The Mind Readers (10 page)

Your dad.

I stiffened. No. If Dad could
read minds, Grandma would have told me. But then I didn’t know much about Dad,
and Grandma didn’t speak about him. I’d always assumed it would be too painful,
having lost her only child. Confusion gave way to anger.

My dad could read minds?

He nodded.
Your father was great, Cam. One of the best. The things he could do…
He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.
He’s the stuff of legends.

I wasn’t sure whether to feel
proud or confused. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to think about a man I hardly
knew. “Why didn’t Grandma tell me?”

The smile faded. “Your father
was killed, murdered, and she doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered.

“There are people out there who
are afraid of our powers, people who want to use us and if they can’t, destroy
us. People we call SPI, Society for Paranormal Investigation. In the past, many
Mind Readers worked with SPI. Until they turned on us, wanted to control us.
The battles have died down, mostly because we’ve gone into hiding.”

It was all too much. I’d gone
from being thrilled, realizing there were more people like me, to terrified I’d
be hunted down. “So then my Grandma was right to hide.”

“No,” his voice was hard,
insistent. “There’s power in numbers, Cam. Besides, by not being able to use
your powers to your fullest ability, you’re just a sitting duck, waiting for
them to find you.”

A shiver of unease raised the
fine hairs on my arms. How could this War of the Worlds be happening without my
knowledge? “We’ve been okay so far.”

“Have you really?” When I didn’t
respond he sighed and raked his hand through his hair, the strands shifting and
shimmering under the light of the cafe. “Why do you think your Grandmother
keeps moving you so often? God, Cam, they’re coming. Rumors are circulating
that they’re on the move again, searching for ones with the ability.”

Fear settled in my gut. “Why?”

He shrugged. “The world is
changing, my bet is the government wants to use us again.”

“Would that be so bad? We’d be
helping…right?”

He released a harsh laugh,
shaking his head. “Yes, it would be bad. We can’t trust them. Not after what
they did to us in the past. You think you have no freedom now, wait and see if
they get ahold of you. Your life will no longer be your own. And if you even
think of rebelling they’ll know and they’ll make you regret it.”

Regret it. That definitely
sounded like a threat. Grandma had told me Dad was accidentally shot by the
cops. That memory combined with my newfound knowledge made me suddenly sick to
my stomach. “S.P.I. killed my father?”

Yes.

The word whispered softly
through my mind and I wondered for a moment if I’d imagined it. But no, there
was Lewis looking so serious that it must be true. My father. A man I knew
nothing about…dead because of some abnormality he’d been born with. Something
he’d passed to me. I wrapped my arms around my belly, my chest feeling suddenly
hollow.
 

Lewis reached out, laying his
hand on the table, an offering of comfort. I paused for only a moment, then
settled my hand atop his. His grip was strong, sure, comforting. “Your father
would want this, Cam. He’d want you to know how to use your abilities. He’d
want you to be protected and to know how to protect yourself and your
Grandmother.”

I didn’t know what to say, who
to believe. Lewis, a boy I barely knew, wanted me to trust him, but I couldn’t,
not until I talked things over with Grandma. “No offense, but how do you know
what my father would want?”

“Aaron knew your father.”

My mouth dropped open. Over the
years, I’d thought many times about my dad; what he was like, what he believed
in. I’d never even seen his picture. Did I look like him? And here was Lewis,
telling me this man named Aaron knew my dad.
 

“Cam, you’re a sitting duck
right now. Think what you could do, who you could help. There would be no one
to judge you where we live. Come with me, Cam.”

Leave Grandma? The thought was
shocking. “Where would we go?”

“To see Aaron. He’ll train you,
he’ll protect you.”

The urge was strong. I was like
a kid in front of a candy store full of temptation. It would be so easy to
merely slip back into my old life. To pretend I was normal. I could laugh off
Anne’s rumor, say she was as insane as her boyfriend, somehow get back into
Emily’s good graces. Yet, how happy had I truly been pretending to be someone I
wasn’t? Emily was turning into the bitter bitch her mom had become.
 

“Think of the people you could
help,” he insisted, but I was still hurt about Anne’s reaction.

“Maybe they don’t want my help,”
I muttered, annoyed at the confusing thoughts rumbling through my mind. Too
much had happened in the last few days. I needed time to think and he wasn’t
giving me time.

He was silent for one long
moment. “I’m leaving tomorrow, Cam. I’m going back.”

I felt his words like a slap in
the face. He was leaving? Leaving me? I’d only just found him and already he
was leaving. “But you can’t!”

“I came here for you.” His words
excited and scared me. He looked out the window and so I looked too. The rain
was tapering off, the sun breaking through the dark clouds, but I felt heavy,
drained. A police car parked in front of the building, reminding me of my
father’s supposed death.

“What about school?” I
whispered.

He smiled. “Cam, I’m eighteen. I
graduated last year.”

Shocked, I could merely sit
there and stare at him. He’d lied to me? To the school? What else had he lied
about?

His face grew serious and he
reached out, taking my hand in his. “Tomorrow, I’ll come by your house to pick
you up. Eight in the morning. Come with me…please.”

“What about my schooling?” I was
frantically trying to find some reason to stay, fear of the unknown sharp and
bitter. Yet even as I fought for an excuse, I realized I had nothing holding me
here.

“You’ll be home schooled, like I
was. You’ve only got half the year left anyway.”

His gaze slid across the café,
landing on the waitress who was whispering something to a man seated at a
table. She looked upset, he looked angry.

“Let me ask you something. Does
that woman deserve to die?”

I jerked my head toward him.
“What kind of question is that?”

“She has a child, a little girl
who’s five. It’s only the two of them. She wants to go to college, but can’t
afford it. She’s hoping if she keeps working, she can save enough. But she
worries that while she’s working, she’s not spending time with her child. The
worst thing she’s done is get pregnant at seventeen. She wanted to keep the
baby. Her parents didn’t want her to and kicked her out of the house. It’s only
been those two since.”

He looked at me, his gaze
piercing and direct. “So, does she deserve to die?”

“No,” I whispered, my voice
harsh. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because that man is her
ex-boyfriend. He’s jealous, ridiculously jealous. He’s hit her and she broke up
with him just last week because of his temper.”

The words shocked and angered
me. I knew he was going somewhere with this conversation and I wasn’t sure I
wanted to head in that direction with him. “And?” What wasn’t he telling
me?
 

“That man has a gun. He’s going
to wait until she gets off work tonight and he’s going to kill her in her
apartment.”

My heart froze. For one brief
moment I saw Savannah’s pale, lifeless face.

“Her daughter will go to foster
care, of course, because she’ll have no one to take her in.” He drank the rest
of his coffee and then leaned back, letting the words sink in. “So tell me,
Cameron, does she deserve to die?”

No!
I yelled at him in my head, as tears stung my eyes.

“We can stop it from happening.”

“How?” Dare I trust him? He’d
told me that we could help Anne, and look how well that turned out. Sure,
George was behind bars, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the town showed up at my
house with pitch forks and torches once word of my ability got out.

Lewis stood, threw a few dollars
on the table. “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

He was leaving and as he made
his way across the café, I let him go, too stunned to stop him. I watched him
out the window as he strolled so confidently down the sidewalk. When he came
face to face with the Police Officer, he paused, his lips moving. The officer
glanced at the café and pulled out his walkie talkie.

Lewis looked into the window,
directly at me.
Go, Cam, he’s calling for
backup.

He’d told on the waitresses’
ex-boyfriend. He’d saved yet another life, while I sat here like a scared
little girl, doing nothing. I grabbed my backpack and calmly made my way out of
the café, past the cop who was thrilled to have something interesting to do on
this dreary day. They weren’t taking any chances as they’d already had one
shooting at the café.

I had to find Lewis. He couldn’t
leave me like this, with so many unanswered questions.

I rushed around the corner.

But Lewis was gone.

Chapter 8

I’d stayed out late, sitting in
the park until eleven, knowing Grandma would be sleeping when I came home.
Fortunately, she couldn’t read my thoughts while she slept. For hours my mind
had warred with my heart. I wanted to go; I wanted to know what I could be. And
I was so damn angry at my Grandma for keeping all of this from me. But I was
afraid. Afraid to leave what I knew.

I finally gave up and returned
to our little cottage around midnight. But being home, out of the cold and
dreary weather, offered no comfort. I paced my room, walking over the scuffed,
wooden floorboards until the sky turned light and mysterious shadows morphed
into furniture.

I’d done what I could with my
small domain; painted the walls a Caribbean blue, dreaming of warmer climates.
But the floorboards creaked and the window leaked cold air reminding me of
where I truly lived.

I’d been content here and I
couldn’t help but fight the tears at the thought of leaving. And I was leaving.
I suppose I’d known that even before Lewis had left me in the café. But it
wasn’t until three a.m., with the moon high, when I’d finally admitted the
truth to myself; I couldn’t stay here any longer.

As the moonlight began to fade,
I flicked aside my white curtains to look out onto the quiet neighborhood where
mostly old couples had retired. Gray dawn was giving way to yellow light. The
sun just peeking over the horizon. The promise of a new day, a new beginning.
Under the brilliant rays of the sun, the pavement sparkled with light, with
hope. I’d showered and dressed, a suitcase packed since 4 a.m. Now, it was time
to say goodbye to my life.
 

There was only one young couple
on our block; a married couple with a five year old girl. I watched as the man
made his way down their front drive to his car, headed to work. A perfect,
happy family. We could have had a life like that if…if what? If my father
hadn’t been killed? If Mom hadn’t been a druggie? I didn’t even know where my
father was buried. No one had bothered to tell me. The anger I’d been trying to
keep at bay flared to life, giving me courage.

Grandma had made me think I was
a freak, alone in this world. Someone who should be ashamed. She hadn’t told me
my father could read minds. Now I had the opportunity to learn more about my
dad. Learn about who I was, but more importantly, who I could be. I knew if it
were up to Grandma, I’d live here the rest of my life, hiding my true self. But
I couldn’t take that any longer. It was time to live.

The soft clatter of utensils
against pans alerted me to Grandma’s presence. She was awake, which meant she
probably already knew what I was planning. My heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t
going to let me go without a fight.

Time to leave. I reached for the
Swiss Army Knife on my bedside table and slipped it into my pocket. The piece
was old and worn from age, but, besides my sweatshirt, it was the only thing I
owned that had once belonged to my father. Steeling my nerves, I pulled my
suitcase into the hall, leaving it there. Wearing her long, gray robe, the same
robe she’d worn since I could remember, Grandma stood at the stove frying eggs.
She had her routine to do and nothing would stop her, not even me.

She had to hear my thoughts; I
couldn’t keep them to myself. Yet, she didn’t say a word when I settled at the
kitchen table. Her silence made me nervous. She pushed the eggs onto a plate
and placed them in front of me, avoiding my gaze. The same plates I’d used most
of my life, beige with brown roses. How many meals had I had on these outdated
dishes? My stomach revolted at the thought of eating. Instead, I took a glass
of orange juice and drank deeply. But the acid only made it worse. I pushed the
plate and glass away. What to tell her? How to explain? Then again, why even
bother when she knew. And I could tell by her stiff movements that she knew.

“You’re not leaving,” she
finally said.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing
so fast I couldn’t grasp hold of an argument, but one thought remained clear,
Grandma could read my mind. She knew what I was planning to do. She knew even
before I said it.

“And what if I want to see what
they can offer?”

She slammed the pan onto the
stove, making me jump. Rarely did she lose control. “Damn it, do you have any
idea what you’re getting involved with?”

I surged from my chair, anger
propelling me into action. “No! I don’t because you’ve never told me anything.”

Still she didn’t face me.
“You’ve never asked.”