“Come on, An-hell-ina! Stop being such a stick in the mud.” Olivia tittered as she bolted toward Fortune Row. The sounds of the carnival died at the edge of the Row. A dozen or so faded wagons and tents acted as an off shoot of the main affair. Every year this particular crew rolled into town on the tails of the travelling carnivals and set up camp just off the main drag, a part of the festivities but not part of the carnival itself. Angeline frowned. Not again. She swore she would stay away from them, not sure what made her more uncomfortable, the things they knew or the lies she would have to tell. Angeline shifted uncomfortably, “Liv, you know I loathe those phonies. And stop saying my name like that.”
Olivia stomped back over, her long, auburn hair flaring around her with each dramatic step. “How are we related? You don’t even know fun when it smacks you in the face. Besides, Angelina sounds so much more romantic.”
“Yes, I am terribly concerned about how romantic my name sounds.” Angeline rolled her eyes. She could tell where this was headed – the lesser of two evils, fortune teller or séance. It was not really her sister’s fault. Angeline kept trying to convince herself Olivia would feel differently if she knew the truth but mother forbade it. She studied her younger sibling, twelve years old and completely innocent to the truth of the world. Part of her hoped Olivia would never learn the truth; never see the other side of their world. But then again, that would mean – no, she would not go there.
“Mom said you are supposed to do things I want to do, too! Ang, please stop being so boring!” Olivia tugged at her arm, opal eyes pleading. “Please, Ang, I just want my fortune read. If you take me for my fortune we can go home early. PLEASE.”
Angeline sighed. “Alright, Liv. Just one fortune.” The sense of foreboding crept up her spine with every step closer to first tents. There were real mystics among these gypsies. Bloody hell. Angeline steeled herself against the coming probes. She built walls like mother showed her, sealing her magic in the recesses of her mind. It mattered not. A strange breeze rose from the nearby meadow and she heard the collective sigh from the gypsies. They knew her. A woman emerged from the first tent, dressed as a stereotypical gypsy, brightly colored scarves all about her frail form. Clearly the elder of the group, Angeline nodded respectfully, gestured toward her sister and shrugged apologetically. The woman sized up Olivia’s reaction, the younger girl clearly oblivious to the change in atmosphere. Seemingly satisfied, the elder nodded crisply and pointed to the third tent with a gnarled finger. Angeline exhaled, not realizing she held her breath through the exchange. She steered Olivia to the tent, smallest of the lot and much newer than the others. The emerald flaps parted as they approached.
“Neat trick, huh Ang?” Olivia looked up to her, eyes glittering with excitement. Angeline forced a smile and urged her sister in.
“Sure, Liv. Super cool.” The flaps fell closed behind her as Angeline looked around the tent. Typical set up for a fortune tent, round table in the middle of the space upon antique carpeting and set with three mismatched rickety chairs. Angeline smelled sage burning in some of the candles lit about the space. Olivia settled in one of the chairs and set her money on the table. Anticipation rolled off her petite form as Angeline slid into the chair beside her. Olivia looked around, her eyes clearly straining to adjust to the dim light. Angeline had no problem making out the fine details including the form of their host. A male mystic, how interesting.
“Greetings young one, what brings you to me this eve?” He slid casually into the seat before them, a deck of tarot cards in one hand and the other outstretched, palm up. Olivia startled slightly at his sudden appearance but plucked her money from the table and placed it in the man’s palm.
“I wish to know my fortune, good sir.” Olivia jutted her chin out and made a point of holding the man’s gaze.
“Very well, young one.” He shuffled the cards, studying Olivia the entire time, as if looking through her. The mystic set the card upon the table and took her hands in his instead. “I do not need cards for you, young one. There are two paths before you. One ends well, the other not as much. Loved ones fear for you but in the end you will be well enough off. You will be presented with an opportunity that seems wrong to accept but it would be a wise choice.” Dropping her hands the mystic reclined in his seat. “That is all I have, young one.”
Olivia nodded and stood. “Thank you.” Angeline could tell her sister was disappointed but she stood and walked out of the tent without a fuss. The car ride home would surely be filled with her ranting.
Angeline stood and turned to leave but the mystic’s voice entered her head. “You do not seek your fortune, fairy girl?”
“No. I do not wish my decisions to be influenced by anyone. I must make my own way, as is the way of my people.” Angeline pushed toward the entrance to the tent which suddenly seemed quite far away. She knew it to be an illusion and fought to see through it.
“In this you have no choice, fairy girl. We have a message for you.” The mystic’s voice changed suddenly, taking on the qualities of many voices as if in stereo. “You do not wish this for your sister, this is true but would you take on her portion of your family gift to spare her? This choice is yours to make. Either way you have but one year left with her.”
“What? No, that cannot be.” She spun around, seeking the mystic in the dimly lit tent. The gravity of the unwanted fortune struck Angeline. “You cannot take her. She is a child.”
“The choice is yours, fairy girl.”
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