Final Breath

been kind of scary at times--but not very fun alone, and certainly not worth five bucks. Plus he'd felt kind of pathetic, standing in line for ten minutes with no one to talk to, so he'd decided not to waste his money on any more rides.

The smell of hot dogs and ice cream waffle cones wafted through the air. The hot sun beat down on Eli as he wandered among all the strangers and listened to the Rolling Stones (his dad's favorite rock group) on his iPod. He roamed past toss-and-win booths, refreshment stands, and even a video game arcade tent. But none of it appealed to him. It just wasn't any fun doing that kind of stuff alone. He missed his friends--and he missed his dad terribly. It had been nearly seven weeks, and he still hadn't gotten over this homesickness. He still cried in bed some nights, but he buried his face in his pillow so his mom wouldn't hear. Weird, he didn't hesitate to convey his anger at her half the time, but he'd be damned if he let her know how sad he was. He didn't want her trying to comfort him. He knew he was acting like a jerk and didn't like himself very much for it. Still, Eli figured if he made his mom miserable enough, she'd finally give in and they'd go back home to Chicago. Then he'd get to sleep in his own bed again.

He stopped in front of a booth, where a gaunt woman sat at a card table, with a mangy-looking German shepherd curled up at her feet. Eli guessed she was about fifty years old. She had black hair and a pale, ruddy complexion. She wore sunglasses and puffed on a cigarette. There was something witchlike about her appearance. Eli wondered if she was blind--what with the dark glasses and the dog; plus one of the lower buttons of her purple blouse wasn't fastened in the right hole. The sign along the top of the booth read:

PSYCHIC READER

Love? Career? Happiness?

Answers about Your Past, Present & Future

Ask MARCELLA-$5.00 a sitting

Eli switched off his iPod and took out his earpieces. His mother wasn't talking anymore. Now he heard some man's voice booming from the ValuCo parking lot.

He stared up at the psychic woman's sign. He certainly had some questions about his future. But the lady's name was kind of weird. Wasn't Marcella a certain breed of chicken or something? And five bucks? It sounded like a ripoff. Still, he felt sorry for the lady, because she was blind.

'For five dollars, I'll tell your future!' the woman called to him.

Startled that the lady could actually see--and she was addressing him--Eli quickly shook his head and started to move on.

'I'll give you a discount!' the woman persisted. 'I'll read your fortune for only three dollars. I can see you have many questions!'

'I'm sorry, thanks anyway!' Eli replied. But he paused for a moment.

'C'mon in, and I'll give you a free reading,' she called, waving him into the booth. 'It's slow anyway.' As she raised her voice, the old German shepherd slowly got up on its feet to see what the hubbub was about. 'Sit!' Marcella said.

Eli wasn't sure if she was talking to him or the dog, but he stepped around the front counter and sat down in the folding chair across from her. It was hot in the tent booth, and smelled like cigarettes. Sitting this close to Marcella, he could see she was sweating. 'When were you born?' she asked.

'August 29th, 1995,' he answered.

'Virgo,' she said, stubbing out her cigarette and reaching for his hand. 'Your planet is Mercury. I should have known you were Virgo the minute you said, 'No thanks,' to me. You didn't want the strange lady to read your fortune. You're cautious, a classic Virgo trait. You're also intelligent, but a bit too critical of other people.' She studied his hand--both sides, as if it were a piece of fish in the marketplace. 'Relax,' she said, focusing on his palm now. 'You have a long life line, but there are several breaks--many different lives. You'll be doing some traveling in the near future...'

Eli wondered if that meant they'd be moving back to Chicago soon. Or was that just some standard line she gave everyone?

'You're going through a lot of changes right now, difficult times, but you should be okay.'

Once again, he wondered if she was really seeing something, or if she was giving him the same reading she'd use on any teenager. Lots of changes, difficult times, well, sure, duh.

She looked up from his palm and into his eyes.

It made Eli nervous to be scrutinized like this. He was aware every time he blinked. The German shepherd, curled up on the floor, wagged his tail and it slapped against Eli's feet.

This close, he could see Marcella's eyes narrowing behind the dark glasses. 'You're an only child, aren't you?'

He nodded.

She kept staring at him. 'You have three letters in your first name,' she said finally.

Eli felt the hair stand on the back of his neck. 'Yes. My name's Eli.'

She just nodded, very matter-of-fact. Then she held her hand directly over his head for a few moments. 'You're in touch with the spirit world, aren't you?' she asked.

Eli hesitated before he said anything. He thought about the ghost--or maybe ghosts--in their apartment; the former occupant who killed her teenage son and then herself.

'Yes--yes, you are...very spiritual,' she said, answering for him. She suddenly pulled her hand back, as if she'd touched something extremely hot. The German shepherd lifted his head from the ground for a moment.

'What is it?' Eli asked. 'Do you see something that's going to happen to me in the future?'

'It's been happening to you for a while now. But you've been very secretive about it.'

Eli shifted a bit in the folding chair. What was he being secretive about? He wondered if she was talking about all the time he spent whacking off lately. Maybe she could see that he was a major pervert or something. He broke eye contact with her to glance at the people passing by Marcella's booth. He saw these two older teenage girls pass by. They glanced at him, whispered something to each other, and then laughed. Eli felt embarrassed. He turned his attention back to Marcella.

He figured she was just jerking him around, waiting for him to reveal something about himself so she could claim she'd seen his aura or something. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said finally. 'What do you think has been happening to me?'

'You already know, Eli,' Marcella said, staring at him from behind those dark glasses. She took hold of his hand again. 'Someone dead is communicating with you.'

'I have one last question here--and it's for Sydney Jordan!' Gil Sessions announced, checking an index card. Gil, the host of PM Magazine, was the MC at this event. After everyone had their brief 'it's great to be here' speech, they had to answer questions certain audience members had written down ahead of time. As he read off the queries, Gil asked the questioner to raise his or her hand. But only about half of those people were still in the area. The rest had obviously lost interest in the celebrity appearances and wandered into the store or to the fun fair in the neighboring lot. It made the interview session pretty pointless, but Sydney, Terri Tatum of What's Cooking, Seattle?, and the obnoxious weatherman from Channel 6 had bravely gone through the motions. Sydney had kept her responses humorous and brief.

'This question's from Tammy Milsap of Federal Way,' Gil announced. 'Tammy, are you out there? Tammy?'

From the audience, a pretty blond woman waved.

'Hi, Tammy, looking good!' Gil said into his handheld microphone. Then he turned to Sydney and glanced at the index card. 'Sydney, Tammy would like to know: 'Are you and your family making the Seattle area your new home?'' He glanced up from the card. 'Your husband is a Chicago police detective, isn't that right?'

Seated between the Channel 6 weatherman and Miss What's Cooking, Seattle? Sydney kept a smile plastered on her face and got to her feet. She moved to the standing mike at the front of the platform. She'd already developed a standard answer to questions about her recent move to Seattle sans her handsome, hero-cop husband. The topic had already come up a few times--in interviews with Seattle Magazine, The Seattle Times, and some online articles. 'That's right, Gil,' Sydney said into the mike. 'Joe's a Chicago cop, and obviously, he doesn't work undercover.'

This got a few chuckles from the crowd. Sydney scanned the sea of faces for Eli, but she didn't see him. 'I'm