Suggested Reading: 12+
My favorite movie had just gotten to the most intense part. I perched at the edge of my seat and awaited the next line, and even though I knew exactly what would soon happen, I held my breath as if it were the very first time I had seen it, because that is how people watch movies.
That was what it felt like to be psychic . Even if I could only see one week into the future, this power– this curse– it changed my life. It ruined Christmas presents, prom-proposals, and just about any movie or book I ever tried to enjoy. Of course, I had learned to live with it, but certain things remained a disappointment each time I experienced them.
I recall one prime example, from about eight years ago. I had just finished the third grade, and had already learned of my abilities as something “other” and “ unnatural.” Summer had begun and my ninth birthday loomed around the corner. My parents, with good-intentions, planned to surprise me with a trip to Coney Island for the day since I had always wanted to go.
And of course, when the week arrived, I realized their plans. I was excited, but had to hide it, like when you’re watching a movie you’ve already seen with a friend who hasn’t. I hid my secret surprisingly well for such a boisterous young child, but after I had another premonition, my acting skills failed.
I knew that my best friend, Janine, would break her arm and a leg in a car accident the day we left for Coney Island. Our bond surpassed that of sisters, and of course my poor little psychic heart felt devastated. I moped around for the rest of that agonizing week until, finally, my birthday arrived. I opened the sparkly pink birthday card containing our tickets with a dismal lethargy, for I knew that afternoon Janine would face her painful fate. My parents thought I had come down sick because of how slowly and somberly I moved, and before I could react they pulled the card from my hands and said “Sorry, my mistake. I think I put the wrong card in this envelope,” with a bad lying face. I knew bad lying faces, because I too often had to force good ones. They sent me to bed and never discussed it again.
And why, you may ask, did I not warn Janine of the accident ahead of time? Why didn’t I invite her over, tell her not to get in that car, not to turn onto the ill-fated street?
I did. She took my advice. And yet that same day, on her way to my house, her dad crashed their minivan into a tree, and instead of breaking two limbs she broke three, an extra leg fractured at her ankle, and her little brother suffered lasting brain injuries. Don’t ask me why. I may be able to predict the future, but I cannot answer every unknown. At nine, I realized my intervention would only result in horror
So, slowly, I came to understand that what so many had yearned for and written sci-fi novels about and even tried to replicate scientifically was my own personal burden. I wanted my “ability” gone. I thought of it like one would a disease, like something that did not belong in my body because I could ruin so many people’s lives with it, and instead of saving people I could only make their troubles worse. It happened every time I tried to warn someone, and eventually I just stopped trying. I gave up.
That is why, after I walked into school on Monday, I sat stoically in my third-row desk in Pre-calculus with my pencils lined up tidily in a row and my hands folded neatly in my lap. I feigned a smile, because when Janine walked in and saw my face, I could not tell her what would happen next Monday morning. I couldn’t.
And I did not run to the school police officer, as I so desperately wanted to, to tell her she should watch that boy closely–the one in the green hoodie– and make sure he went through the metal detectors before school on Monday morning.
I didn’t tell her to search his backpack for weapons.
I didn’t tell anyone to get ready to run.
I didn’t speak a word about the gun.
Discussion Questions:
- If you had this ability, would you risk telling people about their fate or stay silent?
- Would you still go to school that day? Would you do anything to intervene?
- How would you cope with feeling like you can’t do anything to stop terrible things from happening?
