Chapter 14

At breakfast, Mariah confirms that my release has been cancelled. My session with Jane and Dr. Wer-diger is still scheduled for this afternoon, so that should be interesting. Rayanne has fared much worse.

“Pack your things, Rayanne. An officer from the Burnaby Youth Justice Services Center will be here to pick you up at ten,” says Mariah.

“No! You can’t send me back into custody over smok-ing a cigarette!” says Rayanne angrily.

“I don’t know where you two went, but you weren’t anywhere on this property. I can’t prove anything other than the fact that you broke the house rules. Adhering to the rules was part of the terms of your release. There’s nothing I can do for you.” Mariah’s eyes are tired, her mouth a hard line.

Rayanne slams her cutlery down on the table and storms off. I can understand why she is angry. Nobody can prove where we went last night, or why we really snuck out. I finish my cereal in silence, despite my burn-ing curiosity about further consequences for me.

I walk into Jane’s office for my two o’clock appointment expecting a lecture. Dr. Werdiger and Jane are both wearing poker faces as I sit down.

“So, what’s the verdict? How much trouble am I in?”

“We know Rayanne was the instigator of last night’s incident,” says Jane.

“We think a different approach is warranted in your case, Katelyn,” says Dr. Werdiger.

“You’re obviously not ready to leave treatment. What we’d like to do instead is have you participate in the Province’s Kickstart program. The businesses involved specialize in helping youth at risk develop soft skills and improve employability prospects,” says Jane.

“What’s that?” I say, my forehead furrowed.

“With your mother’s permission, we’re going to set you up with a volunteer position at a second-hand clothing store downtown,” says Dr. Werdiger.

“You have a couple of other choices through Kickstart. We could put you in a coffee shop on Kingsway or a restaurant in North Vancouver. Since you’re not used to traveling around Vancouver, I’d like to place you at the location closest to Arbutus House, which is Visions Vintage,” says Jane.

“So, let me get this straight, you’re giving me a job? Just giving me one,” I say. I suppress my excitement. I’ve often dreaded the day when I’ll have to look for a job in Nelson. Unless I took a sudden interest in Girl Scouts or team sports, I’d have nothing on my resume once I was finally old enough to work.

“We need to consult your mother, but if you agree, we can start you as early as next week,” says Jane.

“I think it’s a great idea. I’ve never had a job before. Can I put it on my resume and get a reference?” I say.

“Yes, you can put it on your resume. But you need to be clear about the fact that this is not a job. You’re a volunteer and you won’t be paid. You’ll have to ask the manager for a reference. I would leave that until the end of your time there,” says Jane.

“Jane tells me she gave you homework to write to your past life in your diary, to say goodbye and achieve some closure for the delusion. Have you done this yet?” says Dr. Werdiger.

“I was going to do that last night, but then Rayanne wanted to sneak out,” I say. I immediately regret using the term sneak out.

“Do it tonight. You can discuss the outcome with Jane in your next session,” says Dr. Werdiger.

“I’m prepared to return your day pass if you’re able to commit to using the pass properly and conforming to house rules from here on in,” says Jane.

“I will! Absolutely!” I say with genuine enthusiasm.

“You’ve been making great progress, Katelyn. If we have no other slips, we can re-evaluate your release in a few weeks,” says Dr. Werdiger.

“Thank you. You won’t be disappointed,” I say.

I leave my session with optimistic energy. Things have worked out in my favor; I have more time in Vancouver. I don’t want to wait until the evening to write in my diary.

July 28, Arbutus House

Akasha, I’m supposed to say goodbye to you today. You should know by now that I’m still on your side. No matter what anyone says; even if Jane goes back on her word and reads this, I’ll keep searching. I’ll find out what happened to you. I’ll find a way to help you, I promise. I still don’t understand why you reached out to me — or even if you are me — but I promise to stay on your side and fight for you. You deserve as much.

Yours Always,

Katelyn Medena

I close my diary, ready to return it to my nightstand drawer. Instinct tells me to open it again and find a fresh page. I pick up my pen, close my eyes, and picture Akasha’s face. The familiar feeling of thick fog flows over me, but I don’t sleep. I can feel my hand moving across the page; I can hear the faint scratches of my ballpoint pen marking the paper. I wait patiently until the scratching stops.

Sanjay, once you are off the boat, I will share this letter with you. I’m not sure what day it is. I can’t see you or your father from here, but I know you must still be onboard. People have gathered to watch another ship arrive, a British ship. I do not know whether this will be good or bad. The men chattering around me seem to be amused that no one is coming off the boat. I think they want to see a battle. It makes me sad. I will pray for you again tonight, but I must also pray for myself. I may not survive sleeping out on the street much longer.

I wish Akasha would share something useful! A date. A location. What was the name of the British ship? Something I can look for! After I finish reading, I hastily hide my diary under my mattress. I caress my day pass. Suddenly, Melody’s words from the barbeque pop into my mind. Should my next outing be to find a psychic?

I pick up my phone and launch the Google app. A search for “Vancouver psychic” brings up a few business listings. One, Madame Carolina’s, is on Commercial Drive, not far from Bryce’s house. I start tapping, Can I trouble you for one more outing on the Drive?

My phone stays silent for a few minutes, so I put it back on my nightstand. I’m almost asleep when it chimes for an incoming text.

Sure, how can we help?

Do you think we could ditch Mitchell again?

Probably. He was fine with it last time.

That’s good. Because I want to go see a psychic.

My phone is silent again for another excruciating few minutes.

I forgot how much you like to live dangerously. What’s the address :-)

Bryce rarely uses emoticons; he thinks they’re tacky. He must really want me to know he’s okay with humoring me. I’ll take it.

I’m sending you the map link now.

Saturday arrives with bright sunshine; Mariah and my fellow housemates are all cheerful. After breakfast Bryce texts me that he and Mitchell are on their way over. I am sliding into the back seat of Mitchell’s car before the noon sun is overhead.

“It’s going to be a hot one today. Make sure you drink some water while you’re walking,” says Mitchell. He’s already in the loop on giving me and Bryce time to ourselves.

“I’m sorry to trouble you with coming all the way over to Kits. Thank you very much for doing this again.” I hope my sincerity is evident, because I really am grateful to both Mitchell and Bryce.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re happy to help,” says Mitchell.

“Mitchell doesn’t think you need babysitting either, so we’re good to go on our own,” says Bryce.

We turn off Broadway onto Commercial Drive and reach the cross street just before the storefront. I didn’t have the guts to make an appointment. I didn’t want to be overheard on the phone and I’m just plain shy. Today, I will be brave. Bryce is with me and I won’t fool around with my one chance to do this.

The front door of Madame Carolina’s is a glass win-dow with a multicolored metallic tapestry behind it. A bell hanging overhead jingles as I walk through.

The space inside looks like a cross between a bookshop and a gift shop. Jewelry and crystals are displayed under a glass case. A sofa in the back corner is flanked by bookshelves. For a few moments, the shop remains empty apart from Bryce and me. A figure appears behind a beaded curtain next to the sofa and a woman with dreadlocks tied with a bandana pushes her way through.

“Good afternoon. I’m Madame Carolina. How can I help you?” she says softly. She seems friendly and wel-coming, which makes me relax.

“I would like a reading,” I say as boldly as I can manage while still feeling a bit silly. Bryce looks like he’s biting his tongue.

“All right. I’m available. My table is in the back room. Your friend can wait out here, if he’s so inclined.” She eyes Bryce, a little suspiciously.

“Um, I need to ask: how much do you charge?”

“I charge fifty dollars per thirty minutes and seventy-five dollars per hour.” Bryce lets out a sigh.

“I think just a half hour should do,” I say. “Do you take debit?” If Mom knew what her recent transfer to my bank account was being used for, she would hit the ceiling.

“I accept debit, credit, and cash.” Madame Carolina flashes a kind smile.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Bryce flops down on the couch and picks up a magazine from the table in front of him while I follow Madame Carolina through the beaded curtain.

The back room is much cozier than the front. A single round table with two chairs occupies the center of the space. A sheer light purple scarf is draped over the single window, giving the room a violet hue while more tapestries hang on the walls. I look at a poster of a star chart on the wall opposite me as I sit down. Madame Carolina takes the seat across from me and places her arms palm up on the table between us.

“Take my hands. Say nothing unless I ask a question.” I feel awkward as I reach out and place my hands in hers. She doesn’t know what I want; maybe it’s best if I don’t give her any hints.

She looks me squarely in the eyes, and then she closes hers.

We sit in silence for what feels like a long time. She grips my hands and releases them. She groans softly.

“You are searching for a lost friend. She has run away from home, yes?”

“Yes,” I say nervously.

“She came to Vancouver. She traveled a long way. So sad. So desperate. She is dead, yes?”

“Um, yes, for a long time.”

“Shhh, no more. Only yes or no.” I shift in my seat as I stare at the woman’s lined face. She frowns with her eyes still closed.

“She is here with you. She follows you closely always. She has stories to tell you, but she cannot break through easily. The veil is thick.”

“What’s her name?” I ask bluntly. Rules be damned, I want a sign this is real.

“Shhhh, no.” We sit in an uncomfortable silence. Madame Carolina grunts quietly. Bryce was right. I am getting ripped off again.

“Your friend has another name to give you. Eddie is the man.” Prickles cover my entire body. My breath catches in my throat.

“Eddie. Can you find him? You must find him.”

“Yes! I mean, I’ll try. I don’t know. I don’t know how.” My stomach lurches. Akasha must be giving me the name of her captor!

“We are done now, my dear,” says Madame Carolina.

“But I need more.”

“I work in half-hour blocks. Do you want to stay for the hour at seventy-five?”

I’m torn. I shouldn’t be spending the fifty, let alone seventy-five. My bank account had ninety some-odd dollars last time I checked. If I’m wrong and seventy-five doesn’t go through, I’ll have to ask Bryce to pay her the balance. After taking his money for the (ultimately useless) Ouija board, I cannot do that again. What if we sat here for another half hour and nothing new comes through? It’s time to cut my losses.

“No, we should stop here. Thanks, though.”

Madame Carolina rises and gestures for me to follow her. We go back out front through the beads to find Bryce browsing book spines along the wall near the register. He looks restless and ready to leave. I pull my wallet out of my backpack.

“Please feel free to come back and visit me again,” says Madame Carolina as I am punching buttons on her debit machine.