. She knew she was fading into unconsciousness and struggled to stay awake.

Evan’s spirit rose outside of his body.

Ronnie watched it slowly dissipate in the air above him, all except that Cheshire cat grin.

The cold wrapped its arms around her, dragging her into its black depths.

She screamed and screamed and screamed as the darkness pulled her under.