Don't Even Think About It (15 page)

When Cooper walked into world history, he looked for a spot that was Espie-free. He tried to avoid us whenever he could. He couldn’t stand our sympathy.

He saw an empty seat in the back corner and took it. The only one of us who was nearby was one of the twins, Dave—but he was a few seats away. Hopefully there would be enough interference between them that Dave wouldn’t be able to hear him.

The sympathy was everywhere. In the halls. In the cafeteria. In class. All from us Espies. We knew everything.

By the time Cooper’s dad had come home on Sunday night from Chicago, Cooper had convinced himself that the truth couldn’t be as bad as he feared. His mom was probably imagining the affair. She was tired and lonely and that was it.

But then they sat down for dinner. “How’s everything going?” his dad had asked, his voice booming across the table.

The four of them were sitting at the kitchen table, eating takeout sushi from Whole Foods.

“Everything’s okay,” Cooper lied. He certainly wasn’t going to tell his parents about the ESP thing. He wasn’t ready to talk about Mackenzie either. He wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t tell them that she’d cheated on him. His parents were good friends with her parents. His whole family was going to her Sweet.

Halfway through the meal, Cooper’s dad took out his iPhone and scrolled through his messages.

Ooh, from Mandy,
he thought.

Cooper’s spine straightened.

I miss you already,
his dad read.
When can I see you again?
His dad took a break for some tuna tartare and then typed back,
Wednesday at one. I’ll book a room at the Westin. Wear what I bought you at La Perla.

Cooper almost vomited his edamame.

“Can you put the phone away?” his mom asked.
He couldn’t be reading his whore’s emails right at the dinner table, could he?

He could,
Cooper wanted to say.
He is.
But Cooper kept quiet.

“It’s family time, family time, family time,” Ashley sang. “Then can I watch
Cinderella
?”

“I don’t think so,” his mom said. “It’s late.”

I’ll ask Daddy. He never says no.
“Daddy, can I watch
Cinderella
after dinner?”

“Sure, honey,” he said absentmindedly.

“Yay! I love you so much!”

Way to undermine my authority,
Cooper’s mom thought.
This is exactly what I told Newton about.

Newton? Who was Newton? Was his mom having an affair too?

“Can I have cookies after dinner?” Ashley asked.

His mom sighed.
I can’t believe I thought having Ashley would save our marriage.
“One,” she said.

“Two!”
Twoooooooo.

Save their marriage? Before the ESP Cooper hadn’t realized their marriage was in trouble.

We think Cooper must have been walking around with serious blinders on. Even Mackenzie suspected their marriage was in trouble. Cooper’s mom and dad always looked vaguely pained to be in the same room.

That night after his parents went to bed, Cooper looked through his mom’s Internet history and found out who Newton was.

One of Manhattan’s top divorce lawyers.

His father was having an affair and his mother was suing for divorce.

He didn’t tell his mom that he knew about the affair. He didn’t tell his dad about the divorce attorney.

And he didn’t tell either of them that he and Mackenzie had broken up.

Because he missed her. He knew it was stupid. He missed her voice. He missed her smell. He’d had a crush on her since his cubby was next to hers in nursery school. He’d begged his parents to make playdates with her after school.

Did he have to lose her? He didn’t have a say in his family’s falling apart, but he did have a say in what happened between him and Mackenzie.

Cooper, don’t take her back, man,
Cooper heard, the thought immediately pulling him back to the present. He jumped in his chair and looked around the classroom. Dave was looking at him and shaking his head.
Don’t be pathetic.

Not only did we all have sympathy, but we listened to everything. And we all had opinions.

Cooper moved to an empty seat in the front of the room.

Olivia took a long sip of water. The carnival hadn’t even started yet and she was already exhausted.

“Is everyone ready?” Pi barked.

The doors to the gym opened in ten minutes. We all congregated at our Madame Tribeca fortune-teller booth. Adam McCall had an ear infection.

And Renée was sick.

“Sick?” Pi sounded incredulous. “She’s sick? She can’t be sick!”

Olivia nodded. “She texted me that she was barfing all night.” Olivia had resisted the urge to tell her friend that maybe she should have gotten the flu shot after all. Instead, she texted back:

You didn’t eat the chicken burgers, did you?

“We need someone to take over.” Pi looked around our group. “Olivia, you’re up.”

Olivia’s breath caught in her chest. No way. She did not want to play fortune-teller.
I can’t talk to that many strangers!

“That is a ridiculous reason,” Pi said. “You’ll be fine. Go get dressed.”

“Why me?” Olivia wondered.

“You’re the least likely to say something stupid.”

“But I don’t know what to do,” Olivia said, her heart racing. “Or say.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Okay, I guess. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Pi said. “Go inside the tent and put on your costume. The doors are about to open.”

The booth looked amazing. The twins had brought an old tent they used for camping and we covered it with dark purple scarves. A desk outside the tent was covered with a dark purple tablecloth. It was lined with lava lamps. We were going to charge five tickets per reading.

At Pi’s insistence, we divided the inside of the tent into two. In the main part, we taped up glow-in-the-dark stars, set up a small table, covered it with a midnight-blue scarf, and placed a crystal ball in the center. It wasn’t really a crystal ball—it was actually one of Levi’s old fishbowls. In the second part, we dragged over a chair for Pi to sit on while she helped Olivia.

After climbing inside the tent, Olivia put on the black robe and black wig that made up her costume and sat down, adjusting to make herself comfortable.

Pi came in a minute later and set herself up in the second compartment. Her goal was for no one to see her but for her to be able to help Olivia. First she unzipped the small mesh window above her head so she could continue to hear the words and thoughts of people outside. No reason for her to miss out on anything important that happened outside the tent. Then she set up the partition, which was an old brown sheet she duct-taped to the tent’s ceiling. She’d cut the sheet down the middle and she made sure it was a bit open so she and Olivia could hear each other and so she could hear the people in the booth.
I know Mackenzie said she could hear her parents through a wall, but I’m not sure I believe her,
Pi thought.

She can’t lie,
Olivia said.
We’d know.

So I guess you can hear me?

Yes.

Good. I’m here if you need me.
“We’re all set!” she hollered. “You can send in our first customer!”

The first person inside was a girl, probably around eleven years old. She was extremely pretty. She had shiny brown hair and big green eyes. Her mom, also gorgeous, bent to enter the tent behind her.

“Hello,” the mom said, sitting down. “My daughter wants her fortune told. This isn’t going to be scary, is it?”

“No,” Olivia said quickly. Her hands were shaking.

Say hello,
Pi told her.

“Hello,” Olivia said.

Use a spookier voice.

They don’t want me to be scary!

There’s no way you’re going to be scary. Just do it.

“Hellllllo,” Olivia said again. Instead of deep and mysterious, she sounded like a monkey.

The girl laughed. “Hi.”

The mom gave Olivia a fake smile. “So tell us what you see. I hope it’s good.” There was a warning to the mom’s voice.
She’d better be nice! I don’t want her freaking my kid out!

Olivia pretended to look deep into the crystal ball.
Now what?

Just make stuff up,
Pi said.

Olivia contemplated the ethics of what she was doing. What would happen when the things she promised didn’t come true? Wouldn’t they feel ripped off?

Olivia,
Pi thought.
They paid five tickets, each worth a dollar. They don’t really think you’re psychic.

Oh. Right.
“Is there anything specific you want to know?” Olivia asked.

The mom nodded. “Is my daughter going to be a famous pianist one day?”

Olivia didn’t need to be a fortune-teller to know what the right answer for that question was. “Yes,” she said. “Absolutely. It will take many years of toil and hardship, but she will one day become a concert pianist!”

Uch,
the daughter moaned.
I hate the piano.

Good,
the mom thought.
Maybe she’ll stop being lazy and start practicing again.

Olivia heard a small snort from Pi.

Olivia’s cheeks heated up and she looked back down at the crystal ball. “Hmm, maybe I misread it.”

The girl leaned toward the table. “You did?”

“Yeah. It’s, um, not piano.”

“It’s not?” she asked hopefully.

What are you doing?
Pi wondered.

“What is it?” the girl asked.

“It’s … um … it’s …” Olivia rubbed her temples. She was about to close her eyes to look like she was channeling something, but realized that wouldn’t help matters. She was listening hard and hoping that the girl would give something away.

The girl leaned even closer.
Is it the drums? Am I going to be a famous drummer?

Aha!

“I definitely see music,” Olivia said. “But it doesn’t appear to be the piano. It’s louder. It has more of a rhythm.”

The girl’s eyes widened.

“Yes!” Olivia cheered. “It’s the drums. You’re going to be a successful drummer … in a band! I think I see Grammys in your future!”

Olivia, didn’t I tell you not to use the telepathy to tell their fortunes?
Pi asked.
Were you not listening?

This is ridiculous,
the mom thought. “How did you know she wants to take drum lessons?” She turned to her daughter. “Did you tell her?”

You see!
Pi yelled.
She’s getting suspicious!

“I didn’t say anything, Mom! You were with me the whole time!”

Olivia gave a slight shake of her head.
Suspicious that I’m really psychic! Not that our homeroom has telepathy!

We agree with Olivia. Pi was being majorly paranoid.

The mom glared at Olivia. “Did she put you up to this? Do you two know each other?”

Olivia tried to look as innocent as possible. She shook her head. “We don’t. I swear.”

“Mom, the fortune-teller is amazing!” the girl exclaimed. “She really knows her stuff! Mom, ask a question about you!”

Ella was probably drumming her fingers against the table or something. That’s how the girl knew.

“So what about you?” Olivia asked the mother. “What would you like to know about your future?”

The woman just stared at her, her mind blank. Not helpful.

Olivia glanced at the woman’s wedding finger to see if she was still married.

She was.

Hmm.
“Any questions about the future at all?”

Blank.

“About your career?”

“I don’t work,” the mom said.

She doesn’t do anything,
Ella thought.
Except bug me.

Olivia pretended to look into the crystal ball.

Olivia looked up. “Even if you don’t have a paying job, I can see you’re going to be very busy this fall.”

No kidding,
the mom thought.
The Seaport committee is going to be the death of me. I don’t know why I agreed to help with the Winter Wonderland. Geena totally roped me in. What a time suck. And I’m not even her co-chair.

Aha! “It’s something to do with seasons,” Olivia began. “Summer … no, spring … no! Winter.”

I know I’m supposed to be mad at you,
Pi said,
but this is funny.

The Mom wasn’t even listening. Instead she was thinking,
I really need to fix my highlights. And get more Botox. Maybe I should just get a face-lift. Why not? Geena did it. She can afford it, though. Her husband is about to make a fortune with all his Tableau stock. I don’t know why Dave wouldn’t buy any. Insider trading-shmading.

Interesting,
Pi thought.
What stock did she say?

Tableau or something?
thought Olivia.
Why?

I want to write it down! I guess now that I’m sitting here I might as well be taking notes. Where’s my notebook?

“Anything else?” the girl prompted Olivia.

It had been a full minute since Olivia had spoken. She had to find something, stat. She peered into the crystal ball. She squinted to make it look more authentic. “I also see some major work being done in your future. Renovations, maybe?”

The mom’s jaw dropped.

Pi snorted.

“You’re doing something to your apartment? No. I don’t think it’s the apartment. I see your face featured very clearly.”

The mom touched the side of her face.
Holy moly. How did she know?
“Would you mind telling me, then, if, well, if the renovations look good? Are they worth doing?”
I do not want to end up with one of those stretched-out faces like Romy Brohman.

Olivia gazed back into the ball. “Honestly, you regret them. You wish you had left everything the way it was.”

The mom’s head bobbed up and down. “Thank you.”

Olivia smiled. “Any time.”

“You have really unusual eyes,” she continued. “Are they purple?”

“They’re colored contacts,” Olivia said quickly. She’d noticed they started turning that morning.

I should buy some,
the mom thought.
Cheaper than a face-lift
.

Maybe, Olivia thought. But they’re certainly not without baggage.

She wondered who was next.