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PROLOGUE
 
Ten Years Ago
 
A bead of perspiration rolled down eighteen-year-old Millicent Whitney’s forehead, between her eyebrows, and down her upturned nose. She longed to wipe it away, but her hands were full. With her right hand she was painting an intricate unicorn. She used her left to steady the head of a four-year-old girl, whose cheek was Millicent’s canvas.
 
It was carnival time again at Destiny High School, and Millicent had been rooked into working the face-painting booth again, the way she was every year.
 
She didn’t really mind. The job allowed her contact with children, which she loved, and gave her a safe haven to return to if she started feeling overwhelmed. She had actually wandered around a bit that morning when it wasn’t so crowded and played a few of the games. One of the boys at the goldfish booth had flirted with her, and she now had a new pet thanks to her foolish attempts to prolong the contact and the giddy feeling his teasing had given her, even if she hadn’t flirted back.
 
“What did the princess see?” the little girl asked.
 
Millicent had gotten distracted from her fairy tale by her own musings for a moment, but the child’s question brought her back. “See for yourself,” she said as she put the finishing touches on the unicorn, then handed the girl a “magic looking glass.”
 
The girl squealed in delight. “A oonicorn!”
 
“And when she jumped on the unicorn’s back, the evil spell cast by the witch was broken, and the princess rode back to her castle. Her mother and father, the queen and king, welcomed her home, and they had a great feast to celebrate.”
 
“With cotton candy?” the child asked hopefully.
 
Millicent winced as she thought of what that sticky stuff would do to her masterpiece. “Yes, I think that’s what the princess asked for.” She lifted the little girl from her high stool and set her on the ground with a pat. The girl went running to her father, who’d been looking on.
 
“Very nice,” the father said. “You have a lot of talent.”
 
Millicent felt herself blushing. She tried for a reply, but the man and his daughter walked away before she could form one.
 
She was about to kick herself for being so socially inept when she spied Callie Calloway and Lana Walsh heading resolutely in her direction, and some of her irritation seeped away. The three girls had worked together on the Carnival Committee for months, and Millicent felt she could actually call them her friends now.
 
Imagine, shy, mousy Millicent Whitney being friends with two of the most popular girls at Destiny High. She’d been terrified when she’d first found out who was on the committee with her. She’d assumed the other two girls would shut her out or make fun of her ideas. But she’d soon found out they weren’t much different from her. They were both a little shy at first, a little uneasy, and then suddenly they’d been blurting out excited ideas and scribbling lists and volunteering for various tasks.
 
She’d had more fun working with them than she had during her entire high school career.
 
“Hi, how’s it going?” Millicent found it easy to talk with the few people she knew well.
 
“Fine with me,” Lana said, flipping a lock of her golden hair behind her ear, “but Callie says we have official business to take care of.”
 
Millicent looked to Callie for clarification.
 
Callie turned and pointed to the corner of the gym, where a red-silk-swathed booth glittered invitingly. “Did y’all see that?”
 
Millicent felt a small jolt of awareness, a tingling up her spine. She’d never seen that booth before. How could she have missed it? The small booth featured a gold-lettered sign that read, “Theodora, Fortuneteller.”
 
“The fortuneteller?” Millicent said, consciously making her words sound casual. “What about her?”
 
“She’s not on the list. Where’d she come from?” Callie asked.
 
The two other girls shrugged. “Does it matter?” Millicent asked, even though her instincts were telling her it mattered a great deal.
 
“Of course it matters. She might have sneaked in here under false pretenses. She might be taking cash under the table.”
 
“Callie, you’re so suspicious,” Lana scolded gently. “Maybe Mr. Stipley forgot to tell us about her.” Mr. Stipley was the principal of Destiny High School, and the carnival was his baby.
 
“I want to find out for sure,” Callie said. “And I want you both to come with me.”
 
Lana laughed. “All right. But if we find out she’s legit, we all have to have our fortunes told. Agreed?”
 
Callie nodded reluctantly, and Millicent, not wanting to be a party pooper, followed suit, though anything that smacked of fortunetelling scared her a little. She wasn’t sure that humans were meant to see across the dark curtain to the other side.
 
“Theodora” sat behind a silk-draped table with a crystal ball in front of her, as if she’d been waiting for these three customers. She looked convincingly gypsyish in a peasant blouse and multicolored tiered skirt, bangles on her wrist, and a scarf covering her thick black hair.
 
She smiled warmly at the trio. “Well, now, what do we have here? Did you come to find out which boy will ask you to the prom?”
 
No, Millicent thought with a flash of irritation. Why validate the bad news she already knew was true?
 
“Actually, Miss, uh, Ms. Theodora, this is an official visit,” Callie said. “I’m head of the Carnival Committee’s student division, and these are my committee members.” She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses to the bridge of her nose and consulted her clipboard. “You aren’t on my list.”
 
“My, aren’t you the official one,” Theodora said, still smiling. To Lana and Millicent she added in a loud stage whisper, “I’ll bet nothing gets by this one, eh? She probably dots all her i’s and crosses the t’s.”
 
Millicent covered her mouth to disguise her smile, and Lana laughed out loud, stopping only when Callie scowled at her.
 
“You’re the skeptical type,” Theodora continued, looking at Callie. “You love to ask questions and you can’t stand an unsolved mystery. You would make a very good newspaper reporter.”
 
“H-how did you know that?” Callie asked.
 
Millicent felt that quiver of uneasiness again. How did this woman, this stranger, know that Callie was planning to study journalism at Stockton University?
 
“I know all kinds of things,” Theodora said, wiggling her eyebrows mysteriously. “Would you like to hear more?”
 
“I’d like to hear who gave you permission to set up here,” Callie persisted, using that “official” voice that sounded so adult to Millicent. “You’re not on my—”
 
“Chill out, Callie,” Lana said. “I’d like to hear more. Can you tell me who I’ll go to the prom with?”
 
Theodora gazed into her crystal ball, while Callie pulled a small pad and pen from the back pocket of her jeans. “I see you going to the prom with a football player,” Theodora said.
 
Lana sighed with obvious delight, while Callie rolled her eyes. Callie, of course, wasn’t being taken in, Millicent thought.
 
Theodora looked up at Lana. “You have many talents, you know,” she said. “I see you surrounded by flowers.”
 
Lana giggled. “I hope that means Bart will bring me a big ol’ corsage for the dance. Now, what about Millicent?”
 
Much to Millicent’s discomfort, Lana grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her forward. “Who’s she gonna go with?”
 
Millicent sighed. She’d have just as soon foregone this humiliation. “I don’t need a fortuneteller to give me that answer. I won’t be going.” Who would ask her? The boy at the goldfish booth? She didn’t even know his name. She hadn’t been brave enough to introduce herself.
 
Theodora peered into the ball. “I see you painting. You have such talent!”
 
“I’ll probably be painting the prom decorations,” Millicent said wistfully.
 
“Oh, who cares about this silly prom business,” Lana interrupted hastily, perhaps sensing her friend’s discomfort. Lana was good about that. “We want to know who we’re going to marry. Right?” She looked to the other two girls for confirmation.
 
“Gee, I’m not sure I want to know.…” Millicent said, but Theodora was already staring into her crystal ball.
 
The gypsy was quiet for a long time while the girls waited nervously. Then, to Millicent’s increasing unease, Theodora looked up and recited a poem:
 
One will tarry, losing her chance at love
The next will marry, but her spouse will rove
A third will bury her man in a hickory grove
But all will find marriage a treasure trove
With a little help from above
 
Millicent took an instinctive step backward. There was something really spooky about Theodora, something otherworldly. Her fortuneteller act went beyond a flashy costume and clever patter. Millicent suddenly believed, with all her heart, that this woman could see things other people couldn’t.
 
And Millicent knew which line of the poem was meant for her. Even if she did manage to find a husband someday, she doubted she had the wherewithal to hold on to a man. He would be the one to “rove.”
 
“The poem’s nice, but it’s not very helpful,” Lana pointed out. “I want a name. How will I know my future husband when I meet him?”
 
Theodora smiled. “No problem. Everyone who has her fortune told by Theodora gets a souvenir. These mementos will help you recognize the man who will make you happy.” She reached under the table and pulled out a cardboard box, which appeared to be filled with gum machine toys and other plastic junk. She rummaged around in it for a moment, then held out her hand toward Callie.
 
Callie, her expression still filled with skepticism, nonetheless reached out and accepted Theodora’s gift. It was a plastic key chain in the shape of a cowboy boot.