eye roll emoticon or change the subject like I was a little kid who had just had a nightmare. I tried telling him once about the things I see, but he just hummed some spooky music until I hit him and told him to shut up. And then he laughed and held me tight and gave me an extra long kiss until I forgot all about Hootie and thought only about him.
I haven’t told Sarah about Hootie because I know it would just annoy her. Sarah used to think my Power was fun, and we’d have a great time talking about the other kids at school and their auras. About the things I could find out about them just by holding their hand or something that belonged to them. But lately she just shuts up when I try to talk about it, so I don’t go there. Last week she told me to grow up. That it was time I forgot about the Power ‘game’. As if I had a choice. I know she’s feeling the pressure of Year 12, so I didn’t get mad at her. Ever since the day in The Woods, though, things have been a little different between us.
There are plenty of people I call friends, but most think my Power is weird. That’s what I call it. My Power. It’s the thing that makes me different from other people. It’s not a great thing to have. It’s not like I can predict the lottery numbers or whether it’s going to rain on the night of the Formal. It’s more boring, like I know when the phone is going to ring just before it does. Or I’ll be thinking of someone who I haven’t seen for ages when suddenly I turn the corner and there they are.
Sometimes I’ll see things, out the corner of my eye, like a shadow moving quickly out of sight. I used to try and catch them in full view, but the shadows didn’t want to be seen and I gave up trying. I’m not sure what the shadows are. Spirits with a message from the next world? Demons? People from another time? They’re not sad, like the ghost of Catherine who haunted her true love, Heathcliff. If they were I would feel it. I don’t think they’re angry. More like, they’re waiting for a sign from me before they show themselves.
Sometimes I’ll feel uneasy. Like I’ve drunk a coffee with slightly-off milk. Or eaten a sushi roll that’s been sitting all day in the display cabinet. Then something bad will happen — like a tsunami in Asia or a landslide in a country that I’ve never heard of before — and the bad feeling goes away.
I’ve been feeling uneasy since that day in The Woods. I’ve tried to ignore it — it’s not like I have nothing else to think about. This year is full-on and I’m trying not to stress about it too much. I wasn’t going to do anything extra at school, but somehow I found myself on the committee for the Year 12 Formal. Sarah insisted. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life is that it’s useless to resist Sarah once she has made up her mind. As if she doesn’t have enough to do, Sarah decided to organise the Year 12 Formal and the next thing I knew I was on the committee with her, talking about which venue and what music and which table napkin colours — the silver or the gold?
Sarah is my best friend. She is so full of energy and bouncing goodness that sometimes it feels like being swept up in a tidal wave. Sarah is into everything. Schoolwork? Easy. Her parents definitely want her to be a doctor. She says she is going to be a doctor, but I look at Sarah and see a film director or one of those people that get to work at the United Nations or maybe even a politician. She’s on just about every committee at school and is passionate about saving the planet. If you’ve ever been annoyed in a shopping mall by a short, dark-haired girl handing out pamphlets or getting you to sign a petition, it’s probably Sarah.
Something big’s going to happen. I can feel it. It’s like the feeling in a room just before the light switch is flicked on and everyone yells ‘surprise’. There’s a buzziness about my body, like little atoms are shooting off me in excitement.
I haven’t told Sarah about Hootie because I know it would just annoy her. Sarah used to think my Power was fun, and we’d have a great time talking about the other kids at school and their auras. About the things I could find out about them just by holding their hand or something that belonged to them. But lately she just shuts up when I try to talk about it, so I don’t go there. Last week she told me to grow up. That it was time I forgot about the Power ‘game’. As if I had a choice. I know she’s feeling the pressure of Year 12, so I didn’t get mad at her. Ever since the day in The Woods, though, things have been a little different between us.
There are plenty of people I call friends, but most think my Power is weird. That’s what I call it. My Power. It’s the thing that makes me different from other people. It’s not a great thing to have. It’s not like I can predict the lottery numbers or whether it’s going to rain on the night of the Formal. It’s more boring, like I know when the phone is going to ring just before it does. Or I’ll be thinking of someone who I haven’t seen for ages when suddenly I turn the corner and there they are.
Sometimes I’ll see things, out the corner of my eye, like a shadow moving quickly out of sight. I used to try and catch them in full view, but the shadows didn’t want to be seen and I gave up trying. I’m not sure what the shadows are. Spirits with a message from the next world? Demons? People from another time? They’re not sad, like the ghost of Catherine who haunted her true love, Heathcliff. If they were I would feel it. I don’t think they’re angry. More like, they’re waiting for a sign from me before they show themselves.
Sometimes I’ll feel uneasy. Like I’ve drunk a coffee with slightly-off milk. Or eaten a sushi roll that’s been sitting all day in the display cabinet. Then something bad will happen — like a tsunami in Asia or a landslide in a country that I’ve never heard of before — and the bad feeling goes away.
I’ve been feeling uneasy since that day in The Woods. I’ve tried to ignore it — it’s not like I have nothing else to think about. This year is full-on and I’m trying not to stress about it too much. I wasn’t going to do anything extra at school, but somehow I found myself on the committee for the Year 12 Formal. Sarah insisted. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life is that it’s useless to resist Sarah once she has made up her mind. As if she doesn’t have enough to do, Sarah decided to organise the Year 12 Formal and the next thing I knew I was on the committee with her, talking about which venue and what music and which table napkin colours — the silver or the gold?
Sarah is my best friend. She is so full of energy and bouncing goodness that sometimes it feels like being swept up in a tidal wave. Sarah is into everything. Schoolwork? Easy. Her parents definitely want her to be a doctor. She says she is going to be a doctor, but I look at Sarah and see a film director or one of those people that get to work at the United Nations or maybe even a politician. She’s on just about every committee at school and is passionate about saving the planet. If you’ve ever been annoyed in a shopping mall by a short, dark-haired girl handing out pamphlets or getting you to sign a petition, it’s probably Sarah.
Something big’s going to happen. I can feel it. It’s like the feeling in a room just before the light switch is flicked on and everyone yells ‘surprise’. There’s a buzziness about my body, like little atoms are shooting off me in excitement.
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