Crossed Out Page 3

  “Come on inside.” He motioned to one of the rooms in a corner.

  “This is weird,” I said, glancing around at the empty room. “Don’t you have someone who takes info and stuff?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I already talked to your mother.” He held his door open.

  His small office held the usual nondescript Monet-like painting, that I’m sure was meant to calm patients. Some framed diplomas hung by the desk. I didn’t recognize the university names. Must be back East or something. Books filled a built-in bookcase at the back. On his wooden desk, an assortment of candy filled a glass jar to the brim.

  Oddly enough, I saw no pictures of a family.

  I sat down on one of the green cushioned chairs. The backing felt good. Dr. Anthony walked around to his desk and sat down.

  “Would you care for one?” He held the jar out to me. A few Tootsie Rolls spilled out. “I keep them for the children but I have to confess I have a sweet tooth myself.”

  “No, thanks.” I glanced down at my watch. If I played this right I could leave and still have time to look around in one of the shops before catching up with Mom.

  “Okay, let’s get something straight. I know my Mom wanted this meeting. So I’m here. Now can I leave?”

  Dr. Anthony laughed. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Okay. Nada.”

  “You sure?”

  I sank further in the chair, wishing I could just disappear.

  “I heard last night you went to a friend’s house for a sleepover.”

  “Yeah, what about it?” Maybe if I acted indifferent he wouldn’t sense how scared I was of him knowing the truth.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Dr. Anthony said with a smile.

  “What’s to talk about? It was a lame sleepover. I can’t believe I went.”

  “But you did.” Dr. Anthony leaned back against his desk. “Why is that?”

  So he doesn’t know. Relief flooded my body.

  “I’m sure my mother told you everything. Anyway, nothing happened.”

  “Really?” He strummed his fingers together. Very annoying.

  I glanced around the room. Maybe if I didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

  “Hmm. I think you did do something. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Huh?” A cold feeling grabbed me.

  “I think you know what I’m talking about,” he continued. “Someone came to you, right? But you couldn’t help her.”

  My heart missed a beat. Did I hear him right? Oh, my God, does he know?

  I frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Stephanie, I’ll stop beating around the bush. Your mother did ask for this meeting. She’s concerned.”

  “All right. I did run out. But I can explain.” Then I stopped when his words came back to me.

  “Wait a minute, what do you know?” An image of a frantic Allison came to me. Did he know about that?

  “Look around and tell me what you see.”

  I turned my head and noticed the usual shrink stuff – books, boring painting, and—

  My eyes widened. It couldn’t be, could it?

  Dr. Anthony smiled. “Yes, Stephanie. I think we might have something in common.”

  “But....” I didn’t know what to say. The last time I had confided in my counselor about my visits from the dead, he had my parents send me to a psychologist who said I was delusional. Then came those horrible anti-depressants. Nasty stuff, I shuddered reliving the painful memory.

  But in the corner of his office, a battered wood beam stuck out.

  No way, he knows. My mind told me to get out of there but my body refused to move.

  “Yes, Stephanie.” Dr. Anthony got up and picked up the cross. “We have a little problem. Someone else knows about ‘our’ gift and wants to stop us. I was sent here to help you.”

  I looked at the door, frantic. Oh, please don’t let anyone be listening! I prayed that Dylan hadn’t followed me.

  “Don’t worry. No one knows about this.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I got up from the chair. “I’m leaving.”

  “Oh, no you aren’t,” Dr. Anthony said. He pointed back to the chair. “Sit down. We need to talk – now.”

  Boy, talk about pushy. Still, Dr. Anthony’s comment caught me off guard. Did he really share my gift? I had to admit I found it hard to believe.

  Why? Well, let’s just say that in the three years since my first visitation I had never encountered anyone else like me. I thought I was unique.

  The four corners of the small office closed in on me, making me woozy. I plopped down in the chair.

  My reaction seemed to satisfy Dr. Anthony. “Good,” he said. With a smile, he limped to his desk, favoring his left leg.

  The back of my legs itched something fierce. I rubbed them against the back of the chair.

  “Wait a minute.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Maybe I’ll have one of those Tootsie Rolls after all.”

  Dr. Anthony reached for the container on his desk and offered it to me. All thoughts of watching my weight flew out the door.

  I took six.

  I peeled the paper off one of the chocolates. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do you think I need help?” I ignored the slight tremor in my hands.

  “Stephanie.” Dr. Anthony pointed to my legs. “Don’t your legs itch every time you have one of your visits?”

  I dropped the candy.

  At the mention of ‘itch’ my eczema screamed in agreement. I dug my fingernails into my palms in an attempt to distract me from the insufferable itching.

  “How did you know about that?” I asked. “What else do you know about me?”

  “Let’s just say that you aren’t the only one.” He scratched at his left leg.

  Okay, this was creeping me out big time. How often does a complete stranger reveal your dark hidden secrets? Heck, even Barbara, our neighborhood psychic, couldn’t do that. Unless of course....

  “Are you are a rescuer too?”

  Dr. Anthony chuckled. “Is that what you call it? A rescuer? Interesting title.” He drummed his fingers together. “Yes, you could call me that.” He turned his head and glanced out the window. A faraway look came over his boyish features. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was reliving his own glory days of rescuing – helping poor misguided spirits, glimpsing into Heaven – things that a counselor would so love to have.

  But something about this so-called counselor bothered me.

  I pointed to the cross in the corner of the office. “I don’t understand.” I scrunched my face in confusion. “How did you know?”

  Then another equally terrible thought came to me. This must be some kind of shock therapy. If so, this wasn’t funny.

  “I understand that you feel alone,” Dr. Anthony said, all the while his glance remaining firmly on me.

  “Okay, this is creeping me out big time. I’m not nuts, okay? I just happen to like to make crosses.”

  “That you use to help the deceased find the other side.” Dr. Anthony smiled. “Yes, I know.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell that to my mother. She’s the one who really thinks I’m wacko. As if decorating a cross is bad. Jeez, you’d think I was making guns or something.”

  Dr. Anthony swiveled his chair to face me. “There’s a lot that others, who don’t have our gift, don’t understand. But the drawings on this cross are more symbolic than anything else.”

  Yes, I understood where he was coming from.

  But that didn’t mean I had to share the visitation of Allison with him. I don’t know why but I hoped she’d come back and help me. Unless....

  I stared back at Dr. Anthony. No longer did he seem so friendly. Could he be the evil Allison had warned about?

  “Stephanie, I’m more of a guide, someone who’s sent to hel
p.”

  “A guide?” I jumped to my feet. “I don’t need a guide. I’ve done well enough without any help from you.”

  “Oh, you have?”

  “Hey, I never asked for this ... this calling, or whatever it’s called.”

  “Believe me, Stephanie, none of us with this ability asked for it.”

  “Why did you decide to come now? Where were you three years ago? It would have been nice to have someone who actually believed me then.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “I do understand.”

  This held me there even though I wanted so much to walk out of his office. I didn’t normally trust anyone. But – I don’t know – what if Dr. Anthony knew about my embarrassing encounter with the last psychologist and was empathetic to my plight?

  Besides, my mother was waiting for me at Starbucks. I couldn’t just arrive at the coffee house early without my mom becoming suspicious. No. Not good.

  So I decided to give him a chance. Maybe staying would help me score some points for all the times I had skipped out of after school newspaper meetings, faked being sick, or worse yet, my recent failure to release one of the spirits toward the light.

  And maybe he could make sense out of the whole Allison thing.

  I sat back down.

  Dr. Anthony smiled. “Good. Let’s start again.”

  He settled back into his chair. “Did the spirit who appeared to you last night give you any clues to the site of her murder?”

  “Yeah, I mean, no, she hasn’t shown me any hints.” I slumped in my chair, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t get a chance to check the paper for any missing people, either.”

  “Did you see anything strange or out of the ordinary at Hillary’s house?”

  “Did Hillary’s mom talk to you?” The words slipped out of my mouth.

  “No, was she supposed to?”

  “Um....” I squirmed in my chair. “No, I mean, I don’t think so.”

  “What did you see, anyway?”

  Jeez! What kind of power did this man have? I couldn’t believe how the words seemed to stumble out of my mouth.

  “Uh, some lady in the mirror....”

  “In a mirror?” Dr. Anthony’s eyes widened. “Were you girls playing with something you shouldn’t have?”

  “Oh, no,” I lied. “We didn’t use one of those Ouija Boards.” I twirled a piece of hair around my finger. “I’m not that stupid.”

  “Okay. Can you just tell me what you saw?”

  Did I detect a bit of impatience in the counselor? Good, maybe he was human after all.

  “Well, a lady appeared in Hillary’s bathroom mirror and asked me for help.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it. End of story.”

  “Hmmm....” Dr. Anthony drummed his fingers.

  Then he stopped and stared. Eww! Not a good feeling. I fidgeted.

  “Stephanie, we need to find out more about this spirit who came to you. You see, someone else is interested in her, but not for the same reasons we are.”

  That’s what Allison had said! The uncomfortable feeling came back.

  “What do they want to do with her?”

  Once more I saw the pulsating box and the gray wisps that surrounded the woman, until nothing remained. Only one thing could do something like that. And it wasn’t good. My skin crawled just thinking of this being – a form of evil – that apparently had my number.

  Now I knew I’d be sick.

  “I have something to share with you, Stephanie.” Dr. Anthony got up from his chair and made his way to a back closet. Opening the door, he reached in and removed something bulgy covered with a cloth.

  Omigod! My hand flew to my mouth in horror and disgust. Large brown stains caked the once-white fabric. A broken piece of a wooden cross stuck out. Bile lodged in my throat, threatening to spew forward.

  I didn’t wait to see more, I ran from the room. All it took was one glance at the bloody cross cradled in his hands and I was history. I didn’t want to know what was under that cloth.

  I expected to get struck down by God or the heavenly guardian who was in charge of taking care of disrespectful teenagers like me.

  Everything Dr. Anthony had shared with me seemed so unbelievable. I knew what he was talking about. A demon.

  Talk about too much information.

  Thank goodness Dylan had left. I couldn’t deal with him right now.

  Now that I had fled the office, I found myself with a major problem. Should I accept his help or go on like I’d always done? No, that wouldn’t work. Allison had tried to warn me about something too, but what?

  I decided to do nothing. For all I knew, this new counselor was in league with the nameless demon.

  I had to admit, it was weird how Dr. Anthony popped up just before my experience at Hillary’s house.

  And to top this off, Dr. Anthony expected me, even when he knew what I’d been through, to suddenly open up and trust him?

  Like I said before, I’d done fine on my own.

  I ran down the corridor. I had to get out of there or else I’d scream!

  “Stephanie!” I heard Dr. Anthony call for me, but I ignored him.

  The glass doors came into sight. Finally. A few steps more and I could put my weird experience with the counselor behind me.

  As soon as the cool air hit me, my eyes misted. Life was so unfair. I wished I could find Dylan. Sure, he’d drill me on what was going on and ask why I’d run out of a building like a crazy person. Deep down inside I had the feeling he wouldn’t roll his eyes or make fun of my gift if I confided in him.

  But if I was right and Dr. Anthony was hinting about a demon wanting a piece of me, well, I sure didn’t need Dylan getting mixed up in it.

  His ability to sense bad things around people might get him hurt. And that wasn’t an option.

  Oh, why couldn’t my life be like a radio station so I could just turn the station to something more upbeat and happy?

  Chapter 4

  The day I dreaded, arrived. Monday. And I had less than forty-eight hours to do my job – find this spirit, from Hillary’s mirror who wandered between the world of the living and the recent dead, and help her to the light. So far, I had been unsuccessful contacting her.

  And oh yeah, did I say it was Monday – another school day? Humiliation right around the corner. I shuddered at the memory of knocking Hillary on her rear, leaving Cura behind without explanation, and running out of the house.

  Don’t even get me started on the whole counselor fiasco either.

  Mom hadn’t even batted an eye when I showed up at Starbucks after that so-called counselor freaked me out. Strange considering she’d been so big on me going to begin with.

  Anyway, no way was I going back. I had other things to worry about. Like what would be everyone’s reaction at the school once they’d read Hillary’s text message about the other night?

  With this troubling thought, I made my way to my locker. As I passed, a few of the overhead fluorescent lights blinked on and off. Just great. Was this foreshadowing of what my day would be like? I pictured eggs dripping and sliding down my locker over the words ‘Loser! Freak!’

  But as my sneakers announced my arrival to that row of banged up tin containers, only decals, graffiti, and a lip-locked couple greeted me.

  A surge of relief flooded my body. Maybe nothing would happen. I so didn’t want to have to deal with Hillary and her wannabes. I had too much on my plate – a wandering spirit and an odd counselor with a fondness for bloody cloths.

  At the moment, I think I preferred the anonymous spirit. Blood always made me queasy.

  I opened my locker and grabbed my English book. I loved my class but hated all the grammar stuff that went with it. Who really cared whether to use a colon or semicolon?

  The whiff of Bath & Body Works Mango Mandarin Eau de Toilette gave Cura away. She always bathed herself in the stuff. I tried hard not to sneeze.

  Cura walked up to the lockers. “Steph, wh
y did you leave Hillary’s place like that?”

  “Ah….” I rammed my book into my backpack. A few papers flew out. “I didn’t feel good?”

  “You could’ve texted me.”

  I couldn’t believe Cura’s mother was part of Mom’s sorority pact. Now, if most of the others, including Hillary, were like Cura, then I’d have no problem wanting to belong. Out of all them, Cura had refused to believe the rumors about me being loco. After the other night, had her opinion of me changed?

  My earlier sick feeling came back. I didn’t want to lose Cura’s friendship. But another equally strong feeling overpowered me.

  Yeah, some friend I am. I can’t even share what I really do.

  I really wanted to think she’d not flake out on me but after the disastrous evening at Hillary’s house, I didn’t want to chance it.

  I felt like crap. “I’m sorry, okay.” I put on my best puppy-dog look. It worked every time. “Forgive me?”

  Cura pouted. “I shouldn’t, you know. You should’ve heard Hillary’s mom and Mrs. Jones. Boy, talk about a piss fest. And what happened in there, anyway?” She leaned over. “You know…the mirror?”

  “It broke. It was a stupid accident. Mom’s making me pay for it.”

  Cura stared at me. “Sometimes I don’t get you.”

  A sinking feeling hit me. I really wanted to confide what really happened, but I wondered if she’d freak out on me like Hillary did three years ago with my revelation about Allison.

  “I’m sorry, Cura. I really feel bad. Let’s say I treat today. One large diet cherry Coke and a half order of skinny fries. Okay?”

  “Well, all right.” Cura smiled. Then her eyes widened. “Hey, check out that guy.”

  “Jeez, Cura,” I said. “Talk about a one track mind.”

  “No really, take a look.”

  A really cute guy walked toward us. Long dark hair framed the most amazing blue eyes. It didn’t hurt that he was really buff too.

  Cura leaned toward me. “He’s sure hot. You’ve seen him before?”

  I shook my head. “He must be new.”

  “Hey,” Cura whispered. “Bag the Coke and fries. I’d like an order of that.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  At that moment the back of my thighs itched. Great! I thought. Talk about making a good first impression.