since I don’t believe in poltergeists, I’m probably doing it. But that can’t be enough to . . .” He trailed off. Can’t be enough to land me here was what he was thinking. But he was here.
“TK-positive?” George asked. He headed for one of the picnic tables. Luke followed, trailed by the two girls. He could calculate the rough age of the forest that surrounded them, he knew the names of a hundred different bacteria, he could fill these kids in on Hemingway, Faulkner, or Voltaire, but he had still never felt more behind the curve.
“I have no idea what that means.”
Kalisha said, “Pos is what they call kids like me and George. The techs and caretakers and doctors. We’re not supposed to know it—”
“But we do,” Iris finished. “It’s what you call an open secret. TK- and TP-positives can do it when they want to, at least some of the time. The rest of us can’t. For me, things only move when I’m pissed off, or really happy, or just startled. Then it’s involuntary, like sneezing. So I’m just average. They call average TKs and TPs pinks.”
“Why?” Luke asked.
“Because if you’re just regular, there’s a little pink dot on the papers in your folder. We’re not supposed to see what’s in our folders, either, but I saw in mine one day. Sometimes they’re careless.”
“You want to watch your step, or they are apt to get careless all over your ass,” Kalisha said.
Iris said, “Pinks get more tests and more shots. I got the tank. It sucked, but not majorly.”
“What’s the—”
George gave Luke no chance to finish his question. “I’m TK-pos, no pink in my folder. Zero pink for this kid.”
“You’ve seen your folder?” Luke asked.
“Don’t need to. I’m awesome. Watch this.”
There was no swami-like concentration, the kid just stood there, but an extraordinary thing happened. (It seemed extraordinary to Luke, at least, although neither of the girls seemed particularly impressed.) The cloud of minges circling George’s head blew backward, forming a kind of cometary tail, as if they had been struck by a gust of strong wind. Only there was no wind.
“See?” he said. “TK-pos in action. Only it doesn’t last long.”
True enough. The minges were already back, circling him and only kept off by the bug-dope he was wearing.
“That second shot you took at the basket,” Luke said. “Could you have made it go in?”
George shook his head, looking regretful.
“I wish they’d bring in a really powerful TK-pos,” Iris said. Her meet-the-new-kid excitement had collapsed. She looked tired and scared and older than her age, which Luke put at around fifteen. “One who could teleport us the fuck out of here.” She sat down on one of the picnic table’s benches and put a hand over her eyes.
Kalisha sat down and put an arm around her. “No, come on, it’s going to be okay.”
“No it isn’t,” Iris said. “Look at this, I’m a pincushion!” She held out her arms. There were two Band-Aids on the left one, and three on the right. Then she gave her eyes a brisk rub and put on what Luke supposed was her game face. “So, new kid—can you move things around on purpose?”
Luke had never talked about the mind-over-matter stuff—also known as psychokinesis—except with his parents. His mom said it would freak people out if they knew. His dad said it was the least important thing about him. Luke agreed with both points, but these kids weren’t freaked, and in this place it was important. That was clear.
“No. I can’t even wiggle my ears.”
They laughed, and Luke relaxed. The place was strange and scary, but at least these kids seemed okay.
“Once in a while things move around, that’s all. Dishes, or silverware. Sometimes a door will shut by itself. Once or twice my study lamp turned on. It’s never anything big. Hell, I wasn’t completely sure I was doing it. I thought maybe drafts . . . or deep earth tremors . . .”
They were all looking at him with wise eyes.
“Okay,” he said. “I knew. My folks did, too. But it was never a big deal.”
Maybe it would have been, he thought, except for being freakishly smart, the kid accepted to not one but two colleges at the age of twelve. Suppose you had a seven-year-old who could play the piano like Van Cliburn. Would anyone care if that kid could also do a few simple card tricks? Or wiggle his ears? This was a thing he couldn’t say to