you—”
“No, Gammy,” the recently reclaimed childhood nickname spills so easily from her lips, “you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. You need a dress. And I know you need other things, too. Like warm clothes—winter’s coming.”
“I’m fine.”
“You can’t parade around here in flip-flops and T-shirts. The snow will be up to your waist before the year is out. Trust me.”
Calla laughs. “I’ll get boots and gloves and stuff. I promise.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t notice any of this before now. It’s not like I’ve never had a teenage girl in the house.” Her smile is bittersweet. “I guess I’ve been wrapped up in other things, as usual.”
Other things . . . meaning the Other Side. Even off season, Odelia is one of the most sought-after mediums in the Dale, constantly busy with readings for regular clients, conducting home message circles, participating in healing services, going to various meetings . . .
Even so, it’s not as though she’s much better off, financially, than Ramona.
In fact, only one local medium seems to be raking in a hefty income: David Slayton, Blue’s father.
“The homecoming dance is a pretty big deal, Calla . . . and I know you really like Blue, don’t you?”
“Um, sure.” But it’s suddenly Kevin’s face that’s flitting through her mind.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Gammy! Of course I like him. I’m going to the dance with him, aren’t I?”
The way her grandmother is peering at her through those glasses, Calla could swear she’s trying to read her thoughts.
Can she tell Calla is thinking about her lost love?
She hurriedly tries to push Kevin from her mind and winds up picturing Jacy instead.
He hasn’t necessarily been avoiding her at school, but he’s definitely kept a polite distance. There were a few times when she thought she could feel him watching her. But whenever she turned her head, he quickly looked away.
Whatever.
No—not whatever! You need him.
She really wanted to tell Jacy about the map indicating that spot in Leolyn Woods. So far, she’s been too busy—and all right, too chicken—to check it out.
Jacy’s the only one who could possibly understand and maybe have some insight. Calla was planning to corner him in the cafeteria at lunch, but he spent the whole time playing chess with Donald Reamer—whose father, Calla had noticed, was looking on, pleased.
“Listen, Calla, about the dance . . .”
She looks at her grandmother. “What about it?”
“Ramona had a suggestion. And it’s a good one. If you’ll go for it.”
“What is it?”
“It’s . . .” Odelia hesitates. “Come on. I’ll just show you.”
Curious, Calla follows her across the small second-floor hallway to her own room, which, like the rest of the house, is cluttered with belongings. Odelia’s packrat habits probably didn’t thrill Mom, either.
Watching Odelia open her closet door—and immediately duck as something topples off a shelf—Calla suppresses a smile and wishes, not for the first time, that she’d had the chance to discuss her grandmother with her mother. But Mom didn’t like to talk about Odelia, and she certainly never mentioned that she was a medium, much less that her hometown was filled with them.
Odelia’s closet is, not surprisingly, crammed from floor to ceiling. She’s wedged herself halfway inside and appears to be hunting for something.
“Here they are!” a muffled voice announces, and a moment later, she emerges with several plastic-shrouded hangers.
Calla eyes them dubiously. “What are they?”
“Your mother’s fancy dresses. Ramona told me all that vintage stuff is popular again, and she thought you might be interested.”
“In wearing one of Mom’s . . . ?” The room swims beyond Calla’s tears and her throat is once again clogged by that hard, painful lump that makes it almost impossible to push the words out. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“Oh, honey.” Odelia hugs
“No, Gammy,” the recently reclaimed childhood nickname spills so easily from her lips, “you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. You need a dress. And I know you need other things, too. Like warm clothes—winter’s coming.”
“I’m fine.”
“You can’t parade around here in flip-flops and T-shirts. The snow will be up to your waist before the year is out. Trust me.”
Calla laughs. “I’ll get boots and gloves and stuff. I promise.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t notice any of this before now. It’s not like I’ve never had a teenage girl in the house.” Her smile is bittersweet. “I guess I’ve been wrapped up in other things, as usual.”
Other things . . . meaning the Other Side. Even off season, Odelia is one of the most sought-after mediums in the Dale, constantly busy with readings for regular clients, conducting home message circles, participating in healing services, going to various meetings . . .
Even so, it’s not as though she’s much better off, financially, than Ramona.
In fact, only one local medium seems to be raking in a hefty income: David Slayton, Blue’s father.
“The homecoming dance is a pretty big deal, Calla . . . and I know you really like Blue, don’t you?”
“Um, sure.” But it’s suddenly Kevin’s face that’s flitting through her mind.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Gammy! Of course I like him. I’m going to the dance with him, aren’t I?”
The way her grandmother is peering at her through those glasses, Calla could swear she’s trying to read her thoughts.
Can she tell Calla is thinking about her lost love?
She hurriedly tries to push Kevin from her mind and winds up picturing Jacy instead.
He hasn’t necessarily been avoiding her at school, but he’s definitely kept a polite distance. There were a few times when she thought she could feel him watching her. But whenever she turned her head, he quickly looked away.
Whatever.
No—not whatever! You need him.
She really wanted to tell Jacy about the map indicating that spot in Leolyn Woods. So far, she’s been too busy—and all right, too chicken—to check it out.
Jacy’s the only one who could possibly understand and maybe have some insight. Calla was planning to corner him in the cafeteria at lunch, but he spent the whole time playing chess with Donald Reamer—whose father, Calla had noticed, was looking on, pleased.
“Listen, Calla, about the dance . . .”
She looks at her grandmother. “What about it?”
“Ramona had a suggestion. And it’s a good one. If you’ll go for it.”
“What is it?”
“It’s . . .” Odelia hesitates. “Come on. I’ll just show you.”
Curious, Calla follows her across the small second-floor hallway to her own room, which, like the rest of the house, is cluttered with belongings. Odelia’s packrat habits probably didn’t thrill Mom, either.
Watching Odelia open her closet door—and immediately duck as something topples off a shelf—Calla suppresses a smile and wishes, not for the first time, that she’d had the chance to discuss her grandmother with her mother. But Mom didn’t like to talk about Odelia, and she certainly never mentioned that she was a medium, much less that her hometown was filled with them.
Odelia’s closet is, not surprisingly, crammed from floor to ceiling. She’s wedged herself halfway inside and appears to be hunting for something.
“Here they are!” a muffled voice announces, and a moment later, she emerges with several plastic-shrouded hangers.
Calla eyes them dubiously. “What are they?”
“Your mother’s fancy dresses. Ramona told me all that vintage stuff is popular again, and she thought you might be interested.”
“In wearing one of Mom’s . . . ?” The room swims beyond Calla’s tears and her throat is once again clogged by that hard, painful lump that makes it almost impossible to push the words out. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“Oh, honey.” Odelia hugs
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