Scott Reintgen - The Problem with Prophecies

Scott Reintgen

The Problem with Prophecies

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALADDIN

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Publishing Division

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First Aladdin hardcover edition May 2022

Text copyright 2022 by Scott Reintgen

Jacket illustration copyright 2022 by Julie McLaughlin

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Book designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena

Jacket designed by Laura Lyn Disiena

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Reintgen, Scott, author.

Title: The problem with prophecies / Scott Reintgen.

Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2022. | Series: The Celia Cleary series ; 1 | Audience: Ages 10 to 14. | Summary: Twelve-year-old Celia Clearys first vision launches a quest to change her neighbor Jeffrey Johnsons fateProvided by publisher.

Identifiers: LCCN 2021042493 (print) | LCCN 2021042494 (ebook) | ISBN 9781665903578 (hc) | ISBN 9781665903592 (ebook)

Subjects: CYAC: Fate and fatalismFiction. | PropheciesFiction. | DeathFiction. | GrandmothersFiction. | MagicFiction. | LCGFT: Novels.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.R4554 Pr 2022 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.R4554 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021042493

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021042494

To Scottie Reintgen, I am already rearranging my heart. Making additions. Great sprawling rooms that I know will be filled with your light. Welcome to the world, little one.

M ost people expect seers to live somewhere weird. A creepy house on the corner with roses that never bloom. Some lonely farm with a hunched roof. Anything mysterious.

Which is why people are always surprised by Grammys very suburban townhome. Its just so plain. I like watching her customers park on the side of the road. They always check their phones to make sure theyve got the right address. Could that really be it? Its not painted midnight black. No cobwebs on the front porch. What kind of seer lives in a house like that? And how could they be any good?

Eventually the customers climb out of their cars. Theyll look up and down the sidewalk before crossing our well-manicured lawn, starting up our well-swept steps, and knocking with a handle thats disappointingly not in the shape of a gargoyle.

Grammy takes great pleasure in making her first appearance. Shes in her seventies now, but walks every single day and has an eye for whats fashionable. Most of her customers take a look at her and their doubts double in size. No crystal ball? No pointed hat? No cats slinking in the background?

Expectations are their own kind of magic, Grammy always tells me.

So the customer enters. Grammy allows the disappointment to grow. She sits them on a normal-looking couch, gives them a normal cup of coffee, and doesnt ask them to pay in vials of blood or anything weird. A credit card will work just fine, thank you. And at the exact moment that the customers doubt has reached a peak, Grammy invites them into the world of magic.

I like watching them leave as much as I like watching them arrive. Some walk out with a haunted expression. Others leave with a face-splitting grin. Its a miracle any of them can drive away without crashing straight into the bushes, because every single one of them leaves with a little slice of the future in their pocket.

For better or for worse.

But today there are no customers scheduled.

I sit by my window upstairs and watch as the other neighborhood kids head for the bus stop. Jordan Lyles comes up one side of the street. Hes wearing his chrome headphones and carefully avoiding puddles and fallen leaves so his new sneakers remain in pristine condition. The Kapowski sisters have to chase their little rat terrierChutneydown the steps of their house on the corner. It takes them a minute to usher him back inside before they head out the door themselves. Next to arrive is quiet Jeffrey Johnson. Hes carrying his soccer bag up the hill like its full of bricks.

The last person to join the crowded corner is Avery. A knot forms in my stomach. Its been almost eight months since we last talked. Way back at the very start of the school year. We were standing in the park near the bus stop. I can still remember how bright red her cheeks had gotten, how loud our voices echoed. All I was trying to do was help, and she blamed me for everything.

A part of me is still mad at her. A bigger part misses her. On today of all days, it would be nice to have my best friend at my side. Instead, I watch as the bus arrives to pick them up. Everyone is out there except for me. The doors rattle closed and the engine rumbles and they vanish around a corner.

Im not going to school today because its the 4,444th day of my life.

Mom called the front office and told them I was sick. Grammy has been humming excitedly to herself all week. Its not like I woke up with horns or anything like that. But this day has always been very important in the Cleary family, stretching back through the generations. It is the day that I will see my first prophecy. It is the day that every alternating generation of Clearys sees their very first vision.

Taking a deep breath, I head downstairs. Moms voice echoes from the front office area. Shes working from home for my big day. I reach the bottom step and glance back through the hallway. Im surprised to see shes fully dressed, even wearing her nice shoes. Its just like Mom to want to look the part, even if shes not going into the office.

Mom isnt magical, at least not in the way that I will be. Our prophetic gifts always skip a generation. Which means no magic, no prophecies, nothing at all. Im pretty sure reality suits her, though. Shes one of the best attorneys in town. Last year one of her cases was even made into a documentary. Everyone knows her name in our area. I pause in the hallway to listen for a second.

Look, shes saying. Allen hasnt even done his due diligence No, I dont think

I cant help grinning as I imagine whoever is on the other end of the line. Even without magic, Mom is a force of nature. Always getting the job done. I continue into the kitchen.

Grammy stands with her back to me in front of the stovetop. Shes got a huge mixing bowl planted on one hip, and her hair is up in a messy bun. She thrusts the mixing spoon into the air without looking back, accidentally splashing a little egg yolk.