Peter the Predictor

 “Will my brother find his pet tarantula?” Trang asked.

Peter sat with his legs crossed in a lotus pose and put on a wise expression.  He appeared to meditate a moment on all of these questions, and then opened his eyes and told them all, “Sorry. It doesn’t seem to work like that. I guess things come to me when there is some kind of need.”

“Oh.” 

Some children nodded solemnly, as if that made perfect sense.

“Well,” Trang insisted, “my brother really does kind of need to find his tarantula.”  

Hands on his temples, Peter thought about that one, rolling his eyes up toward the back of his head and appearing to go into a trance.  He pondered the question the way his father would.  Logic told him that either the spider would turn up again, or it wouldn’t.  A tarantula is pretty big, and if it turned up, it would likely be noticed in a BIG way.  Peter started to sway left and right, using dramatics to buy him time as he thought it through. Since Trang lived on the second floor in her apartment building, the odds of it escaping outside were slim, so it would probably be found.  And possibly killed, depending upon who found it.  After a time, he placed his hands on his knees and announced, “The tarantula will be found, but I can’t tell if it will be dead or alive.”

Trang looked relieved to hear this. Peter gazed at them all, and with a touch to his temple, announced, “I grow weary.”  The other kids didn’t want to strain Peter’s newfound magic powers, so they stopped asking questions.  In the back of the crowd, Trevon shook his head.

Word of Peter’s predictions spread.  All through the day, he could hear kids whispering:

Pssst … Pssst!

“He knew Trang’s sweater was on the bus, and exactly where it was!  Weird.”

“My mother is good friends with a lady in New Orleans who hit her head, and she’s been a professional psychic ever since!”

“Peter says my brother’s tarantula will turn up.”

“I want a head injury!”

Psst!