Touch of Sibyl

Chapter One

"Can I borrow your hairbrush?"

Paris Forrest stared at the long mirror mounted over the row of sinks that lined one wall of the girls locker room. Gym class had ended three minutes ago, and all the girls were busy yanking off their sweaty T-shirts and shorts and changing back into their real clothes-the skinny jeans and tight, cropped tops they wore to impress themselves, each other and, most important, the cute boys at Ishland High School.

Everyone except for Paris, who stood frozen in front of the mirror. She was pretty with her long black hair and pale green eyes, but I didn't think that Paris was looking at herself with the normal vanity of a 16-year-old girl. For one, Paris wasn't putting on a fresh coat of lip gloss or mascara or dusting her face with sparkling powder like the other girls crowded at the mirror were. She wasn't gossiping with the girls around her or wondering what disgusting, gray mystery meat was going to be served in the cafeteria today. She wasn't even texting on her phone or checking her messages.

No, Paris was leaning over the sink and peering into her own eyes as if she could see something in herself that everyone else couldn't-something horrible, from the pained, twisted expression on her face.

The look made me want to know what she was hiding.

I was kind of nosy that way. Okay, okay, so I was a lot nosy that way. Okay, okay, so I was exceptionally, exceedingly, unstoppably nosy-to the point of obsession sometimes. I wanted to know everything about everyone around me. Why? Well, I blamed it on my psychic gift.

I was a Sibyl with psychometry magic. I saw images in my head and got flashes of other people's memories and feelings off almost everything that I touched. A favorite necklace, a beloved book, a cherished photo of a family trip to the beach. I could get a vibe off anything that someone had a personal attachment or connection to, and I could see and feel exactly what that person had felt whenever she'd worn that necklace, read that book, or looked at that photo.

I didn't know exactly why I had magic or why I was even considered a Psychic in the first place, but I liked the power that my psychometry gave me. I liked knowing what everyone around me was really thinking, from whether a girl was truly my friend or talked about me behind my back to whether a boy was really into me or was actually thinking about another girl instead. Like Drew Squall, my one and only boyfriend. Thanks to my psychometry, I'd flashed on Drew while we were kissing and felt him pretending that I was Paris. I'd dumped him on the spot. Yeah, sometimes the things I saw and felt hurt, but I still loved knowing other people's secrets. And judging from the weird look on her face, Paris was hiding something-something big.

"Paris?" I asked again, a little louder this time, my voice rising over the chatter of the other girls, the squeak of shoes on the floor, and the constant slams of the locker doors.

Paris partially snapped out of whatever trance she'd been in and met my eyes in the mirror. "Aviana? Aviana Whyte?" she asked in a daze, almost as if she didn't recognize me.

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror. Sure, my wavy brown hair was a loose, sweaty mess right now, which is why I wanted Paris's hairbrush to start with, so I could pull my hair back into a ponytail. My winter-white skin was all flushed and splotchy from attempting to play basketball during gym class, and my blue-colored eyes were a little strange-looking to start with. Okay, okay, my eyes were very strange-looking to start with.

But Paris and I had gone to school together since kindergarten. Sometimes we even hung out when our mutual friends got together on the weekends. She should know exactly who I was especially since she'd hired me to find her missing cell phone.

Phones, keys, wallets, laptops, crumpled bras, and bunched-up boxers. For the right price, the kids at Ishland High School hired me to find things that were lost, stolen, or otherwise not where they were supposed to be. Yeah, I used my Psychic gift to make extra money instead of fighting some great, ancient evil with my magic. Sue me for being an entrepreneur and not wanting to work at some greasy fast-food dive like other kids did.