Read Online Free Spirits by Julia Watts - Free Book Online

It’s his. There’s so much anger—so much rage—it boils like hot lava. Looking at my mom, he thinks, With that black hair and the way she’s dressed I thought she might be a spic at first. But I don’t reckon she is, not with that red-headed, fair-skinned little girl. Guess if she’s not a spic, I won’t charge her double. Not like those greasy beaners over at the meat plant that want me to fix their thirty-year-old broke-down pickup trucks.
    Now his thoughts run all over the place. Pictures flash in my head: an American flag, a Bible held up in an old man’s knotty hand, a huge pot of beans with handfuls of pills being stirred into them.
    He’s the one. I don’t have one speck of proof other than what I just saw in his head, but I know it.
    When I come back into myself, Rick is saying,“No guarantees with a car this old, but I’m thinking we can probably get old Bessie patched up till she’s good for a few more thousand miles.”
    “That would be great,” Mom says. “So you think you can have it ready by the end of the week?”
    “Unless the parts are slow to ship, it shouldn’t be a problem,” he says. His tone is so pleasant and friendly, nobody would suspect how much hate is in his head.
    Once we’re out of the garage, Mom says, “What happened in there? When you shook his hand, it took you way too long to let it go. I could tell you were creeping him out, but at least he was nice about it. And he’s not charging me too much to fix the car.”
    “He’s not nice. I went into his head. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And I saw all kinds of ugly things.”
    Mom puts her arm around me as we walk toward home.“Poor baby. I’m sorry. People’s heads are full of all kinds of ugliness. When you’re older, it gets easier. You won’t just fall into people’s thoughts accidentally. You can choose when to do it.”
    I nod. I feel a little sick.
    “Did you see anything you need to talk about?”
    “No.” We’re passing in front of the Piggly Wiggly, and my eye catches the pay phone in the parking lot. “Would you mind if I called Adam for just a minute?”
    “That’s fine. I can wait for you.”
    After four rings Mrs. So answers, and I ask if Adam’s there. As soon as he picks up, I say, “Can you come over tonight after you get finished with your homework? You and Abigail and I need to talk.”

    Abigail and Adam are sitting on the floor of my room, looking at me like kindergarteners waiting for their teacher to tell them a story.
    “I know who did it,” I say. “Who tampered with the food at El Mariachi.” I remember the pictures in Rick’s head: the American flag, the Bible held up in an old man’s hand. They’re the same pictures that came into my head when I put my hands on the words spray painted on the front of the restaurant. “It’s the same person who wrote the graffiti.”
    “Well? Who is it?” Adam demands.
    “His name’s Rick. He works at A and S car repair. He’s probably in his sixties. He has long gray hair in a ponytail.”
    “What’s his last name?” Adam asks.
    It’s such an obvious question, but I don’t know the answer. “Wait. Mom’s got his business card. She put it on the fridge.” I run down the hall and down the back stairs to the kitchen.
    “Miranda!” Mom yells from the living room. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah,” I say, reading the card: Rick Boshears, Certified Mechanic. “I just came down for some juice.” I open the fridge door so she can hear me, then close it.
    As I start back up the stairs, Mom yells again, “Miranda, I don’t have to look into your head to know you’re up to something. Be careful, okay?”

Chapter 11

    Adam and I are in his room, with sodas and a bowl of microwave popcorn Mrs. So brought us. I’m standing behind Adam’s desk chair, looking over his shoulder while he types on the computer. A poster of Bela Lugosi is hanging on the wall behind me and a big inflatable Godzilla is propped in the corner. I feel like