And This Is Laura Page 4

  At that moment I felt more out of it than ever. It was like I was a tiny desert island in the midst of a huge, bustling metropolis. Even my chair was a little farther away from the table than anyone else’s. I was a person apart.

  And then the entire scene seemed to fade from my consciousness and instead I saw a picture in my mind of a place filled with glass jars, bubbling beakers, tubes—all kinds of scientific equipment. Reality disappeared entirely. I didn’t hear any of the voices around me, didn’t see my family seated at the table, knew nothing but that I was looking into a well-equipped laboratory.

  The picture got clearer and clearer, like when you’re focusing binoculars, and I saw my father standing in the middle of all that apparatus looking hopelessly lost.

  Then another figure appeared in the picture—a man wearing a white shirt. He spoke to my father briefly and the next thing I knew my father was clapping his hand to his head and jumping into the air with a huge smile on his face.

  The picture dissolved.

  I was back at the table; it was still dinnertime. Jill was still talking. Everything was exactly the same.

  I looked around, frowning. What in the world had happened? What was that I had just seen? What did it mean, and how did I happen to see it? It was much too vivid to have been a daydream. Besides, if I was going to daydream about anything it would have been something a lot more exciting than my father’s lab.

  “Come on, Dad,” said Douglas. “You must have some opinions on what they’re doing in China.”

  My father looked annoyed. “I can’t have opinions on something I know nothing about. Now, please, Doug, I have a lot on my mind, and I really don’t—”

  “You’ll figure it out tomorrow,” I blurted out. “After the man in the white shirt comes.”

  I dropped my fork.

  Everyone but Dennis turned to stare at me. Dennis muttered something about getting your clothes whiter than white.

  Now what in the world had made me say such a thing? How did I know what that picture in my mind had meant? How did I know when, if ever, that scene was going to happen? What made me say tomorrow?

  I snatched my fork and began stuffing rice into my mouth. Suddenly they were all on me at once. “What are you talking about? How do you know? Figure what out?”

  I was completely confused. I had no idea what to tell them; I had no idea myself what I was talking about. I tried to use a full mouth as an excuse not to answer but I was rapidly running out of rice.

  They wouldn’t leave me alone. When my plate was entirely clean I forced myself to look up at all those questioning faces.

  “What did you mean?” my father asked. I shrugged.

  “What man in a white shirt?” Jill persisted.

  “Just a man.”

  “Because a man likes to feel like a man,” Dennis warbled.

  “Stop being so mysterious,” Douglas ordered. “Are you going into the prediction business?”

  “Can you predict things?” Beth gasped.

  I glanced her way. She looked absolutely awestruck. She was staring as if she’d never seen me before. Her mouth was slightly open and she seemed to be in unbearable suspense as she awaited my reply.

  How impressed they’d all be, I thought, if I could predict things. They’d be hanging on my every word. No one would make a move without consulting me first. Being able to foretell the future was just about the most amazing talent anyone could have. Compared to that, piano playing, bowling and acting were mere child’s play. And as for scientific geniuses—well, not even a scientific genius would be able to figure out how to see into tomorrow.

  “Can you?” Beth repeated.

  Instead of saying, “No, of course I can’t predict things,” I replied, “I don’t know.”

  Well, I didn’t know. I’d never predicted anything before; I’d never had a vision come into my mind that way before.

  “Well what were you talking about?” my mother asked.

  “Oh, just a hunch.”

  My father searched my face like he was looking for clues.

  “How did you know I had to figure something out?”

  I didn’t want to lie, but I also didn’t want to break the web of mystery I seemed to have woven around myself. So I just shrugged. My father’s juggling had been a dead giveaway that he was struggling with something, not to mention his impatience with Douglas; but at the moment I was enjoying the unaccustomed attention too much to give it up. It was nice to be noticed. Even nicer than I imagined. After school the next day I went home with Beth. She’d wanted to go to my house but I convinced her that it would be better if we went to hers. Since the first time I’d been there I had been eager to go back. It seemed to me like a haven from my own family, the promise of a couple of hours of calm and quiet, the soothing orderliness of well-tended rooms and well-dressed people.

  It wasn’t that hard to convince her. Beth had been nagging me about my prediction ever since dinner the night before. It almost seemed to have made her forget about my mother’s book. Right through school she kept it up, whenever she saw me. Could I really see the future? Could I see her future? Would I try to predict something that would happen to her? Could I do it now? Maybe this afternoon?

  I told her that I didn’t know; I’d have to wait and see. You couldn’t force these things, I said. Well, I really had no idea whether or not you could force these things, but I hadn’t seen anything more the night before, no matter how hard I tried to, so I supposed you couldn’t.

  But I had a feeling, I said, that a nice, quiet house like hers would make it easier to concentrate on the Beyond . . .

  It was not the maid’s day, and Beth’s mother wasn’t home yet. Roger arrived shortly after we did. Beth was responsible for him until Mrs. Traub returned from work.

  “He’s in one of his moods,” said Beth, rolling her eyes.

  He was starving. He hadn’t eaten any lunch because he’d forgotten his lunch money and no one would give him anything, not even one little potato chip.

  “You have to make me lunch,” he told Beth.

  “I’m not going to make you lunch,” she objected. “It’s too late for lunch now. You can have a snack.”

  “I don’t want a snack,” Roger whined. “I want lunch. I didn’t have any lunch.”

  “All right, all right. You certainly sound hungry enough. I’ll make you a peanut butter sandwich.”

  “I don’t want a peanut butter sandwich. They had pizza-burgers for lunch today.” He looked desolated.

  “Forget it, Roger,” Beth said harshly. “It’s peanut butter or nothing.”

  “Beth,” I whispered, “the poor kid is starving. Don’t be so mean.”

  “Listen, you know how many times he forgot his lunch money? And it’s always me who has to start making him a lunch at three-thirty. He just does it to get attention. That’s why no one will give him anything any more. The first couple of times everyone felt sorry for him, and he ate like a king. This kid gave him pretzels, that kid gave him his first fruit salad, this kid gave him a Ring Ding—he ate better than if he’d had his own lunch. After the first eight times, they got wise to him.”

  “Look, get me some celery.” She shrugged and got out a bunch of celery. I spread peanut butter over two stalks. Then she got an apple and a piece of American cheese at my direction. I cut the apple into quarters and the cheese into four triangles. Roger watched me, fascinated.

  “One piece of bread,” I ordered, “and some jelly.” I spread jelly on the bread and cut it into three strips. I arranged all this on a plate and handed the plate to Roger. He gazed at it. He looked up at me as if I were some kind of wizard.

  “That’s nice,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

  He walked out of the room carrying the plate very carefully.

  Beth stared after him.

  “That’s the first time I ever heard that kid say thank you.”

  “I do that for Dennis sometimes,” I said. “Little kids like things cut up tha
t way. Makes the food more interesting, I guess.”

  “Well, thanks a heap. You got him off my back for a while anyway. Now you can have all the quiet you need to concentrate. Come on up to my room where you won’t be disturbed.”

  “I’ll try,” I said a few minutes later as I sprawled out on her bed with a throw pillow to prop me up. “But I’m not promising anything.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. The harder I tried to see something, to get a picture in my mind like the one I’d had last night, the less I saw. In fact, I didn’t see anything. “Think, think” was all that kept running through my head, but nothing was there to think about.

  I opened my eyes, which had gotten tighter and tighter as I tried to force a “vision” and found Beth staring at me expectantly.

  “Well?”

  “Nothing’s . . . coming through.”

  “Last night you were right in the middle of everything when you came up with it. Maybe it’s too quiet here.”

  She might be right. I remembered the feeling of being surrounded by a bunch of people chattering with each other and paying no attention to me. I remembered how out of it I’d felt. I recalled the sensation of being a person apart, of not fitting in.

  “Hmm. You might have something there.”

  Beth went out of her room and leaned over the stairs.

  “Roger!” she yelled. “Turn the television louder!”

  A moment later the sound of the TV grew fainter.

  “Roger! I said louder!”

  “Louder?” he yelled back.

  “YES!”

  The television blasted through the house.

  “He’s going to go deaf listening to it like that,” I warned.

  “Don’t worry; it’s only for a little while.”

  She opened her instrument case and took out her flute. She turned her back to me and tweetled loudly enough to be heard over the blare of the TV.

  It was awful. Absolutely hideous. It was even worse than being in my own house. The flute shrieked and squealed. A cartoon character screamed lisping threats to his archenemy while in the background someone operated a whining buzzsaw accompanied by howls of shrill, cackling laughter.

  Desperately I put my hands to my head and tried to tune out the din. I didn’t think I could stand much of this—in another moment I’d be shrieking myself, begging Beth to let me out of this madhouse so I could go home to my own madhouse. I pressed my fingers against my temples and closed my eyes. It was too much, too much, this would never work, I couldn’t—

  Beth was standing on a big stage. She was all alone and a spotlight was shining on her. She looked beautiful. Her blond hair was a cloud around her face. She was wearing some kind of long robe or dress and there were baskets of flowers heaped at her feet. Her face was glowing with joy. Her eyes shone out at an invisible presence beyond my vision. Humbly she bowed her head.

  “PUT THAT DOWN! YOU PUT THAT DOWN! S-s-shufferin’ shuccotash, I’ll—”

  My eyes flew open.

  I sat bolt upright on the bed and pressed my hand to my chest. I couldn’t believe it. Had I really—

  Beth must have heard me sit up or something, because the tweetling stopped and she whirled around. One look at me and she shrieked, “You got something! You got something! Oh, Laura, what is it?”

  I held my head. “Turn the TV down. Oh, please, turn it off.” My head was pounding.

  Beth raced downstairs. Almost instantly the TV became barely audible and she raced back upstairs and flung herself next to me on the bed.

  “What was it? Tell me.” She clutched my hand, squeezing my fingers till I thought they’d fall off.

  What was it I’d seen? Beth on stage. Getting flowers. Was she taking a bow? What did it mean? It seemed very simple. Beth was going to be an actress. No—no she didn’t look any older. She looked just like she looked now, only dressed up, more elegant. It must be the club play.

  “You’re going to be the star of the play,” I said.

  “Oh, Laura!” Then she dropped my hand. “Oh, Laura, that’s impossible. It can’t be true.”

  “Well,” I said, “that’s what I saw. I don’t know . . .”

  I shrugged. My head was clear now and it didn’t hurt. The vision, if that’s what it was, had been just as vivid as the one I’d had last night. I didn’t know when it would happen or if it would happen. The only thing I did know was that I had seen it, and it wasn’t just my imagination.

  “I can’t believe it,” Beth went on. “I can’t believe it. Oh, Laura, do you really think it’s going to happen?”

  “Well,” I hesitated. “I saw it very clearly.”

  That was certainly true.

  “This is amazing,” Beth raved. “Laura, you’re incredible. Have you seen anything for yourself?”

  “No. Maybe it only works for other people’s futures.”

  That sounded kind of odd, but Beth didn’t dwell on it. She urged me to try again, to see if I could see anything else, but I refused.

  Once a day was enough, I told her. It took a lot out of me. What I didn’t tell her was that I didn’t know what it was that I was doing once a day; I didn’t know what, if anything, it would take out of me. Not to mention the fact—which I didn’t—that so far nothing had happened to prove that I actually was foretelling the future.

  Beth’s mother drove me home at five. I let myself in the front door and found my parents, Jill, and Douglas seated in the living room. They looked like they were ready to pounce on me, and in fact, when I came in they all started shouting at once.

  I actually began to back out of the room when my father raised his hand and yelled louder than anyone else, “PLEASE!”

  “What is it?” I asked. “Did I do something? Why are you all—”

  “Laura,” my father said gently, “an interesting thing happened to me today. Hacker—you know, I’ve mentioned him before—well, Hacker came down to see me about one of my requisition forms that he couldn’t read. All day I’d been working on that problem of mine and getting nowhere. It wasn’t two minutes after he left that it hit me. I did figure it out. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  I stood there, with them all staring at me, and stared back.

  It was true? I had really looked into the future? I had really seen what was going to happen? I shook my head in disbelief. If I didn’t sit down, I realized, I was likely to collapse on the spot. My legs were trembling.

  “Hacker,” said my father, “was wearing a white shirt. And a red tie.”

  I gripped the arm of the sofa with one hand and leaned against it. My brain was reeling and the room seemed to tilt sideways. I said the first silly thing that came into my head.

  “I didn’t notice the tie.”

  6

  “I’M SURE YOU’RE all anxious to get on with the auditions,” said Mr. Kane, “but before we start I want to give you a little information on what you’re getting yourselves into, so no one can complain later. Rehearsals for our play will be held at least twice a week, sometimes more, depending on how things go. You’ll be expected to have your parts memorized in two weeks. Every member of the cast should attend all rehearsals. Anyone who misses more than three rehearsals is out.

  “You’ve had a chance to read the play and to pick out the roles you’d like to try. Obviously you’re not all going to get the parts you want, so don’t be too disappointed if you have to take your second or third choice. There will be other plays.”

  Beth could barely contain her impatience. She kept leaning forward, as if ready to spring up out of her seat and then, as Mr. Kane kept talking, would slump back again and sigh. She was going to try out for the lead.

  I don’t know if that was because the prediction about my father had come true, or because I kept telling her what a good actress she was; maybe it was both. On the one hand she couldn’t believe she was talented enough to be chosen to star over Jean Freeman. On the other hand I had been right about my father and the man in the
white shirt.

  I was almost as nervous as she was. Naturally I wasn’t going to try out for the starring role, but I’d decided on a nice minor character who didn’t have too many lines to speak. It wasn’t a very demanding part and I didn’t think anyone else would even bother to audition for it. Beth had insisted that I try out for something so we could be in the play together and since I was well aware of my own limitations, I was satisfied to start small.

  The two boys who had come to the first drama club meeting had disappeared into thin air, never to return again. Consequently Mr. Kane had found a play that required only girls. It wasn’t a great play, but it wasn’t bad either. It was called The Phantom of Sigma Phi. It took place in a sorority house (naturally) in college, and was a sort of a comedy-mystery-melodrama-thriller. There were mysterious goings-on, weird telephone calls, girls disappearing, lights turning on and off with strange effects—which gave our stage and lighting crew a great deal of satisfaction—and, very possibly, a couple of hauntings.

  The whole thing is closely connected to the annual inter-sorority basketball championship, which a rival sorority is determined to win by fair means or foul.

  I was sure Beth would be perfect in the starring role. But the other reason that I was nervous was because if my prediction was accurate and she got the part I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t faint. Yet if she didn’t get the part she might blame me for getting her hopes up for nothing. And it might mean that I couldn’t see the future after all.

  Mr. Kane finally stopped talking and called for the first bunch of people to read for the part Beth wanted. I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. She whispered, “Eek!” only half-kiddingly and widened her eyes and mouth in mock terror.

  About eight girls wanted to audition for the main part, including Jean Freeman and Rita Lovett. Mr. Kane had them all read the same lines. Rita was awful. Most of the other girls weren’t that good either, except for a girl named Sonia Bibby, but it was obvious that Beth and Jean Freeman were the best. You couldn’t tell what Mr. Kane thought because he said the same thing to everyone who read. “Very good. Next, please.” He made notes on a big yellow pad.