Farsighted (Farsighted Series) by Emlyn Chand Read Free Book Online Page A

know you have. Don’t listen to anything she says,” he scolds. I’m in trouble now, apparently.
    “I won’t. She freaks me out.”
    “Good. And stay away from her daughter, too. She’s just like her,” he warns, with a flare of his Bostonian heritage thrown into the mix.
    I don’t say anything. Now I want to hang out with Shapri to spite Dad. Maybe I can talk to Shapri at school or invite her over to Sweet Blossoms.
    Dad’s really worked up. He keeps talking. “Don’t put any stock in what those cards say. A bunch of shit, if you ask me.”
    “How do you know about the cards?” I ask. I never told Dad about my drawing the Chariot.
    Dad struggles for a moment, making a series of guttural noises but not saying anything. The temperature in the car rises a degree or two. Anxious heat.
    “Okay, your mother told me. Don’t tell her, okay? I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says at last, bringing the interior temperature back to normal.
    “I can’t believe she told you,” I say, feigning anger. I didn’t tell Mom about the Tarot. I didn’t tell anybody, but I don’t want to reveal this information to Dad. He’s always had a knack for knowing what I’m up to, but lately he’s keeping too close of an eye on me. Like he’s secretly following me everywhere I go.
    “Well, here we are. At last,” Dad says, parking our van at the school’s curb.
    “Bye.” I jump out, not wanting to waste any time getting away from him.
    “Bye,” he says as I slam the door. A second later, he speeds off toward what I can only assume is yet another in his string of botched job interviews.
    ***
    I get through English just fine. Brady doesn’t say a word to me. Nobody does. People must take me more seriously now that they understand I’ve got the potential to retaliate. I’ve got a weapon, too—one the school will never take away from me. I think that scares them a bit.
    At lunch, I take a seat at the end of a bench table at the far side of the cafeteria. As I’m unpacking my grape jelly and apricot jelly sandwich, Simmi comes and sits down across from me.
    “Hi, Alex,” she says. “Welcome back.”
    “Thanks,” I say, sinking my teeth into the sweet, gooey goodness of my sandwich. I think I can now officially consider Simmi a friend.
    “I’m glad you’re back.” Simmi takes the top off of a Tupperware box. The strange scent of an unknown food escapes. “We’re starting labs today in Mr. Brown’s, and I need my partner with me.” She removes a starchy-smelling bread product from a baggie and tears off a piece.
    I smile a dashing Odyssean smile—Athena, be with me now—and take another bite of my sandwich.
    Somebody is standing nearby, lurking just beside us. I smell cherry candy.
    “Simmi, quit bugging me. Shut up!” yells the voice that sounds like Brady, but isn’t Brady.
    “Hey,” I stand up to face the intruder, swallowing my bit of sandwich. The taste of jelly stays on my tongue. “Leave her alone. She hasn’t done anything to you.”
    He ignores me and continues. “Simmi, shut up, or I swear I’ll—”
    There’s a crash. Broken glass. A scream. It all happens so fast.
    “Get down!” I cry, “Simmi, get down!” But my warning comes too late.
    She’s choking, gasping for air, clawing frantically at her throat.
    I rush to perform the Heimlich maneuver, but I can’t get to her. “Simmi,” I sob.
    “Simmi?” the voice asks. Hurried footsteps cross the cafeteria. “Simmi!” He sounds even more frightened than I am. “Simmi, Simmi, Simmi,” he cries over and over. He’s holding her, jerking her body around in a useless attempt to wake her. “Come back,” he cries, “come back, Simmi!”
    Suddenly, he’s gone. A chorus of laughter rises around me. Brady and his friends chant, “Simmi, get down!” They’re making fun, but this is a serious situation.
    “Shut up!” I yell, panting, resisting the urge to break down in tears. “Can’t you see she’s hurt?”
    They laugh