Chapter Seven

STEPHANIE DIDN’T RETURN TO history class that hour. Nor did she show up in third period, although a few people said she went to the nurse’s office and was back to herself by fourth period. Nobody knew why she had become so emotional and broken down except for me.

It was times like this that I regretted my business, and my abilities felt like a curse rather than a blessing. My actions nagged at me, weighing heavily, but I had to remember that girls would be girls. Strung out on emotions and feelings, Stephanie would get over it, and I had bigger things to deal with. It was lunchtime, and being fifteen dollars richer, I was free to get as many slices of pizza as I wanted.

I walked to the usual spot in the lunchroom. Dean was already there, crushing some pizza of his own. He spotted me and gave a nod. Nobody was at the table yet, and that was just the way I wanted it. We were lucky to have a whole five minutes before being surrounded by Dean’s friends. I wanted at least a few minutes to get to the bottom of things between him and Kate.

I knew I could easily read his mind, but there were two issues with that. First, the fact that Dean knew my secret was also his secret. No surprise there. Secondly, I’d sort of made a pact with myself that I would never read Dean’s mind. This was a rule I practiced with my business as well. It was cool having your foster brother be the most popular guy in school, although it had its complications. Simply put, people wanted to know his secrets most of all.

I was living with the guy, and I had to trust him as much as he trusted me. Dean had that easy nature about him. You could just ask him anything and he’d tell you straight up. The people who came to me looking for dirt were scared, shy, or female.

Setting my tray down, I was ready to talk. Dean beat me to it.

“Hey, I invited somebody to sit with us.”

I figured he was referring to Ron Sutting, the co-captain of the baseball team, and he wanted to talk season strategies with Dean.

A guy with dark, gelled hair and a nervous but cool demeanor approached us.

“Nolan, this is Greg Wilkins, our newest shortstop for next spring,” Dean said. I just about spit out my Mountain Dew. Greg extended his hand to me. I shook it and gave him a nonchalant eyebrow raise. He took the seat across the table from me.

I had no doubt Stephanie was watching me at this very moment, on the verge of making another giant scene. She probably thought the whole thing was a setup. She had no idea that I’d read Laura Hartman’s mind to get her information.

“Hey, man, you look a little tired,” Greg said just before he dove into a slice of pepperoni.

“Yeah, the voices in my head wouldn’t let me sleep last night,” I replied.

Greg gave Dean a quizzical look. Dean shook his head slowly. My mind was still having a hard time accepting the fact that two girls were fighting over this one guy. Greg was just as average-looking as I was.

“Are you guys going to, um…that one dance on Saturday?” Greg asked as he manhandled his crust. What kind of question was that? He asked it as if he didn’t even remember the name of the dance, and he knew he was going with Laura. He had asked both of us the question but kept his sights on Dean, waiting for his answer.

Dean nodded, explaining that he was taking Celia Moser. But then again, of course Dean was going—how could he not? He was practically the official mascot of the thing. Just about every girl in school had tried their hand at getting Dean as her date.

I, for one, didn’t answer the question. No need to. Greg had the answer he wanted.

Dean spoke up, clearing the dead air. “So you’re from up north. What made you move down to our neck of the woods?”

Greg swallowed and answered, “Parents got a divorce. My mom is originally from River West, so we moved back.”

“Oh, sorry, man,” Dean replied.

“It’s cool—my dad was jerk. My mom works for the government doing top-secret stuff, stuff my dad tried to sell to international terrorists, but I caught him late one night and turned him in for the safety of our country.”

Hold it. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. He’s got to be lying. Well, I was thinking that very same thing. But why? It didn’t settle things for me. I wanted to take a closer look inside Greg’s mind and was about to—that is, until Laura came over and sat down right next to him.