Nine Lives

by Carly Huss

Copyright ©2020 by Carly Huss

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020937784

Cover Design by: www.beapurplepenguin.com

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any

form or by any means without written permission from

the publisher.

For information please contact:

Brother Mockingbird, LLC

www.brothermockingbird.org

ISBN: 978-1-7344950-0-3 Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-960226-14-3 Ebook

First Edition

For the girls who wish for a new body every minute of every day. You are beautiful just the way you are.

Tristany led me by my scarf through the narrow aisles of the New Age store as if I was an animal. I kept pausing to pick up gemstones, candles, and other knick-knacks that claimed to heal my soul and balance my chakras or whatever.

I shook a teal vial at my best friend. Do you really think this will make me calmer?

Growing impatient with me, she plucked the essential oil from my hand and tossed it back into its woven basket. Let’s go.

Maybe you need it. Rolling my eyes at the back of her head, I moved on to a shelf displaying little clay figurines. I picked up a Buddha, smiling with his eyes closed.

Put it down, Amelia, she said. They’re going to close soon.

He won’t leave. If this guy can see the future, he knows we’re coming. I scooched the Buddha over to a statue of a cat cleaning itself, laughing as I made the Buddha pet it.

Would you stop? Tristany grabbed my wrist and yanked me away from the display, causing the cat and Buddha to fall to the wood floor.

I’m not paying for that. I pointed to the Buddha and the cat with the newly chipped tail and looked to see if she were laughing with me.

Tristany’s big, blue eyes pleaded with me to be serious.

I blew an exaggerated breath of surrender. Okay.

She put a grumpy hand on her hip. I won’t make you do this if you don’t want to.

Linking my elbow with hers, I guided us toward the back of the store. I’m just kidding. This stuff is cool, I said, taking a tie-dyed dress off the rack. Even if I hit my goal weight, I still wouldn’t be able to pull it off. Tristany, however, would look amazing in it. I held it to her chest and made it dance. Judgment has left the building. I promise.

Good. She showed me both rows of her teeth when she smiled and put the dress back on the rack after frowning at the price. Cause we’re here.

Behind the rack of dresses and ponchos, a beaded curtain led to an employee’s only area. Not one to pay attention to implied rules, Tristany tugged back the curtain.

I choked on a thick cloud of incense which was trying—and failing—to mask a musty smell. Looking around the room, I dragged her name out in speculation.

Amelia, she said, mocking my tone. Her impression of my voice was alarmingly accurate. Her normally light, sing-song voice matched my deeper blah voice.

I know I promised not to judge, but this is a supply closet. Maybe that was harsh. There was a desk—if a card table with a computer could be called a desk—and boxes of unpacked inventory. But there was also a mop, so supply closet seemed fitting.

What? But then she grimaced when her sandals made a sucking sound. I so did not want to know what the mystery substance on the floor was.

A man sat with his back to us, slurping on a soda.

I don’t think we’re supposed to be here, I whispered.

This is where Kristy told me to go. Her eyes landed on a grungy refrigerator, which chugged like a car running out of gas. Maybe I should ask the girl at the counter just to be safe?

The man stood from his seat and turned toward us. If you’ve come for a reading, you’re in the right place. His beard needed to be brushed. And maybe, checked for fleas.

Where’s the crystal ball? I asked.

He turned up an amused lip and shook his head. I don’t work that way. He popped the last bite of a sandwich in his mouth and wiped his hands on the side of his khakis before extending it. I’m Chris.

Tristany. She took his hand more willingly than I would have.

The instant her skin contacted his, his eyes lost focus.

Her eyes widened, looking at Chris like he had the answers to all of life’s mysteries and was about to tell her.

When he spoke again, his voice sounded far away. Tomorrow night, you’ll sing on stage alongside a tall, skinny dude with swoopy hair. You’re singing about a woman who loved and left you.

Oh, my God. I win? She shot a dazzling smile my way, bouncing on her toes. At the concert tomorrow night, I win the drawing to sing with Red Feeling? Then, after a moment of apparent deep thought, she said, I know exactly what I’m going to wear.

When she finally stopped gushing about her new jeans, Chris continued, rolling his eyes before they glazed over once again. Tuesday morning, you’ll sleep through your alarm, causing you to miss the bus. He looked deeper into the space above Tristany’s head. You’ll catch a ride with a boy to school. When you’re pulling into the parking lot, he’ll ask you to sit at his table at lunch.

She leaned forward. What boy? What does he look like? What does he drive? O-M-G. I hope it’s Dillan. Amelia, it has to be Dillan. I knew he wanted me.

Chris sighed and shook his head. Don’t know his name. All I can see is he drives a station wagon and wears glasses. Red ones. He wiggled a brow. You’re right. He wants you, alright.

I snorted. That’s not Dillan. That’s his little brother, Tanner.

Her eyes narrowed. Not cool. Amelia, you have to call me on Tuesday and wake me up.

Chris nodded. She does. You don’t hear the phone ring.

I laughed at the uncomfortable way my friend crossed her arms. Don’t look like that. This is all a big joke.

She opened her mouth, likely to say something snappy and smart-assy, but then she closed her mouth and started again. If this is all a joke, how did he know Tanner drives an old station wagon and wears red glasses? Or that someone matching that description lives close enough for me to ride to school with? She pointed her eyebrow at me.

I pointed mine right back. Obviously, when you made the appointment, he stalked you or something.

I didn’t make an appointment. Cocking her head to the side, she put both hands on her hips. Explain that.

I decided not to answer her demand with words. Instead, I rolled my eyes and turned to Chris.

Shoving her hands back into his, she smiled. Got any more?

He sighed and stared at her topknot.

I was trying to decide if Chris would be handsome if he styled his hair rather than let it frizz out on the sides when I heard Tristany say, What?

My eyes snapped back to his face and found his features scrunched into a frown.

What? I asked. Does Tanner try to kiss her?’

She smacked me in the stomach with her free hand.

Chris’s voice was serious when he spoke. You’re standing in front of a mirror, wearing all black. Your mascara is running down your cheeks.

The joking mood of the room shifted to gloomy, thick sadness. Tristany struggled to get her words out. Why? Why am I crying?

Chris bit his bottom lip and let out a heavy breath. You’re going to a funeral.

She jerked her hands from Chris’s grasp, clutching my arm for support.

It’s not real, I said, covering her hand with mine. Let’s go. This guy crossed the line. Tristany had lost too many people.

She didn’t move. Whose funeral?

I knew what she was thinking. There were only three people left in her world whose death would affect her in the way Chris described—to make her cry like that, to make her swallow her hatred for funerals and the color black in general. Her mother, her little brother ... or me.

It’s not real, I said again.

Her flawlessly tweezed eyebrows arched, forming perfect right-angles. Her full lips compacted into a stern line. Her heart was beating so fiercely a vein was visible in her neck. Whose funeral? she asked again.

Chris tried to grab her hands, but she clutched them to chest, protecting them as if what he said wouldn’t come true if she could keep her hands from his. He settled on resting his hand on her arm. Listen to me, he urged, waiting to speak more until she’d met his eyes. You’ll go to a funeral, but you will see her again and much sooner than you can comprehend.

Tristany’s face switched from contorted agony to a crumpled, pleading stare. Her? I’ll see her again? she whispered.

He’s lying. Look at me. Snaking my hand under her chin, I forced her eyes to mine. He’s lying. I whirled on him, the tips of my ponytail slapping me in the face. Why would you say that?

Chris started to say something, but I heard a choked sob from behind me, so I looked back at my heartbroken friend.

He’s lying. It was all I could think to say to her.

No, he’s not. She shook her head and swallowed a sob. Kristy came here last month. He said all sorts of things to her, and they all came true.

Those were lies too. She probably did things on purpose to make his predictions happen. She didn’t get in that car wreck on purpose. Not even I could believe that about Kristy, but if I acknowledged she’d been telling the truth, it would be like admitting I believed what Chris said.

She was hit by some random drunk guy, Tristany said. You can’t tell me that’s just a coincidence.

Yes, I could.

It is a coincidence. He couldn’t have known. He lied to her just like he lied to you.

I wish I could believe you.

You can. I’ll prove it. He’ll read my future. When your name doesn’t get drawn at the concert and none of the stuff that he says will happen to me happens, we’ll know. I searched her eyes for a sign that I was convincing her of my words.

She blinked a few times, banishing pent-up tears and nodding.

Okay? I asked, desperate to hear her voice back to its chipper self. It had a sad, shaky thing going on.

Okay. Her voice wasn’t chipper, but it had lost its hollowness.

Come on. I shoved my hand into his. Tell me how I’m going to finally get an iPhone for Christmas or how Scott McMichael is going to ask me on a date this weekend. I threw out the two most unlikely scenarios I could think of. If Chris took the bait, I’d catch him in a lie right then and there. Or how I’ll buy a new pair of size-three jeans. My skeleton couldn’t fit in size three jeans.

His shoulders sagged as soon as his eyes went vacant. I don’t know what you’re getting for Christmas, and I don’t see you being asked on a date this weekend by anyone.

Flaring my nostrils, I popped my hip. I don’t need a fake fortune teller to tell me I have no possible love life. I also hadn’t missed the fact that he hadn’t commented on my jeans. Smart man.

Sorry. Chris shrugged. I just meant you aren’t going anywhere this weekend, not even the concert.

Why?

When you get home today, you’ll find out Tony left the stove on. You’ll call him and tell him what he did. You’ll argue back and forth until you say something that gets you grounded.

What? Tristany groaned. You seriously have to stop talking back to your uncle. You’re always grounded.

I only talk back when he does moronic things like leave the stove on or the refrigerator open then treats me like a child when I call him out on it, I said. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t get grounded for talking back to Tony, because he didn’t leave the stove on.

Her eyebrow ticked. How’d he know you live with your uncle? Or that his name is Tony?

I didn’t answer her. What’s next? I squeezed his hands.

Chris stared above my head. His eyes flicked to Tristany then back at me. We don’t have to do this. After a long pause, he dropped my hands. No charge today, ladies. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.

What? Ran out of ideas? I crossed my arms. All you have for me is that I’m going to get grounded because my uncle leaves the stove on? I don’t buy it. We’re paying customers. I took a twenty out of my pocket and slapped it on the table. Spit out some more BS so I can prove you wrong.

His big hand cupped his forehead before he let out a sigh and took the money. If I tell you this, you promise not to run out of here until I tell you both predictions?

I rolled my eyes.

Was that sadness in his expression?

Tristany sucked in a deep breath, and I thought I heard her say no under her breath, but my head was too full of my own denials to know for sure.

I was officially freaked out. That look in his eyes combined with Tristany’s prediction didn’t piece together a pretty puzzle.

Fine, I said flippantly for her benefit, but I was trembling.

Tristany, why don’t you wait outside? He wasn’t suggesting. He was telling.

No, I don’t want to leave.

I knew if I glanced her way, she’d have her arms crossed and lips pursed in a defiant show. I didn’t look back at her though. My eyes were locked on Chris’s as if they were magnets. Sorrow, confusion, and sympathy filled them.

No, he’s right, Trist. Go ahead and wait outside for me. I’ll tell you all about it when it’s over, I said, finally risking a glance in her direction.

Her mouth opened like she wanted to argue, but it also seemed like if she’d stayed in this room one more second, she’d explode. Tears filled her eyes just before she threw the curtain back, not bothering to close it behind her.

I extended shaky hands toward Chris. Fine. Get on with it. I wanted it over with so I could chase after Tristany before she made it to a convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes with her fake ID. Stress always made her smoke.

I mean it, Chris said. We don’t have to do this.

We’ve been through this. I want to know what you claim to see. So I can prove you wrong.

He shifted on his feet. Okay. But remember what you promised.

Yeah, yeah. Don’t leave without hearing both predictions. I got it. I rolled my head on my shoulders and sat up straight, readying myself for what Chris had to say.

Finally, he started speaking. On December thirty-first, you’ll be cornered in an alley by men you don’t recognize. One of them will stab you twice. You will die.

You’re sick, I whispered because I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs to yell like I wanted. I dropped his hand, turning to leave.

You promised to listen to both predictions.

I stopped just before reaching the beaded curtain and turned, stomping toward him. You just said I get stabbed to death. How could there possibly be another prediction? Did you go out of order? You really should’ve gone in order.

He clasped my wrist. On January ninth, you wake up on a couch, but you’ve changed. His eyebrows pulled up, and he searched my face. You’ll change so much you won’t recognize yourself, but you’ll be happy. You’ll meet the man of your dreams and the man you’ll eventually fall in love with.

Was he referring to one man or two?

What was I thinking? That didn’t matter. Chris was lying, and I was outraged.

I’ll be here on January first to show you that I’m still alive and you’re wrong.

I stormed out of the supply closet without waiting to hear an answer, although I thought I heard him say under his breath, I hope so.

I felt a satisfying crunch under my foot as I stepped on the cat with the broken tail.

As expected, I found Tristany standing on the sidewalk. She was huddled deep in her peacoat, leaning against the New Age store’s brick wall and smoking a cigarette. I snagged the disgusting stick out of her mouth.

Hey! She whirled around and saw that I was the evil, cig-stealing culprit.

Instead of throwing the thing on the ground and stomping it out like I normally would, I felt the weight of it in my hand and rolled it between my index and middle fingers. Trying the action out, I flicked the end of the white stick with my thumb. Little red sparks fell off the other end. I brought it to my mouth.

What are you doing? She tried reaching for the cigarette, but I shrugged her off.

A second passed while Tristany looked at me like I’d grown a tail. Holding her stare, I brought it to my lips and sucked on it like I knew what I was doing. A sharp pain rippled down my throat. My chest and lungs felt like they’d punched my heart. I threw the cigarette down as if it had bitten me, and in a way, it had. I coughed until I gagged.

Her alarm turned into laughter, then back to alarm. I sensed her realization as she figured out what would have caused me to attempt to smoke a cancer-stick. No. No. No. Her mouth formed the words, but her whispers weren’t audible. Her body started to tremble. With shaky hands, she reached back into her purse to grab another cigarette, mouthing her denial the whole time.

I continued to hack and gag as I collected myself enough to intervene. I’m just going to stomp that one out too.

How are you joking around right now? Her words finally came out with sound, her voice low and shaky.

I’m not joking around. I tried to act like I wasn’t as shaken up as Tristany was. I’ll stomp it out.

There is no way you’d ever risk any of the terrible effects of smoking unless you knew somehow you’d never end up with them.

I tried to form words to deny what she was saying, but of course, she was exactly right.

Before I’d even realized it, a part of my mind accepted what Chris had told me was true. The first part, anyway. I did believe that I was going to die. How the second part of his prediction could come true, I didn’t know. Maybe he’d gotten the events out of order. Maybe I’d find the man of my dreams and then just more than a week later I’d die. That would be just my luck. Or maybe he saw me in heaven? That was the only pleasant possibility I could pluck from my brain about this entire situation.

He was talking about you? Tristany’s words came out in a whisper.

He was lying. My voice was just as shallow as hers, without an ounce of conviction behind it. I’ll go home, and the stove will be off. Then we’ll know all of this was just some twisted joke.

I’m coming with you.

I plucked the cigarette from her mouth before she got the lighter to it and threw it on the ground. That’s disgusting. I don’t know why you would ever do that on purpose.

My hands shook as I tugged the key from my pocket to unlock the door to the small apartment Uncle Tony and I shared. I only had one key, but I had seven keychains.

Tristany clamped her hand on the jingling mess from my hands. I’ll do it.

The sound of the lock clicking was the last thing I heard for some time. I could see her mouth moving, no doubt trying to reassure me that the stove would be off and everything would be okay. In a haze, I dropped my backpack to the floor and rounded the island of the kitchen as if I were in the final lap of a race. I screeched to a stop when I reached the stove.

Water rolled in angry boils over the top of the pot.

Sound came back to me then, sudden and harsh. The water sizzled as it hit the red-hot burner. It was all I could hear. I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the raging water. Two eggs clinked together. Hard, white egg spilled from the cracks in the shells.

Tristany’s green fingernails jutted into my vision as she pulled the pot off the burner and twisted the knob to the off position. Her shrill voice called my name, willing me to listen to her. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Tears stung my eyes as the last part of me that denied this was all true chipped and fell away. This was the first of Chris’s predictions, and it had come true.

I spun around, almost taking Tristany out as I ran to my backpack. I searched for my phone in what seemed to be hundreds of pockets.

Don’t call him.

He’d already answered. Hey.

How could you?

Nice to hear from you too, Amelia, Tony said in his normal, sarcastic tone.

How could you? I repeated, my voice so loud Tristany flinched. You left the stove on. Again.

Uh-oh. I imagined him running his hand through his dark hair. I’m sorry. But that’s no excuse to talk to me like that.

No excuse? You could’ve burned the apartment down. The whole building.

Hey. Watch how you talk to me.

Me? Watch how I talk to you? How about you watch what you’re doing?

Amelia—

No. Answer me. My voice was on the verge of breaking. How could you?

That’s it. You’re grounded. Sell your ticket to that concert. You’re not going.

I pressed the end button harder than was necessary.

Tristany took the phone out of my hand when she saw me looking at it like I was going to throw it out the window. I’d been contemplating it. Why’d you call him?

I ... I don’t know. I was just so mad. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. When I lowered them, I saw wet mascara caked onto my palms.

Okay, I get that. But maybe if you didn’t call, then you wouldn’t have been grounded, and the prediction wouldn’t have come true.

Fly-away strands of hair stuck to my wet cheeks, and I shoved them away. I know. I know. I don’t know why.

I’m not going to the concert tomorrow either.

I dropped my hands. No, you have to. You’ve been dying to see Red Feeling since forever.

No way. She shook