Read Online Farsighted (Farsighted Series) by Emlyn Chand - Free Book Online
Authors: Emlyn Chand
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Alex,” Simmi says. “There you are. I was worried when you didn’t return after lunch. Is…” she hesitates and starts again. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s okay,” I say, motioning my head toward Miss Teak. “She already knows what happened.”
Simmi comes up behind me and runs her fingers idly along the top of my chair, causing my heart to flutter. “What did happen, Alex?”
“Nothing,” I say, wondering how I can avoid telling her about what I witnessed and also avoid lying to her. “I just, uh, heard something that wasn’t there.” I clear my throat, trying to break her focus from my lunchtime episode.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she presses again.
“Cross my heart.” I make the corresponding gesture—Mom taught me this one when I was a little kid.
“That’s good to hear,” Simmi says, tapping my shoulder.
Although Simmi only touched my shoulder for a second, a spot of warmth continues to pulse from the place where she made contact—a soothing, comforting flow of reassurance and strength.
“I brought you the notes and work from our afternoon classes. You missed lab,” she says, placing a few scattered pages onto the table in front of me.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be there tomorrow, promise.”
“You better,” she teases. “Hey, I think your mom was looking for you. She wasn’t sure where you had gone.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Miss Teak.” I project my voice to make sure she hears. I’m not sure where she went when Simmi entered the shop. “I’ve got to go.”
“Yes, you’d better if your mother’s looking for you. We wouldn’t want her to worry,” Miss Teak says from her place against the wall a few feet away. “Be here tomorrow,” she says—an order, not a question.
Chapter 5
The traveler’s path will intersect with another’s. Like it or not, he must carry forth with his new companions. He may even learn of a better route by following their lead.
The next day, Mom decides to open shop early, which means Dad will be driving me to school. I get ready slowly in my feeble attempt to delay the inevitable. All the while, I’m thinking about Miss Teak, Simmi, and even Shapri a little bit. They all came into my life at the same time these strange hallucinations first occurred. Is this just a coincidence? How do I know Miss Teak isn’t manipulating me in order to get me to carry out some of her psychic dirty work? What would psychic dirty work even entail? I shiver, as I so often do when thinking about Miss Teak.
“Alex, get over here, or you’re going to be late for school,” Dad yells from across the house.
I groan and lace up my boots so quickly I miss a hole. “Coming,” I yell back, grabbing my cane, my backpack, and my jacket—the season’s just beginning to change, so I’m not sure whether I need the extra layer or not. I’d rather be hot than cold, so I sling the jacket over my shoulder as I rush down the hall.
“Let’s go,” Dad says, as I bound into the kitchen. “What took you so long?” he snarls.
Well, if not himself lately, at least Dad’s being consistent—consistently a major jerk. I ignore his question and open the fridge to grope about in the door searching for one of Mom’s diet breakfast drinks. My hand lands on the thickly insulated can. I pull it out of the fridge, give it a quick shake, and flip the tab. I take a drink and gag. This is the cardboard vanilla flavor, not the okay-tasting chocolate I had hoped for. Why does Mom even buy the vanilla? Yuck. I’ve either got to finish this or have nothing for breakfast, so I use my fingers to hold my nose and down the whole disgusting thing in a single gulp.
“Can we go now?” Dad asks. Boy, he’s impatient today.
“Y-yeah,” I say, a bit nauseated. I drag my sleeve across my lips to remove any remaining liquid cardboard residue and follow Dad out into the driveway. He barely gives me enough time to close the van’s door before he accelerates, jolting
“It’s okay,” I say, motioning my head toward Miss Teak. “She already knows what happened.”
Simmi comes up behind me and runs her fingers idly along the top of my chair, causing my heart to flutter. “What did happen, Alex?”
“Nothing,” I say, wondering how I can avoid telling her about what I witnessed and also avoid lying to her. “I just, uh, heard something that wasn’t there.” I clear my throat, trying to break her focus from my lunchtime episode.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she presses again.
“Cross my heart.” I make the corresponding gesture—Mom taught me this one when I was a little kid.
“That’s good to hear,” Simmi says, tapping my shoulder.
Although Simmi only touched my shoulder for a second, a spot of warmth continues to pulse from the place where she made contact—a soothing, comforting flow of reassurance and strength.
“I brought you the notes and work from our afternoon classes. You missed lab,” she says, placing a few scattered pages onto the table in front of me.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be there tomorrow, promise.”
“You better,” she teases. “Hey, I think your mom was looking for you. She wasn’t sure where you had gone.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Miss Teak.” I project my voice to make sure she hears. I’m not sure where she went when Simmi entered the shop. “I’ve got to go.”
“Yes, you’d better if your mother’s looking for you. We wouldn’t want her to worry,” Miss Teak says from her place against the wall a few feet away. “Be here tomorrow,” she says—an order, not a question.
Chapter 5
The traveler’s path will intersect with another’s. Like it or not, he must carry forth with his new companions. He may even learn of a better route by following their lead.
The next day, Mom decides to open shop early, which means Dad will be driving me to school. I get ready slowly in my feeble attempt to delay the inevitable. All the while, I’m thinking about Miss Teak, Simmi, and even Shapri a little bit. They all came into my life at the same time these strange hallucinations first occurred. Is this just a coincidence? How do I know Miss Teak isn’t manipulating me in order to get me to carry out some of her psychic dirty work? What would psychic dirty work even entail? I shiver, as I so often do when thinking about Miss Teak.
“Alex, get over here, or you’re going to be late for school,” Dad yells from across the house.
I groan and lace up my boots so quickly I miss a hole. “Coming,” I yell back, grabbing my cane, my backpack, and my jacket—the season’s just beginning to change, so I’m not sure whether I need the extra layer or not. I’d rather be hot than cold, so I sling the jacket over my shoulder as I rush down the hall.
“Let’s go,” Dad says, as I bound into the kitchen. “What took you so long?” he snarls.
Well, if not himself lately, at least Dad’s being consistent—consistently a major jerk. I ignore his question and open the fridge to grope about in the door searching for one of Mom’s diet breakfast drinks. My hand lands on the thickly insulated can. I pull it out of the fridge, give it a quick shake, and flip the tab. I take a drink and gag. This is the cardboard vanilla flavor, not the okay-tasting chocolate I had hoped for. Why does Mom even buy the vanilla? Yuck. I’ve either got to finish this or have nothing for breakfast, so I use my fingers to hold my nose and down the whole disgusting thing in a single gulp.
“Can we go now?” Dad asks. Boy, he’s impatient today.
“Y-yeah,” I say, a bit nauseated. I drag my sleeve across my lips to remove any remaining liquid cardboard residue and follow Dad out into the driveway. He barely gives me enough time to close the van’s door before he accelerates, jolting
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