The Mind Readers (4 page)

Savannah’s face had been
haunting me since that night. Could I, somehow, have prevented it? Grandma was
right, violence in our town wasn’t normal. Did no one else see that something
odd was happening here?
 

“Cam,” Emily snapped, annoyed I
wasn’t hanging on her every word, nodding my agreement with her
half-truths.
 

There was some sick psycho out
there who had killed Savannah and, once again, Emily was acting like everything
revolved around her. I had barely slept all weekend, but Emily looked like
she’d just had a visit to the spa.

There were days when humanity
seemed like a lost cause. Today was one of those days.
 

“Cam, wait up.” Her high heels
clicked against the linoleum. This was Maine, for God’s sake, not Beverly Hills
90210. People didn’t wear heels to school, but Emily did. She was panting as
she reached my side. “What’s your problem?”

Problem? I had so many I wasn’t
sure which to focus on. Might as well be her. “I just think it’s sick that
everyone’s discussing what happened like it’s the weekly gossip.” And by
everyone, I meant her.

“We’re scared, Cam. It could
have been anyone of us.” Her gaze darted around the hallway and she shuddered
dramatically. “It could have been me.”

I rubbed my temples, my headache
growing. Of course, and we were back to her.

The bell rang, warning that
first period would soon start. Ignoring Emily, I walked into homeroom and
continued toward the back of the class. We didn’t dare sit in the front because
apparently when you’re popular, you never sit at the front of the class. So
many ridiculous rules. They’d never bothered me before, but today I was worried
and tired; today everything was annoying. Emily sat on one side while Kevin sat
on the other. I’d always thought it was the perfect spot, between the two of
them.

Even now I couldn’t help but
watch Kevin make his way toward me, those blue-green eyes smiling, that blond
hair fashionably messy. He was gorgeous, and I was totally in love with him
even though the guy spent 95% of his time thinking about his abs and biceps.
Seriously, I didn’t know a single girl who worried about her body more than
Kevin worried about his. But he was athletic, funny and nice. Which was so
uncommon within our group that I couldn’t help but like him. Add that to the
fact that he thought I was pretty and he was nearly perfect.
 

Still, the thought of spending
the rest of my life listening to him worry about his abs and biceps had me
second guessing marriage. But then again, most people’s thoughts were annoying.
Insecurities, depressing anxiety…thoughts of turmoil. Sometimes they drove me
insane with their constant self-involved mind-chatter.

I rested my elbows on my desk
and my head in my hands. Rumor was that Savannah had been taking drugs. I
didn’t buy that for a second. But the rumor made my mom come to mind. I hadn’t
thought about her in months. I could barely remember what she looked like and
for some reason that realization made me panic.

“I mean seriously, it’s weird
you don’t want to talk about it,” Emily said. She was angry with me because I’d
made her feel stupid and guilty. Well, she should feel guilty, but it wouldn’t
last. Like always, she was trying to place the blame on me and usually I’d
silently accepted it. Not today. How badly I wanted to tell her to go screw
herself.

“I mean, what is your problem
anyway?” she snapped. “Does this have to do with Kevin?”

“Shhh!” I hissed, and jerked my
head upright. Too much. She’d crossed a line by trying to embarrass me and I
knew that’s what she was attempting to do. She’d said the one thing she knew
would get a response.

I slid Kevin a glance. Thank God
he was talking to someone else and hadn’t noticed our conversation.

“If you’re jealous, I won’t go
out with him.” She was silent for one long moment, wondering if I’d get mad if
she asked to switch seats with me. She didn’t have to say it, I already
knew…Kevin had asked her out and she’d already said yes.

Unbelievable! Her father was
having a long-running affair with his coworker. A secret Emily knew, if not
Emily’s mom. If anyone should have understood that it was wrong to steal a boy
from another girl, it should have been Emily, my supposed best friend.

“Whatever,” I said softly,
resting my face in my hands and staring at the faux wood of my desktop. Nothing
mattered anymore. Nothing mattered because my mom wasn’t here to ease my fears.
Nothing mattered because there was a murderer nearby and Savannah was dead. Dead.

Emily huffed and turned her back
to me, talking to Sarah, who sat beside her. I didn’t care. At the moment, I
didn’t care if Emily and I were no longer friends and my status would plummet
to that of the girls who were friends with the teachers. I didn’t care if no
one asked me to prom. I didn’t even care if Kevin and Emily got married and had
five freaking kids. What did it matter when there was a murderer stalking the
town?

Yeah, most people had some
pretty horrifying and scary thoughts at times, but hardly anyone ever acted
those out. Violence was pretty uncommon in our town. The police were trying to
connect the murder with the shooting at the café, but I knew better. Something
was wrong. Something was off. It was as if the very air vibrated with unease.

“Good morning children,” Mr.
Banks swept into the room, his briefcase in hand, his cat on his mind. Fluffy
hadn’t been eating. “Open your books to page fifty-five.”

Only last week Savannah had told
me she was going to try out for the soccer team. I’d encouraged her to. She was
nervous, but I said I’d help her practice. According to the news report she was
going to her friend’s for the weekend. But she’d lied and probably met up with
some guy. The guy who’d killed her. The guy whose voice I’d heard.

The stranger from the parking
lot flashed to mind. That brown hair had an ever so slight curl, tousled by the
ocean breeze. His face had been tense, those dark brows drawn together like he
was worried. Worried he’d be caught? Was he the murderer? Was he the man whose
voice I’d heard?

I shivered, hunkering down into
the Yale sweatshirt that had belonged to my dad. If it wasn’t the stranger,
then it could be anyone. I wasn’t used to not knowing. I couldn’t stand the
suspense. Irritated, I flipped open my book, pretending interest in the Civil
War. Most people were whispering to each other about Savannah’s death. People
who’d barely paid attention to her before.

The useless chatter sometimes
got to me. But I tried to have patience; people talked to either ease their
worries or get to know each other. I rarely asked questions and not because I
was shy like most people thought, but because I didn’t need to learn. I already
knew every little secret about everyone. Some secrets I wished to God I didn’t
know…things that would make you gag, things that would make you cry.

We’d had to move a lot when I
was younger, before I’d learned to keep my mouth shut.
 
I’d say something inappropriate and people
would become suspicious. Grandma would pack the car and we’d move to another
state, another city. Since I so badly wanted a home and friends, I’d learned
quickly to keep all thoughts to myself for my own sake. But Grandma had another
reason why she’d wanted me to keep silent. When I was old enough, Grandma had
told me the truth. People like us didn’t last long, they had the habit of
disappearing.
 

But it didn’t mean those
thoughts I heard were ignored. I could ignore them as much as I could ignore my
own thoughts. Sitting there in the classroom it was like I was the center of a
bike wheel. Every spoke led to a student; their thoughts vibrating along that
wire to me. Usually I could focus on each thought individually and pinpoint the
person. Unless the thoughts were too fast and emotional, as they’d been at the
beach the evening we’d found Savannah. If only I’d tried harder to focus.
 

There was a sudden shift in
awareness that caught my flagging attention; almost a collective sigh from the
female population. For a brief moment surprise washed over the room, and then
curiosity invaded. I looked up. Some guy with brown hair stood next to Mr.
Banks, his back to the class. A nice, broad back that filled out his blue polo
shirt.

“Who is that?” I whispered to
Emily, forgetting for a moment she was mad at me.

She narrowed her eyes into an
unattractive glare. “How should I know?”

I brushed off her cattiness, and
eager to think about something other than Savannah, I focused on the new
student. We’d seen students come and go often. People moving to the north, then
realizing how cold it got and after the first winter, moving back to wherever
they’d come from. This guy probably wouldn’t last.

He wore jeans that fit him
well…really well. I could tell by the quality of his clothing that his family
had money. I shifted my attention from his butt upward, focusing on his
thoughts.

The odd thing wasn’t that he was
here, but that I couldn’t read anything coming from him. I frowned and focused
harder on the guy, even closing my eyes to concentrate. Nothing but silence.

Oh my God, he’s cute.

Emily’s thought slipped into my
mind. Curious, I opened my eyes. A clear blue gaze met mine. For a brief moment
I noticed nothing but those eyes. My heart jumped, heat rushing through my
body. He was staring directly at me.
Me.
Why me?

Why her?
I heard Emily wonder. She wasn’t the only one. Just about
every girl in class was wondering why this gorgeous guy was staring at me,
wondering if we knew each other. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care in the least
because my brain had finally started working again and I recognized his face. I
froze in shock.

I didn’t want him to stare at
me. I didn’t want him to stare because he was the guy from the parking lot…the
guy who had killed Savannah.

********

Those mental spokes vibrated,
thoughts pouring into my mind from every chair, but for one. His chair. For
thirty minutes now he’d sat two chairs behind me, for thirty minutes I could
feel his gaze burning into my back. For thirty minutes I’d had to listen to all
the girls wondering why he was staring at me. But there was one thought I
hadn’t heard.
His
.

The bell rang. I bolted from my
chair and scurried toward the exit. Emily and Sarah stood by the door,
whispering about the new guy and preventing my escape.

“Excuse me,” I snapped, almost
panicked.

They turned and glared as one.
Well, it hadn’t taken Emily long to turn Sarah against me. Just freaking great.
All those months of hard work and my status was sinking faster than the
Titanic.

“Cameron,” Mr. Banks called out.

Crap. I resisted the urge to
ignore his voice and bolt out the door. Instead, like the good girl I was, I
glanced back. The new guy leaned against Mr. Banks’ desk, watching me. A shiver
of unease whispered across my skin. This couldn’t be good. “Yeah?”

“This is Lewis, he’s new.”

Obviously.

Lewis was staring at me, an odd
gleam to his blue eyes. Really blue, like the bay in summer. Square jaw,
straight nose and those lips…

For a murderer, he was cute. He
looked away briefly, breaking our connection and I wondered if I’d imagined the
amusement in his gaze.

Mr. Banks was barely paying
attention to us, eager to get to the teacher lounge before all the cookies were
gone. “Show Lewis around, take him to his next class, will you?”

No!
“Sure.” Wild panic sent my heart racing.

 
Lewis smiled, a smile that produced a dimple
in his left cheek. For a moment, my panic was forgotten. Oh God, how could I be
attracted to a murderer? I was sick.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice
deep and smooth.

I nodded dumbly and led the way
into the hall. I was safe, I mean, I was in the middle of the school, in a hall
crowded with people. What could he do? Still, it didn’t stop my heart from
racing.

“Hello, Cameron,” he said,
stepping closer to me. So close, I could smell his soap and aftershave. He
smelled… wonderful. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I nodded, not even bothering to
look at him as I tried to think of a way out of this mess. Why the heck
couldn’t I read his thoughts? Was he a droid? A robot? Or maybe psychos didn’t
have thoughts. I rarely dealt with them, so who knew what they were capable of.
But no, that didn’t make sense. I’d heard the murderer’s thoughts.
 

“Where’s your locker?” I dared
to look at him. I was eager to dump him off at his next class and be done with
the whole charade.

He was smiling, although why, I
wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem in a hurry, he seemed quite relaxed, his stroll
slow and unhurried, as if he had something he wanted to say. Instantly, my
suspicion grew.

“I’ve never known anyone in such
a hurry to get to class.”

“Yeah, well, I take school very
seriously.” Why did I have to sound like such a loser? Of course the moment
that thought popped into my head, I wondered why I cared what he thought.
 

“Here.” He tapped Savannah’s old
locker. The locker next to mine.

I froze, slightly horrified.
“What?”

He frowned. “My locker. It’s
here. You all right?”
 

“Yeah, sure. Just…” I tried to
judge his expression, to understand what he was feeling, if anything. It had
been so long since I’d had to read someone based on their body language alone
that I found it impossible to know. He looked normal, which was the problem. He
didn’t look guilty. Then again, maybe he wasn’t. I’d heard the killer’s
thoughts, yet couldn’t hear Lewis.