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isn’t exactly a supplier of quality medical reference books.” He held the seat of my bike, which made me want to jam on the pedals and rip it from his grasp. “Is your vision still blurry?”
    “It’s not blurry, Dad. It’s clear. In fact, I feel like I’m seeing clearly for the first time in my life. I don’t think there is anything wrong with my eyes. I think I’m seeing auras .”
    A phlegmy yellow pulsed from his chest like a festering sore, bringing to mind the phrase yellow-bellied coward. He swallowed with effort, his face now pale. “Auras?”
    His fear sent ripples of dread through my body, concentrating in my chest. Hopefully, I was reading him wrong. “I think so. That’s why I need to go to the bookstore. I’ll explain it to you later.” I expected further argument, but Dad let go of my seat and stared as if I were a ghost. As if he could see my colors rising from my skin into the clouds. It had been years since he had looked so sad. It struck an old, helpless chord inside my chest, so much so that I almost didn’t leave. If he had continued to stare, troubled and haunted, I might have stayed. But he turned and walked slowly toward the house.

    Instead of a bell, when I opened the door of Say Chi’s, I heard a recorded female voice say, “Peace be with you.” The scent of incense assailed me. At least it wasn’t patchouli. That kind of stink was like dirty, weedy tar.
    I scanned the large, airy space. Above the door was a round window with tiny circular windows inside it, like bubbles trapped within a bubble. It gave the store a bright infusion of dotted light. Exotic jewelry and scarves from foreign countries, Tibetan prayer flags, wind chimes, and tarot cards surrounded me. An enormous circular table was laden with various types of glimmering crystals. There were books, of course, mostly New Age topics. I recognized one author, Edmund Nustber. When Dad couldn’t sleep, he liked to watch his late-night show on TV, where the wild-haired Mr. Nustber raved about paranormal wonders, aliens, and crop circles. Janelle called him Edmund Nutbar .
    “Hello, young lady.” My head snapped up, and I met the direct gaze of a statuesque black woman with the most impressive head of dreads I’d ever seen.
    “Your hair is art,” I said.
    The woman chuckled and rounded the table, grasping my hand in her own. “I’m Faye, proprietor of Say Chi’s. What are you seeking today?”
    Suddenly, I was beset with questions. Underneath all of them, what I sought most was to know what was happening to me and why I was different. “I think I’m seeing auras,” I blurted, though I realized with relief that I hadn’t seen any colors at all coming off her. It was a heavenly break.
    Faye’s hand slipped away. She took a few steps backward, and I wondered if I weirded her out. Then she said, “Do you, child? Can you see mine?”
    I was being tested. Or doubted. Neither of which sat well with me. I didn’t look directly at Faye, but just beyond her. Slight waves, like a mirage, shimmered off her head then faded. I concentrated. I thought I saw a deep blue flash, but then it quickly disappeared. “This is stupid.” I turned to go.
    “Wait!” Faye called. “What did you see?”
    My shoulders slumped forward. A dead end. There were no answers here. The doctors were right. My father was right. It was all in my head. “Nothing. I saw nothing,” I admitted.
    Faye then slipped a shimmering crystal from around her neck. “Now?”
    I blinked. Immediately, Faye’s colors jumped into focus. Brilliant blue, like a morning glory, and the golden light of a candle on a dark night; both were most pronounced around her neck and head. “Beautiful,” I whispered. This woman’s aura was clear and defined, which was why the sudden infusion of black around her lower abdomen became so apparent. The black seeped into the light like spilled ink. I stared.
    “You can see it,” Faye said in a shocked murmur.
    I nodded,