The fortune teller stared at Emily, still astonished by what she’d seen. “You… you’re a good person,” she said slowly. “And you don’t even see yourself that way. You only see the things that cruel, uncaring people claim to see, while ignoring what truly does exist.” Emily shrugged in response. “But, at the same time, a lot of your problems come from the fact that you are such a contradiction: you’re well ahead of most of your peers, with regards to academic material, but in terms of actual life experiences, you’re… well… you’re kind of stunted in growth. As a result, you’re so different from your peers, they treat you like some alien creature. But let me tell you something, little one: the reason a person viciously strikes out against you is because they are afraid of you or what you represent, or are resentful of your happiness.” The fortune teller gently patted Emily’s shoulder. “You’re a good person, darling, better than those cruel girls will ever be. Just remain true to yourself, and you’ll be just fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Emily replied, not sure of what else to say.

The woman frowned a little and leaned close to Emily, then whispered into Emily’s ear, “And while you’re at it, get rid of what you’ve been hiding from everyone. You’re only hurting yourself, and you’re smart enough to know what kind of health problems you’ll have if you keep that up. And if you stop exercising so much, that cramping that’s been bothering you might ease up.”

At this, Emily blanched and bit her lip. “What did she say?” AJ asked.

“Personal business,” the fortune teller replied quickly. “None of your concern.”

“You didn’t get knocked up, did you?” AJ cried out, staring at Emily worriedly.

“No,” Emily snapped. “It’s none of your business.”


“Guys, quit fighting,” Tiffani interrupted, exasperated. She turned to the fortune teller and, with a smile, said, “Can I go next?”

“Sure,” the woman replied, patting Tiffani’s shoulder.

It was like a box made of mirrors. Walls, floor, ceiling, all reflecting images at each other. In the middle of the room was a single book. The fortune teller examined the book, flipping through it at lightning speed. So many emotions! Love toward this shaggy-haired boy who was in the group, grudging admiration for the bespectacled girl and the black-clad girl, distrust and disdain of the brown-haired girl, great envy toward the black-clad girl, and, most vividly, the anger and frustration toward her family for so many things-- forcing her to be what she did not want to be, making her see herself negatively, insulting her instead of encouraging her…

The fortune teller withdrew, somewhat fearfully, lest she become affected by such raw emotions. “Well?” Tiffani asked, impatiently.

The fortune teller took a deep breath and said slowly, “You certainly do feel things strongly. You don’t always express your feelings, either; your family taught you that showing your feelings too often is a bad thing. So, instead of expressing your emotions, you internalize them and take them out on yourself. You deal with your problems by eating, which leads to weight gain, which leads to your family being even more harsh. It’s a vicious cycle, isn’t it? And also… this jealousy…” Tiffani bit her lip, glanced over at Ophelia, then lowered her eyes. “…Your jealousy is eating you up inside. You might say you don’t mind, that you’re confident enough… but you’re not, are you? You feel threatened. And, to be honest, I don’t blame you. But you can’t just pretend it’s okay. You need to speak up. Part of the reason he likes her-- and why you reluctantly admire her-- is because she does speak up, while you tend to be more passive, unless absolutely necessary or provoked.”

Tiffani scowled. “Thanks a lot,” she said angrily.

“And as for the thing you were worried about, you’re wrong. Wait about two more days. The stress you’ve been dealing with is to blame,” the fortune teller added.

Tiffani let out a sigh of relief, in spite of herself. Ophelia smiled a little, and Emily nudged her brother and whispered, “You were worried about me getting knocked up?” “Shut up,” AJ muttered, lightly pushing at her shoulder.

The fortune teller gazed from Ophelia to AJ. “So, which of you wants to go next?”


“How would Mom having a kid keep her from ending up like you?” Gabrielle asked.

“It’s a long story, darling, and it has to do with why I had you attend a boarding school,” Gran replied. “I wasn’t going to let you live for more than a few days under the same roof as that… that monster.”

“Your husband?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you afraid of? Did you think he was going to hit me or Mom?”

Gran shook her head and replied, “Trust me, darling, he already had a human punching bag for when he was angry. Wrath wasn’t exactly the deadly sin I would associate him with. It wasn’t safe for you or your mom to stay in that house…”

“Why?”


“Your mother, Artemis… from the moment she was born, it was all too clear that she was not my husband’s child. She did, however, look a great deal like her father, and your grandfather figured out very quickly who Artemis’s real dad was. He was enraged that I’d had an affair, and he scarred me up pretty well. What he did to your grandfather, though… the police called it an accident, but by that time, my husband was pretty much bribing his way up the ladder, so who knows if they really thought that or were just being paid to say it? Anyway, Artemis was a beautiful little girl, bright and cheerful and trusting. She loved everyone. She was very sweet and, even into her teen years, somewhat childlike, though not stupid in any way-- you definitely inherited your intelligence from her.”

“So, why did you tell her to have a kid?” Gabrielle asked.


Gran bit her lip hard, frowning at the memory. “Artemis was… oh, I don’t know… about fourteen or fifteen, I guess. She had grown into a beautiful young lady, far prettier than I remember myself being, at any rate. And she and I were in the parlor, and I was teaching her a new piano piece. My husband came in, and… he was watching us. The way he looked at her… it scared me. I knew that look all too well, that look that meant he was thinking and planning, and I knew that I needed to get your mother out of the house before he tried to hurt her.

“It just so happened that your other grandparents had a son around Artemis’s age. His name was Nathan, and he was one of Artemis’s classmates. You look a lot like him, actually. The two of them were close friends, and it was clear to me that they were attracted to each other, but were afraid to act. I knew that I could use that to get Artemis out of the house.


“So, one day, I sat her down. ‘Artemis,’ I said, ‘what do you think about your friend Nathan?’ ‘Nathan Gibson?’ she asked, as if she knew about a million Nathans. ‘He’s nice… really funny,’ she replied, blushing a little. ‘Do you like him?’ I asked. ‘Well, yeah, Momma. He’s my friend,’ she said. ‘You know what I meant, Artemis,’ I replied. ‘Do you have a crush on him?’ Then she looked up at me, all wide blue eyes and bright red face, and said, embarrassed as can be, ‘Yeah, but I don’t think he likes me. It seems like sometimes he’s afraid to even look at me.’ And then I laughed a little, remembering being the same way when I was that age and said, ‘Sweetheart, trust me, he likes you just as much as you like him.’ And then she looked at me, like she thought I was poking fun at her, but still wanting to believe me.”

Gabrielle smiled a little at this. “I remember you acted the same way when I came to you, wanting to know how to tell if that guy Jack liked me,” she remarked.

“You were crazy over that guy,” her grandmother chuckled. “Then again, you always did like the artsy types. It must be in your blood from both sides of the family.”