The Gifting Read online

  The Gifting

  By K.E. Ganshert

  If science is right, then I am crazy. And crazy is dangerous.

  Tess Eckhart has always felt things nobody else can feel. Then the Ouija board incident happens at a high school party. Her complete freakout sends her family across the country—next to a nationally-renowned facility for the mentally ill. Worried that Tess suffers from the same illness that tormented her grandmother, her parents insist she see a psychiatrist.

  Tess is more concerned about fitting in at her new school, and hiding the fact that she’s seeing a therapist at the Edward Brooks Facility. She’s used to whispers and stares, but when it comes to Luka Williams, a reluctantly popular boy in her class, she’s unused to a stare that intense. Then the headaches start, and the seemingly prophetic dreams that haunt her at night. As Tess tries to hide them, she becomes increasingly convinced that Luka knows something—that he might somehow be responsible.

  But what if she’s wrong? What if Luka Williams is the only thing separating her from a madness too terrifying to fathom?

  Praise for The Gifting

  “Set in a not-too-distant future that feels frighteningly like home, this novel immerses readers within the heart of Tess’s fear from the very first chapter. This is not, however, a novel of horror. Guaranteed to leave you breathless, The Gifting is an eerie merging of Gothic-like dystopian mystery and YA romance within a pulse-pounding supernatural thriller. Expect to lose sleep over this book! A must-read addition to any YA reader’s collection, this one’s a keeper!”

  ~Serena Chase, USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog, author of The Ryn

  “Chilling from start to finish! K. E. Ganshert delivers an exciting young adult fantasy that’s just as fun as it is riveting. THE GIFTING will keep you turning pages in an effort to unlock the mystery of this unsettled world.”

  ~Addison Moore, New York Times Bestselling Author

  “K.E. Ganshert brings a fresh new voice to the dystopian romance scene for young adults. Ganshert will wow her audience with captivating prose, a well-paced plot, and just the perfect amount of swoon!”

  ~Heather Sunseri, author of the Mindspeak series

  Edited by: Lora Doncea

  Cover Design by: Okay Creations

  Interior Design and Formatting by: BB eBooks

  Copyright © 2015 K.E. Ganshert

  Kindle Edition

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  All right reserved.

  For Ryan McGivern, the best big brother a girl could ask for. Without your crazy outside-the-box thinking, I’m pretty sure this story never would have taken flight.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About the Book

  Praise for The Gifting

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Birthday Wishes

  Chapter Two: The Incident

  Chapter Three: Tess the Freak

  Chapter Four: A Not So Fresh Start

  Chapter Five: The New Kid

  Chapter Six: Do You See What I See?

  Chapter Seven: Dreams

  Chapter Eight: Paranoia

  Chapter Nine: Routines

  Chapter Ten: Hypnosis

  Chapter Eleven: Genocide

  Chapter Twelve: Mistakes

  Chapter Thirteen: A Fighter

  Chapter Fourteen: Interrogation

  Chapter Fifteen: Unexpected Encounters

  Chapter Sixteen: Revelations

  Chapter Seventeen: Angels

  Chapter Eighteen: Anticipation

  Chapter Nineteen: Confessions

  Chapter Twenty: Discovery

  Chapter Twenty-One: A Ruse

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Parental Concern

  Chapter Twenty-Three: The Halloween Party

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Confrontations

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Doubt

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Drugs

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Journal

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Normalcy

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Distraction

  Chapter Thirty: Rumors

  Chapter Thirty-One: Forbidden

  Chapter Thirty-Two: The Pile Up

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Breakthrough

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Shady Wood

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Trouble

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Escape

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Gifting

  About the Author

  Excerpt for The Awakening

  Chapter One

  Birthday Wishes

  According to science, humans have no souls. There is no afterlife or guardian angels or ghosts or spirits or anything at all supernatural. Our world is purely physical. The government has systematically removed God from society. He is no longer mentioned in the Pledge of Allegiance, no longer written on our money, no longer found in our Constitution or acknowledged in any of our political gatherings.

  My father thinks this is a good thing. He believes the human race has caused enough damage in the name of religion. We are better off this way, more evolved, and anybody who thinks differently is a fool. He adamantly, wholeheartedly agrees with science. But I’m not as convinced. Because if science is right, then I’m crazy.

  And crazy is dangerous.

  Seventeen candles flicker on the cake, illuminating a portion of our kitchen. A pocket of warmth expands inside the room. One that has nothing to do with the cake or the people in front of me. The feeling doesn’t originate inside of me at all. It radiates from beyond the border of the light’s reach, pulsing in the dark. Something shimmers beside our refrigerator and for the briefest of moments—before that beautiful shimmering thing disappears—I feel terrified and brave all at once.

  I blink and it’s gone. The only thing hovering near our refrigerator is empty air. The temperature returns to normal, but my heartbeat does not. It thuds in my ears. My younger brother Pete yawns and shakes dark hair from even darker eyes, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here—at my lame, four-person birthday party. Dad stands with his arm wrapped around my mother’s waist. She clasps her hands beneath her chin and nods encouragingly. “Go on, Tess. Make a wish.”

  So I ignore my brother and fill my lungs with oxygen and wish for the one thing I want most, the one thing that is constantly elusive.

  I wish I could be normal.

  I blow toward the candles as hard as I can, but the room does not go black. One small flame dances on a wick, mocking me.

  Chapter Two

  The Incident

  It’s August on the panhandle of Florida and I can’t get warm. The icy chill that woke me in the night refuses to leave. It hovers nearby when I get ready for my first day of junior year, and it follows me into the kitchen where Dad reads the morning newspaper.

  There was an earthquake in California, the second one in a month, another riot broke out at a fetal modification clinic in Chicago, a drive-by shooting in Tallahassee, which is like, twenty minutes from where we live, and the unrest in north Africa continues to escalate. Dad thinks it’s only a matter of time before the U.S. gets involved. Dad thinks if we don’t get Egypt under control as soon as possible, we’ll have World War III on our hands. I think he should read the newspaper to himself. But he insists Pete and I know what’s going on in the world.

  I grab a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator. “Do you think the Chief of Press ever wants to off himself?”

  Mom frowns
. “Tess.”

  “What? The news is seriously depressing.” I take a swig of o.j.

  Mom’s frown deepens. To her, the habit is disgusting. To me, it’s economical.

  The paper crinkles as Dad flips to the business section. “You gonna join me at work on Saturday, kiddo?”

  “You have to go in this weekend again?” Mom takes the carton from my hands to pour some orange juice in a glass. When she’s finished, she gives me the cup and returns the carton to the top shelf of our fridge.

  “I need to get this account finished by Monday.” Dad peers at me over the top of his paper. “Would love your help.”

  “Yeah, sure.” While most kids my age hang out with friends on the weekends, I go to work with Dad. It’s the way we bond. I probably know more about security systems than all of his employees at Safe Guard’s west Florida branch combined.

  Mom gives Pete and me a goodbye kiss on our cheeks and tells us to have a great first day. The icy chill follows me to school and remains while the principal of Jude High welcomes all 300 of us to a new year. It follows me into Mr. Greeley’s classroom, too. He teaches Current Events, a course every high school student in the country is required to take, because apparently, the government agrees with my dad. Ignorance is unacceptable.

  Mr. Greeley calls attendance over the familiar, excited chatter that marks the first day of school. Somehow, I can never figure out how to become a part of it. So I slouch in my seat and doodle mindless swirls on the cover of my folder while Missy Calloway flirts with Dustin O’Malley, a red-headed soccer player with a face full of freckles. Dustin isn’t very cute—but he’s confident and funny and is pretty much the reason why Jude’s soccer team won state last year, so all the girls forgive him.

  He crumples a gum wrapper and throws it at Missy. The foil ball tangles in her bleach-blond hair. She half giggles-half shrieks in that stop-it-but-really-don’t kind of way and tries to throw it back. The foil ball lands on the corner of my desk.

  Sydney Lauren—whose lips are never the same color—leans forward and pokes Dustin in the back with her pencil. “Psst.”

  He twists around.

  “I’m having people over tonight. Nothing big. Just a small back-to-school get together.”

  I tuck my hair behind my ear to peek at Dustin, but my elbow knocks into my notebook. It falls to the ground. I have to turn all the way around to pick it up and when I do, Sydney raises her eyebrows at me. “You should come too.”

  The only reason I’m ever invited anywhere is because girls think if I come, my brother will too. And girls really like Pete, even though he’s a skinny sophomore.

  “So …?” Sydney’s eyebrows creep higher up her forehead. “Are you gonna come?”

  “It’s a school night.”

  “And?”

  I can feel Dustin and Missy staring. “I—uh—already have plans.”

  Sydney shrugs. “Well, your brother should still come. Tell him I insist.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” The last time I went to a party, I kept seeing stars in the periphery of my vision, as if I had some sort of concussion. I ended up coming home two hours before curfew. My mom was actually disappointed. I turn back around and resume my doodling. Only somehow, the mindless lines have turned into a form—one that resembles a monster with a forked tongue and horns, one I swear I’ve seen before—and for reasons I don’t understand, I have the overwhelming urge to throw the folder away. Or tear it in half. I don’t want that thing or the memory of it anywhere near me.

  A collective giggle ripples through the class.

  When I look up, Mr. Greeley is staring at me over the top of his clipboard. “Teresa Eckhart?” It’s obvious it’s not the first time he’s called my name.

  I clear my throat. “It’s Tess.”

  “Speak up please,” he says.

  The class giggles again.

  “I go by Tess.” My voice escapes like a mouse.

  *

  While most parents wouldn’t let their fifteen- and seventeen-year-old children go to a party on a school night, my mom practically shoves us out the door.

  How are you going to make friends if you never go anywhere, sweetheart?

  I want to tell her that particular ship has long since sailed. We’ve lived in the small town of Jude, Florida for two years now. Since my dad is some bigwig for one of the nation’s wealthiest security companies—a thriving industry thanks to the escalating crime rate—we move a lot. Part of his job requires planting new branches across the United States. He gets them going, helps them grow, and starts all over again somewhere else.

  Mom never complains about the moving, so long as Dad finds a house that is at least fifteen minutes away from the city. According to her, any place with a population over fifteen thousand is too dangerous for children. Plus, she thinks if Pete and I to go to smaller schools, we’ll have an easier time fitting in. What she doesn’t realize is that smaller schools also make it easier to stand out. Especially if you’re me.

  Anyway, I don’t want to be here, in the balmy heat outside Sydney Lauren’s home. In fact, I’d rather be anywhere but here. Before I express any of this to Pete, he rings the bell. Two seconds later, Sydney swings the door open. She wears neon purple lipstick and a mesh tank top that is completely perfunctory. As she squeals and flings her arms around my brother, I’m distracted by her lime green bra. I would never, in a million years, have the guts to wear that outfit.

  “You’re right on time!” She grabs Pete’s hand and pulls him inside. “We just got out the Ouija board.”

  Pete laughs. “Ouija board? I didn’t know those still existed.”

  “You have to know where to look.” She wags her eyebrows. “I told Rose that this house was built on an Indian burial ground and she doesn’t believe me.”

  Sydney lives in a peach-colored stucco home straight out of the twentieth century. Hardly haunted house material. Still, my stomach squirms. The law prohibits the selling of items that perpetuate belief in the supernatural. The thing is, forbidding teenagers to dabble in anything supernatural only guarantees that they will.

  She leads Pete over to the small crowd lounging around a coffee table. There are five juniors. Two seniors. A bowl of candy, a bag of pretzels, and a half-empty bottle of Smirnoff. Pete squeezes in on the couch and Sydney sits on his knee like the two are a couple. Elliana—a girl with an eyebrow ring and fluorescent colored bracelets covering both of her wrists—shoots daggers at Sydney.

  I feel sick.

  Despite taking two Excedrin Migraine pills, a headache pierces my left temple. Clasping my hands in front of my waist, I watch Missy set up the Ouija board while everyone else laughs and clowns around. Nobody has noticed me yet. Which means it’s not too late to turn around and leave. As soon as the thought occurs, Missy spots me in the doorway. “Hey everybody, look who’s here. It’s Teresa.” She raises a plastic red cup in my direction. I’m pretty sure she’s not drinking water. “Aren’t you going to come in? We’re about to have a séance.”

  “Yeah, we’re gonna talk to some dead Indians.”

  “The politically correct term is Native Americans, Syd.” Dustin pops a handful of M&M’s into his mouth.

  I peek around the doorway. “Are your parents home?”

  Everybody laughs.

  Right. The vodka.

  “Aw, is Tewesa scared the ghosties will get us without any gwown ups around?”

  “Give it a rest, Missy.” Sydney tosses the Ouija board box aside. “Will you hit the lights, Tess? I’m pretty sure this works better in the dark.”

  I swallow, but my throat sticks together. Everybody waits for me—Tess the Freak—to unglue my feet from the doorway when what I want to do is crawl under the doormat and disappear. No, scratch that. What I really want is to throw off my headache and my painful shyness and join in the laughter and fun. What I really want, more than anything, is to be a part of this group. So I ignore the erratic galloping of my heart and flip off the lights.

&nb
sp; Sydney hops off Pete’s knee and pulls the drapes across the large picture window. The swinging vertical blinds chop apart the waning daylight.

  Dustin wiggles his fingers at Missy. “Oo-oooo-ooo!”

  She punches his bicep. “Cut it out, jerk.”

  I follow Sydney, eager to be closer to the group. Despite being seventeen, darkness still creeps me out. The clamminess spreading across my skin doesn’t help. I take a deep breath and tell myself that fear is irrational. Ghosts are not real. And even if they were, the Ouija board is made by Parker Brothers. Not exactly black market paraphernalia.

  Elliana snuggles closer to Pete’s shoulder and wraps her arm around his elbow. “Are you going to save me from the big bad evil spirits?”

  Even through the semi-darkness, I can see Pete’s crooked, half smile—the one girls go gaga over—and a surge of jealousy stabs my gut. How can he sit there so at ease? How can two people born from the same gene pool end up so incredibly different? For crying out loud, we don’t even look the same.

  Sydney kneels next to Pete’s legs. “Okay, so I think we all have to put our hands on this pointer-thing.”

  “It’s called a planchette.”

  Everybody looks at Elliana.

  “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

  “Don’t we need candles or something?” Missy asks.

  Rose—a senior with beautiful ebony skin and a killer volleyball spike—wraps her long leg over the arm rest of the love seat. “You can light all the candles you want, the only thing this board can do is teach J.R. the alphabet.”

  J.R. tosses an M&M at Rose. She catches it and pops it in her mouth.

  “Hey, you better watch it or you’re going to piss off the Indians,” Dustin says.

  The banter is lighthearted, but the hair on the back of my arms prickles. I can’t bring myself to laugh with the rest of them. All I can think is that I really, really want to leave.

  Physical, physical, physical. Dad says the world is purely physical …