SHORTCUTS Read online

  Advanced Praise for Shortcuts

  “A diverse cast of relatable characters teach us that kindness, acceptance, teamwork, self-reflection, and self-forgiveness can alter the future in unexpected ways.”

  — Jennifer Moore, Ph.D., School of Library and Information Studies, Texas Woman’s University

  * * *

  “The power of Shortcuts is the characters. Every middle grade student will find a character they can relate to in this book.”

  — Dr. Jennifer Heine, Elementary School Librarian, Judson ISD

  * * *

  “Bearce’s beautifully descriptive writing is a buffet of emotions complete with taste and smell! The characters are entirely relatable and intriguing as they learn to wield gifts that, if discovered, could destroy their lives.”

  — Stacy Webb, Librarian, John Glenn Middle School

  SHORTCUTS

  Amy Bearce

  Shortcuts

  * * *

  Copyright © 2019 byAmy Bearce.

  Cover and Interior Illustrations Copyright © Shutterstock.com/GeoArt

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Shortcuts hand drawn title by Jeff Crosby.

  jeffcrosbyillustration.com

  * * *

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express permission of the copyright holder.

  For more information, write:

  CBAY Books

  PO Box 670296

  Dallas, TX 75367

  * * *

  Children’s Brains are Yummy Books

  Dallas, Texas

  www.cbaybooks.blog

  To my friends,

  You are all fabulous.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The buzzing of the lunch bell made me jump, but I was ready for the chaos that followed. Ninety-two eighth-graders hurtled from their classrooms, sending ninety-two separate emotions gushing down the hallway like an invisible tidal wave. Anger and amusement, elation and embarrassment, warmth and worry.

  Like always, I gritted my teeth at the emotional tsunami. Having excellent acting skills came in handy at times like these. I just imagined I was in a performance.

  The stage is set … The curtain rises … And …

  You’re on, Parker.

  I braced myself and pasted on a big smile. Throwing my leather-fringed backpack over my left shoulder, I strode down the eighth-grade hall, aiming for my most confident look, the one Avery called “The Fashionista.” My grin promised I had exactly zero worries. My walk announced I felt confident and happy. And I did, at least most of the time.

  But only a few people knew just how many other things I felt. The rest could never know.

  I greeted all my friends as I went, waving constantly like the winner of the annual Miss Divine Pecan Pageant. (Which I actually have been. Twice. I probably held the record for the most bobby pins in an updo.)

  Being small—or my preferred term, petite—meant I could move through the crowd without bumping into anyone, which was a good thing. I worked hard at it, too. Touching someone boosted my empathy, as if they were shouting their feelings right in my ear. School was already too loud, in every possible way: Shrill laughter and the babble of voices echoed down the white-tiled hall. Lockers clanked like a washing machine full of loose quarters. But the feelings were the hardest to ignore.

  Shame! Pride! Dread! Random bits of other people’s feelings drizzled down around me like rain, soaking into my heart. Today, shame was particularly gross, sticky yet acidic.

  Stepping to the side, pretending to tie my shoe, I imagined a waterfall pouring over me and washing away all my classmates’ sticky emotions. The Venerable Madam Lily did this on her late-late show, Ask a Psychic. Who knew a phony psychic’s technique to block intrusive feelings actually worked? Well, mostly. Still, any help was better than none.

  The water bubbled along inside me, carrying away all those unwanted feelings. Slowly, the flickering emotions vanished, until only my own remained. My stomach still felt a bit curdled from that shame slushee, though.

  I couldn’t sense everyone’s feelings all the time, thank goodness, but sudden or powerful emotions often slipped past other people’s natural walls to ambush me. Some flares of emotions were like fireworks: sudden and bright, then gone in a heartbeat. More powerful feelings slid slowly from my senses, stubborn ghosts that would rather haunt than disappear.

  All emotions faded sooner or later, though. Some just needed a little help, especially on Mondays, a day full of extra zips from weekend fights and flirtations.

  Today was definitely a Monday.

  I let out a slow breath and pressed a hand to my belly. Okay, so my shielding could stand some improvement, but I still had to eat. Mondays required dessert, though. I stopped by my locker to toss in my books. Today I’d go for the banana pudding. Maybe I’d even grab one for Ethan as a surprise.

  Pain. Psychic claws raked down my back, out of nowhere.

  I flinched but forced back the emotion from whoever had brushed past. It’d be gone in a minute. Leaning my head against the locker door, I waited for the feeling to pass. It didn’t.

  Disbelief. Despair.

  A one-two punch to the gut.

  Okay, waterfall, don’t fail me now. One more time. We can do this. I steeled myself to focus, always hard during a class change, but before I managed to turn on my imagery mood cleanser, the stench of burnt chocolate and over-brewed coffee bloomed right beside me. The smell of betrayal and heartbreak.

  I hid a gag. Two merciful months had passed since the last time an emotion had shown up in my mind with Smell-o-Vision. No imaginary waterfall could wash away agony like that, not when it was right in my face.

  That. Was. It.

  I slammed my locker shut and turned to the girl beside me. “Hey, Kayla. Are you okay?”

  It was a rhetorical question. I judged Kayla’s heartbreak a 7.1 on the Emo Scale. Anything over a 5.0 showed up in my mind at least briefly, whether or not I was trying to tune it out. By 6.0, their pain seriously burned. But manifesting pain as a smell was rare, reserved for 7.0 and up.

  Kayla looked around her locker door, with one eye hidden behind her braids. “Brad’s taking someone else to the Halloween dance. I can’t—” The words melted into tears.

  I sighed and looked around for the boy in question. Attending middle school in a small town meant it was never too hard to pick someone out of the crowd, but Brad made it easy. Always wanting to be first, he barreled right by on his way to the lunchroom, not even looking our way.

  He wasn’t pushing his feelings on me, but I could suss them out anyway if I wanted. Keeping my stance casual, I stretched out my psychic sense of empathy and opened it to become a walking X-ray machine for the heart.

  I wrinkled my nose and closed my gift down fast. Hatefully smug. Brad-boy wasn’t worried about Kayla’s tears, though he knew about them. He wasn’t interested in her anymore.
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  “I’m so sorry. He’s not good enough for you.”

  Kayla pressed her lips tight, yet the tears kept flowing.

  Words were such awkward, gangly tools to accomplish emotional surgery. Even the hug I gave her—mental waterfall set to high so I could touch her without her feelings gagging me—could only do so much. I ached to make Kayla feel better right now. For a psychic empath, the happiness of others was truly my own.

  Unfortunately, so was their pain.

  Though I wished I could reach into their hearts and make everyone better instantly, my gift was a one-way street. I could look but not touch. Luckily, a liberal dose of Texas charm could smooth over the sometimes-necessary pushiness and persuasion, leaving everyone, including me, happier in the end. Win-win.

  Another blip hit my empathy radar, at least a 6.1 on the Emo Scale—the Attraction scale this time. Tinted silver with long-term admiration, it came from Anthony Perron, standing across the hall, watching Kayla.

  Excellent.

  I said, “So Brad sucks. But you know who doesn’t have a date for the dance? And who really, really likes you?”

  Kayla wiped her nose and looked up. “Someone else … likes me?”

  I pulled out my most knowing smile. “Don’t look now, but Anthony’s across the hall. I can tell he’s totally into you. Have you read Reading the Signs of Love?”

  The title always made me snort, but it was a real book. A dumb one, but it made for a useful cover.

  Kayla shook her head.

  “It’s about how you can read someone’s emotions from their body language. And he definitely likes what he’s seeing.”

  Kayla sniffed. “Brad thinks I can’t get another date.”

  “Prove him wrong. But first, let’s get you fixed up.”

  I pushed the girl into the bathroom and busted out the emergency bag I kept on hand for exactly these situations. In a minute flat, all blotchy evidence of crying was gone. Kayla walked over to Anthony with a new, if fragile, smile on her freshly painted lips.

  I gave myself a mental high five. If they gave out medals for psychic empathy, I’d definitely earn the gold these days. I’d also be the only one competing in that particular category, but that was beside the point.

  A voice behind me said, “Seriously? You’re still playing Cupid?”

  I shrieked and spun, clutching my chest at the familiar sight of my best friend Avery. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  Avery tossed her books in our shared locker. “Pshaw. If you’d ignore all the sob stories around you, you’d have heard me coming. Check these out.”

  She held out one foot wearing a green thick-soled boot covered in hot pink flowers. Fascinating choice, but one Avery could carry off, no doubt stomping like a T-Rex as she went. “And don’t even tell me you weren’t using your awesomeness to find Kayla a perfect match.”

  “Only a little!”

  “Whatever. You’re going to get us all busted when people figure out you’re selling Love Potion Number Nine to sad-faced girls.”

  “As if. Brad’s a hateful user, but Anthony’s sweet. They’ll be cute together, yeah?” I smiled, purposefully bringing out my dimples.

  Avery rolled her eyes and tugged a brush through her red hair. “Yeah, they’re adorable. Don’t bother flashing the dimples. They don’t work on me like they do Ethan.”

  Heat burned my cheeks, but I shrugged. “Ethan’s not interested in my dimples.” Or any part of me other than the friend part. Which was fine by me. Absolutely fine.

  “Whatever you say, Parker. If you’re willing to bend the rules, at least have the decency to fix up Todd with some awful match and make him miserable.” Avery glared at her ex-boyfriend, who squirmed by like a snake.

  When they broke up, Todd had told Avery that she needed to learn to relax. And sure, Avery could be intense. But when a girl was truly precognitive, things could get heavy. Like the time she had a vision of a guy getting beaten to a pulp in a locker room. He resembled Ethan, same spiky black hair, and all locker rooms look alike. But it turned out to be someone in Ohio, two weeks later.

  Luckily, that kid survived, not that we could’ve done anything about it if he hadn’t. No matter how brilliant Avery was in science—very—her visions were random, vague, and not super helpful most of the time. For logical Avery, they created lots of stress.

  I understood better than anyone. I was drawn to suffering like an animal lover was drawn to the pound. I felt compelled to help people find their happiest path in life.

  Even though people could suck my heart dry if I wasn’t careful.

  And even if people might figure out my secret sauce if I wasn’t careful.

  But that’s why I was always super, duper careful.

  One last exhausting waterfall rinsed away the worst of the remaining distractions. I heaved a deep sigh.

  “Better?” Avery asked, used to the ritual.

  “Much. Let’s go dig in. I need to fortify my strength.”

  The cafeteria was already pretty full. We headed to the hot lunch line, and our path took us right past Todd. Avery tightened her lips into a line, but not even a tiny zing scratched my skin. I gave a contented sigh.

  The best way for me to relax was spending time with Avery, Ethan, and Deshawn. The four of us had been connected from the start when our parents met in the same clinic for a trial of a new fertility drug. That doctor disappeared fast when the drug got banned—pausing only long enough to delete his files—but the family friendships stuck, especially when our parents realized their kids not only shared similar birthdays, but similar … differences—unusual abilities that grew stronger with age.

  Our four families swore to keep it secret, keeping us kids under the radar as best as they could. Though each of us had a different type of ability, all our gifts were awesome—except when, like mine, they weren’t. Luckily, we’d all worked on mentally shielding emotions after I stumbled onto Madam Lily’s show. Being around any of our Fab Four now was like turning off a fuzzy radio station.

  I leaned closer to Avery. “I’ve got connections I can use. Tina Lee will spread any rumor I tell her not to. In under an hour, the whole school will know about the time Todd sharted from laughing too hard at the movies. Not my usual, but I’ll go for the jugular for you.”

  “Yeah, no. He’s not worth it, and then you’d suffer his agony too.”

  I snorted. “Are you’re saying I gotta block better? The suggestion box is open.”

  We paused the conversation while we paid. At the utensil kiosk, all the forks were gone already. That’s what we got for being late. We grabbed spoons.

  Avery poked me in the shoulder with her own spoon and lowered her voice. “I’m saying stop the fortune telling love matches.”

  “Even if someone’s crying?”

  Avery spoke firmly. “Even if the girl beside you is weeping clumpy mascara into raccoon eyes. You’re being too obvious. Being a walking science fiction movie isn’t cool when real scientists could find out about us.”

  She’d know. Avery’s mom was a prominent neural researcher. Some of her colleagues were more interested in paranormal abilities than she liked. And as much as she’d love to learn more, too, no way would she risk her daughter or her friends’ kids.

  Ahead of us, a table of 4-H kids burst into angry shouts about the latest steer show. I made a U-turn to take Avery the long way around.

  Avery said, “Good call. That’s a lot of rage right there.”

  We skirted the edge of the wide room. “I don’t step in a cow pie if I see it waiting. Some stuff just slips in. And then it’s hard to resist fixing things.”

  “How did your dad figure out how to, you know, keep his emotions on the down-low? Maybe we could figure out a better method for you if we studied him.” Avery was always ready to study.

  Shrugging, I headed toward our table in the back. I kept my voice low, but there was really no chance of being overheard in this din. “Dad? He just worked super hard, riff
ing off Madam Lily’s techniques. He may be a plain brain, but he’s still a genius.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “And he wanted a mental shield really bad.”

  “To spare you pain. That sweet Daddy Mills.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, and to spare himself embarrassment, I bet. As if I’d want to eavesdrop on my dad’s mood. Some things should remain a mystery.”

  “Lots of things should, like people’s secret feelings.” Avery looked around. “You have to cut it out, Parks. I’m not kidding.”

  “I get it, but if I can help someone have a happier future—”

  “Stop. Just no.” Avery paused. “I’m the fortune teller, anyway. Don’t rip off my gig. I could totally sell that gold turban and crystal ball.”

  “I’m picturing a purple silk tent and your own website. With live stream palm reading.”

  “I could definitely cash in on that business.”

  I bumped her shoulder. “But it would ruin your stellar academic rep.”

  “Truth. Plus, the boys wouldn’t want to work in the love biz, and what would they do without us?”

  “Get into trouble?”

  “No doubt. Speaking of, there’s Trouble himself, with his sidekick, Uh-Oh.”

  “Which one’s which?” I laughed.

  Avery called a greeting to the two boys already at the far corner table. Our table.

  Ethan waved, and Deshawn lifted his fork briefly but returned to studying whatever textbook he had open. Probably math, since he was already in Geometry.