Last Dance Read Online Free PDF

told Josh that I couldn’t eat lunch with him because I had some last minute work to do on the school paper.
    As expected, I found the editor, Manny Devries, in front of a computer terminal. Manny’s black hair was twisted into cornrows, and he sported a new pierced arrow-shaped eyebrow ring. He wore black zippered jeans and leather sandals. It could be snowing and he’d still wear sandals. Not even harsh weather could dampen his style.
    When he saw me, he flashed a pearly grin. “What’s up, Beany?”
    I hated that nickname, but let it pass because I needed his help. Manny was a born snoop, and darned good at it. He’d discovered what happened at my last school and agreed to keep my secret. In return I helped with predictions for his “Mystic Manny” newspaper column. Whenever I heard people rave about his amazing talent for predicting the future, I smiled.
    Now I glanced furtively around the classroom, checking to make sure we were alone. The only other person present was Mr. Blankenship, but he was busy grading papers. “I need some advice,” I whispered to Manny.
    “Lay it on me, Beany.” He rolled a chair next to him and gestured for me to sit down. “Tell Uncle Manny everything.”
    “Don’t patronize me. This is serious.”
    “Don’t I look serious?”
    “Not with that cocky grin.”
    He pressed his lips into a stern line. “Is this better?”
    “Now you look like a demented psycho.” I lightly punched his shoulder. “Stop kidding around. Nona is in trouble and needs me to find an old book.”
    “So ask Thorn. She’s the finder.”
    I paused to consider this. When Manny first introduced me to his Goth friend, Thorn, she’d wowed me with an amazing skill for finding things. But I was put off by her brash attitude, multiple body piercings, and metal-spiked collar. If I wanted to stay cool with my other friends, hanging out with a Goth chick was a bad move. She wasn’t any more eager to be seen with me. But she’d been quick to help when I needed her, and I discovered a kindred soul underneath the Morticia makeup. Like me, she’d been born with a psychic ability. Psychometry, she called it. Only she was cool with her skills, while I was still dealing.
    “This is beyond Thorn’s talents,” I told Manny. “What I’m searching for was lost a long time ago.”
    He arched his pierced brow. “How long?”
    “Like a hundred years, give or take a decade. To track it down, I need to find out about my ancestors. But I don’t know where to look.”
    “No problem.” He spun around to his computer. “I know tons of genealogy sites. Tell me the names and I’ll find the information.”
    I almost fell over with relief. “It’s that easy?”
    “Did you ever doubt me?”
    “I’ll tell you when you deliver the answers.”
    “Oh, I will. But it’ll cost you,” he added with a wicked chuckle.
    Tilting my head, I asked cautiously, “What?”
    “I’m writing another ten years in the future spotlight for the paper, and I could use your all-knowing insight. My victim—er, subject—is a freshman named Jayvon Bonner. Peek into your crystal ball for me and I’ll check the computer for you.”
    “I can’t promise results, but I’ll try.”
    “Fair enough.” He scratched his chin. “So whom should I look up?”
    * * *
    In fifth period, during a particularly boring assignment, my mind drifted and just like that I knew Jayvon Bonner’s future. He’d move to Colorado and train as a figure skater, only an ankle injury would end that career. Then he’d move to New York and work off-Broadway on set design. His artistic talent would eventually lead him to a successful career as an illustrator of children’s books.
    When I met Manny in our sixth-period class, he was delighted when I handed him the paper. His black eyes shone with discovery and I knew he’d found out something, too. When I asked, he put his fingers to his lips. “Too many people around,” he whispered. “Wait till after