The Secret Side of Empty Read Online Free PDF Page A

come, things go. Life is like the wheel, going around and around.”
    “But what does the Tower mean?”
    “Some people think it means disaster. But it just means a big change. It can feel like a disaster, but in the end, after it’s over, it’s what was supposed to happen.”
    “But what is it that’s supposed to happen?”
    “The cards don’t work that way. They give you clues, but it’s not like a detailed news report or anything. I just see a change.”
    “That feels convenient. It’s not hard to predict that something will happen.”
    “Oh, little one who wants it all to make sense.” She smiles, putting her hand on mine, although she can’t be more than ten years older than I am. “Just remember that when someone tells you that things aren’t going to end well, that’s just because they want you to be afraid. Things always end well. Because they never end.”
    She puts down a few more cards.
    “You are . . . starting school?”
    “It’s September and we’ve established I’m a little suburban girl, so . . .”
    “Not college yet.”
    “Senior year,” chimes in Chelsea.
    “I see delays for you,” she says, looking at me with her eyes, so dark they’re even darker brown than mine. But hers are huge, not beady like mine.
    “Delays?” I ask.
    “Things not going the way you think they should.”
    “But you said it all works out in the end, right?”
    “Is that what I said? Something like that.”
    Well, that stinks. Now I’m in a bad mood.
    “Thank you very much,” says Chelsea sweetly. The woman starts to pick up her cards and the purple scarf, but slowly. Chelsea pulls out a ten-dollar bill and hands it to her before I even realize the woman is waiting to get paid. Once she gets the ten, she walks away quickly.
    I reach for my wallet, half to check if the tarot card woman was some kind of super-talented pickpocket. “Here, let me pay you.”
    Chelsea says, “I would tell you that was my back-to-school gift to you, but she was kind of a bummer. So let’s just ignore her.”
    “All right, then I’ll buy you an ice cream. Let’s go.” I pull Chelsea up off the grass. “And let’s go back to play those singing bowls and find more NYU boys.”
    She gives me a little hug and smiles. She still smiles exactly like that first day in kindergarten. And she’s still trying to make me feel good.

    I HAD DREAMED ABOUT KINDERGARTEN FOR SO LONG , PACKING and unpacking and carefully repacking the little purple backpack my mother got me. But the reality of it had been nothing like what I’d expected. The first day, the teacher had introduced us to taking attendance.
    “Okay, kids, I’m going to say your name and you have to sit very quietly. When I get to your name, you have to say, ‘Here.’”
    “Here!” screamed out about five or six kids.
    “Wait until you hear your name, okay?”
    “Janet?”
    “Here!”
    “Chelsea?”
    “Here!” chirped the blond, tall girl sitting across from me.
    “Quinn?”
    The tiny redhead at my table shot up her arm and screamed, “HERE!”
    “Sarah?”
    Silence.
    “Sarah?”
    Someone elbowed a curly haired girl across the room and she stopped looking at the picture of the giraffe family and said, “Can I go to the bathroom?”
    “Are you Sarah?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, we’re getting to know each other, so just give me a minute, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “Munsee . . .” I saw the teacher start to struggle. Oh God. My name was next. Monserrat Thalia. The name no one on the playground could ever learn how to say. She started again. “Munsayratt? Munsayratt? Is that right?”
    I sat there frozen, eyes wide. Maybe if I didn’t say anything she’d never know it was me. But I guess the look on my face gave me away.
    “Is that you, sweetheart? Am I saying that right?”
    “Wait, hold on,” said Quinn. “Her name is Mousy Rat?”
    “Quinn, now, in this classroom we’re kind to one another.”
    “I’m just asking what her name is.”
    “We also