"Do you want to start again?" I asked.

"No, no. Let's just... Okay. Here's what we'll do. I'm going to tell you what I see and hope it makes sense to you, because it doesn't make any sense to me. Okay?"

Tuesday morning I tried to sleep late, but I'd been getting up early for so long that I couldn't keep my eyes closed. My aunt was already at work, so I was home alone with nothing to do. I didn't want to think about it, but I remembered what Mrs. Wilson had said: "If you suddenly find yourself with a lot of time and nothing to do..."

For some reason, I was a little miffed. I felt manipulated, as though someone had backed me into a corner. I know it doesn't make sense, but it seemed like Mrs. Earshon was rearranging my schedule. I wanted to be mad at somebody, but I liked Mr. Bryant too much to be mad at him, and I couldn't be mad at Ms. Tandy or my aunt, or even Mrs. Wilson. So, I was mad at Mrs. Earshon.

At the same time, I had absolutely nothing to do, so I called Mrs. Wilson, who practically jumped out of her skin for happiness. An hour later she drove up with the twins strapped into their car seats. Both boys were wiggling and struggling to get out, straining to grab anything in reach.

"They must be a handful," I said. "I mean, they're really cute..."

"Oh, tell me about it," she said. "They're my joy and my dispartation."

Dispart... Disper... Desperation! I thought, but I kept it to myself. I had the feeling that if I didn't correct it right away, the wrong word would get stuck in my head and I'd end up saying it that way myself.

She dropped me in front of an ordinary suburban house, told me when she'd come to fetch me, and drove off. I stood on the sidewalk, feeling as I'd been abandoned. I wasn't scared, but I didn't want to go inside. Once again, there was nothing else to do. So I walked up to the door and rang the bell.

In spite of my misgivings, I liked Mrs. Earshon right away. She insisted I call her Brenda. She was an inch or so taller than me, with curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a nice smile. She had a nice figure, but her hips were wide, as if she'd had a child or two. She brought me inside and looked me up and down. The first thing she said was, "How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Hmm. And you're flat, aren't you? This is all padding, right?" She didn't poke my little fake breasts, but she didn't seem to need to.

I was embarrassed. Was it that obvious?

"I don't know how you usually look," she replied, "Maybe today you weren't as careful as usual. I have something that can help. Some girls just need a little kickstart." Then she turned and walked to her dining room. I followed.

She shuffled a deck of tarot cards, and had me cut them. Then she dealt them out, face up, and studied the result. She was smiling a little as she arranged the cards, but then she frowned slightly. She pointed at one card and another, and her lips moved, was if she was trying to do difficult sums in her head. Her frown deepened.

I'd never been to a psychic before, so I thought this was how it always worked. I waited in silence as she frowned and rubbed her chin. I guess there were about twelve or fourteen cards on the table, each with a strange and interesting picture.

She cleared her throat and said, "Do you mind if we start again? This uh, ..., well, let's just start again." After another shuffle and cut, Mrs. Earshon dealt out the cards. Again, it was a dozen cards or so, arranged in the same pattern as before.

She blinked a few times, and held her breath. She put her chin in her hands and stared at the cards in silence. I don't know the tarot deck, but it looked like a lot of the same cards had come up again.

"Is it something bad?" I asked.

"Uh, no," she replied, hesitantly. "It's not... uh, ''bad'', it's just..." She sighed, and frowned, wrinkling her forehead.

"Listen, I have to tell you the truth — I've been doing this a long time, but this just stumps me. It's pretty much the same as the first layout... different cards, but similar... Hmm..."

"Do you want to start again?" I asked.

"No, no. Let's just..." She found the card layout so confusing, she was at a loss as to what to say.

"Okay. Here's what we'll do. I'm going to tell you what I see and hope it makes sense to you, because it doesn't make any sense to me. Okay?"

I shrugged, so she began.

"Okay. What's weird about this is that almost every card appears with its opposite. It's like you're two people, or you have a secret life or something. But you're too young for something like that!

"And here — this is not even you — this is somebody near you, close to you, who is young and old at the same time. They need your help. This is an old person who seems young or a young person who seems old. Does that make sense?"

"No," I said, genuinely puzzled.

"Not old-old," she said. "Just older than you, like twenties or early thirties."

Again, I shrugged.

She studied the cards a bit more. "Here's another weird one, and... okay, I'll tell you, but don't get all worried about this. Here is an older man — NOT your father, but a father figure — and see this card over him?" The card was Death, a skeleton in a black robe, holding a scythe. "Now that doesn't necessarily mean that someone's going to die, but it's a big change, and in this case not a good one. This is somebody near, but not someone you're close to." She licked her lips and looked at me. "Does that make any sense? Is there someone physically close, who's like a father figure, but not emotionally close?"

I was about to say "Mr Bryant, my principal," but before I did, she added, "He has dark hair."

"No," I said. "If you hadn't added the dark hair, I would have said yes."

"Well," Brenda said, a little put out, "This guy has dark hair." She sighed and looked over the cards some more.

"Okay, moving on, then. See this card here? It says you're going to be famous. But this card here says you won't. And they way they go together, it's like — I don't know — like — I know this sounds crazy, but — it's like your shadow breaks off and becomes famous, but you stay the same. Does that make any sense?"

"Maybe," I shrugged. It didn't really make any sense at all — nothing had, so far, but I was beginning to feel badly for Mrs. Earshon. After all, if she knew I was really a boy, she might have been able to make sense of things. Still, a secret is a secret, and a secret's to be kept.

"Okay," she said. "Some things are pretty clear, though. Like, uh, no enemies, no big problems, you're surrounded by friends and supportive family, which is great. I don't see anything about money or health, so I have to assume they're not issues."

She tapped on one card with her forefinger and said, "This card in this position is key. It's the central theme. In your case the theme is change, transformation. I guess that could be puberty, but when the card is in this position it means that your puberty is a greater unfolding and transformation than it is for most people."

"Well, that makes sense," I said. I felt like I had to throw her a bone.

"It does?" she asked, unconvinced. "These other cards... I'm not even going to say. It's like... This is in the weeks ahead... like an accident that's not a mistake, or... oh, I give up." She scratched her head. "I've never had so much trouble doing a reading. Do you mind if we run a quick verification? It's just a four-card thing."

"Sure," I said, and after another shuffle and cut, she dealt out four cards. I recognized two of them.

She sighed and scooped them up. "It's the same thing all over," she said, frowning. "Opposites, contradictions... you're not on your period or sick or something, are you?"

"No."

"And you don't take drugs or anything like that?"

"Nope."

Again, I almost opened my mouth to tell her, but I stopped myself again. I had to remember: I didn't know this woman, really. How could I trust her? She might know someone connected to the school, and one loose word from her could end everything.

She clutched the cards and puzzled over the situation. "Well, it's almost time for you to go. Will you do me a favor? Will you come back — in the middle of January or so — will you come back for another reading?"

"I can't," I replied. "I'm going to move to New Jersey around Christmas."

"You are!?" she was genuinely shocked. "I didn't see that. Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"All right," Brenda said. She was clearly flustered. "I don't mind admitting when I'm stumped. It doesn't happen very often. Marcie, you're just a complete puzzle to me. Listen, then: if you're still here in the middle of December, will you come back? Before you move? I'll give you the reading for free. And tell Mrs. Wilson she doesn't owe me for this one. I can't take money if I can't tell you anything."

At that, we saw Mrs. Wilson's car pull up outside. "Oh!" she said, suddenly remembering, "I've got something for you! Go wave to her, so she knows you're coming, but don't leave just yet."

Mrs. Earshon ran to her kitchen, while I opened the front door and waved. Then she bustled up and in a confidential way handed me a small brown bag, the kind that coffee comes in.

"This is an herbal tea. One good tablespoon in a big mug. Pour in boiling water and cover for 15 minutes. Drink it once a day for ten days. Okay? Now run!"

When I got home, I opened the bag. It held a mixture of crumpled leaves and tiny sticks. I was pretty suspicious, but it smelled good, so I brewed a cup. The tea smelled even better than the dry mixture. I took a tiny sip, and liked it. I drank a slightly bigger sip, and then another, and soon the cup was empty. After a couple of minutes, I felt warm all over and suddenly had a lot of energy. So put on the music Eden had given me, and ran through our dance routine a couple of times. Then I had lunch, straightened up the kitchen, and cleaned my room. When I finished my room, I did my homework. That took me to three o'clock. Time to leave for my appointment with Mr. Marks!

Before I left, I hid the tea in my room. I liked it, and didn't want my aunt drinking it up or throwing it out by mistake.