Awaking
The Naturals: Book One
Madeline Freeman
Copyright © 2011 Madeline Freeman
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry at http://tarawest.com
All rights reserved.
First Smashwords Edition: August 2011
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For information:
http://www.madelinefreeman.net
DEDICATION
To the Author of my life and the Creator of everything I will ever create.
And for Brian, who announced one day, quietly, as we drove in the car, “My wife is an author.”
Look at that. I am.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book has gone through a number of drafts and rewrites, and it wouldn’t be here without the help of some amazing people.
Thank you, Anna, for reading it back when it was still in its infancy, and for finding the “death treats.”
Thanks to Mary and Rachel for your notes, edits, and cheerleading.
Thanks to Tamra Westberry, for the amazing cover art.
Thanks to Anne Victory at Victory Editing for finding my errors and making me even more grammatically correct.
one
Morgan Abbey noticed him during a routine day of telling fortunes at the park. Her last customer of the day was just sitting down when she became aware of him, standing some fifty yards away from the shaded picnic table at which she sat, looking almost too cool in his dark blue jeans and black T-shirt, leaning up against the pole of a swing set and staring off into the distance.
Morgan’s first irrational thought was that he was a drug dealer. Her second was that, though he wasn’t looking in her direction, he was watching her.
But before there was time to do anything but register these ideas in her mind, her thoughts were interrupted by the perpetually whiny voice of Tasha Rush, one of Morgan’s classmates at Arthur B. Casey High. “Morgan, are you paying attention?”
“Of course,” Morgan said, fixing her gaze on Tasha’s face. “You were saying your sister’s annoying? And that summer school’s boring.”
Tasha looked mildly mollified by Morgan’s summary. She shifted on the bench, looking excited. “Okay, so…”
Morgan raised an eyebrow at her. “Anxious?”
She smiled. “I always get a little anxious before a reading; you know that. I get nervous, learning about the future.”
Morgan nodded. She picked up her cards and shuffled them with a practiced rhythm. They weren’t tarot cards, just a regular deck. She’d tried out tarot toward the end of middle school, but gave up when the boys who came for readings couldn’t stop giggling at the sight of the nude lovers. Every now and again, someone would comment about the cards, but mostly no one cared. In general, people just wanted to be told what they wanted to hear.
Morgan would oblige only occasionally.
She dealt out four cards: the nine of spades, the queen of diamonds, the ace of diamonds, and the six of spades. She made a face.
Each card had a meaning in itself—or at least that’s what the book Morgan had bought back in the sixth grade claimed. The queen of diamonds was the card that represented Tasha—the signifier that these cards were for Tasha. If that card hadn’t shown up, Morgan would have re-dealt the cards. The nine of spades meant loss and worry. The ace of diamonds and the six of spades together foretold news of failure. Morgan took a few moments to clear her mind, to allow herself to make the connections that would tell her what this information might mean for her client.
When she looked up again, she snuck a glance over Tasha’s shoulder. The guy was still by the swing set. She turned her attention back to her customer. “So, bad news,” she said bracingly. “Summer school’s a waste of your time.”
Tasha smiled, rolling her eyes. “I know, right? I mean, do you know how much I’ve had to give up this summer because of stupid summer school? I’ve barely been to the beach. And look—” She held out her arms. “—not even a little tan.”
But Morgan just shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, it’s a waste. You’re not gonna pass.”
“But… but…” Tasha seemed unable to form a coherent sentence for a few moments. “But I’ve been to, like, every class! They can’t fail me!”
Morgan considered mentioning that grades weren’t based solely on attendance but changed her mind. She sighed and forced a smile. “Well, now that you know what path you’re on, maybe you can maybe change something.”
Tasha made a scathing noise in the back of her throat. “Not likely. It’s almost over.”
Morgan shrugged. “Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
Tasha pouted. “What am I gonna do, Morgan? Without this credit, I’m not gonna be a senior! My mom’s gonna kill me. She’s been such a complete witch about having to pay for this class. So obnoxious, you know?” Then Tasha looked up at Morgan, eyes wide, realizing her faux pas too late. “Wow, totally forgot who I was talking to. I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay,” Morgan said coolly. She sighed. It drove her crazy how people could speak so disparagingly about their mothers when she didn’t have one around…. Not anymore.
For a minute, Tasha just sat there, staring blankly at the cards on the table before her. Finally, with a sigh, she stood up. She eyed the payment she’d given at the beginning of the reading. Morgan never put the money away until a reading was over—her tacit money-back guarantee. For a moment, Morgan though Tasha might ask for a refund, but then she seemed to think better of it. She straightened and, with an awkward wave, muttered a farewell and walked away.
Morgan watched her briefly before taking the payment and placing it in her velvet drawstring purse. She wondered momentarily if she shouldn’t’ve told Tasha a different fortune. But, then again, that wasn’t really how Morgan operated.
She looked out into the park again, wondering vaguely if the guy in the black T-shirt was still there, but her search was halted by the appearance of her best friend and business partner, Clarissa Perry, Ris for short. Ris, who had been at a nearby table during Morgan’s readings, commented about the day’s turnout and mentioned something about not thinking word-of-mouth was the most efficient way to communicate when Morgan would be at the park giving readings. Morgan was only half paying attention.
“Hey, Ris, did you notice that guy over there?” Morgan said quietly as soon as she could get a word in edgewise.
“What guy?” Ris asked, voice too loud, turning her head in all directions.
Morgan groaned. “Dude, seriously? Could you be more obvious?” She moved a few inches to her right to look around Ris’s spiky blond hair toward the swing set. No one was there.
Ris grinned sheepishly and then shrugged. “Well, at least we know spy school’s out for me. But what guy?”
Morgan shrugged too. “He was just standing over by the… Never mind.”
“Was he hot?” Characteristic Ris question.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Yes. Naked, too. And holding a sign that said, ‘Ris Perry, will you be my Princess Leia?’”
Ris closed her eyes and put her hand solemnly to her chest. “Han Solo has finally come for me.”
“Star Wars, huh?”
Morgan’s eyes snapped over to where the speaker stood and she immediately felt an unaccustomed heat in her cheeks. The guy who had been standing against the swing set now stood before her.
If Ris noticed anything off in Morgan’s reaction, she didn’t show it—which Morgan took to mean Ris hadn’t noticed anything. Ris was rarely adept at hiding her emotions.
“Can I help you?” Ris asked in her professional voice.
The guy appraised Ris, something of a smirk playing on his lips. Meanwhile, Morgan appraised him—his brown hair artfully tousled to look like he woke up that way, his stance casual but sure.
“Depends,” he said with a slight shrug. “What is it, exactly, that you girls do out here?”
“Morgan’s a psychic,” Ris replied promptly in a chipper voice that made Morgan groan inwardly. “She does readings. Cards and palm.”
“And what if I said I don’t believe in that kind of thing?” the guy asked.
Ris shrugged. “Then I’d ask you why you were here.”
The guy smiled, but it wasn’t an amused smile. To Morgan it looked more secretive. “I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
“Well, that’s kind of cryptic.”
Morgan spoke the words before she even realized she’d thought them. Ris glanced at her appreciatively.
The guy crossed his arms over his chest. “As the two of you seem to be,” he said. He glanced at Morgan. “How does one become a professional psychic, anyway?”
Before Morgan could think of how to explain herself, Ris was talking.
“It’s not something you become, it’s something you are,” Ris explained patiently. “She’s good, too.”
The guy didn’t look surprised by the information, only mildly interested. Eyes fixed on Morgan, he took a few steps closer.
“Is that right?” He looked from Morgan to Ris and back again. “Quite the entrepreneurs, aren’t you? Young business prodigies and all that?”
Irritation flared somewhere in the back of Morgan’s mind. He was teasing them. “What are you, like, a year older than us? Two maybe? At least we’re here for a legitimate reason. You waiting for some middle school boys to show up so you can push pot or pills or something on them?”
“Drug dealer? Really? That’s your best try?” He let out a short laugh—not derisive, amused. He glanced at Ris. “Maybe she’s not quite the psychic you think she is.”
Ris glared at him. “She’s not reading you now,” she said, as though explaining the obvious.
A second later, catlike, the guy was sitting across from Morgan at the picnic table. “Okay, then. Read me.”
Taken aback by the request, Morgan did the only thing she could think to do: she smirked, hoping the expression belied the nervousness she felt. The only people she ever gave readings to were people she knew—her classmates and other students at Arthur B. Casey High. The thought of reading this stranger was unsettling.
But she couldn’t let that show.
“Sorry, we’ve closed up shop for the day,” she said, jiggling her change purse in her hand. “We’re back Monday; you can leave your name with Ris and she’ll get you on the list—”
He put his hands out, palms up. “Why wait? What’s the saying—there’s no time like the present? What d’you charge for a palm reading?”
Ris opened her mouth to respond, but Morgan cut her off. “Why are you here?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I wanna know my future.” He placed his hand on the table in front of Morgan, palm up. “Care to fill me in?”
Morgan glanced at Ris, who waggled her eyebrows encouragingly. She then nodded at her friend and Ris backed away to the table she usually occupied during readings.
For a moment, Morgan felt anxiety bubble up somewhere in the vicinity of her lungs. What was she doing? Ris would say she was doing the same thing she always did, but Morgan knew this was something very different. Despite what Ris and others might think, Morgan relied on the background knowledge she carried into each reading. But for this guy—whose name she didn’t even know—she had no information.
“So, how does this work?” the guy asked.
Morgan flicked her eyes up to meet his. “Depends,” she said evenly, stalling for time. “What do you wanna know?”
“Depends,” he said, leaning over the tabletop toward her. “What do you want to know, Morgan?”
Morgan’s eyebrow’s pulled together and she offered a wry smile. “Now that’s not how this works.”
“You sure?” he asked, leaning in even closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I already know so much about you, Morgan Abbey.”
Morgan was taken aback by the use of her surname, and before she could ask how he knew it, he was talking again.
“You’ve been running this little psychic business since sixth grade. Your classmates always tell you how right your predictions are.” He offered a smile and a soft chuckle as if this information amused him. Then his face turned serious. “Your mom went missing almost ten years ago. You were seven.”
It was like the wind was knocked out of her lungs. Morgan stared at the guy sitting across from her. His expression hadn’t changed; his hazel eyes continued to gaze intently into hers.
How could he know that? ABC was the logical answer—but Morgan was sure she’d never seen him at school. Perhaps he knew someone at ABC? Maybe this was an elaborate prank to get back at her for some reading someone didn’t like?
But what if it wasn’t?
“What do you know about her—about my mom?” Morgan asked, voice low to avoid Ris’s notice.
“Chelsea Sutter Abbey, born August seventeenth. Married Dylan Abbey at twenty-three and had you, her only child, at twenty-four.”
Morgan felt her heart pounding like a bass drum. “That’s nothing a Google search couldn’t tell you—”
“She’s alive.”
Morgan froze. “I know that.”
“No,” he said firmly. “You think that. You hope it. But I know it.”
“How do you—?”
“Suffice it to say I know it. I know things. I know things about your mom, and things about you.” He held her gaze for a moment longer and then stood up. “But that’s enough for now.”
Morgan stood, too. “Wait—you’re just leaving?”
He shrugged and nodded. “Yeah.”
“But—you can’t,” she hissed. She cast a furtive glance toward Ris, whose attention was on her cell phone. She turned back to the guy. “You can’t drop a bombshell like that and then leave. I don’t even know your name.”
A smile played on his lips. “Well, then. Until we meet again, consider me a man of mystery.” With a wag of his eyebrows, he turned and walked away.
For an instant, Morgan considered going after him. But then cool logic took over. He was screwing with her. He had to be. What could this guy possibly know about her mother? He couldn’t have been more than ten years old when she’d disappeared. It was a joke, orchestrated, probably, by one of Lynna Rochester’s minions—Marya McKenzie or Shayna Malcolm. Or else the guy was just seriously strange. He could have learned much of his information from an internet search. Perhaps he got his kicks freaking people out.
In any event, Morgan resolved not to go after him. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she turned her gaze from the guy’s retreating back to Ris, who still sat at her table, eyes glued to her cell phone.
“Ready?” Morgan called over.
Not turning toward Morgan, Ris held one finger up. Morgan sighed and collected her cards and the drawstring purse she kept payments in. It was then that she realized the guy hadn’t paid her. Though, Morgan supposed, she hadn’t really done a reading, so it didn’t really matter.
By the time Morgan made her way over to where Ris sat, she felt slightly more calm, having convinced herself that the guy was nothing more than a jerk with internet access.
“Sorry, I was at a really good part in this book,” Ris said as the two started down the cement path that would lead them out of the park. “How was the reading?”
Morgan put her hand out and tilted it from side to side. “Eh.” She decided not to let Ris in on the details.
“You think he’ll come back?”
“Dunno.”
“You hope he will or hope he won’t?”
Morgan considered this. If he was telling the truth… But he couldn’t be. “Won’t. He was a little creepy.”
“Creepy how?”
“I don’t know—creepy.”
“But like… I-make-awkward-intense-eye-contact creepy or, like, it-rubs-the-lotion-on-its-skin creepy?”
Morgan gave her a playful shove. “You’re the one who’s being creepy now. Subject change!”
Ris sighed but acquiesced. “You know how I was saying word-of-mouth and mass-texts don’t seem to be the best way to get the word out about when you’ll be here? Well, I know what you’re going to say, so hear me out first. I think we should have an online group—”
“Ris,” Morgan whined, tucking an errant strand of bottle-red hair behind her ear, “you know how I feel about social networking sites…”
“You don’t even have to go on it, though. I’ll run it.”
Morgan sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
Ris grinned and poked Morgan in the side as they got to the sidewalk beyond the park and started down a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood street. “All you have to think about is telling fortunes. Let me worry about the business end.”
Morgan ruffled Ris’s blond spikes. “I always do.”
With that, Ris launched into her new business plan. Morgan attempted to pay attention, but her thoughts kept circling back to the guy in the park. Though she was at least ninety-nine percent positive he was just a creeper, something about him made her just a little unsure…
“I am, right?” Ris asked suddenly, looking at Morgan in the nervous way she did when she was seeking Morgan’s approval about something.
“Yes… right,” Morgan replied.
“Like you suggested earlier…?” Ris prompted.
“Oh, yeah––spend the night. Yes, right.” Morgan smiled. Ris pouted. “Sorry,” Morgan said.
“You’re thinking about that guy, aren’t you?” Without waiting for Morgan to respond, she grinned. “He was pretty hot.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “That is one hundred percent all you think about, isn’t it?”
“That and Han Solo. And since Han Solo is hot, yes, there is a certain singularity in my thought processes.”
Morgan sighed. “Sometimes I can’t figure out why we’re friends.”
“Because I’m hot?” Ris ventured.
Morgan bumped into Ris’s shoulder as they continued down the street toward Morgan’s car. Still, an uneasiness coiled snakelike in the pit of her stomach. Whether the guy was telling the truth or not, Morgan felt like this would not be her last encounter with him.
two
“Dad, we’re home,” Morgan called as she pushed open the front door of her house.
“Yeah, Dad, we’re home,” echoed Ris, grinning.
“Hi, girls,” Morgan’s dad, Dylan, called from the kitchen.
“I’m thirsty, Mr. Abbey,” Ris replied. “You have any pop?”
“Only if you call it soda,” replied Dylan. He and Ris had an ongoing feud regarding the proper nomenclature of carbonated beverages.
“Never!” Ris called, walking toward the kitchen.
Morgan followed behind, smiling. It amused her how well Ris and her father got along. As a matter of fact, Ris got along so well with Morgan’s father that back in middle school, Ris went through a phase during which she wanted to get their parents––Morgan’s father and Ris’s mother––to date. To Ris’s chagrin, however, neither parent was interested.
Dylan Abbey, Morgan knew, had eyes for only one woman: Morgan’s mother. He, like Morgan, still held out hope that she would return one day.
By the time Morgan made her way to the kitchen, Ris was pouring a glass of pop for herself and for Morgan as well. Morgan noticed her father putting the finishing touches on a plate of cheese and crackers and a veggie plate. “Does our fame precede us?” Morgan asked, grabbing a Triscuit topped with marbled cheddar off the plate on the tiny kitchen table.
Dylan pretended to give Morgan’s hand a slap. “Hey, now. These aren’t for you.”
“Since when do you make yourself plates of snacks? Whatever happened to eating straight out of the box?” Morgan asked, leaning against the gray faux-marble countertop across from the table.
“Not for me, either. It’s for the one I’m tutoring. My tutee, if you will.” He gave Morgan a meaningful look. “You know the one.”
“Ah. So, when does the eagle land?” Morgan asked.
Ris raised an eyebrow, confused. “Who’s the eagle? And since when do you tutor?”
“It’s, ah––” Dylan looked at Morgan.
“Long story,” Morgan said. “Let’s go to my room and I’ll explain. And you can tell me more about this business plan of yours.”
“But I already explained it to you,” Ris said. “It wasn’t that complicated.”
“Ah, but now I’ll actually be paying attention,” Morgan said.
Ris brought her fist to her chest, a wounded motion. “You know, I’d be mad if I didn’t know you were only not listening because you were thinking about the H-O-T G-U-Y.”
Dylan sighed heavily. “Darn. I really do hate when you girls spell things out in front of me. You know I can’t spell.” He squinted for a moment. “Oh, wait. I can spell.” He cast a suspicious look at his daughter. “Hot guy?”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing.” When her dad continued to look at her expectantly, she continued. “Just some guy in the park—”
“The park,” Dylan began, shaking his head.
“Don’t even start,” Morgan said.
“You know I don’t like you hanging out down there. I keep telling you two to set up shop somewhere else.”
“Where?” Morgan asked, repeating the same argument she’d gone over before. “Where else could we do business?”
“Business,” Dylan scoffed. “I think it’s great that you two are making money, but don’t you think you could do something that requires less scheming and trickery? I mean, conning your classmates out of money—”
“It’s not a con,” Ris interjected emphatically. “Morgan’s got a gift. Our classmates are lucky that Morgan uses her powers to guide them through their tumultuous teenage years.”
Morgan sighed. Contrary to what Ris and her contemporaries thought, Morgan was not under the delusion that she possessed any magical powers; she was just observant. She was able to piece together information in a unique way. Certain connections that were lost on other people were obvious to her. However, people wanted to believe that Morgan possessed a gift. And, as it suited Morgan’s purposes, she allowed them to believe it.
But hadn’t the guy said something about how people were always saying how right she was? Could he mean that she really had some sort of ability?
“Still,” Dylan was saying. “I don’t think the park is a safe place for you.”
“It was just some guy, Dad,” Morgan insisted, shaking her head to clear her mind. “He was, maybe, nineteen. Threat level zero.”
“He was hot, though, right?” Ris asked, leaning against the refrigerator and gazing wistfully at the ceiling.
Morgan shrugged. “He did appear to be pleasing to the eyes.”
Dylan put his hands up. “Okay, okay. Stop with the hot guy talk.” He glanced at Ris. “Anyway, what happened to that teacher she had a crush on?”
Morgan turned to Ris. “I hate you.”
Ris just laughed. “Your room?” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and exited the kitchen.
Morgan shot a dirty look at Ris’s retreating figure but followed anyway.
“The eagle lands shortly,” Dylan called after Morgan. “Should only be here for an hour or so.”
Morgan waved a hand at her father but didn’t turn. By the time she entered her bedroom, Ris had already made herself at home on the papasan in the corner. As usual.
“So, who’s the eagle?” Ris asked as Morgan took a seat on her bed.
“Why did you tell my dad about Mr. K?”
Ris just shrugged. “So, the business plan––”
Morgan waved her hand at Ris. “Never mind. I’m not ready to pay attention yet.”
“Ah, so we’re back to the eagle.”
“Or Mr. K.”
“All in good time,” Ris said. “Come on, you first or I will withhold vital information from you regarding what I actually mentioned to your dad about Mr. Kment.”
Morgan glowered. “I really hate you.”
“Duly noted.” Ris picked up one of the half dozen or so stuffed penguins from Morgan’s desk and lobbed it in Morgan’s general direction. Morgan didn’t even flinch; Ris’s aim was notoriously off. “Speak!”
Morgan sighed. “Dad got roped into tutoring a certain… benevolent dictator. A friend to you and me. In fact, a friend to all people, great and small.”
Understanding swept across Ris’s face. “Uh-oh…”
“A certain, shall we say, unifying presence at Arthur B. Casey High. Class president, cheerleader, Homecoming Court––”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Ris interrupted. “Lynna Rochester, I get it. But why is he tutoring her? He knows how you feel about her.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “She’s a dumbass and failed geometry and would probably fail it again in summer school without my dad’s help.” She sighed. “And you know his position on how I feel about her.”
“But why is her summer school your dad’s problem? She has her own parents.”
Morgan shrugged. “I doubt her mom can do geometry. Her dad probably works too much. Or maybe he just doesn’t have the patience to deal with her. Who knows? Whatever the reason, they asked Dylan. And you know Dylan.”
“Good ole Dependable Dylan.”
“Sigh,” Morgan said.
“Le sigh,” Ris agreed.
Morgan leaned over and picked up the penguin, which had landed on the floor about two feet from where she was sitting. She threw it back at Ris. Unlike Ris, Morgan’s aim was dead on, and the penguin hit Ris on the nose.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“Why, Miss Clarissa Renee Perry, did you tell my dad about Mr. K?”
“Because you beaned me in the nose with a penguin,” Ris said sullenly, rubbing her nose.
“Come on, now. I just did that,” Morgan protested. “Unless, of course, you’re claiming you had a vision of the future––”
Ris shook her head. “No. We both know that fortune telling is your gift, not mine.”
“Well, then––”
Ris sighed. “Seriously, Morgan. We were talking one day and he mentioned having a crush on one of his teachers back in school and so I told him like father like daughter… Sorry, wasn’t trying to, like, mortify you or anything.”
Just then a muffled knocking could be heard at the front door, followed by voices: one male, one female.
Morgan groaned. “That’s mortifying.”
“The eagle has landed?” Ris asked.
“The eagle has landed,” Morgan confirmed.
Ris leaned back into the papasan. “Guess we’re stuck in here now.”
Morgan positioned herself more fully on her bed and leaned against the wall. Her eyes landed on the framed picture on her bedside table. Morgan looked down at the picture, though she didn’t really need to. She had every detail memorized from staring at it so many nights. It was a picture of her mother, Chelsea. In the picture, she was laughing, her head tipped back, her brown hair spilling around her shoulders in loose waves, her light brown eyes sparkling.
“You think I’m crazy?” Morgan asked.
Ris glanced at her. “Care to be a bit more specific?”
Morgan pulled all of her long, dyed-red hair over her left shoulder and ran her fingers through it thoughtfully for a moment. “For thinking she’s still out there somewhere. Alive, you know?”
Ris, who in her years as Morgan’s best friend been subject to many such musings, took in a breath and released it slowly. “I think you’re crazy for a hundred reasons, Morgan. But that—that’s not one of them.”
Morgan nodded. For an instant, she considered telling Ris what the mystery guy said about her mother being alive, but she stopped herself. Hope was one thing; believing a stranger in the park was something entirely different. “I just… I’ve always felt like she was out there somewhere.”
“I know.” Ris shifted and the papasan creaked faintly. “You know what I think?”
“Huh?”
“I think one day you’re gonna find her. I think you’ll be able to use your fortune-telling abilities on yourself and you’re gonna figure out where she is.” She smiled. “I mean, why else would you have your gift, right?”
“Right,” Morgan agreed. And for the first time, she wished what Ris believed about her psychic abilities was actually true.
three
Days passed before Morgan saw the guy from the park again.
She was in the middle of a card reading for Alecia Emerick when she noticed him, again beside the swing set. For a moment, Morgan found she was so flustered that she forgot what she was doing. Though his eyes again weren’t on her, he was watching her––she could feel it.
“Um… Morgan?” Alecia asked, calling Morgan’s attention back to the matter at hand.
Morgan focused on Alecia. “What’s new?”
“Not much,” Alecia said with a sigh. “I mean, Alec and I, of course, have been spending a lot of time together…”
Morgan allowed her mind to drift as Alecia prattled on about her recent activities with Alec Draper, her sort-of boyfriend. When the two got together at the end of the school year, all of her friends thought it was meant to be––Alec’s name was, of course, the same as the first four letters of Alecia’s name––but Alecia was starting to have her doubts.
As Morgan listened, she started understanding things. Subtext. The things that were unsaid clarified in her mind. Alec wasn’t quite as popular as Alecia and the rest of her crew. She was worried about what sort of impact that could have on her social standing senior year. And, there was another certain someone she thought might like her. What Morgan gathered was that Alecia wanted Morgan to confirm that this mystery boy liked her so she could dump Alec and have another guy all lined up.
Morgan loved these kind of readings.
With one final glance at her own mystery guy, Morgan dealt the cards in front of Alecia. And then the show began.
“Ooh,” Morgan said quietly, her tone hinting at foreboding. Then she waited for Alecia to take the bait. She didn’t wait long.
“What?” Alecia demanded. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, I see some…” Morgan searched for the right word. Drama was the one that sprang immediately to mind, but she didn’t feel Alecia would find it nearly as appropriate as Morgan did. “…Struggle. Yes, I see struggle coming your way. An internal conflict. Two… arenas will struggle for your attentions.”
Ris, who was walking back from the garbage can, glanced over, eyebrow raised, and mouthed, “Arenas?”
Alecia, however, seemed captivated. “Which one will win?”
Morgan closed her eyes, feigning deep thought. “It is unclear at the moment––ultimately the decision is yours alone.” She opened her eyes.
Alecia seemed displeased with this answer. “But… I came here so you could tell me what to do!”
Morgan just smiled. “The decision isn’t mine to make. But,” she paused dramatically and Alecia sat up a little taller, “I do see some things with clarity. The path you are on now is a bright one. It’s illuminated. The path you’re considering is…” Morgan searched her mind for a phrase ethereal enough to fit, “…lovely, dark, and deep––which sounds exciting, but with darkness comes uncertainty and often danger.” Morgan paused and drew in a breath. “My advice,” she said evenly, “is to stay on the path you’re currently traveling. But the choice is ultimately up to you.”
“Thank you,” Alecia said unsurely as she stood a moment later.
“Any time,” Morgan responded, her fingers moving toward the money bag on the table top. As Alecia turned and walked away, Morgan placed Alecia’s payment in the bag.
Before Morgan could close the drawstring bag, Ris was seated across from her. “That was the last one for the day. You ready to go?”
Morgan glanced up but wasn’t looking at Ris; instead, she was looking past Ris. The guy was still there, leaning, as he had been the first time, against the pole of the swing set. “Don’t look,” Morgan said quietly, her attention on the picnic table as she collected her cards, “but that guy’s back.”
Ris was quiet and Morgan hazarded a glance at her. Ris’s eyes were narrowed in confusion, but then, suddenly, she smiled. “Han Solo?”
Morgan nodded. “Haven’t you noticed him? He was standing by the swing set the whole time Alecia was here—maybe longer.”
Ris shrugged and held up her phone. “I was reading a book.”
Morgan slipped her cards into their velvet pouch and cast another furtive glance over Ris’s shoulder. “He’s still there.”
Ris grinned—a smile so wide that on any other face it might be too much. On Ris, though, it just made Morgan want to smile, too. “Think it’s time for a casual walk-by?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s creepy, remember?”
Ris gave her the really face—Really, you don’t want to do this? Really, you’re going to be a puss?—and snatched Morgan’s money pouch off the table. “You’ll have to follow me to get it,” she said, just loud enough for Morgan’s ears, as she turned on her heel and started walking toward the path that wound its way right past the swing set.
Morgan knew Ris wouldn’t really steal her money, but the act was enough. With an exasperated sigh, Morgan jogged to catch up to her friend.
As they approached him, Morgan’s apprehension grew. She’d been replaying their last conversation in her mind, wondering what she might say or do if he showed up again. But now that he was here, she found she wasn’t sure she even wanted to talk to him again.
He was still leaning up against the pole, staring off at treetops, perhaps, but definitely not looking in Morgan’s direction. He was still a way off—his swing set was rather far from Morgan’s pavilion. And though Morgan didn’t want to stare—didn’t want to appear to be a giggling middle school girl or anything—she found her eyes kept being drawn to him. He was in dark blue jeans again today, but his top was a burgundy tee that fit his body closely.
As they walked, Ris kept up a monologue to fill the air, so Morgan didn’t realize right away what was happening when Ris’s voice got louder. It wasn’t until she repeated herself that Morgan caught the words: “I said, why are you standing there?”
Morgan looked at Ris, but Ris was looking at the guy, who was now mere yards from their position on the path. Morgan followed her gaze and saw that he was no longer looking at the treetops, he was looking at them.
“Ah, ladies. A pleasure to see you again.” He offered a smile and started toward them.
Panic flared in Morgan. What were they doing? They had no idea what this guy wanted. They could have just walked into a trap. She glanced at Ris, whose face showed none of these concerns.
“So, what’s the deal?” Ris asked easily. “You weren’t impressed with your last reading?”
“To the contrary,” he said, passing his gaze from one girl to the other. “I’m quite impressed with Morgan’s abilities.”
Morgan wondered what he meant, seeing as she hadn’t actually done a reading for him yet. But she couldn’t dwell on it long because Ris was talking.
“Then when are you coming back?” Ris asked.
“When are you open for business again?”
“Monday morning. Want me to put you on the list?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Pencil me in.”
Ris had her phone out in a flash. “Okay, what’s your name?”
“What, can’t Morgan divine it or something?” He smiled. It was a nice smile.
Morgan managed to roll her eyes, wanting to seem nonchalant. “My powers aren’t attuned to things that banal.”
He laughed. “Banal, huh?” He paused for a moment, regarding her. “Kellen,” he said at last.
“Kellen.” Morgan tested out the name.
“Kellen,” Ris repeated, thumbs working quickly on the phone’s keyboard. “Okay. You’re on the list for nine-ish.”
Kellen chuckled. “Nine-ish it is, then.” He nodded at them and then started walking down the path in the direction Morgan and Ris had come from. Morgan tugged on Ris’s elbow and the two continued through the park in the direction they had been heading.
Morgan waited until they were safely outside of the park before turning to Ris. “What the hell were you thinking, you psycho?”
Ris just laughed, but the sound was thin. She kept walking. “I was just taking a chance.”
Morgan sighed, following her. “We looked like fools.”
“But we got a client out of it,” Ris said, waving away Morgan’s concerns with her hand. “Besides, we’ve learned much.”
Morgan groaned. “Are you kidding me? What’ve we learned here? Besides the fact that I can’t be seen with you in public?”
Ris began ticking things off on her fingers. “We learned his name, we learned he believes in your abilities—so the reading you said was eh the other day must’ve been pretty good. I think he’s fascinated by you.”
“I think that’s overstating things a bit.”
Ris shrugged. “Come on. He was totally in the park today hoping for an interaction like this. He showed up at the end of the day, stood in your line of sight. He’s intrigued. And now he’ll be back on Monday. That’s pretty cool, you have to admit.”
“And awkward.”
“But think of how it’ll expand our clientele!” Ris said. She led the way up the driveway toward her house.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Of course, that’s what you’d be thinking.”
Ris pushed open the front door, led the way into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. Morgan took a seat at the table.
“Okay, I’ll think about something else then. Like tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Ris closed the refrigerator door and turned to Morgan, a look of exasperation on her face. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Morgan sighed. “Not buying it?”
Ris sat down at the table too. “Not at all. You promised. We’re going.”
“But… I think I may be coming down with something,” Morgan said. She gave two pitiful coughs.
Ris groaned. “You promised.”
Morgan stood. “Truth? I thought you’d either forget or chicken out.”
Ris just raised her eyebrows.
Morgan sighed. “It’s just… parties aren’t really my thing.”
“How do you know? You’ve never been to one.”
“I don’t have to swim in a pool of acid to know it’s gonna suck,” Morgan muttered.
Ris sprang to her feet and held her hand out to Morgan. Morgan took it reluctantly and Ris pulled her through the house toward her bedroom. “We’re almost seniors,” Ris said as they went. “Just a year left of our high school career. And I don’t want to regret anything. This is one of those things I want to check off my list of ‘things to do in high school,’ and you’re coming with me.” Ris opened her bedroom door and shoved Morgan in ahead of her.
“Or what?” Morgan asked, taking a spot at the end of Ris’s bed.
“Or I kill you.”
“I’ll take what’s behind door number two.”
Ris didn’t dignify the comment with a response. Instead, she went to her closet and began considering garments.
Morgan groaned. “The party’s not for hours. You don’t have to start getting dressed yet.”
Ris just smiled. “Perfection, my friend, takes time.”
The afternoon passed in much the same way: Morgan tried to come up with excuses not to go to the party while Ris ignored her and threw clothes to her to try on.
In the end, Ris decided on a soft green tunic with a thick, shiny black belt; black leggings; and black wedge sandals. Her blond pixie-cut hair was artfully spiked and mussed. Her makeup was understated, but her eye makeup had a mysterious, smoky quality to it, making her brown eyes appear to smolder.
Morgan wore a simple black shift that was too short for her liking. She requested leggings, but Ris just shook her head as though resigned to the fact that her best friend was a fashion disaster waiting to happen. After a putting up a fight, Morgan allowed Ris to bind her feet in strappy black heels. Ris also insisted on a chunky blue necklace “for a little pop.” Ris took the time to work Morgan’s usually pin-straight red hair into loose waves. To Morgan’s lips, Ris applied a lipstick shades darker than anything Morgan would have chosen on her own. Morgan made a mental note to find a napkin as soon as they arrived at the party to wipe off the lipstick. Ris’s final touch was just a dab of mascara and a little bit of eyeliner. “Your eyes really don’t need any help,” Ris said.
And as Morgan stood in front of the mirror, she had to admit they really didn’t. Morgan always thought that her eyes were her most striking feature: dark, dark blue—so dark, in fact, that she often thought she saw hints of silver in their depths.
Though Morgan would never admit it to anyone, even to Ris, by the time they were done, she thought that the whole process had been kind of fun. And as the two of them took turns standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of Ris’s bedroom door, she also had to admit that the time they spent was worth it.
“Okay,” Ris said, “ready go to?”
“No,” Morgan muttered.
Ris ignored her. She opened the bedroom door and led the way into the living room. Ms Perry sat on the couch, her attention on what was undoubtedly a Sudoku puzzle in her hands. Ris cleared her throat so that her mother looked up as she and Morgan made their entrance.
Ms Perry studied both girls thoroughly before giving them each approving smiles. “You two will knock ’em dead. You look fabulous.”
Ris smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Now,” Ms Perry continued, “remember, always get your own drinks. And don’t leave your drink unattended; you never know what someone might put in it. And make sure you have your cell.”
“I know, Mom,” Ris said with a sigh. “Don’t let someone drug me. And I have my phone. Morgan’s got her phone, too.”
Ms Perry just nodded. “And, if something happens and neither of you is able to drive home—”
“Mom,” protested Ris.
“—just call me and I’ll come get you. No questions. No punishment.” She glanced at Morgan. “No parental involvement.”
“Mom, don’t be so dramatic,” Ris said, starting toward the front door. “It’s a party, not a crack den.”
“You say that as though they’re mutually exclusive,” Morgan said.
Ris glanced over her shoulder to shoot Morgan the not helping face. Morgan just shrugged.
“Have fun!” Ms Perry called as the girls stepped out the door.
“Gah, can you believe how embarrassing she is?” Ris asked as she followed Morgan to the street where Morgan’s car was parked.
Morgan was so busy concentrating on keeping her balance in the high heels that she didn’t bother to comment until they were both safely in her car. “I don’t know. She actually seemed pretty cool about us going out to a party that is almost certainly unsupervised and at which there will likely be all manner of suspicious foods, beverages, and behaviors.”
Ris sighed. “That’s just it. It was like she was trying to be cool about it. All that business about just calling if neither of us can drive home—there might not be punishment right away, but only because she’ll want me sober enough to quake in fear.”
Morgan considered this for a moment as she navigated onto the main road. “I wonder how my mom would react to something like this.”
Ris didn’t comment and Morgan immediately felt guilty. The mom topic was weird even with Ris.
Morgan cleared her throat. “So, where are we turning?”
Ris gave a little sigh and began giving directions to their destination.
When they arrived, Morgan parked in the first available spot she saw—a block and a half away. They got out of the car and began walking down the sidewalk.
“I assume,” Morgan said, indicated with her hand, “that’s the place?”
“Yep,” Ris confirmed.
“Ay caramba,” Morgan muttered. The house was massive. The grass was so green and uniform it looked like Astroturf, and the yard was decorated with flowers and little ornamental trees. Music and light spilled out into the yard, the street. It struck Morgan then that she didn’t have a clue whose house this was—she hadn’t cared enough to ask. And now she didn’t want to know. Wealthy people made Morgan irrationally angry.
Ris and Morgan made their way up to the front door and stood there for a moment—should they knock?—before Ris pushed the door open and entered the house.
The music was oppressively loud, and Morgan felt almost as though she had to physically fight past it to enter the house. But then she was in and the music was no longer smothering; instead, it seemed to at once become a part of her, to course through her veins, to welcome her. And it was a good thing it did, because no one else seemed interested in doing so.
The foyer was brightly lit, yet the people who stood in it seemed somehow wrapped in shadow. Most stood in tight-knit groups; all held large red plastic cups in their hands. Ris pushed her way through the foyer and Morgan did her best to keep up. Already she was doubting the wisdom of their having come here.
They walked into what might be considered the house’s living room and Morgan saw a DJ set up in the corner. He was a tall, lanky white boy Morgan thought she recognized from school. He was wearing a skull cap and a pair of oversized headphones—though only one headphone was covering an ear. He was bopping rather spasmodically and out of synch with the beat of the music. For some reason, Morgan found this incredibly amusing; therefore, when she and Ris were approached by a fellow partygoer, she was smiling.
“Clare! I didn’t expect to see you!” Corbin Starling, a boy from their grade, stopped in front of the girls and smiled broadly, showing off straight, white teeth. His clear green eyes sparkled in such a way that he even seemed sincere in his pleasure at seeing Ris. Then again, Morgan reasoned, it could also be alcohol at work. He did, after all, have two giant red plastic cups in his hands.
At the moment Morgan was thinking this, Corbin turned his attention to her. “Gypsy!” he greeted, a little loudly, hailing Morgan by the pen name she used when writing horoscopes for the school’s paper. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you out. But I guess where Clare is, you’re pretty sure to be, too.”
The smile on Morgan’s lips dissolved. She fixed Corbin with a look bordering on annoyance.
Corbin was oil to Morgan’s water. Not that he hadn’t always been nice to her. Indeed, he was one of the few people who hadn’t teased her during the dark months in sixth grade when rumors about Morgan’s family resurfaced. Still, there was something off-putting to Morgan about him. He was nice to everyone—almost too nice—and in Morgan’s opinion, he seemed almost fake. He seemed to strive to be popular, for people to like him. Morgan just couldn’t understand that kind of mentality.
If Corbin noticed anything amiss in Morgan’s gaze, he didn’t show it. His smile didn’t falter as he turned his attention back to Ris. “You two thirsty?” he asked, indicating the cups in his hands.
Morgan raised an eyebrow at Ris. “Didn’t your mom warn us about this?”
Ris shot Morgan a look that read Behave. Turning to Corbin, she said, “I think we want to lay off the hard stuff—for the time being, at least. We did just get here.”
Corbin seemed puzzled for a moment, but then his smile returned. “Oh, these? Just pop. I was bringing these to Lynna Rochester and one of her friends—”
Upon hearing Lynna Rochester’s name, Morgan grabbed one of the cups from Corbin’s hand and wasted no time taking a drink from it. Corbin eyed her suspiciously but said nothing. Instead, he proffered the remaining cup to Ris.
“Thanks,” Ris said, relieving Corbin of the cup.
“No worries,” Corbin said. Then he glanced around the room. “Look, I’d better go get more drinks for Lynna et al. But we’ll talk some more later, okay, Clare? Gypsy?”
Morgan, who had drained her cup already, gave Corbin a confused look. “How’d you get stuck being Lynna Rochester’s drink boy?”
Corbin shrugged good-naturedly. “Comes with the territory, being host and all, I guess.” And then, without waiting for more questions, Corbin was gone.
Morgan sighed. “Figures.”
Ris looked at her, confused. “What does?”
Morgan gestured at the house around them. “Figures that this is Starling’s house. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like him.”
Ris sighed. After taking a sip of her pop, she said, “Morgs, you don’t like anyone.”
“I like you, don’t I?” Morgan smiled. “And McKenna, and Stew—”
Ris waved a hand to interrupt Morgan’s recitation. “Corbin’s actually an okay guy—you know, besides not liking Star Wars.”
“You’re just saying that because you two used to date,” Morgan accused.
“No,” Ris said firmly, “we used to date because it’s true.”
“And then Han Solo got between the two of you.”
“Sad, but true,” Ris agreed. “You should really give him a chance. I know you think he’s a useless pretty boy—”
“I never said he was pretty.”
Ris raised an eyebrow. “If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Corbin is a fine-looking gentleman,” she said firmly. “And he is a gentleman. He didn’t even flinch when you stole that cup from him.”
Morgan considered Ris’s assertion that Corbin was alright for a moment, but then made a face. “He calls you Clare.”
Ris shrugged. “I’ve known him since kindergarten,” she said, as though that excused him.
Morgan surveyed the room. “So… what now?”
“No clue,” Ris admitted. “We take a lap before committing to a spot?”
Morgan made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Lead the way.”
The two resumed walking through the house, Morgan casting dubious looks at some of the questionable dance moves being perpetrated by her contemporaries. She tried to catch Ris’s eye, but Ris seemed too busy drinking in the experience to notice.
They were wandering through the third or fourth room when Morgan heard her name being called. She turned to see Alecia Emerick weaving toward her, Alec Draper in tow. Morgan couldn’t help smiling: clearly Alecia had decided against dumping Alec, at least for the time being.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Alecia said, voice a little loud even over the music. “You never come out to parties!”
Morgan nodded. “What can I say? When I read my own fortune earlier today, I saw myself here. Who am I to disagree with fate?”
Alecia just stared blankly at her for a moment before her features rearranged into an expression of fawning awe.
To Morgan’s relief, Alec began laughing at the same moment, and she was reminded why she liked him.
“Yeah right, Gypsy,” Alec said. “Like it wouldn’t cross your mind to disagree with something like fate.”
Morgan just shrugged.
“So, you guys having fun?” Ris asked. Morgan raised an eyebrow at her and Ris gave an apologetic half-smile. Clearly her party small talk needed work.
But Alecia didn’t seem to think the question was inappropriate. She sighed dramatically. “Well, yes, but Lia—Lia’s so distracted and she’s bringing me down.” She leaned in toward Morgan and Ris conspiratorially. “I think it’s college. Her parents are all over her about applications and visits… It’s all she talks about.”
Ris nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, my mom’s been bringing it up a lot lately, too. I wish there was something we could do.”
Morgan could have smacked Ris for the offer because immediately, Alecia’s eyes grew wide and hopeful. “Really? Oh, you two are the best. Morgan—actually, I wanted to ask you—could you, maybe—I mean… I know this is a party and you’re not here to work, but if you could, you know, just maybe do a quick reading for Lia—I’d pay you, of course.”
Morgan aimed a dirty look at Ris. She knew Lia Roderick from school—Lia was this year’s editor-in-chief of the newspaper and yearbook—and she knew Lia didn’t particularly like her. She turned to Alecia and forced a smile. “I really don’t know, Alecia,” she said bracingly. “I mean, it is a little loud in here. Maybe you could bring her by Monday—”
“I’ll pay you double!” Alecia said quickly, a pout forming on her face.
Morgan cast a brief glance toward the ceiling before nodding reluctantly.
Alecia squealed and jumped in place, causing several nearby people to look at her suspiciously.
Quickly, Morgan placed a hand on Alecia’s shoulder. “Take me to her, Alecia.”
Alecia fixed Morgan with a serious gaze and nodded. Then she turned and, dragging Alec behind her, led the way through the room. With a glance at Ris, Morgan followed.
Lia Roderick stood in a corner sipping from her red plastic cup while methodically scanning the room. She looked well-composed, as usual, in a pale yellow shirt that complemented her light cocoa skin. When her golden-brown eyes fell on Alecia, the tension in her face drained.
Until she saw Morgan.
“Alecia,” Lia said, her voice stern. “I can’t believe this.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow at Lia. “And hello to you, too.”
“Hi, Lia,” said Ris brightly, smiling her characteristic wide Ris smile.
“Hi, Ris,” Lia said politely before turning her attention back to Alecia. “I thought I told you no.”
“Oh, come on, Lee!” Alecia whined. “Why won’t you—”
Alec tugged gently on Alecia’s hand. “Look, if she doesn’t want to have a reading, it’s really her—”
“If she doesn’t want a reading, why am I here?” Morgan asked.
“She needs a reading,” Alecia insisted, “she’s just being stubborn.”
Lia planted a hand on her hip. “I do not need a reading,” she said firmly. “No one does.”
Immediately, Ris went on the defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lia rolled her eyes. “It’s like—I don’t know—playing the lottery or something. One time in a million, it’s worth the price of the ticket, but mostly it’s just a waste of money.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Ris asked, her tone dangerous. But before she could say more, Alecia was talking.
“Oh my god, Lee, you’re so wrong,” she insisted, her brown eyes growing wide. “Morgan’s right, like, all the time! I live by her horoscopes during the school year!”
Morgan, who didn’t think this was an advisable life plan, kept her opinion on the matter to herself.
“I’m sorry,” Lia said, her hand moving from her hip to the cross resting in hollow of her neck, “but I just don’t believe in this psychic stuff.”
Morgan grinned. “What if I told you I was a prophet?”
Lia glared but didn’t dignify Morgan’s question with a response.
“You don’t believe?” Ris asked suddenly. “Then why don’t you let Morgan prove it to you? Give her a test. See if she can—divine something about you or something.”
Lia’s hand went back to her hip. “You’re kidding, right?”
Morgan bristled. “What? Afraid I’ll get it right and your belief will be wrong?”
For a moment, Lia didn’t respond, but then she took the bait. “Fine. Do it. Read me. Whatever.”
Ris became suddenly businesslike. “Okay, right here won’t do. Let’s go…” She scanned the vicinity. After a moment, she pointed toward a dark doorway to their right. “There looks good.” Without waiting for agreement, she started toward the room.
Morgan made a sweeping motion with her arm and inclined her head toward Lia. “After you,” she said.
Lia sighed but followed Ris. With a smirk, Morgan followed, too.
When Ris reached the doorway, she felt along the interior wall, presumably for a light switch. Seconds later, the lights came on, only dimly. Ris looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Mood lighting,” she said. “Swanky.”
As Morgan edged past Ris into the room, she took in her surroundings. Dominating the space was a grand piano, and there were no less than three guitars spaced irregularly along the wall opposite the door. But before Morgan could take in much more, Lia brushed past her and planted herself firmly on the piano bench.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, arms crossed over her chest.
“Wow, tell us how you really feel,” Morgan muttered, sitting beside Lia on the bench. Without waiting for a retort, she held out her hand, palm up, toward Lia. “Gimme your hand.”
After the slightest moment of hesitation, Lia obliged. She placed her hand in Morgan’s, palm up, but her fingers were curled over as if she were contemplating making a fist. With her free hand, Morgan unfurled Lia’s digits.
Suddenly, a voice spoke from the doorway. “Hey, actually, this room’s sort of off—oh.”
Still holding Lia’s hand, Morgan looked toward the speaker. Corbin Starling stood in the room’s entrance looking somewhat relieved.
He glanced at Ris. “Clare?”
“Just a quick reading,” Ris said promptly. “Then we’ll clear out.”
Corbin nodded, casting a glance over his shoulder. “As long as it’s quick,” he agreed.
Morgan waited for him to leave. When it was clear he wasn’t planning to, she sighed exasperatedly. “A little privacy?”
Ris cleared her throat pointedly. “Morgan, this is Corbin’s house…”
“I just want to make sure no one else comes in,” Corbin said. “I don’t want anyone messing with the piano or my guitars.”
Morgan sighed. “Whatever.” She turned her attention back to Lia’s palm. She felt the tension in Lia’s hand, felt her start slightly when Morgan brushed her thumbs lightly over the flesh of her palm. As Morgan looked at the different lines—heart, head, life—she tried to block out the music emanating from the adjoining room, the buzz and murmur of voices. Alecia said Lia’s worry centered around college. It wasn’t surprising. Lia was, as far as Morgan could tell, an overachiever at everything. That her parents were behind it in some way was understandable. As Morgan thumbed Lia’s life line, she relaxed herself. Exhaled. Her skin started to tingle, but she figured it was due to the audience. To focus, she closed her eyes.
“College isn’t going to be an issue for you,” Morgan said after a moment, eyes still closed. “You shouldn’t worry about it. Change is coming your way, and… you’ll need to embrace it. You need to go down the path set before you—”
Without warning, Lia pulled her hand away from Morgan. Morgan’s eyes opened and she looked at Lia. “What the hell?”
“I’m done,” Lia said, standing. “I just… This is a waste and I’m done.” With that, she stalked to the doorway, pushed past Corbin, and rejoined the party.
Alecia immediately made a move to follow her, but Ris blocked her way. She nodded in Morgan’s direction. Alecia seemed to get the hint and elbowed Alec in the side. With a sigh, Alec pulled out his wallet and paid Morgan—twice the normal rate. Then he followed Alecia back out into the party.
“Not usually the way your readings go down, I take it,” Corbin said conversationally as Morgan stood.
After a beat, Ris answered for Morgan. “Not really,” she agreed. “But usually people come to Morgan on their own—not because their friends set up a reading.” She smiled at Corbin and inched toward him. “How come you’ve never come for a reading?”