Free Farsighted (Farsighted Series) by Emlyn Chand

weirded you out.”
    “Oh, no, it doesn’t weird me out,” I say, trying to figure out if Simmi is looking at me strangely—I don’t think she is, so I continue. “And, how did you know I was there? Did your mom tell you what we talked about?” I ask hesitantly. As far as I can tell, Shapri hasn’t got any idea what’s going on with me, and I would like to keep it that way.
    “Of course I know. My dad told me. He tells me everything. Hey, Simmi, did you watch that new reality show that started last night? That one girl was off-her-rocker crazy!” Shapri starts, trying to direct the conversation away from me.
    After swallowing a big gulp of the spicy mush she eats for lunch, Simmi asks, “Oh, I don’t watch much TV. Do you think I’d like it?”
    “Listen, next week, you come over to my place and—”
    “Did you kill Simmi?” an adult male asks. He’s accompanied by the smell of rubbing alcohol and cotton. This time, I recognize the hallucination, or vision, right away. I’d never be able to detect something as subtle as cotton over my companions’ lunches—those spices drown out everything, even Simmi’s coconut hair as she bobs her head from side-to-side. I stiffen, trying my best not to react openly to the vision.
    “Dax, did you kill Simmi?” the man asks again, more persistent this time.
    Through tears, the boy says, “Why would I kill Simmi? I love—loved—her. I wouldn’t kill her!”
    “Be honest. What is the likelihood of a tennis ball coming through the window and lodging itself in her windpipe?”
    “Maybe it’s unlikely, but that’s exactly what happened.”
    “The handful of servants on duty that day claim they heard you arguing with her right before the event occurred. Wouldn’t that be a motive?” the man questions, hardly varying his tone.
    “What are you talking about? Can’t you tell I’m upset she’s gone? If it was my fault, would I be this upset?” Dax yells, presenting a sharp contrast to the other speaker’s sterility of emotion.
    “Well, a crime committed in passion can lead to remorse after the fact. I’m not saying you premeditated the murder or that it was rational in any way…”
    Dax starts to hyperventilate. He yells even louder than the first time, “I didn’t kill, Simmi! Quit asking me if I did!”
    “You’re getting angry now, aren’t you, Dax? I see you have a hard time controlling your emotions, especially rage.”
    Dax screams in pain. There’s a loud crash as several objects of various size and weight all hit the ground at the same time. The floor trembles; the air does, too.
    “You’re capable of anything when you’re mad, aren’t you?” the man asks flatly. “Like vandalizing a doctor’s office. Or committing murder?”
    Dax yells again and throws himself at the man, the doctor. The doctor presses a button. Something beeps. “Send in the representatives from Fairfax,” he says, panicked. “Now!”
    A small group of people march toward Dax and the doctor, their feet a pattering frenzy on the tiled floor. “C’mon now. Come with us,” one urges.
    “We won’t hurt you,” another says. “We’re here to help.”
    The last croons, “You’ll like Fairfax. It’s a good place to relax.”
    Dax screams as the men overtake him. Suddenly, the screaming stops as the scent of some strong chemical becomes overpowering. They drugged him.
    “Take him, quickly,” the doctor says. “This is what his parents wanted. Best to keep this matter out of the courts, when it’s so evident the boy needs psychiatric care, not the penitentiary.” He sniffs and drags a cloth across his face, stirring up the scent of blood. “Besides, his father is a good friend of mine, a respectable man of good stock. We shouldn’t hack down the entire family tree because of one bad apple.”
    The vision fades, leaving in its place the sounds and smells of the lunch room.
    I shiver. I don’t think Dax is at fault for Simmi’s death, but everyone else seems