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

many other quotes I could pull out of some dark pocket in my mind, it was just there on the tip of my tongue.
    â€œAt least they’re not boring boys,” Ginny said. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
    â€œNo, but I don’t like wasting my time. Invite whom you want, Ginny. I’ll be fine,” I said.
    â€œProbably of all of us, you will be,” she replied, which I hoped was prophetic even though I knew that wasn’t her sole reason for saying it. The sarcasm dripped from her lips. Still, I thought, maybe everyone had psychic powers and some just had more.
    I laughed to myself. What if every high school in America had a fortune-teller in a booth in the lobby? After all, who needed a fortune-teller more than teenagers, people with limited experience, especially when it came to relationships? Teenagers were supposedly more impulsive and more indifferent about the future, believing and acting as though they were invulnerable, if not immortal. They took more risks with drugs and driving. They smoked without worrying about lung cancer and were more apt to drink too much alcohol, and they generally enjoyed disobeying rules and regulations.
    Maybe because of how I was being brought up, I really was less of a teenager than my new friends were.Maybe that was why they thought I acted older, even accusing me of being like a mother. Being aware of consequences made you more cautious. It was worse for me. I not only had more awareness of consequences, but I envisioned them so vividly they made my head spin and my heart race.
    We had just finished reading and discussing the play Our Town by Thornton Wilder in English class. In the third act, Emily Webb, who has died in childbirth, comes back but at an earlier time, and what’s tragic and sad about that, why she was warned not to go back, is that she can see everyone’s future and knows what sadness awaits, how old they will become, and who else will die early. It’s too much for her to bear.
    The whole time we were reading it, I kept thinking of myself and looking at my friends in the class. I had the terrible thought that maybe someone like me shouldn’t have any friends and shouldn’t invest emotions and trust in anyone. I’d become too attached, and I’d eventually know something sad and tragic about them. I’d be like Emily Webb.
    All my life so far, I had seen things others didn’t see, I had known things I couldn’t explain knowing, and I had heard voices whispering warnings. I had hoped that if I worked harder at making friends and being more of a normal teenage girl, I could put all that behind me. Maybe it would stop; maybe my parents wouldn’t be so worried about me; but mostly, maybe I wouldn’t be so worried about myself.
    When my mother was there to pick me up after school, I told her about Ginny’s party.
    â€œLynch,” she said. “Why do I know that name so well?”
    â€œHer father is president of the Dorey First Trust bank.”
    â€œOh, right. Well, what sort of a party is it?”
    â€œJust a party. Not a birthday or anything.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” she said.
    My heart sank. Wasn’t this the sort of thing she wanted for me, making friends and socializing? Were things going to be the same for me in this school as they were in my old school? Did more birthdays for me mean nothing?
    â€œOh,” she added quickly, “your uncle Wade is coming this weekend.”
    â€œI’ll still see him during the day. The party’s at night, Mother.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” she said again.
    I didn’t argue about it, but as soon as my father came home, she told him. I was in the living room doing some reading for history class.
    â€œThat’s good,” I heard him say.
    â€œI’m not so sure.”
    â€œWhy not? If we want her to be normal, we’ve got to treat her like she is,” he said.
    They spoke too low for me to hear