After school, I yanked my tangle of hair into a ponytail, wrapped my favorite green scarf around my neck, and went to the garage for my bicycle. I pulled the seed packet with the bookstore address from my pocket.
"Where are you off to?"
I startled. I hadn't noticed my dad sitting in his parked car in the dim light of the garage. He was home unusually early. I'd hoped to get to Say Chi's and back before he got home from work. "Why are you sitting there like a stalker, Dad?"
He climbed out of the car. "I didn't want to miss the end of the news segment on NPR."
He narrowed his eyes as if I were dodging his question. "Where did you say you were going?"
"I didn't."
"Right. That's the problem."
"Well, if you must know, I'm off to Say Chi's bookstore. The doctors are useless. I'm going to figure things out on my own." I rang the bike bell and pushed off.
"Hold on!" I stopped mid-pedal but didn't turn around. The sound of his shoes shuffling toward me on the pavement played on my nerves. "You can't diagnose yourself. And Say Chi's isn't exactly a supplier of quality medical reference books." He held the seat of my bike, which made me want to jam on the pedals and rip it from his grasp. "Is your vision still blurry?"
"It's not blurry, Dad. It's clear. In fact, I feel like I'm seeing clearly for the first time in my life. I don't think there is anything wrong with my eyes. I think I'm seeing auras."
A phlegmy yellow pulsed from his chest like a festering sore, bringing to mind the phrase yellow-bellied coward. He swallowed with effort, his face now pale. "Auras?"
His fear sent ripples of dread through my body, concentrating in my chest. Hopefully, I was reading him wrong. "I think so. That's why I need to go to the bookstore. I'll explain it to you later." I expected further argument, but Dad let go of my seat and stared as if I were a ghost. As if he could see my colors rising from my skin into the clouds. It had been years since he had looked so sad. It struck an old, helpless chord inside my chest, so much so that I almost didn't leave. If he had continued to stare, troubled and haunted, I might have stayed. But he turned and walked slowly toward the house.
###
Instead of a bell, when I opened the door of Say Chi's, I heard a recorded female voice say, "Peace be with you." The scent of incense assailed me. At least it wasn't patchouli. That kind of stink was like dirty, weedy tar.
I scanned the large, airy space. Above the door was a round window with tiny circular windows inside it, like bubbles trapped within a bubble. It gave the store a bright infusion of dotted light. Exotic jewelry and scarves from foreign countries, Tibetan prayer flags, wind chimes, and tarot cards surrounded me. An enormous circular table was laden with various types of glimmering crystals. There were books, of course, mostly New Age topics. I recognized one author, Edmund Nustber. When Dad couldn't sleep, he liked to watch his late-night show on TV, where the wild-haired Mr. Nustber raved about paranormal wonders, aliens, and crop circles. Janelle called him Edmund Nutbar.
"Hello, young lady." My head snapped up, and I met the direct gaze of a statuesque black woman with the most impressive head of dreads I'd ever seen.
"Your hair is art," I said.
The woman chuckled and rounded the table, grasping my hand in her own. "I'm Faye, proprietor of Say Chi's. What is it you're seeking today?"
Suddenly, I was overcome with questions. Underneath all of them, what I sought most was to know what was happening to me and why I was different. "I think I'm seeing auras," I blurted, though I realized with relief that I hadn't seen any colors at all coming off her. It was a nice break.
Faye's hand slipped away. She took a few steps backward, and I wondered if I weirded her out. Then she said, "Do you, child? Can you see mine?"
I was being tested. Or doubted. Neither of which sat well with me. I didn't look directly at Faye, but just beyond her. Slight waves, like a mirage, shimmered off her head then faded. I concentrated. I thought I saw a deep blue flash, but then it quickly disappeared. "This is stupid." I turned to go.
"Wait!" Faye called. "What did you see?"
My shoulders slumped forward. A dead end. There were no answers here. The doctors were right. My father was right. It was all in my head. "Nothing. I saw nothing," I admitted.
Faye then slipped a shimmering crystal from around her neck. "Now?"
I blinked. Immediately, Faye's colors jumped into focus. Brilliant blue-purple, like a morning glory, and the golden light of a candle on a dark night; both were most pronounced around her neck and head. "Beautiful," I whispered. This woman's aura was clear and defined, which was why the sudden infusion of black around her lower abdomen became so apparent. The black seeped into the light like spilled ink. I stared.
"You can see it," Faye said in a shocked murmur.
I nodded, dumbfounded. "Is...is something wrong with you?"
"Cancer. Caught it early, thank the Lord. I've told no one," Faye said while draping the necklace back over her head. The light vanished.
I felt ashamed. Like a Peeping Tom. Did I have any right to see these private things? I impulsively hugged her, surprising myself. "I'm so sorry."
She laughed wryly and patted my back. "Sorry? No, dear. Don't be sorry. It's like being sorry your ears can hear Mozart or the wings of a hummingbird." Faye pushed me back at arm's length. "You look scared. I gather this is new, and you need to understand it."
Faye led me through the bookstore, past shelves of books on everything from occult practices to diets for your zodiac type. I watched as her thick finger trailed their spines. "Ah," she said, landing on one in particular. She tilted it out and passed it to me. Beyond Form—How to See and Read Auras.
"That ought to get you started. And this," Faye said, handing me a laminated sheet. "It's a color chart. It will help you recognize the meanings of the colors you see. But don't take it as gospel. Sometimes, the seer's own perceptions are more important. Pink is often described as a loving color, but if green is the epitome of love to you, trust it."
She offered a plate of cookies and looked intensely into my eyes. "You have a gift."
"It doesn't feel like a gift," I said with a sigh, taking a cookie. "How many people can do this?"
Faye smiled. "Not many, I suspect. Lots of charlatans claim to. I think you're the real deal."
"Is your necklace some kind of protection?"
She waved her hand and chuckled. "Ooooh, I sure hope so, from the energy vampires of the world."
I shivered, thinking of the man in the hospital and how I felt like my life was being sucked from me when he was near.
"Don't look so frightened. It's simply a figure of speech. Haven't you ever been around someone whose mere presence wore you out? They could be as nice as cool lemonade in summer, but instead of feeling refreshed, you feel just plain sapped?"
"I can think of lots of people who make me feel that way, especially at school."
"Ha! That's because teenagers are exploding with new energy." Her arms waved in the air. "Y'all are a bunch of out-of-control aura-bombs discharging around each other." She laughed. I liked the sound of it— spicy and soaked with joy.
I asked to see the display of Kirlian photography. We walked to the back corner of the store where there was a large gallery with dozens of pictures of plants and people, their auras captured beautifully on film. The sight of all those people, all those colors, was amazing confirmation of what I'd been seeing.
"There's something missing here," I ventured, the sense of unease about myself becoming a familiar gnaw. "None of these pictures show an aura like my own."
"Indeed? What does your aura look like?"
"I don't have any of these colors, not even white. My aura is nothing but silver."
Faye glanced away from me for a moment, thoughtful. Her eyes had the faraway look of reaching for a memory. She gazed back at me with an intensity that made me flinch.
"Tell me."
"In this business, you hear many tales over the years, scraps of legends and myths. Many attributed to places in the British Isles, like Ireland and Wales, some from civilizations much older even than the Druids or Celts. But if you're right and your aura is pure silver..." She riffled through her bookshelves. The chaotic way she did it—pulling out one book, setting it on the floor, running to a different shelf, fanning quickly through the pages of another book, disappearing into the back of the store—made my skin prickle.
"What are you looking for?" I asked, standing over her as she sat on the floor, her skirt in a puddle around her, with two books open on her lap.
Faye looked up at me. "Something's playing hide-and-seek in my memory. If I could find it—"
My voice shook. "You're kind of freaking me out. Find what?"
Faye stood and fingered a long gray dread. "What they call people like you." She covered her lips with two fingers, then her eyes darted back to me. "I've read about it or heard about it. I can't remember which. But I do remember this—silver ones are very rare. Almost mythological. So rare they're thought to be wiped from the earth."
Wiped? I didn't like the sound of that.
She paused a moment, possibly weighing whether to continue and then spoke softly. "I feel a strong impulse to tell you this, so I'm going to follow it. If I'm right, well then, honey, don't go telling folks about your silver aura. It's a risk you shouldn't take, no matter how much you trust someone. Evil wears many masks, and there are those who want nothing more than to find someone like you."