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Steven Dame
I Never Wanted to Be Psychic Chapter 1
I Never Wanted to Be Psychic Chapter 1
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Anna and Dallas are best friends at Pine River High. Dallas believes they are together for a very important reason. But even with his gifts of telepathy and precognition he doesn’t know the secret Anna hides—that mystery that causes her so much pain. Why was her father deported to Brazil? Why did her aunt warn him, “The only thing you need to fear is Anna herself”?
I Never Wanted To Be Psychic is an adventure and a mystery—a collision of two unlikely teenagers during a very exciting school year. It is a story about a group of friends who band together to help a girl in need.
DALLAS: “I’d only known her for two months, but I had seen her in fights; she made a bomb; she cut a girl’s hair off; and she stole her aunt’s car and landed in the ditch. If that didn’t suggest counseling, I don’t know what did. But I had to play the suave boyfriend.”
From the mind of Dallas, a fifteen-year-old boy:
It’s fascinating to watch your friend get closer and closer to you in the night. There’s a magic about it—like this is exactly what is supposed to happen right now. I sensed the brief whirlwind gusts of her mind as she walked toward me in her red coat. But it wasn’t her thoughts that intrigued me—it was her feelings. They were a collage, a painting in motion. The events of the week were a stream of myriad colors that mixed in splashing whirlpools.
There was an energy—an excitement—about her aura. But underneath, below her shaky, darting, firecracker streaks of anger, was a loneliness—a deep black pool that went thump-thump, thump-thump, as if it were saying, I’m here but I don’t want you to find me. I’m hiding from you, and I don’t want you to touch me—ever.
I Never Wanted To Be Psychic is an adventure and a mystery—a collision of two unlikely teenagers during a very exciting school year. It is a story about a group of friends who band together to help a girl in need.
DALLAS: “I’d only known her for two months, but I had seen her in fights; she made a bomb; she cut a girl’s hair off; and she stole her aunt’s car and landed in the ditch. If that didn’t suggest counseling, I don’t know what did. But I had to play the suave boyfriend.”
From the mind of Dallas, a fifteen-year-old boy:
It’s fascinating to watch your friend get closer and closer to you in the night. There’s a magic about it—like this is exactly what is supposed to happen right now. I sensed the brief whirlwind gusts of her mind as she walked toward me in her red coat. But it wasn’t her thoughts that intrigued me—it was her feelings. They were a collage, a painting in motion. The events of the week were a stream of myriad colors that mixed in splashing whirlpools.
There was an energy—an excitement—about her aura. But underneath, below her shaky, darting, firecracker streaks of anger, was a loneliness—a deep black pool that went thump-thump, thump-thump, as if it were saying, I’m here but I don’t want you to find me. I’m hiding from you, and I don’t want you to touch me—ever.
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