Nick

Curiosity was going to kill this cat. I reread the article on receptive telepathy on the EncycloWeb for the third time as I walked with the guys to a Friday night dinner at the mall. Scott had bowed out, and it frustrated me. He didn’t seem uninterested in doing stuff the past several days, he seemed distracted, and, to the gods, that wasn’t the same thing.

“How about sushi?” Chase asked, as we approached some of the sit-down restaurants outside the mall.

“That’s expensive,” Lucas shot back. “Let’s try somewhere cheaper.”

“We could eat at the food court like we always do and get our own thing,” Mark pointed out. We stopped at the front of the sushi restaurant, its kanji sign lit with little flower-shaped lights.

“But I wanted to go to a legit restaurant this time,” Chase lamented. “I want a drink.”

“It’s not like losing to Joeville was that bad,” Lucas said. “And your choices here would be beer or sake. Do you even like sake?”

“I’m willing to try it for the sake of my bruised ego.”

Mark peered through the window. “It’s packed. Are we willing to wait?”

Chase sighed dramatically. “No, I guess not.”

“The Indian restaurant on the other side of the mall has a bar,” I pointed out.

As soon as Chase gave an accepting nod, we started meandering that way, and I read the article yet again, specifically the section on sensory dampening.

Receptive telepaths typically receive thoughts from the people around them whether they want to or not. Many receptives practice sensory dampening to help filter this overload of thought. Dampening is an advanced form of shielding that results in a marked weakening of the receptive’s ability to see, hear, and smell, but also greatly reduces telepathic input. This effect lasts only as long as the receptive is shielding.

So either Scott was having a hard time with this dampening, or I didn’t fully understand his situation. I popped the term into a search engine, and Laesth Resources came up. But that was too broad, too vague.

We reached the Indian restaurant and got one of the last open booths. Chase immediately ordered some sort of mixed drink, and the rest of us settled in and discussed curry choices over the talk of other patrons and upbeat Bollywood music. I gave my order and then buried my face in my phone.

Okay, here was the blog of a receptive telepath, but it was mostly poetry.

Your desire / Slipping through my mind / Like water filling channels in the bark of a tree / Filling me

I mean, it was okay. But I didn’t have time to figure out if it could help me.

Chase’s drink arrived, and he raised his glass, the bright blue contents swirling. “To whipping Joeville’s asses next time!”

“Cheers,” the rest of us said, clinking our soda glasses to his.

An appetizer of samosas came next, and I plucked one off the plate as Chase launched into a play-by-play of the game, complete with mapping out plays with cups and silverware.

“They’re a solid team,” Lucas added. “If only I’d actually gotten to play them.”

“You didn’t play?” I asked.

“Half the freshmen spend the whole game on the bench,” Lucas explained. “We only get rotated on when needed.”

“I got to play a whole quarter,” Chase said, puffing out his chest. “Got slammed into the grass and everything.”

“Glutton for punishment, that one,” Lucas mumbled, and when Chase batted his eyelashes at him, Mark laughed.

As Chase continued his regaling, my attention drifted back to my phone, and finally, I found some blog posts that seemed extremely promising. So as the guys continued to talk, I read.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, reading this blogger’s recount of being able to hear the thoughts of every passerby, every person she interacted with. I hadn’t thought it was that extreme. She went on to explain how she had to practice sensory dampening to function on a day-to-day basis, but it made people hard to hear, let alone understand. There was a delicate balance between privacy and being able to communicate efficiently.

Did Scott have to dampen like this? Maybe his thoughts were too jumbled with everyone else’s thoughts for him to think straight. Maybe . . . there was some way I could help him?

Our food arrived, garlic naan and basmati rice steaming, everyone’s curry of choice in little silver pots. We filled our plates, and the others talked and laughed but I didn’t really feel connected to the conversation. So I focused on my curry.

“I’m sure you guys saw the election results,” Mark said, dipping his naan in curry. “Prop B passed.”

“Oh, fuck that noise,” Chase rambled, his drink mostly gone at this point. “The Emperor better watch out if he thinks he can screw over millions of college students with hiked fees.”

Lucas sucked in a breath, putting a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “Don’t say that so loud, man.”

“I can say whatever I want,” Chase shot back, and I wished I had a drink too so I could actually find it funny.

Lucas rolled his eyes and regarded Mark again. “You think the council will actually go through with it?”

“The council went through with the special military units in the northern territory.” Mark sipped his soda. “Because of what, propaganda scaring the older generation?”

“What ConnectUs threads have you been reading?” Chase laughed, and Mark shrugged.

“One of my moms works at city hall.”

Chase nodded. “Ooh. Straight from the source.”

“You okay, Nick?” Lucas suddenly asked, naan poised in one hand. “You haven’t said a word for like, half the meal.”

To the gods, I had been hoping none of them would notice. “I’m fine. Worried about Scott.” Damn it, I shouldn’t have said that.

“You two doing okay?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, we . . .” I stopped, stared at my plate. We had never asked each other out, so I couldn’t really say how we were doing. “It’s just everything going on with his parents,” I finished.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Mark returned to his meal, and a few moments later the conversation struck back up, though I continued to mostly listen.

This was definitely a flaw in the whole boyfriend-has-telepathy thing. Because Scott had been so clearly into me, at least when he hadn’t been worrying about his family, I hadn’t said out loud what I felt and what I wanted from us, and neither had he.

But when he wanted me, it was . . . all-encompassing. And when I reached out with telekinesis, his joy was palpable. He responded to telekinesis in a way no other partner had. My ex-girlfriend had been less than enthused about it. Her loss, right? But Scott . . . it was almost as if it was good for him.

Maybe . . . maybe that was key. I tried searching for it: “telekinesis helping receptive telepath” but most of the results were about a trick one had to use in a RPG to beat a villain. Sometimes, the internet failed.

A burst of laughter at the table brought me out of my black hole. Chase snorted, his cheeks deep red from drinking, his blond curls bouncing.

“What did I miss?” I tried.

“This, this, asshole,” Chase attempted, giving Mark a jovial sneer through his continued chuckles, “said maybe if I wasn’t so dramatic I’d get laid.”

“And I said maybe they could help each other out there,” Lucas added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Mark had gone bright red. “No, you see, if we went out, I would never live down my moms’ ridicule for bringing home another jock. I had a boyfriend on the swim team in high school, and both moms loved him. I couldn’t take their affection toward him. It was awful, okay?”

“Wait, do you like me?” Chase asked, his cheeks flushed. I let out a gasp, and Mark buried his face in his hands.

Lucas snorted. “Gods, Chase, how are you this tipsy off one drink?”

“Do you—do you—” Chase continued at Mark, finishing the dregs of his drink with a slurp.

“I can’t tell, you’re too intimidating,” Mark admitted, and Lucas collapsed against the back of the booth with laughter.

As I watched the debacle unfold, my stomach slowly turned in knots, and it had nothing to do with the delicious food or the embarrassing topic. I wished Scott was here, and I wished I could make him blush again, and I wished I could tell him I liked him and I wanted to wrap him in magic and hold him tight and not let go. Maybe it took these goofballs to make me admit this to myself, but I was pretty sure I had known it inside all along.

Scott

The scenery flew by outside my window, rolling green hills and blinding-white sky. This was a home visit that I both needed and dreaded. I kept my arms tight across my chest, grimacing with the dozens of songs echoing through my head, the phone calls and soliloquies and TV shows streaming on phones.

And I couldn’t look at the people watching shows or I’d see the show too, like a second set of eyes. This double vision was brief, but eerie, unwanted. I popped in earbuds and turned on something upbeat to hopefully drown the rest out, but it instantly clashed with the other sounds around me. With a shudder, I stopped the music.

Laesth, come on. I sighed. How’s a guy supposed to function with all this?

I stared out the window again. Tune it out, focus on the scenery. Imagine your walls.

The hills went by, little towns went by, and eventually the train arrived at my stop and I left the train behind. People idled in the station with their audiobooks and ConnectUs feeds murmuring through me, baby pictures and he took up his father’s sword and I continued on.

Kat and Mom were sitting side by side on a bench in the train station, both on their phones.

Mom.

Mom looked up, clearly steeling herself for our interaction in the setting of her shoulders and jaw as she stood. Kat noticed her movement and leapt up, closing the gap between us with a crash of her arms around me.

“Hey, Kat, nice to see you too?”

I wish you would stay here, Kat’s thoughts whispered. At least I didn’t feel any anger from her. “Frannesburg is too far away,” she said.

“A lot of my friends’ families live in other states,” I pointed out.

“It’s still too far,” she said, grabbing my hand and tugging me back toward Mom.

Mom and I met eyes, and I felt senses of emotions, but no words. That her shields blocked her private thought without me having to work for it was a huge relief. Her love, and her uncertainty, told me enough.

How are you? she asked, hugging me briefly.

Hanging in there, I replied. My stomach dropped as I realized I’d need to tell her about my receptivity somehow. Definitely before my evaluation.

“Let’s go,” she said, and I followed her and Kat to Mom’s sedan. Got into the passenger seat before Kat could complain and make me sit in the back. But she didn’t say a word, just sat behind Mom and focused on her phone. Doors shut, the car started, and I waited for, well, I wasn’t sure what.

“Thank you, Scotty.”

I blinked. “For being here?”

Mom cleared her throat as she pulled away from the station. “For helping me tell them.”

“Oh,” I squeaked, and Kat reached forward and squeezed my shoulder.

“You’ve proven yourself in the eyes of the gods,” Mom continued.

That was a little much, wasn’t it? Or maybe Mom didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t had the strength. I mumbled a “You’re welcome,” and we talked about classes, both mine and Kat’s, as Mom drove.

We eventually turned into our subdivision of identical two-story houses. Everything was pretty much the same on our block, but it had only been six weeks so I hadn’t really expected it to change. Still, it came as a relief, and my muscles relaxed as Mom opened the front door and called a hello to Dad. I could hear the TV in the family room, and I stepped through the entryway and immediately ran up the stairs, following the curve of the staircase up and then jogged the four strides down the hall to check on my room.

It was totally and completely the same. I collapsed onto my double bed, threw my backpack into my desk chair, and flopped back. My glow-in-the-dark star stickers were still on the ceiling, and their familiar pattern comforted me. I had missed them. Who’d have thought?

She’s so happy now that he’s here.

I stiffened. That was Dad’s inner monologue, and though he hadn’t thought of me by name, I knew who he had meant. And behind his words was a frustration and a hurt that was strong and visceral, constricting my lungs so I had to suck in a breath.

And so I put my walls up.

The world grew quiet and dim. My thoughts calmed. I kept my eyes on where the stars had been, though my vision was now too blurry to see them. My comforter hugged my body, soft from multiple washes. And my breath whooshed in my ears.

In, out. In, out.

Scotty, come have lunch with your family.

Just as though Mom had yelled from downstairs, her thoughts rang through my defenses clearly, shocking me out of my reverie.

“I’ll be right down!” I called out loud, my voice muffled to my walled-off senses, and I sat up quickly, the room spinning.

I didn’t understand how this new shielding worked. I didn’t really understand how any of it worked past the gods’ intent, but at least shielding reduced my stress. I’d take that, despite its negatives.

I bounded down the stairs like I always had and rounded the corner into the kitchen like I always had, and there was Mom in the kitchen and Dad and Kat at the table like they always were. Was there really anything wrong? Was anything actually different? It all still felt the same.

Your dad is going to want to talk about what happened last weekend. Be prepared.

I met Mom’s eyes as she made chicken salad sandwiches at the kitchen island.

That’s right. Nothing would ever be the same for this family again.

“Thanks for coming out here on such short notice,” Dad said as I took a seat. “Your mother’s called an evaluator so you can go on the telepath registry.” But she’s said nothing about getting evaluated herself.

Mom distributed plates of sandwiches, each with a cookie and a pile of chips on the side. I stared at Dad and then I stared at the plate, trying to decide what to do.

“I know you must be busy with school, but this was important,” he continued.

“Yeah.”

Is that all I get?

I flinched.

Dad do you have to sound so awkward? Kat’s voice. I glanced at her, and she met my gaze warily.

“Last Friday . . .” Dad said, scrunching his nose like he was searching for the right words. “Well, it changed our lives.”

Oh, here he goes, Kat thought. Understatement of the age.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted.

Dad took a bite of his sandwich and chewed for way too long before talking again. Meanwhile, Mom and Kat continued to worry in their own heads.

“Don’t be,” he finally said. “Mom said you helped her see what the gods had been trying to tell her all along. We’re all really proud of you, and your telepathy.” Maddy on the other hand . . . Dad looked from me to Mom, taking a sip of soda and squeezing the can hard enough for me to hear the tink of it denting in. The difference between his hesitantly positive words and his negative thoughts ached in my chest.

“The gods are so happy,” Mom said. “Now we can move forward in a way that lines up with the divine. Scotty, the gods will reward you for this.”

To the gods, did I get receptive telepathy as a reward? Not just for Nick?

“And what will the gods do to you?” Dad asked Mom, and Kat clapped her hand over her mouth and I squirmed in my seat. Mom shot Dad a wide-eyed glare as she emanated shock and anger, but I still couldn’t hear any thoughts from her. Kat radiated mortification, repeating to the gods over and over.

“So what happens now? With you two?” I butted in, and everyone turned to me.

They figure out visitation rights. Kat.

A burst of uncertainty from Mom.

Gods, I can’t do this. Dad.

I wished putting my hands over my ears would help.

Dad spoke first. “Your mother and I are going to keep seeing Mrs. Duarte. Now that we have the full picture . . .” I have a good reason. “We can actually get somewhere.”

His words and thoughts punched me in the gut.

Kat huffed out a breath and put on earbuds. Fuck you Mom, fuck you Dad, fuck you Scott.

And Mom? She was worrying so loudly that words were breaking through her shield. Hates me . . . gods . . . can’t we . . . along?

My breathing went shallow, as the negativity and the frustration and twisted-up feelings threatened to eat me alive. “Everyone, stop, please.”

Mom frowned. “Wh . . . Scott?”

“Stop feeling so angry and hateful!” Oops.

Kat yanked her earbuds back out. Feeling?

“What do you mean feeling?” Dad asked as he stood, his palms flat on the table.

“It’s awful, I’m sorry.” I wrapped my arms around my chest.

Dad twisted to face Mom. “You said he wouldn’t be receptive because you aren’t. Are you and you won’t tell me? Natalis save us, I can’t handle another upheaval.”

“No, no, I’m not, I promise I’m not. On Natalis’s name, the queen, the goddess, the mother, I swear.”

“To the gods,” Dad muttered, grabbing his plate and soda. He pulled open the glass door into the backyard and slammed the door behind him. If you can hear this Scott, respect my privacy and stay out of my head.

This was rapidly becoming a disaster. My cheeks burned, and Kat and Mom were staring at me with a horror that I had been dreading.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, blinking back tears. “I’m sorry? I’m sorry!”

Mom finally found her voice. “I don’t understand, you didn’t say you had the ability to read—”

“It’s a new skill.”

Her expression became a weird mix of shock and elation. “The gods—I didn’t know magic could change, Scotty! This is . . . incredible!” But what will that mean for you?

It took me a beat to realize she was talking about how this could change the outcome of my evaluation.

I’ll be fine. But what about you? I asked her. Are you going to tell her about yourself?

Mom blinked, shook her head enough for her blonde hair to wave. But then the doorbell rang.

Even as the ring began to fade, a presence entered my mind, silent and slippery and dodging my attempts at shielding. I shuddered, not sure if I should reach out. Mom left to get the door, and Kat furrowed her eyebrows at me. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

“I think I am going to be sick,” I told her.

“Stop it, to the gods,” she whispered. “I’m gonna be in my room.”

As Kat darted from the room, Mom returned with a short, bronze-skinned woman. The telepath smiled sweetly at Mom as they made small talk, but I couldn’t focus on their words. Instead, I watched this strange woman. She had Empress hair, with bangs and straight, black locks to her waist. She smoothed the floral fabric of her dress as she tapped the floor with a shiny red shoe. Then she turned to me.

You’re quite an open book, Scott.

Gods. I tried to keep my mind quiet. Then Mom offered her Kat’s seat before joining us at the table.

The telepath’s gaze shifted from me to Mom. I’ll include you on as much of the evaluation as I can.

Was that an answer to a question? I hadn’t even felt—

“That’s because you were focusing on me,” she said. “Hello, Scott, I’m Mrs. Lee. I’m one of the Emperor’s telepaths. Let’s get you on the registry, shall we? I only have a few questions.”

She got out a tablet, laying it in front of her so I could still see what was on it. As she tapped at it, she filled out basic information about my telepathy that she had already obviously gleaned from me. When she checked that I was “receptive” a new section of the form opened up for her to fill out.

“Look at me for a second, Scott.” I did, and she started singing the national anthem as she turned her tablet around to face me.

The tablet read: “How many fingers am I holding behind my back?”

With her thinking primarily about the anthem, I couldn’t really read anything else. I shook my head. She tapped for a moment.

“Scott. I got telepathy when I was twelve. I got married when I was twenty-six. Which is a lie?”

I stared at her. Her brown-black eyes were soft, but her shaped eyebrows and thin nose made her intimidating. “When you got telepathy.”

“How do you know?”

“Your thoughts sort of . . . hiccupped when you said the number twelve.”

Mrs. Lee smiled. “So when did I get it?”

Her mind was singing the anthem again. I tried to find anything other than This land united by gods and man but came up blank.

“I don’t know.”

“Eight,” she said, as she worked on the form for another minute.

“My initial scan suggests you have image projection, care to send me an image?”

I had a moment of panic where I desperately didn’t want to send her something dirty, so I pictured my altar and took a deep breath.

Mrs. Lee hummed and tapped at her tablet. “That’s a very pretty Natalis statue you have.”

I mumbled a thanks and sat back in my chair. Beside me, Mom’s nervous energy was getting through her shields. At least I hadn’t thought about her while Mrs. Lee drilled me. Was Mom going to tell her after—

Fuck. I flinched, sucking in a breath. I really was a damn open book. Mrs. Lee stole a glance at Mom, who was busy munching on her sandwich and watching us intently.

Please don’t arrest her or anything. Please. She had only our interests at heart.

She smiled, and it was reserved but not unkind. Let’s focus on you right now, Scott.

Then out loud, she said, “Okay, this next part is difficult for a lot of kids. Luckily, you’re older, so I won’t have to explain myself so thoroughly. Mrs. Kensington, can we borrow a spoon?”

“Of course.” Mom retrieved one and set it on the table between us.

“Scott, try to convince me to pick up the spoon using whatever means necessary.”

My jaw dropped, then I sucked in a breath and collected myself. Okay, she wanted to see if I was persuasive.

Would you kindly pick up the spoon?

Mrs. Lee chuckled softly, wisps of black hair slipping around her shoulders.

Pick up the spoon! Hurry!

A hint of a smile as she pushed her hair back.

The house is on fire and the only way to save yourself is by picking up the spoon!

I was especially careful to direct that last one only to Mrs. Lee; freaking out Kat or Dad wouldn’t be very nice.

“Creative, I’ll give you that.” She checked the box labeled “No” under the “Persuasive” window, and I breathed a sigh of relief. No one should have that much power.

“Very few do,” she said. And then added for Mom, “Persuade, that is.”

“Do you?” I asked.

Mrs. Lee pursed mauve lips. “If I did, I wouldn’t be doing this job. And if you did, I’d be taking you to the Emperor tonight. It’s better for both of us that we don’t.”

I nodded, a shiver trickling down my spine. “What’s next?”

“You’re all done. You’re a solid telepath. It’s not unheard of for one’s ability to enhance in the first few months, but it is definitely rare. You should consider yourself quite special.”

I hunched my shoulders.

“The receptivity, image projection, and ability to detect a lie puts you in the top five percent in the world. You’ll always have a job available with the Emperor if you want it.”

I balked but hardly had time to react before Mrs. Lee regarded Mom fully.

“How old were you when you were gifted telepathy?”

Mom froze, shook her head slightly.

“I’m not going to report you. You aren’t the only minor telepath who ends up never registering. And you don’t want to know how much paperwork I’d have to fill out. I’m just curious.”

Nineteen, she thought quietly.

“Is that why you didn’t register? Since you got magic after high school, your parents would have had to send someone in on appointment like you’ve done for Scott today.”

Mom’s lip quivered. “I had recently met their father. I didn’t want it to change our relationship. And then . . . too much time passed.”

She nodded and closed my file on her tablet.

I tapped my palm against the table. “You’re the first receptive telepath I’ve met. How do I do anything . . . with everyone’s thoughts, constantly, everywhere?”

She regarded me with what may have been pity.

You learn to ignore what has nothing to do with you. And cherish anything that does.

And she stood, so I guessed that was all I was going to get from her. It helped, but wasn’t enough.

“Thank you,” Mom said, standing with her.

“Together we love.” Mrs. Lee shook Mom’s hand. Then she held her own hand out to me.

I took it, and with it came a burst of warning. Be careful if you ever call someone out on a lie. She smiled and shook my hand. “Remember, the Emperor’s doors will always be open to you.” And then she turned to go.

Mom saw her off, and with Mrs. Lee’s words swirling in my head, I realized I hadn’t eaten my sandwich yet. Better late than never.

“When did your telepathy enhance?” Mom asked.

I took my time chewing, savoring the familiarity of flavor that was unmistakably my mom’s chicken salad. Not long after you told Dad the truth.

Natalis hold me, it really was a gift.

“Maybe.”

“You have to tell your priestess.”

I gave her an enthusiastic nod. She launched into a speech about this unprecedented event and the grace of the gods, and I nodded and ate. She didn’t understand the burden of this version of telepathy the way that Mrs. Lee clearly did, and that was okay. It was more important for her to express her telepathy openly for one of the first times in her life. I smiled at her, even though I still felt worried and alone.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

An analogy came quicker than I had expected. “Like a browser with a dozen tabs playing videos simultaneously. Some are movies, some are talk shows, some are music videos. You can see one tab at a time, but you hear them all.”

Mystified surprise flowed through Mom’s mind. “Does shielding help?”

“Yes and no.”

She stood, taking her plate to the sink. “Is it making your classes harder?”

How to answer that without worrying her?

“Not the ones that keep me engaged.” It wasn’t completely a lie.

Mom approached me, concern darkening her face and her mind simultaneously. You’re hurting, she thought, pulling me into a hug.

I blinked back another wave of tears as I hugged her back. Flooded with her love, my mind cracked open, all of these worries tumbling out of me in a rush.

I don’t want to lose our family, I don’t want Daddy to stop loving you, I don’t know what I feel about Nick, college is hard and there’s so many people and they don’t care about the gods, did you know? Why is everything so big and scary, why didn’t you tell me how hard it was going to be?

I pushed away, angry at how much of me had shattered open like broken glass, splintered and catching the light.

“Scotty,” Mom said, squeezing my shoulders and then letting me go, sadness shining in her eyes. “That’s all a part of living, you know the scriptures. You’ve been praying, right?”

I nodded. “But you had said you prayed your whole life and Laesth still gave me magic.”

Mom sighed. “Sometimes you don’t know what you’re supposed to be praying for. But I’ll always believe you just gotta pray. Maybe I was praying for this moment and didn’t know it. For the world to find out I had telepathy and say it was okay. The gods have saved me from persecution, and they’ve gifted you with rare magic. If I thought it possible, I would have been praying for an outcome this wonderful all my life.”

Her words were supposed to make me feel better. To feel good about my magic, and her and Dad, and everything.

They didn’t.