Mind Readers: The Mind Readers Part 2

"Where's your locker?" I dared to look at him. I was eager to dump him off at his next cla.s.s 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. Instantly my suspicion grew.

"I've never known anyone in such a hurry to get to cla.s.s."

"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 if this psycho thought I was lame.

"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.

His dark brows raised in question. "Just?"

"Your locker. The girl who died, Savannah, it was her locker." I could barely get the words out, my voice sounded hollow and m.u.f.fled. I studied his face for a reaction, but saw only understanding in those blue eyes.

He nodded slowly. "I see."

But I didn't see. I didn't see how he could be so calm, act like he cared...unless he hadn't killed Savannah. Completely confused, I opened my locker and shoved my books inside, trying to focus on his thoughts yet again. Surely if he had killed her he'd be thinking about it right now, wouldn't he?

"Did you know her well?" he asked.

"Well enough that I didn't want her murdered," I snapped, my voice harsher than I'd intended. I was angry, angry that I was attracted to a guy who could be a possible murderer, angry that I couldn't read his thoughts, angry that everyone in this d.a.m.n school was more worried about their own pathetic problems than the fact that a girl, a living, breathing girl, had died. I didn't know what I thought anymore.

"Where do you go next?" I murmured, feeling contrite. After all, I didn't know for sure. Maybe he hadn't murdered Savannah.

"English."

I frowned, finding it odd that we were going to the same place. We were silent as we walked slowly to cla.s.s. I was trying to keep the frantic thoughts of my fellow students from entering my mind. I was way too tired to deal with my own thoughts, let alone everyone else's.

"I'm sorry about your friend," he said and I felt like he meant it, but did he?

"It's all right, you didn't know." The bell rang and the halls emptied. I grew nervous, realizing we were alone. Then again, if I screamed surely someone would hear me.

"Do they have any suspects?"

"No," I said, wondering why he asked. Everything he said was cause for suspicion.

He paused near some benches and sat, looking thoughtful. I glanced down the hall at the cla.s.sroom door. I'd always been a good girl, never skipped cla.s.s, always did my homework, didn't smoke or drink...it felt odd knowing I'd be late, as if I was on a path to ruination.

"What's sad," he started, breaking into my thoughts. "Is that someone knows something."

I shrugged. "Yeah, the murderer. I'm sure he knows a lot."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. "How do you know it's a he?"

Shoot. Heat shot straight to my cheeks. Because the voice in my head had been male. "Most likely."

He nodded slowly, his gaze on me the entire time. I found myself shifting under his scrutiny. Did he believe me? "We really should get to cla.s.s; the princ.i.p.al likes to roam the halls." It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

He grinned. "You don't lie well."

I stiffened, startled by his blunt comment. "I'm not, I'm..."

He arched a dark brow.

I took a few steps back. "Fine, I want to go to cla.s.s, so sue me. Are you coming or not?"

He didn't respond for a few moments, his gaze on the wall behind me, as if lost in thought. "Yes, of course the murderer knows what happened."

I sighed. Was he going back to that now? Why was he so interested in Savannah's death, unless he truly was the murderer? I pressed my fingers to my throbbing temples and took a step back, intending to leave him then and there. I had a feeling he was playing some odd game with me, and I'd never liked games.

"But what I meant," he stood, looming over me. "Was that usually there is someone else who knows what happened. Someone too afraid to tell the truth. And because of that, a murderer kills again, might even go free."

He didn't look at me as he said the words, but started down the hall. So why then, did I suddenly feel totally guilty?

He turned, walking a few steps backward. "It's too bad we can't, say, read minds." He flashed a brilliant smile as my heart slammed erratically against my chest. He hadn't just said those words, had he? "Then perhaps we'd know the killer's ident.i.ty."

My insides froze; the world around me fading and all I could do was focus on him. He turned around and made his way into the cla.s.sroom, leaving me alone with my paranoid thoughts.

He knew. Oh G.o.d, he knew.

My stomach twisted and I pressed my hands to my belly. I would swear on my life he knew. But how much? Surely he didn't know about my powers. He couldn't know. I'd never told anyone. Unless Grandma had. Was this some sort of test from the old woman? I wouldn't put it past her. But that didn't explain why I couldn't read his mind. I swallowed hard and on trembling legs, I made my way toward cla.s.s.

There was only one other person whose mind I couldn't read... Grandma's. And that was because the old woman had learned to control her thoughts. What if...what if this Lewis...

No.

I froze outside the door and studied the cla.s.sroom through the small window. Lewis sat near the back, his gaze focused on the front of the room.

Could Lewis read minds too?

He turned his head and looked directly at me, basically answering my question.

I sank to the ground, my heart hammering wildly as I hid behind the wall. Oh dear G.o.d, and all this time I thought I was the only teenage freak.

Chapter 4.

"You sure they won't mind that I'm coming with you?" Annabeth was so nervous it was making my stomach roll. I really, really wished she'd keep her emotions to herself. I hadn't been this nervous since fifth grade, the day we'd moved here and my life had changed...for the better.

"They're not going to kick you out," I said, slipping my arm through hers as we made our way up Emily's sidewalk. That was exactly what Annabeth was thinking they'd do. As if they'd scream she wasn't popular enough and toss her from the house. I almost laughed at the idea.

Heck, I wasn't even sure if Emily still wanted me to come to her party as she'd barely talked to me the past week. It was also the last time I'd talked to Lewis, even though, oddly, we had every cla.s.s together. Emily had been on him like a freaking tick on a deer. She was jealous I'd gotten to hang out with the hot new guy.

I hadn't had a chance to question him about his odd comment, and honestly, I wasn't even sure I wanted to.

"It's too bad we can't, say, read minds. Then perhaps we'd know the killer's ident.i.ty."

How did you ask someone if they could read minds? I'd caught him looking at me a few times, but other then a pa.s.sing glance he'd seemed to have forgotten all about me. And it irked. For one moment I'd been admired by the female population. For one moment I'd thought I wasn't alone, that someone finally understood me. The moment had pa.s.sed and I began to wonder if I'd imagined his odd comments and attention.

The front door burst open and Trevor stumbled outside. His hair was mussed, his blue t-shirt half untucked from his jean; already wasted even though the party had just started. "Hey," he muttered, then leaned over and threw up in the bush, producing a wrenching sound that made me want to gag in kind.

Annabeth gasped like a mother who'd just heard her kid curse for the first time. Well, she'd wanted to go to these parties; she should get used to it. I shook my head, laughing. "Every party starts the same way. I swear I don't understand why anyone wants to go to these."

I was getting bored with them to be honest.

Annabeth shrugged, flushing. "It's just nice to be included."

I brushed off my guilt. Sometimes I forgot that Annabeth wasn't as popular as the rest of my friends. She was hoping that would change tonight, I wanted to tell her not to hold her breath. Not because Annabeth didn't deserve to be popular, but because my friends were...to be blunt...kind of a.s.ses.

As we made our way into the huge foyer of Emily's home, or should I say mansion, Annabeth gasped again. "Oh my G.o.d."

"I know," I said with a sigh. And I did. I didn't need to read minds to know exactly what she was feeling because I'd felt it the first time I'd gone to Emily's too. A loser...who didn't belong here. From the marble floors to the crystal chandelier hanging above, Emily's home reeked of money.

"Hey, you think they'll care if George comes by? I told him to pick me up at ten."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A twenty-five year old hanging out at a high school party? What was his deal? "Yeah, sure, its fine." But I knew better. Emily would have a fit. It was one thing to bring quiet and una.s.suming Annabeth, but her loser boyfriend wouldn't exactly be welcomed with open arms.

We made our way through the throng of dancing kids in the living room, their cups of illegal beer splashing onto the floor as they jumped and spun in a mock imitation of dancing. They looked like ducklings trying to fly.

Emily held this party every year when her parents went to Boston for some conference. Usually the next day I'd help her clean, correction, I'd clean. Instinctively, I searched for her familiar blonde hair. I admit I did kind of missed her now that the excitement of Savannah's death had faded. Two weeks and still not one suspect. People were nervous, but less so, thinking the murderer had been merely traveling through town. For the most part, it was back to homework, sports and flirting.

"There's Emily," Annabeth yelled over the pounding music.

I glanced toward the French doors that led to the back patio. I'd been in this house so many times I knew it as well as Emily. Her parents had practically adopted me. Even though I knew they thought of me as a charity case, I didn't care. Emily's family was the closest I'd come to a real life.

She was easily noticeable standing near the doors. Only Emily could get away with wearing a super mini skirt and tight white t-shirt that did little to cover her red bra. I felt Annabeth's envy tickle the back of my neck. I understood it well for I'd had the same feeling often enough, but I'd learned how to deal with my emotions. Emily tossed her hair back and laughed as she leaned in, pressing her huge b.o.o.bs to some pathetic guy with dark hair. Yet, something about the set of his shoulders, and the curl of his hair seemed familiar. I stiffened as realization hit.

Lewis.

My heart stopped for a brief moment. I couldn't seem to move, couldn't stop staring as anger washed through me in a sickening wave that left me shaking. Her hands fisted in his vintage New York t-shirt. Bunching the material, she pulled him closer. Bile rose in my throat. She was going to kiss him and he was going to let her. I realized, in that panicked moment, I didn't want them to kiss. She could have Trevor, she could even have Kevin, but she couldn't have Lewis too.

Lewis turned his head and met my gaze. I should've been startled by his sudden attention, but I was only relieved that he was finally noticing me. Emily was saying something, trying to regain his attention, but he didn't break eye contact with me. In fact, he moved away from her and started our way, those broad shoulders easily pushing aside everyone else. He was tall and lean, like a swimmer. I couldn't help but be attracted to him. My heart thundered madly in my chest. I could barely hear Annabeth's chatter. The music faded, the people around me faded. There was only me and Lewis.

"I...I need some air," I think I said.

Before Annabeth could follow I darted toward the open doors and into the backyard, leaving Lewis and Emily behind. I was abandoning Annabeth and I'd feel bad about it later, but at the moment I needed to worry about my own survival.

Truth was, I didn't really believe Lewis had murdered Savannah. No, the person who had murdered Savannah couldn't hide his thoughts. But that didn't mean I trusted Lewis. And I certainly didn't trust my feelings around him. I liked him, a lot. So did Emily and Emily always won. I wasn't about to set myself up for humiliation...again.

The evening air was cool and refreshing. Reality rushed back on the breeze and I could breathe again. A few students were outside, some making out in the shadows, others hanging around the pool. Sarah, the attention wh.o.r.e, had even jumped in with her clothes on and was currently screaming and splashing for help. I shook my head, disgusted with her antics.

Not wanting to make conversation, I moved toward the perimeter of the yard where the trees thickened and the woods spread out into a forest so dense, you couldn't help but wonder what was lurking out there. How I loved coming here where no one could read my thoughts. If I didn't turn on the charm and win Emily back, I would lose her, my status, and any sense of normalcy I had.

"Hey."

Lewis' voice caught me off guard. I froze there, in the shadows of two maple trees that had lost their leaves days ago. Of course I was surprised that Lewis had followed me. Surprised and thrilled, although I knew Emily wouldn't be.

With my heart racing in my chest, slowly, I turned. "What do you want?"

I couldn't see his face in the darkness and I wanted so badly to read his features. "Sheesh, nice att.i.tude when I'm just being friendly."

"Bull." I crossed my arms over my chest, a defensive action, as if that could keep him from reading my mind. I suddenly felt cold and warm at the same time, like I was getting sick. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake, if I puked all over his Adidas. "You want something, I just haven't figured out what yet."

He shrugged and leaned his palm on the tree. His hand was next to my head, close to me, too close. He smelled like soap and minty toothpaste and something else, something warm and lovely, something that made my insides twist. "Maybe I just want to be friends."

Maybe I would puke after all. Fun. He wanted to be friends. Story of my life where guys were concerned.

He looked away, his eyes sparkling with humor, as if hearing some unspoken joke.

I stiffened, realizing the joke could be me. c.r.a.p! Had he just read my mind? Oh G.o.d, think boring thoughts...the tree. I flattened my palms to the rough bark. The tree. Yes, the tree was nice, the fall colors, the bark brown...

"I think you need a friend."

I laughed a little hysterically, my attention slipping unwillingly back to him. "No, I don't."

He reached out and took a strand of my hair in his hands, twirling the lock around his finger. It was a romantic action, something a boyfriend would do. Not a friend.

"A good friend." He dropped the lock and looked directly into my eyes. I couldn't seem to breathe as I waited for his next words, as if they were the most important words I'd ever hear. "Someone who understands you and what you're going through."

"And you do?" I whispered, daring him to answer.

"More than you think."

He was admitting it. Practically admitting he could read minds, wasn't he? Confused, shocked, I wasn't sure how to respond. Was he playing with me?

He smiled, a slow smile. "I think I like you."

Such simple words, such silly words, so why did my heart stop beating and sigh with ridiculous longing? I wanted to push him away and run home to the safety of my small cottage. I wanted to pull him close and kiss him, taste his lips. What was it about this guy that had me so confused?

"I think..." He looked away briefly as if carefully weighing his next words. "I think we could be very good together."

Good together? A warm tingle spread across my back. Okay, I was no expert, but I was pretty sure that was boyfriend talk. "I thought you were interested in Emily."

He laughed, a deep chuckle. "No. How can I be? She doesn't understand."

"Understand what?" I latched onto the word and dared him once again to tell the truth; to stop beating around the bush.

He was silent for one long moment, his gaze drilling into mine, so intense that I had to stop myself from looking away.