about me, and I don’t know anything about you except your name, your car and that you have a weird thing about welcoming new people to the school. You asked me to have lunch with you today. I thought it was so we could get to know each other. Or maybe talk about—what happened this morning after my Chem accident. And instead you’re interrogating me about Chem and what happened… and hey, speaking of that, how did you happen to be out of class at the same time I was this morning? Just coincidence?”
I expected him to be offended, but he merely smiled and polished off his fries. “I do want to get to know you better. I expect to do that. I don’t know that this is the place to do it. I thought you might like more privacy for that. I know I would. I can tell you anything you want to know about me. Just ask. Oh, and the reason I was out there today was I saw you walk past my physics class, and I asked for a bathroom pass. You looked like something was wrong, and I was worried.”
I didn’t really have any reply. The idea that he had been actively seeking me out to offer me help or comfort… that was astounding.
“So here’s my story, in condensed version. My name is Michael Sawyer, like I told you. I’m almost eighteen—my birthday is at the end of November. I’ve lived here all my life—in the country, outside of town. I have an older sister who is in college in Virginia.” He paused for a minute, thinking. “I don’t play football or baseball, but I run track. I’m a pretty fair student. I like to learn, so I usually like school. Did I forget anything?”
I tilted my head, considering. “You said something yesterday about a job. Where do you work?”
Michael’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned at me again. “I said something about work? I don’t remember.”
I nodded. “Yeah, when you were asking me if I had a ride home…” Suddenly, I couldn’t remember if he really had mentioned a job or if he only thought it.
He was looking at me oddly again, and I felt the same speculation from this morning. And once again, I heard him loud and clear.
I don’t think I said anything about work. Did I? It’s almost like she can…
I couldn’t help it. I flushed before he could finish that last thought. His eyes were fastened on my face, and I looked away quickly as my cheeks burned.
His next thoughts were so deliberately organized that I would have known he was testing if even the words hadn’t confirmed it.
That’s it, isn’t it? You can read my mind. You know what I’m thinking. This was followed by a huge wave of doubt as he began to second-guess his own intuition. Am I crazy? She’s gonna think so. Sitting here staring at her… psycho nut job…
I dropped my head onto my hand and closed my eyes. The smart thing here would be to say something, anything, that would convince Michael he was wrong. I could just go on about the job, make him feel ridiculous for his insane suspicions. Keep him at a distance, don’t let him know for sure… that was my typical modus operandi. That’s exactly what I should have done.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I raised my head and met his eyes. I nodded, just once, barely a movement.
Michael released the breath that he had been holding. “No way,” he murmured. “No freaking way.”
“I’m sorry!” The words burst from my mouth before I could stop them. “I didn’t mean to listen to you. I’m sorry—”
“Shhh.” Michael stopped me, raising his hand. “It’s okay. I think. I’m just—geez. Kind of—trying to figure this out.”
I stared unseeing at the brown grass beneath our feet and focused with all of my might on not hearing Michael’s mind. I owed him this small gesture of privacy at least.
“This is crazy,” he said finally. “You really can…?” When I nodded, he drew in a deep breath and smiled wryly at me.
“So you’ve been reading my mind since we met yesterday?”
“No!” I shook my head and met his level gaze. “I don’t try to hear thoughts—I really work hard not to hear them. I accidentally picked up a few things from your mind—but when I get upset, it’s harder to block. Sometimes I can’t tell what I’m hearing and what I’m—” I tapped my forehead, “—hearing.”
To my utter relief,