Impossible Things by Robin Stevenson Page A

on his bottom teeth, but he’ll be fine.”
    I fiddled with a mushroom, peeling off its thin translucent skin and watching it blur through my tears. “Mom, I really am sorry.”
    â€œOh, honey.” She put down the knife. “I know you are.” She slid the chopping board across the counter to me. “Here, chop some peppers for me.”
    I chopped peppers ferociously. If only there was something I could do. Ben was so smart that sometimes I forgot how young he was. I mean, this was the kid who would help me with my math homework when I got stuck. I remembered him sitting on Mom’s lap, his face covered in blood, and I felt a surge of hot anger. How could Tyler and his friends do this to him? I wished there was some way I could get even.
    If Victoria was telling me the truth—if telekinesis was real and if I could learn it—then maybe I could.

Fifteen
    The deadline for the art contest was sneaking up fast. Only a week to go, and what had I done? Squat. Zero. Zilch. All around me, the classroom was filled with people painting, sketching, sculpting and gluing. Then there was me. I had nothing that resembled an art project: just my notebook of scribbling. I flipped back to the beginning. Who is Cassidy Silver? I’d written pages and pages, but I wasn’t sure I was any closer to an answer.
    Ms. Allyson appeared beside me. She had a way of doing that—you’d think those red cowboy boots would be kind of clunky on the hard floor, but she walked lightly. She looked a bit like a dancer, I thought. I wished I was graceful like that.
    â€œI like your T-shirt,” she said.
    I glanced down. I was wearing a very old and faded T-shirt that said Nobody Knows I’m Elvis. “You do?”
    â€œI’m a big Elvis fan,” she admitted. “Don’t spread it around.”
    I laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”
    â€œSo, how is the art project going?”
    I shrugged. “I sort of got stuck. Then I thought writing would get me unstuck but, well, now I seem to be stuck in writing.”
    â€œHmmm. Have you tried collage? There’re several boxes of magazines just waiting to be cut up. You could take a look through them, see if some of the images call out to you.”
    â€œSure. It’s not like I have any better ideas.”
    Ms. Allyson laughed. “Oh, dear. You do sound discouraged.”
    â€œIt’s, um, I just seem to have a bit too much on my mind. Or something.” I didn’t know quite why I’d said that and I started backpedaling. “I mean, I’m fine. It’s nothing major, just sort of busy.”
    â€œUh-huh.” She started to walk toward a student who was waving a frantic hand. “Give collage a try,” she said over her shoulder.
    I nodded and headed over to the art supply corner. It wasn’t Ms. Allyson I wanted to talk to. It was my mother. And I couldn’t help thinking that winning the contest would make things between Mom and me better somehow. I’d told her about getting teased and about Chiaki and everything, and she hadn’t even mentioned it again. She’d just gone right back to having no time for me.
    I sighed, picked up a box of magazines and started flipping through the pages. Trees, faces, animals, cars. Images that call out to you, Ms. Allyson had said. If any images were calling out to me, they were doing it too quietly for me to hear. I sighed again. I really didn’t like art very much.
    I wanted to ask Victoria if she’d seen Rick again, but Felicia joined us at lunch and I didn’t like to bring it up with her there. Instead I told them both about what had happened to Ben the day before.
    â€œTyler Patterson!” Felicia wrinkled her snub nose. “Is he Amber’s brother?”
    â€œIt figures, huh?”
    She nodded. “I wonder why those two are so mean.” I shrugged. “Who cares why? They’re both bullies and