Sage's Eyes by V.C. Andrews Page B

before I could ask.
    â€œYou’re adopted,” he said as we walked. “Your past is a mystery, and with a mystery there are secrets. Right?”
    No , I thought. It’s not that simple anymore, not with what I do know .
    â€œIf I tell you something, Uncle Wade, will you keep it a secret, or will you tell them?”
    â€œI thought you didn’t like secrets.”
    â€œI don’t, but I’m not ready to reveal this one to my parents.”
    â€œOkay,” he said. “When you’re ready to reveal it, you will, or you will tell me to.”
    I reached for his arm. He turned to me, and I looked into his eyes. I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t tell them. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to help himself. “Forget it,” I said. “It was silly anyway.” I started to walk away quickly.
    â€œHey,” he said, coming up beside me. “I told you I wouldn’t tell them. Look,” he added when I didn’t stop walking, “if I do, you’ll know it, I’m sure, and you won’t tell me anything again. You’ll lose faith in me, and I don’t want that to happen.”
    I could see he was sincere. I didn’t quite understand it myself, but I feared that even if he didn’t tell them, they would know once it had traveled through his ears and taken up residence in his memory.Nevertheless, I realized now that I had to show him that I trusted him, or he would never trust me.
    â€œI think my parents know who my birth mother is. I’m not sure, but I suspect they even know who my biological father is,” I said.
    From the look on his face, I knew I had penetrated deeply into his mind, maybe even into his soul. He nodded. “You saw something to that effect in that opened file drawer, didn’t you?” he asked. “That’s why you wanted it to be closed so much. That’s why you could do it.”
    I didn’t answer.
    â€œAre you absolutely sure they don’t know you were in that drawer?”
    I shook my head. “Why? Did they say something about it to you, Uncle Wade?” I held my breath.
    â€œNo. Look, I’m not going to tell them. I swear. But for now, I wouldn’t push it, Sage. Whatever you saw and whatever they know, they will eventually tell you when they think you’re ready to know. Just try to trust them. Okay?”
    I nodded, and we walked on, neither of us speaking, but inside I was trembling.
    My parents looked up when we entered the room. I saw how they were studying Uncle Wade’s face. It was uncanny, like the three of them had a different way of communicating. Their thoughts didn’t need to be expressed in words. They traveled in magnetic waves among them, punctuated by a glint in their eyes, a blink, a slight movement in their lips. I felt hearing-impaired. All I could discern was static.
    â€œYour friend Ginny called,” my mother said. “She sounded troubled.”
    Oh , no , I thought. Was she canceling her party? I was so looking forward to it. I went up to my room to call her back.
    â€œHi,” Ginny said. My mother was right. I could sense unhappiness just in that one syllable. Was Uncle Wade right about me, too? I did have the third eye?
    â€œWhat’s happening?”
    â€œBummer,” she said, moaning. “My mother is making me invite Cassie Marlowe.”
    I stopped holding my breath. Why were all the girls my age so much more dramatic than I was? What was I missing? Practically everything that upset them was a major tragedy.
    Darlene Cork sounded like she would commit suicide because she had to travel to her paternal grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving this year. “It will be sooooo boring. And it’s three days!”
    Mia Stein had unknowingly gained four pounds and was going to fast for a week, hiding it from her parents by spitting her food into a napkin when they weren’t looking. If she didn’t lose the weight, she