Read Online Circle of Three by Patricia Gaffney - Free Book Online

the secret was right in this room—and a few minutes ago I didn’t even know there was a secret. Here was a way for me right now, I could get in early, not have to wait till I was twenty-one, twenty-five, thirty, to learn it.
    “This would be so great,” I said, trying not to bounce or yell or do anything stupid. “I’m very responsible. I have a Social Security number. I could work all day on Saturdays and Sundays.”
    “Well, I’m not open on Sundays.”
    “Oh.” I blushed, hoping I hadn’t offended her religious beliefs or something. “Do you want me to fill out a form or anything?”
    She shrugged, still cradling the cat. “I don’t know what it would be. A form? You could write down your phone number, I guess.”
    Mom was going to ask me a lot of questions. Like how much this job paid. But I didn’t know how to ask without sounding rude. I decided to tell Mom the minimum wage, and if it turned out to be more, that would just be even better.
    The bell above the door jingled, somebody came in. Krystal looked over but didn’t get up. She was a very laid-back shopkeeper. I already loved that about her. “Well,” I said, “Iguess I should go home. Thank you for the tea, it was very good. When do you think you would like me to start? I mean…” I blushed again. “Is it for sure? Are we doing this?”
    “Yeah! I have an excellent feeling about it, don’t you?”
    “I do! I really do.”
    “You know, I read auras, among other things. Yours is a sort of slate blue—today, anyway—and my cool greenish silver meshes perfectly. I know we’re going to get along great. You’re a…” She narrowed her eyes, studying me. “Aquarius—am I right?”
    “Cancer.”
    “I knew it, it had to be one or the other. I’m Pisces, which is water, too. Ruth Van Allen, we’re going to get along like two koi in a lily pond.”
    “Oh, wow.” I hugged my arms, thrilled.
     
    I woke up from a dream I have a lot these days, that I’m running for a train. It’s nighttime and very foggy, rainy, and I hear the train whistle blow and I start running toward the tracks. I have on my black jeans and my army green V-neck sweater—this is very important for some reason, what I’m wearing, because it never changes—and I start running along beside the train, which is going faster and faster. I reach out and grab for the cold metal handle, and whoosh , pull myself up, and the train picks up speed. I just hang there, feeling the wet wind in my face—and that’s the end. I have this dream constantly . Running in my black jeans and green sweater in the fog after a train.
    Then I couldn’t go back to sleep. I got up to get a drink, and heard the TV on downstairs.
    “Mom? You still up? It’s three-thirty.”
    “No, I’m not still up. I fell asleep, I just woke up.”
    I pretended to believe that. She stays up every night almost all night with the TV or the radio or the CD player on, and in the morning she pretends she’s just woken up. Then she sleeps all day. She still hadn’t gotten around to taking allthe Christmas decorations down. Not that she put that many up this year.
    “What are you watching?” I asked.
    “Nothing. A movie.”
    I made her move over so I could sit next to her on the sofa. All the lights were out except for the TV. She was huddled under a chenille throw Gram got her for Christmas, wearing one of Dad’s old gray Henley shirts and her nightgown. She looked terrible. “I can see that. What is it?”
    “Why are you up? You should be in bed.”
    “I’ll go in a sec.”
    “It’s James Stewart in Call Northside 777 . I thought it would be a Hitchcock, but it’s not.”
    “Who’s this guy?”
    “He’s in prison, he’s been in for eleven years for killing a cop. James Stewart’s a reporter who thinks he’s innocent and is trying to get him out.”
    I love watching old movies with Mom. It’s one of the best things we do together. That and going shopping and then having lunch in a