Part 2 (1/2)
The statement was offered as a challenge, but Sarah ignored it.
”Morris,” she repeated. ”Yes, that's what it is-Morris. But there's something wrong with the letters. They keep s.h.i.+fting around. It's like they're not sure they belong there-as if there was a time when your name was something else.”
”I don't know what you're talking about,” the girl said nervously.
”Maybe I'm wrong. Things aren't always what they seem. If you did have another name, it was at a time when your smile looked different and your hair was darker.”
”What do you mean, *darker'?” Cindy demanded in a defensive voice. ”I'm a natural blonde.”
”Like I said, things aren't always what they seem,” Sarah said. Her eyes remained glued to the crystal sphere. ”The person I see in the gla.s.s is not the same as the person who is sitting across from me. In the gla.s.s I see past the outer sh.e.l.l into the soul. What I see is an insecure child in need of a friend. No, wait-she has a friend-someone-something ...” She leaned closer to the gla.s.s. ”She is hugging someone and gaining comfort, but it's not a flesh-and-blood person. It's too soft and cuddly to be a person. It's a ... doll!”
”So what else is new?” Cindy said. ”All girls have dolls when they're little.”
”Not like this one,” said Sarah. ”This doll has a distinct personality. She has an old-fas.h.i.+oned name. Her name ...” She paused for effect and then said softly, ”Her name is Dorcas.”
There was a long pause.
Then Cindy exclaimed, ”How did you know that?”
”I am Madam Zoltanne,” Sarah said as if that explained everything. ”Now the gla.s.s grows dim and the pictures fade. Peace be with you, and may the stars in the heavens watch over you.”
The girl left the tent, and Sarah drew a deep breath. She couldn't believe it had gone so well! For once her mother had been right; all her experience in high-school theater was paying off.
Cindy's place was taken by a little girl in a Minnie Mouse costume.
”That's Amy Albritton.” Kyra's voice spoke into Sarah's headphones. ”I sometimes baby-sit her. She's in second grade and has an older sister named Jennifer. She's a Sesame Street freak and watches it every afternoon. She's afraid of the dark, so her folks gave her a Big Bird night-light.”
Talking to Amy was easy, because the child had been so conditioned by television that nothing struck her as fantastic. Although Sarah mentioned her sister, Jennifer, by name and made a subtle reference to the night-light-”A big yellow bird watches over you every night”-Amy didn't seem too impressed. What she did respond to was Sarah's improvised description of what her life would be like as an adult when she appeared on screens throughout the country as ”a glamorous movie star.”
Amy went rus.h.i.+ng out of the tent, eager to share the news of her thrilling future with her mother. No sooner was she gone than a teenage girl took her place.
”This is cool!” she said. ”Cindy's right, you do look like a Gypsy. What can you read about me in that magic ball?”
Even as the girl spoke, Kyra was filling Sarah in on her.
”Leanne Bush is Cindy Morris's best friend. She dates Bucky Greeves, the captain of the football team, but he's got a crush on one of the other cheerleaders.”
It wasn't much to go on, but Sarah did her best.
”I see you with a boy-very strong physically-he's looking at you and smiling, and you're smiling back at him. But his eyes are gazing beyond you.”
”That's my boyfriend, Bucky,” Leanne said. ”You say he's looking past me? What's he looking at?”
”I can't quite see,” Sarah said. ”She's standing in the shadows.”
”It's Debbie!” Leanne exclaimed. ”I just bet it's Debbie Rice! What does she look like? Does she have thirty-eight-D b.o.o.bs?” She didn't pause long enough to get an answer. ”It is Debbie, I know it is. I've suspected it all along, but Bucky keeps saying I'm being ridiculous. That two-timing slime ball! He's no better than any of those other jerks! How long has this been going on?”
”I can't see anything now,” Sarah told her, a bit startled by the outburst. ”The ball has been emptied of visions. Peace be with you, and may the stars in the heavens watch over you.”
Leanne left the tent, visibly shaken, and from then on people arrived in a steady stream. No sooner did one leave the tent than another stepped in, and when the flap was pulled back, Sarah could see that there was a long line of prospective clients waiting their turns.
It was evident that people were busily spreading the word about the amazing Madam Zoltanne, because each client seemed to generate others. Bucky Greeves arrived with a chip on his shoulder, announcing that Leanne had sent him.
”She's p.i.s.sed off at me,” he said irritably. ”What kind of bull did you feed her?”
”I tell each person what I see in the gla.s.s,” Sarah informed him. ”Nothing more or less.” She realized to her amazement that she was actually enjoying herself. With only a few exceptions when she had to wing it because the costume concealed a wearer's ident.i.ty, she received feed-in from Kyra about everyone who entered the tent. Although she was glad for the information, Sarah couldn't help wondering about someone who knew so much gossip, especially family secrets, such as the fact that Cindy Morris was adopted.
She took Bucky by surprise by revealing her knowledge that when he'd had chicken pox at age five, his mother had sent him to kindergarten anyway and he had infected the whole cla.s.s; that he would have flunked first-year algebra if the coach hadn't pulled some strings to keep him on the football team; and that he was a heavy-duty pot smoker. She also let drop the name Debbie and watched his face turn crimson. He was immediately on his feet and out of the tent.
As Bucky exited, Kyra's voice said, ”The one who's coming in now is our paperboy. His name's Charlie Gorman, but behind his back everybody calls him Lard a.s.s. He's sort of like the cla.s.s clown. His mom is a bookkeeper or something, and his dad's a cripple. The guys on the football team found out the combination to his locker and last week they put a dead fish in it.”
By this time the boy was in the tent, easing himself into the chair across from Sarah. He was definitely overweight, and his extra chins were nestled one on top of the other like towels in a linen closet. Still, there was something likable about his face, and Sarah immediately decided not to mention the fish.
”I hear you tell great fortunes,” the boy said good-naturedly. ”So, what do you see for me?”
Sarah lowered her eyes and stared into the ball.
”Your name starts with an O,” she began, in repet.i.tion of the beginning of her fortune for Cindy Morris. ”No-wait-it's only half an O.”
”I'll save you the trouble,” the boy said. ”The name's Charlie. You may not have noticed, but I'm in your history cla.s.s, two rows over and three seats back. What I'm interested in is what do you see in my future?”
Kyra's voice fed in through the earphones. ”Tell him he'll be manager of a fish store.”
What a horrid girl, Sarah thought, feeling a surge of sympathy for the boy across from her. This poor guy had enough problems without having people continue to make fun of him after the joke was over.
She decided to give him a good fortune, something pleasant to look forward to, even if they both knew it was only a game.
”I see you on a cruise s.h.i.+p headed for Hawaii,” she said. ”You're dressed in a tux, and you're with a beautiful woman. It's obvious that you're very rich and successful. The orchestra's playing, and you and this lady are getting up to dance. You're-”
Something was wrong.
The globe on the table was no longer clear, it seemed to be filling with smoke that was twisting and turning within it, creating shadows that were superimposed upon shadows. In the midst of the smoke she saw the stocky figure of Charlie Gorman poised at the top of a flight of steps. A foot came out from behind him and snagged his ankle, and with a shout of surprise he pitched forward.
CHAPTER.
FOUR.
SARAH STARED INTO THE ball in silence, unable to believe what she was seeing. The figure in the gla.s.s waved his arms wildly in a desperate attempt to regain balance, clutching frantically at the air. Then he plunged down the steps with his arms thrust straight out in front of him and disappeared into the thick coils of smoke at the bottom of the globe.
”What is it?” Charlie asked. ”Is all that good stuff too exciting for you to handle?”
”It's-it's-” Sarah raised her eyes and focused upon the round, pleasant face across from her. In the dimly lit tent it was hard to see Charlie in detail, but she felt certain that he was the same person as the figure in the smoke.
Or had she seen anything at all? Perhaps her eyes had been playing tricks on her, as they had when she'd seen that flash of yellow in her mother's bedroom mirror. After all, she had been staring into the globe all night, straining to appear as if she were focusing on something.
She glanced back down at the ball. It was as clear as window gla.s.s. No smoke, no visions. Obviously her imagination had been working overtime, but the experience had been scary.