Payback Read online

  “TGIF!” shouts Olivia as she sticks out her hand too.

  “It feels almost like summer,” I say as the light turns green.

  “Do you realize there’s less than two months of school left?”

  “Yeah…my mom was just asking me what I plan to do for summer vacation.”

  “I told my mom that I wanted to go to Europe last night, and she said no way unless she went with me.”

  “That would be okay, wouldn’t it?” Once again I try not to feel envious of my best friend. I actually think it’s very cool that Olivia’s mom likes doing things with her daughter. I guess I just wish my mom could be more like that. Even with Steven in the picture, I wish she wanted to take time away from him so she and I could do more things together. But there I go being selfish again.

  “I guess…” Olivia sighs loudly. “But going to Europe with your mom seems a little lame.”

  “Better than not going at all.”

  “I suppose. And if Mom goes, at least we’ll stay in nice places, eat good meals, and do some great shopping.”

  “That sounds way too fun.”

  “Why don’t you come too, Sam?”

  “I wish…”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing I can’t afford it. But also I’m secretly hoping I can work with the police a little more this summer.”

  “Have they asked you?”

  “No…but it would sure beat working at the day care again. Not that I don’t like those little rug rats, but doing police work is way more interesting, and now that Ebony has given me some special training and I have this car, well, it’d be fun to put it all to better use.”

  I pull into the school parking lot, and as we get out of the car, I notice a blond girl who reminds me of the one in my dream. “Hey, look. Do you know who that is?”

  Olivia peers at the girl getting out of a small white car. ‘Yeah, that’s Laura Temple. She’s in my chem class.”

  “By any chance does she have three piercings in her left ear?”

  Olivia laughs, then gets a somber expression. “I don’t know…but I can check.”

  We wait as the girl slowly walks toward us, but as she gets closer and I can see her face more clearly, I know she’s not the girl from last night’s dream. “Never mind,” I say to Olivia as we start walking toward the school. “It’s not her anyway”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “It’s just not. The girl in my dream was strikingly pretty. Not that Laura’s a dog or anything, but she’s just not the same girl, okay?”

  “What if she has those same earrings?” teased Olivia.

  “Then I’ll reconsider.”

  “Hey, Sam,” calls Jack as we walk across the street. He’s having what I’m guessing is his last before-school cigarette.

  “What’s up?” I pause and smile at him. I know that he’s still getting over Felicity’s death. I think we all are. But in some ways Jack’s opened up since all that happened. Or maybe it’s just that more people started reaching out to him and he realized he still has friends.

  “Not much,” he says as he blows out a puff of smoke. “Nice day, huh?”

  “Totally,” says Olivia. “Will you be at band practice tomorrow?”

  “Uh-huh.” He nods and takes in a long drag.

  “I’ll see ya there,” Olivia says as we head into the building.

  “Catch ya later,” I call. “Don’t be late for class, Jack.” I hear his sarcastic laugh as I go inside, and I can tell he’s thinking, Yeah, sure, Since when do I care? But I hope he’ll start caring. I hope he’ll begin to see that his life has more value than just hanging and acting tough. Still, he’s made some progress. And he’s talking to us. That’s worth a lot.

  Olivia and I part ways, and as I navigate the crowded halls, I keep my eyes peeled for a pretty blonde with three piercings in one ear. And while I see girls who sort of fit the image, I already know and recognize these girls, and it’s obvious that none of them is the one from my dream. More and more I am convinced that my dream is not about our school. And maybe it’s not even a prom. It could be a wedding or some other formal occasion.

  After Creative Writing, I call Ebony and quickly explain the dream to her. When she asks for more details, I pull out my notebook and read the whole thing to her. “My first guess is that it’s a prom,” I finally tell her, “But I suppose it could be a wedding or something.”

  “Okay, let’s start with the first possibility. If it’s a prom, do you think it’s your school? Was it the Brighton High prom?”

  “I don’t know…The girl and guy were totally unfamiliar.”

  “When is your prom?”

  “The second weekend of May.”

  “That’s almost a month out.”

  “I know…”

  “But if it’s not Brighton’s prom, it could be sooner.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  “Well, this is helpful for starters,” she says. “How about I do some initial research on who’s having proms and where and when and you come by after school so we can kick it around some more? Okay?”

  “Sounds good.” I hang up and think how much I like working

  with Ebony. It’s ironic that she used to be Dad’s partner. But I suppose that’s part of the reason she gets me. Also, she seems to understand my gift. And she’s a Christian. All in all, I feel really blessed to know her—and to work with her.

  “Hey, Sam,” says Conrad as he catches me on my way to Journalism. “What’s up?”

  “Not much.”

  “Want to go out tonight?”

  “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, Alex said that Olivia suggested a movie. But not a chick flick, I hope.”

  “Oh yeah,” I tease. “I heard it involves lots of designer clothes and killer shoes, not to mention giggling and chocolate, and I think there’s an over-the-top wedding and—”

  “Come on, Sam.” His pale brows pull together in a slight frown.

  I wink at him. “Actually, I think you’ll like it.”

  “Cool.” He smiles in relief, then waves as he takes off.

  “Later,” I call out as I watch him jogging down the breezeway, trying to beat the bell. His long lanky form topped by that curly red hair looks slightly comical from here. I chuckle to myself, then turn and go into the classroom, where whatever seemed humorous suddenly evaporates.

  I still get jolted by the loss of Felicity every time I walk into Journalism. We had this class together, and I’d been trying to get to know her—I’d actually been making progress. There was no denying the girl was definitely a misfit, but she was also interesting and intelligent. Too smart, I’d hoped, to be involved in the kind of crud she’d been involved in. Then, even when I tried to warn ‘her, actually telling her of my vision, she had refused to listen or to take me seriously

  At first I blamed myself for her death…but I’m slowly coming to grips with it. I realize that God uses all sorts of stuff to guide us and to warn us, but it’s up to us to pay attention, to heed the signs, and to respond accordingly Felicity refused to do that. Now she’s dead. Still, it’s sad. Very, very sad.

  Thinking of Felicity makes me even more determined to uncover what last night’s dream was about—and who was in danger. I just hope I figure it out in time to prevent another death. I don’t think I can bear to see someone else getting hurt. So I shoot up a quick prayer, once again asking God to help me, to guide me…asking that I’ll be tuned in to hear Him.

  I can’t imagine how I would deal with my life without God. These visions and dreams would probably drive me seriously crazy—straight to the loony bin. But knowing that they come from Him and that He has the answers makes all the difference. Consequently I am able to focus on my classes for the better part of the day. And I nearly forget about those hard-to-understand things like dreams and visions until the school day is almost done.

  I’m on my way to my last class, which is Art, whe
n something stops me. Because the art building is separate and a good distance from the Social Studies department, where I’ve just been, I’m hurrying across a mostly deserted walkway. But as I turn a corner, something catches my attention in the covered walkway ahead. So I slow down to see what it is. But as I look, I experience that familiar flash of light—my clue that what I’m seeing isn’t really there. I stand still and continue to watch, focusing as much with my inner vision as with anything else.

  At first I think I see a group of five or six guys just messing around. But then I realize the group is picking on a smaller guy. He’s your average-looking kid, dressed in ordinary sort of clothes, and he’s wearing glasses. He’s now being pushed and shoved back and forth, and I briefly wonder if it’s my friend and lab partner, Garrett Pierson. But then I get a closer look and realize it’s not him. This kid has sandy-colored hair that’s sort of wavy. I see a glimpse of his face, and he seems angry at first, but then he becomes seriously frightened as the bullies get rougher with him.

  If this was actually happening in real life, I wouldn’t hesitate to run over there and yell at those stupid thugs. I’d tell them they were big cowards and bullies, and somehow I’d make them stop. But it’s not really happening. At least not right now. Not right here. It’s a vision, and as a result I have no control. I simply stand there and watch as one of the bullies lands his fist right in the victim’s face, resulting in a bloody nose. A few more hits, kicks, and punches. Then they all laugh and take off running.

  Just like that the whole thing vanishes. Now you see it, now you don’t. Even so, the adrenaline is still pumping through me, and my heart is pounding like I’ve just sprinted a hundred meters. And I feel frustrated and angry, like I just witnessed a crime but could do nothing about it. Hopefully it hasn’t happened yet…Maybe I can do something to prevent it from happening at all.

  My hands are still shaky as I walk into the art room, late. Thankfully, Mrs. Morrow seldom marks anyone tardy, and she simply looks up and smiles at me like “no problem.” So I go to my favorite table in the back of the room and try to understand what I just witnessed. Although it makes no sense. I try to link it to the dream I had last night, but nothing in this vision seems related to the other. The only common denominator is that I don’t know any of the people in the dream or the vision. But that in itself isn’t so unusual. For some reason God gives me only a few pieces, and I have to work to fit them together. I guess it’s a way for me to partner with Him.

  So I attempt to sort the vision out. For starters, the boy being picked on was totally unfamiliar, and although I couldn’t see the faces of the bullies clearly, they didn’t seem familiar either. Of course, every school, including Brighton, has guys like that. The type who pick on others for no reason except that they can. And I suspect they usually get away with it too. Before I start working on my charcoal sketch, I pull out my notebook and write down exactly what I remember about the vision. It doesn’t seem like much, but if God gave me that vision, there must be a reason for it. It’s possible that it’s connected to the shooting dream I had last night. But the general feeling of the vision, as well as the setting, the people, the time of day, the level of seriousness—it all seems dissimilar. My inclination is that these are two totally separate situations.

  After seventh period ends, I walk slowly back toward the main building. I look all around as I stroll along, and I have my cell phone on and ready to make a call. I am seriously hoping to spot the group of thugs, hoping to catch them and to stop them before they have a chance to pounce on the sandy-haired kid with glasses. But I make it all the way back to the locker bay without seeing one single thing that’s even slightly out of the ordinary.

  “Everything okay?” asks Olivia when I join her at our locker.

  “I guess…”

  “What’s up?” she asks with curiosity.

  I quickly explain my latest vision.

  “But you didn’t know any of the guys?”

  “No. I got a look at the kid being bullied, but I couldn’t really see the others too well. The guy getting beat up was totally unfamiliar.”

  “Still, you don’t know everyone in this school.”

  “Obviously not. And I’m sure there could be someone like that around here that I never noticed before.”

  Just then Olivia nods over to where a short, blondish guy is shaking the handle of his locker like he can’t get the thing open. He glances over his shoulder as if he’s embarrassed to be observed having this problem—especially when everyone should know their locker combination by now—and notices us looking at him. I toss a casual smile at him, but that only seems to embarrass him even more as he refocuses his attention on the stubborn lock.

  “That’s not him,” I tell Olivia.

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not around here somewhere,” she points out. “Want to walk around school and see if we notice anything?”

  “Sure.” So we get sodas from the machine by the cafeteria and casually stroll around the school grounds, just sipping our drinks and talking. Who would ever guess that we’re out here looking for trouble?

  “Seems fairly quiet,” Olivia says as we finish our rounds.

  “Pretty dead, if you ask me.” I glance at my watch now. “And I need to meet with Ebony, so I should probably get going.”

  “I’ll catch a ride home with Alex today I was going to his track meet anyway.”

  “Tell him good luck.” I wave to her and then head out to the parking lot, still looking right and left and expecting to walk up on a group of thugs at any given moment. But there aren’t any to be seen. I know I should be relieved or even happy about this, but I’m not. I feel as if I’ve missed something. And I’m even more concerned about the kid getting picked on or brutally beaten. Still, I know better than to obsess and worry. Instead, I pray for him as I drive across town to the precinct. God knows who this kid is and how to help him. I’m just a small part of that process.

  “How are you doing?” asks Eric as I enter the police station. Eric is a good-looking guy who works with Ebony sometimes. He doesn’t wear a uniform, and if you saw him on the street, you’d never guess he was a cop. In some ways he reminds me of my brother, Zach.

  “Okay,” I tell him.

  “Ebony’s in her office,” he says with what seems a knowing smile. Eric is one of the few officers who know about my gift. And I suspect by his expression that she’s already told him about my latest dream. Maybe he’s been helping her do some research.

  Ebony seems eager to see me. She quickly greets me and then gets straight to business. “First of all, you should know that there have been some terrorist threats to the Portland metro area recently.”

  I nod, trying to take this in. “You mean terrorist threats from outside the country?”

  “Actually, we think they’re insiders but obviously related to al Qaeda or the Taliban or someone in the Mideast who hates us.”

  “Why Portland?”

  “Why anywhere?” she says with a deep sigh. “I suppose it’s because we’re one of the larger cities on the West Coast. A major port city. Any number of crazy reasons. Does it ever make sense?”

  “I guess not. But why are you telling me this?”

  “I’m wondering if it might have something to do with your dream last night.”

  “But my dream involved guns, not bombs.”

  “According to our sources, guns will be involved.”

  “But it still doesn’t make sense,” I tell her. “These kids were my age. Why would a terrorist have any interest in them?”

  “According to our sources, the target won’t be typical.”

  “Who are your sources?”

  Ebony just smiles, and I know that means it’s classified. But I can’t help feeling curious.

  “The point is that we’re on high alert in the Portland metro area, especially when it comes to any group events. And particularly those that involve students. That has been made crystal clear.”

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p; “But why students?”

  “How about if I read a portion of the threat to you, Samantha?”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes.” Ebony turns to her computer screen now, pulls up a document, and begins to read. “The execution will eliminate a small portion of immorality of the next generation, but it is a beginning.’” She sighs loudly. “Then they go on about reaping what we sowed and how judgment is coming and how they will be rewarded for killing. But between the craziness, it seems obvious to everyone that the threat specifically targets teens.”

  “Oh…”

  “So given the fact that your vision was about high school students at an event that we can only assume was a prom, we have to put two and two together and take it as a serious possibility.”

  I nod. “Right…”

  “So are we ready to move on?”

  I nod. “Absolutely.”

  Now she points to a wipe-off board with what looks like a list of the high schools in our area. “These are the schools within the Portland metro area that haven’t had their proms yet. As you can see, I’ve listed the schools with the nearest prom dates at the top—as in top priority.”

  “Wow, North Shore has one tomorrow night.”

  ‘Yes, that’s the school we’re focusing on right now.” Then she has me go over all the notes from my dream with her again.

  “Would you recognize this girl if you saw her?”

  “I think so.”

  Ebony hands me a blue and white yearbook. “Start looking.”

  So while Ebony does some searching on her computer, I scan the pages of the North Shore High annual. But after nearly an hour of page after glossy page, I feel confused and frustrated. Every pretty blond girl is starting to look exactly the same to me. If only I could see her in that dress, with her hair like that…or those earrings…I know I’d recognize her then.

  “This isn’t working,” I finally admit, closing the yearbook.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “But what if that girl is in here? What if I missed her?”

  “I have a plan, Samantha.”