Ten years? I echo in the same hallowed whisper. And I thought I was doing well going on almost six months.
It gets easier, Sierra says, reaching out for my hand. Youll grow stronger.
I nod, though my throat feels tight now and I cant actually speak.
Hard one today? Sierra asks, and her thumb makes circles on my hand.
I look at her and I know she can see the answer in my eyes. I always come in to see her on tough, draining days when blocking a foretelling takes everything out of me. Some days we dont even talk; I simply sit and share the same space with the only person in my life who understands the struggle I face every day.
She hesitates and Im afraid shes going to ask if I won my fight or not. I dont know how Ill answer her. Your teens are the hardest time, she finally says, her thumb still stroking the back of my hand. Life is so full of things to pull your attention away from your defenses, your body is still changing, hormones are raging.
Oh yes, please talk about puberty right now, I think, forcing myself not to roll my eyes. I do pull my hand back though, and cross my arms over my chest.
At least she didnt ask. She usually assumes I won. Because I almost always do. Maybe she trusts that I would tell her if I didnt. And she should be able to. More guilt.
But ten years? I really am crappy at this.
Things will calm down once you finish college and can withdraw from the world more, Sierra said calmly, evenly. Like she didnt just sentence me to a life of seclusion.
Sierra, I say after several long seconds of silence. Would it really be so bad if we just let them come? Her eyes narrow slightly, but I continue. Not all the time, just, like when Im alone in my room at home. I dont remember a lot from when I didnt fight, but the foretellings I did get were mostly little things. Things I didnt care about. If I dont do anything about it, of course, I add when Sierras lips tighten.
She leans forward, looking up at me with dark brown eyes that look so much like Moms. I know you think you can do that, Charlotte, but believe me, the temptation will become too great. Youll want to change things. And thats not a bad thing; its because youre a good person and you have a desire to help people. She furrows her brows and then shes not meeting my gaze anymore. You dont know how bad the visions can get. Not even you.
Not even me? Not even the girl who got her father killed trying to save her aunt? How much more devastating than that could it possibly get?
But then, maybe seeing a murdered teenager is worse. It makes me wonder what Sierra has seen that puts that haunted look in her eyes.
I want to ask more, but Im not sure how I can without revealing what I saw today. And I just dont want to. Dont want to admit how much I suck.
I stand there silently for so long that after a few minutes, Sierra squeezes my hand, turns back to her computer, and resumes working.
I wander over to the shelf that houses the oldest books. With my arms folded, I scan the spines and titlesas close as Sierra ever lets me get. My eyes catch on a cracked leather spine printed with the words REPAIRING THE FRACTURED FUTURE.
Air slips slowly out between my teeth with a tiny hiss. This. This is what I need. I glance at Sierra, but shes as focused as she was when I first came in. My fingers walk slowly forward, sneaking the same way I might tiptoe down a hallway. Closer. Closer.
My index finger hooks around the top of the spine and I pull slowly, tipping the book down. A whisper of the leather covers rubbing together makes me freeze, but after a few seconds I let the spine lean all the way into my palm.
Now I just have to pull it out and
Charlotte.
Now I just have to pull it out and
Charlotte.
Disappointment wells up in my throat. She didnt snapshe never doesbut that edge of you know better than this in her voice makes me want to melt into a puddle of shame. With my teeth tightly clenched, I push the book back where it belongsat least she wont know exactly which book I wantedand turn to look at her.
Sierra sighs and rises from her chair. She comes close and puts an arm around my shoulder, deftly steering me toward the door. You know youre not ready, she whispers.
I think youre wrong, I say defiantly, proud of myself for voicing what Ive thought for at least two years.
Im erring on the safe side this time, Sierra says, leaning her head close enough to touch mine. The last time I didnt watch you closely enough, this entire family paid for it. You dont need more temptation in your life.
And without another word, she pushes me the last few inches through the door.
By the time I turn around, the door is closed and even as I raise my hand to turn the knob, I hear the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.
Great.
Maybe I should have told her. Now I have to decide what to do all by myself.
And I dont even know where to start.
FOUR
Its all over the news the next morning.
Her body is covered with a white drape, and the reporter is rambling on about her injuries, but even his gruesome descriptions cant compare to the actual sight. The one I saw only yesterday.
Moms hand is clenched around a mug of coffee, but she hasnt lifted it to her mouth since she turned the television on ten minutes ago. Who could do this? she finally whispers after what feels like hours.
Unfortunately, despite the vision, thats a question I cant answer. Visions are fickle that waysometimes they give you the important information, and sometimes they simply . . . dont.
Sierra walks into the noticeably tense kitchen. Whats going on? she asks, looking between Mom and me and not seeming to notice that the TV is on despite its high volume. Shes like that, totally unaware of some things while being hyperaware of others. Probably because shes constantly on guard for visions.
I guess Ill be like that someday too.
A teenage girl was killed at the high school last night, Mom whispers, still staring horrified at the television. Throat sliced right open.
Sierras head swings to me and she stares with questions shining in her eyes. I feel like I did when I was six. I dont know how she knew then, but she did.
And she knows now.
Her expression evokes the same awful guilt, even though this time I did nothing. Which makes me feel even more guilty.
Sierra fills her coffee cup with marked carefulness. She begins to leave the kitchen, but just before she disappears around the doorway she flicks her head, gesturing for me to join her.
I stall. Ive got about five bites of now-soggy cereal in the bottom of my bowl, and I lift them to my mouth slowly. But I cant put it off longI have to leave for school soon.
Sierra is waiting for me just outside her bedroom door. This is why you were asking questions yesterday, isnt it?
Theres no point in denying it.
You didnt tell me you actually saw it. I assumed you fought. Even though her voice is soft, I can tell shes angry. Angry that I didnt confide in her? Maybe.
I did fight! To my dismay, tears are starting to build up in my eyes. I didnt expect it to actually happen so soon. I wasnt ready. I fought so hard, I continue, pleading now. It was different from anything Ive ever experienced before. I couldnt stop it.
She stares at me for a long time, but then her eyes soften and she simply says, I wish youd told me.
Why? I shoot back. Not mad exactly, but very helpless. So you could do something? Her jaw tightens but I continue. What good would it have done to tell you?
Sierra looks down the hall toward the kitchen where I can hear the news continuing about the murder. She steps close and lays a hand on my shoulder. Charlotte, the life of an Oracle is very solitary; were lucky to have each other. Please dont push me away because I have high expectations of you. I dont think you failedthese things happen. But that means its time to be even more vigilant.
Her steady gaze makes me weirdly nervous and I pull out my phone and light up the clock on my home screen. I gotta go.
After getting dressed, I walk into the kitchen and pick up my set of house keys from the basket beside the back door. Surprisingly the soft jingle is what finally distracts Mom from the gruesome scene on the screen. Where are you going? she says in a rather irritated tone.
I blink at her, confused. School?
Her hair looks almost wild around her face as she shakes her head. You cant go to school today.
Why not? The words are out of my mouth before I realize how stupid they are. Of course my mother is worried about my safety; a teenage girl whos in a couple of my classes just got murdered on school grounds.
She doesnt know that Im completely safe.
Its kind of an open secret among Oracles; we all know how were going to die. Or, like me, we dont yet because its too far in the future. The more personal a foretelling is, the harder to fight off. And nothing is more personal than ones own death. I managed to get that tidbit out of Sierra once when I asked why she didnt try to change her own death in the vision we both saw when I was six. But then she clammed up and wouldnt tell me anything else.
Ive never had a foretelling about myself. Im pretty sure that means my death is years and years and years in the future. My lonely, eccentric future.
And that means Im safe today. But Mom doesnt know that.
I know this is awful, I say, but I have a test in trigonometry today. I have to go.
Mom fixes me with a dry look. I have a feeling the test is going to be postponed.
As though she can control the television, the silence between us fills with a voice announcing, Due to the fact that William Tell High School is a crime scene that has not yet been released by the police, classes have been canceled. Principal Featherstone hopes to open campus as early as Monday, but until then, please keep your teenagers home, where theyre safe.
Canceled or not, a quick shot from the news camera shows that the teenagers of Coldwater, Oklahoma, are certainly not at home. The football field fence is lined with students and adults alike, most in tears as they watch from behind bright yellow barriers of police tape fastened across the chain-link.
The police havent released the name of the victim yet, the news reporter continues, catching my attention again. Only that it was a female teenager. She indicates the crowd of people, many on their phones. You can imagine the panic these kids must be feeling as they call and text their friends and wait anxiously for responses. For channel six, this is But I tune her out; I dont care what her name is.