Page 8 of Trouble Comes in Threes

“I understand that,” I said, “but I expect the teacher to try to protect my niece.”

“I agree. We’re on the same page, Mrs. Simmons.”

Some of the anger bled out of me. “Thank you.”

“I can assure you, one of us from the administration will be observing the classroom for the next day or so. Ashley is in safe hands.”

“Thank you,” I repeated, on the verge of tears. “I really need for her to be okay.”

“I understand.”

I got up and found Ashley sitting in a chair in the receptionist area. I squatted in front of her and took her hand in mine. “Mr. Caldoni or Ms. Klaas will be in Mrs. Pritchard’s classroom for the rest of the day, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. “Am I in trouble for kicking Oliver?”

I cringed. Somehow in all of this, I’d forgotten about that.

“No,” Mr. Caldoni said, following me out. “We’ll consider having to deal with the situation at hand punishment enough.”

“Thank you, Mr. Caldoni,” she said, with tears in her eyes.

From my crouched position, I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a bear hug, holding her tight until she tried to wiggle free. I cupped her cheek in my hand and whispered, “I love you, Ashy. Never ever be afraid to come to me or Uncle Joe.”

“Okay,” she whispered back, a tear falling down her cheek.

“Do you want me to tell you if you’re gonna have a good day?” I held her gaze so she’d understand what I was asking—whether she wanted me to try to see her day in a vision.

Ever since I was a small child, I’d had visions of the future. They used to be small things, like where someone’s lost keys could be found or if someone’s husband was having an affair. (Okay, maybe not small for the couple.) But the visions had always been spontaneous, and whatever I saw in my mind’s eye blurted out of me when the vision was finished. I had no say in what came out of my mouth. More often than not, it got me into trouble.

The mother who’d raised me had believed I was possessed by a demon, and I’d spent a good portion of my childhood being locked in closets and beaten with wooden spoons. People around me had thought I was weird or crazy—hence, the bullying as a child.

But soon after my mother was murdered when I was twenty-four, I’d realized I could purposely try to have visions. Because I still blurted out whatever I saw, I sometimes had to talk my way out of humiliating or even dangerous situations, but I’d realized the futures I saw weren’t inevitable. I could prevent bad things from happening by knowing about them beforehand. Using my gift had gotten me out of a lot of scrapes with criminals before Hope was born, but forcing visions of other people had started to feel like a major invasion of their privacy. I could ask a question of the universe and hope I saw the answer, but things didn’t always go according to plan. Sometimes I saw embarrassing situations, and sometimes I saw things that were none of my business. So now, I always asked permission before forcing a vision.

She stared into my eyes and gave me a small nod, so I closed my eyes and asked the universe whether Ashley would have any trouble at school today.

I’d learned through experience that open-ended questions were risky. Visions went much better when I asked something specific, and I worried this question was too vague.

Suddenly, I was thrust into a vision, looking at my own face through Ashley’s eyes.

“Did you have a good day?” Vision Rose asked.

I shrugged, unable to meet her gaze. “It was okay.”

“Any trouble from the kids or Mrs. Pritchard?”

I shook my head, but a melancholy settled over me. “No.”

The vision ended, and I opened my eyes. “You’re gonna have an okay day,” tumbled out of my mouth, and I held her gaze again. “Are you all right with an okay day? You can come to work with me today if you need a break.”

“I have a math test,” she whispered. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Simmons,” Mr. Caldoni said. “We’ll take good care of her.”

Which meant I had to take his word for it, but part of my heart was sitting in that chair, and it went against every instinct inside me to leave her.

“It’s okay, Aunt Rose,” Ashley said, sliding out of her seat and standing in front of me. “I want to stay.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly as I stood. I still wanted to take her with me, but I knew I wouldn’t always be around to fight her battles. Sometimes, she’d have to fight them herself.

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