Sage's Eyes by V.C. Andrews

at Sidney after that party, and it all came to me, rolled out in my mind so vividly that it was as if I had been there. When the words came out of my mouth, however, I was just as surprised as he was. It was the first time I had ever done anything like that. It was actually a bit frightening. I felt like a small bird that had leaped into flight for the first time, full of trepidation but soon after elated. I felt like I had taken some drug that would make me high. It was as if I was rising off the floor.
    A few days after I’d talked to Shelly, Sidney, who was in the tenth grade, approached me in the cafeteria.I was sitting at a table with some of my classmates. Everyone was surprised at how angry she looked. She stepped right up beside me, practically pushing me out of my seat.
    â€œI want to talk to you,” she began.
    â€œHere?”
    â€œAnywhere. It doesn’t matter. Why are you spreading stories about me?” she demanded.
    Sidney was a good two inches taller than I was and had reddish-blond hair cut in a bob. She had delicate facial features and striking green eyes. The only feature that detracted from her good looks was that her neck was a little longer than normal. I thought she’d look better with a longer hairstyle because of that, but I wasn’t about to suggest anything to her now or ever.
    â€œI’m not spreading any stories about you.”
    She glanced at the other girls at the table. None of them was particularly close to me. None would ever defend me. In fact, they looked amused, happy to see me being dressed down.
    â€œYou told someone I had an alcohol intolerance and became seriously ill at a party.”
    I shrugged. “Isn’t that true?” I asked. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
    â€œI’m not ashamed of anything, you nit. Who told you to say that?”
    â€œNobody.”
    â€œYou’re a liar. I ought to pull your hair out, you and whoever put you up to it.”
    â€œNo one put me up to anything.”
    â€œRight. You just came up with that out of thin air. Don’tmake up any more stories about me, or I’ll come looking for you,” she said.
    She marched off to join her friends, who all looked back at me, trying to outdo one another with expressions of rage. I looked at the other girls at my table. The silence felt like the inside of a tornado.
    â€œWho told you to tell that story about her?” Susan Mayo asked me.
    â€œNo one.”
    â€œThen where did you get it?”
    â€œI just knew it. She’s lying about it, but worse, she’s lying to herself. She’s going to get into bigger trouble.”
    I actually envisioned funeral wreaths, but I didn’t say it. I must have had a shocked expression on my face. No one spoke. They stared at me.
    â€œIt’s true. It’s not a lie,” I said. “She’s just embarrassed about it.”
    â€œHow do you know all that?” Susan asked. “You don’t hang out with her friends, so you wouldn’t hear them talking. Did you sneak into the nurse’s office and read some private stuff or something? Well?”
    â€œNo. I just know,” I said.
    â€œYou’re hiding someone,” Marge Coombe said. “They’re going to find out eventually. You’re stupid to protect them. Is it a boy, someone you like or who likes you?”
    â€œNo. I’m telling you all the truth. No one told me that story.”
    â€œNo one told you? You just knew?” Susan asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDelusional,”she told the others.
    The word brought back memories of my therapy. Was she right? I couldn’t explain to them how I knew. I couldn’t tell them about my visions and dreams, about the voices I had heard all my life. Of course they would think I was delusional, just as my therapist had, but deep inside, I couldn’t stop believing that I was right.
    I didn’t think the incident got back to my