Chapter Twenty-four

I HAD SORT OF forgotten where I was. Explaining everything to Kate and realizing she had a crush on me was an overload. That, or I desperately needed something to eat. I’d skipped lunch, and it was coming back to get me. Back at my locker, I nabbed a half-eaten bag of Doritos and poured the rest of the contents into my mouth. Wiping the crumbs from my face, I moved down the hall to my next class.

My past day-and-a-half’s existence had been so disjointed and shaken up, I don’t think even Google knew what was going on. I had so many questions and not one of them had been answered. For example, the most outstanding one: why Greg lies.

I turned the corner into my classroom, found my seat, and planted my butt. I was glad that at least this class period would be a breeze.

Mr. Carlson’s speech class was always pretty easy—well, for me. Others loathed it. The best part about speech class was that once you gave your speech, all you had to do was sit and listen to the others. (Hint to those who haven’t taken speech yet: go first. Not only does it show initiative, but the rest of your week is set, and you can glide through the next couple of days.)

Earlier that week, the class had been given the assignment to talk on a topic we knew nothing about. As Mr. Carlson put it, the weirder, the better. “Something that really would get the entire class to stay awake,” he jokingly explained.

Deep down, I wanted so bad to explain my secret power to everyone. Just dazzle them all with the ins and outs of the human mind—along with embarrassing as many people as possible, of course. Don’t tell me that wouldn’t have been an A+ speech!

Obviously I couldn’t make that my topic, so instead I had done a speech on the human eye. Heck, I looked into that all the time—why not do a little research on how they worked? Not only did I speak on eyes in general, but I did tangent stuff like the blind, color displacement, and double vision. Probably not the most interesting subject, but it earned me a B-, so I was cool with that.

The late bell rang. Hunkered down in the back of the room at his desk, Mr. Carlson was engrossed in a magazine article of some kind. He positioned his desk in the back of the classroom to observe us better, keep us on our toes, and it worked—you really couldn’t get away with anything.

Mr. Carlson was a short guy with a baldish head and salt-and-pepper beard to offset the lack on top. He was maybe mid-sixties and unmarried. I guess he was in love with teaching instead. Poor guy. A good teacher, nonetheless.

That day he was rocking the light-green sweater vest over a white button-down shirt, and around his neck was a dark purple tie. That guy had to have been a hippie in his day.

The classroom was starting to quiet down after the bell, and finally Mr. Carlson took to his feet. “Okay, who do we have left today?” he asked.

A few hands were raised, and I noticed in particular that Laura Hartman’s thin, perfectly tanned right arm floated into the air. An idea caught me. During her speech would be a perfect time to read her mind. That is, if she made eye contact with the class. For being the most popular girl in school, Laura couldn’t give a speech worth a drop of rain in the desert. She always locked her eyes on her notecards and read about a hundred miles an hour in the highest Mickey Mouse voice possible. Trying to meet eyes with her would be difficult, but it was worth a shot.

Mr. Carlson clasped his hands together. “All right, Zack, why don’t you go?” I saw Laura blow out a relieved breath of air. I wasn’t worried; every speech was only three to four minutes long, so we would get to her eventually.

Zack Zigler—that was way too many Z’s, in my opinion—moved to the front, but I didn’t watch him. My gaze had come upon an empty desk midway across the room. Stephanie’s desk. It hit me that she would never return to school, but what was I thinking? The poor girl was dead, but by what cause? Was it from her injuries sustained in the car accident, or was it that thing inside her mind?

A chill ran down my back as Zack wrapped up his speech on the evolution of skateboarding. While he may have piqued the interest of a few people in class, it sounded like Zack was just talking about a hobby of his. My thoughts still swirled around Stephanie.

Again Mr. Carlson called on those who hadn’t read their last will and testament to the class to raise their hands. Laura lifted her arm slightly, probably hoping to secure another escape.

“Laura Hartman,” he said, marking down something in a notebook. “Oh, and let’s see some eye contact this time, like the rest of us in here exist.”

Thank you, Mr. Carlson! A few giggles spread about the room. Laura retrieved her trusty notecards, her one saving grace in this horrific ordeal, and walked as though she were being led to the firing squad.

She took a deep breath, gave us her cute smile, and began. It sounded like her words were in the Running of the Bulls, as if the faster she talked, the farther she’d be from certain, crushing doom. Then I saw her eyes flutter sideways. I looked in the direction of her quick glance, but it was only to the door that exited to the hallway. I bet that was where she would have liked to be instead.

Come on, I begged, look at me, or at least look up for a second. I figured Mr. Carlson’s eyes had a hard enough fix on her already, waiting to see if she would relieve her notecards of all the attention. Laura just couldn’t seem to do it.

Then I saw it. Laura’s eyes flipped up a second time, but this was to look at the teacher, give him what he wanted. How long had it been since she started? Laura was reading so fast, I thought for sure that famous Disney mouse had visited to tell us all about how sea turtles laid eggs on the beach.

Laura was beginning the conclusion of her speech, and she hadn’t glanced from her notecards but twice. I was going to miss my opportunity. She finished, and the class clapped. I didn’t join them. I was too busy keeping my eyes set on her. Then, as she walked from the front of class back to her seat, she did it. Laura sat in the third row and she would have to pass me to get to her desk. At first her eyes were cast down, but in one mere moment, she shot me a dead-on look. I caught it and was in.

The familiar drilling sound of washing machines and dryers filled my ears. It was very loud, very annoying. Nothing had quieted down in here since the last time I read Laura’s mind; if anything, it had grown louder.

Although, something was different this time. Sometimes I’d revisit minds and the room would be shifted slightly. Nothing major, but it was as if the person rearranged his or her thoughts. I guess it was normal—who didn’t keep their mind orderly? The deranged and homicidal, maybe, but for the most part, people were pretty level-headed.

One difference I noticed instantly was the sudden drop in temperature. Not freezing, but there was a distinct change from the last time.

I walked the row of washing machines, trying to pick up any clues to a connection Laura had with Greg. Then an idea struck me and I turned my attention to the dryers, although this time they were all in full motion, working away, even the one that had stopped before.

I shifted my focus to the washing machines; nothing seemed out of place. Then Laura’s current string of thought started ringing. I debated answering it. The phone’s ring grew louder, as if it were vying for my attention. It sounded more like a fire alarm.

I moved, giving in, and unhooked it mid-ring, putting the white receiver to my ear. By instinct I almost said hello.

On the other line was Laura’s voice. She was going on about sea turtles still… Wait, no, not sea turtles, but the speech, and how she was “frickin’” glad to be done with it.

“Screw eye contact,” she said before changing the subject to something else. I hung up the phone, and not two seconds passed before it was ringing again. Standing so close to it, I felt my skull shake. I lifted it again but then let it dangle by its cord. It just occurred to me, strangely enough, that the phone wasn’t a cell phone. Who had a landline anymore?

Next to the phone was the bulletin board full of flyers. A chill hit me and I blew warm air into my hands as I scanned the papers. They all just seemed to advertise the upcoming dance. Something, I again realized, I had totally forgotten about. Would things be weird now between Kate and me? Were we still going to the dance together…as a couple … or was our new relationship on a totally different level?

I felt stupid not knowing the first thing about the event. I snagged a flyer from the board and read it over. I didn’t even know what time the dance started. Looking the information over, the words didn’t make sense. The poster read:

Richmond Community High School Homecoming Dance

A Night in Hollywood

That wasn’t our school. I looked back up at the other flyers that adorned the board. There was another one that advertised Richmond’s Spring Fling event. Where was this Richmond school, and why did Laura have these events pinned in her mind? Had she gone to Richmond before River West? I tried to think back as far as I could. I remembered graduating with Laura from junior high; she had never moved or left the area to attend another school. She had always lived in River City, as far as I knew.

Although, what if she had been asked to those events by someone else? That was when it hit me. What school had Greg said he came from? Was that how Laura knew him, from these other events? I flipped the paper over and found Greg’s name on the back. Again beneath his name was the word “lies.”

He sure does.

Above me, an overhead fluorescent light flashed, buzzed, and went dim. The bulb began to pulse as if trying to cling to life. Then, and I kid you not, every single one of the appliances stopped. Utter silence.

That’s when I felt the breath of someone whisper my name on the back of my neck.