Don't Even Think About It

by Sarah Mlynowski

  Agents?

  Suzanna!

  Suzanna is CIA?

  Who said anything about CIA?

  This is so cool.

  No it’s not! We’re going to die! Dying is not cool!

  “Didn’t the school have a responsibility to tell us?” Isaac’s dad asked.

  Hank shook his head. “The school didn’t know. We didn’t know. We suspected that an infected batch had been sent here but we didn’t have confirmation until last night.”

  Well, duh. If the school had known, we’d know they knew.

  You’re missing the point. Someone gave us up!

  It was so Cooper!

  We saw him with Suzanna!

  It wasn’t me.

  Liar!

  “But somebody died,” Olivia’s mom said. “You should have been overly cautious and called us immediately.”

  “There’s no proof that the death was a direct result of the vaccination. It was likely just old age.” Although we can’t say for sure. “But! We have good news,” he rushed to add. “We’ve been able to isolate the compound in the vaccination that has been causing the, um, irregular neurological condition. It’s a reaction to a new preservative we’ve been using to stabilize the vaccine, called NFG. And now that we know what caused it, we’ve developed an antidote.”

  A what?

  A reversal vaccine.

  We can make it stop?

  “It’s one hundred percent effective. We’ve used it on the group in Jacksonville and in Ohio, and both groups’ symptoms have disappeared. The telepathy, the purple eyes, everything.”

  Our parents all heaved sighs of relief.

  We weren’t sure how we felt.

  We didn’t want strokes, obviously.

  But were we ready to give up our telepathy for good?

  “Can our children get the antidote today?” Olivia’s mother asked.

  “The next batch will be ready on Thursday.” Hank said. “One last thing to discuss is discretion. I’m sure you can all understand the need to keep this quiet. We want to avoid public panic. We don’t know how many other batches have been affected. We’d like to steer clear of mass paranoia and conspiracy theories. The vaccination manufacturer is requiring everyone who receives the antidote to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

  “Why would we sign anything?” Tess’s dad asked. “They have to give our kids the antidote, since they’re responsible for this mess in the first place. We’ll sue if we have to.”

  “You could,” Hank said. Please don’t sue. What a pain in the ass that would be. “The problem is that legal action takes years. And we don’t know what the short- or long-term effects of the reaction to the NFG will be. Symptoms might progress. We’re concerned about the potential for stroke. One of the Ohio patients also reported vision problems. We’re apprehensive that eventual blindness might be a complication. We don’t know what our time frame is here. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. We don’t want you—a group of minors—to be our guinea pigs. Also, we can only imagine the media frenzy that would take place if this went public. We would not be able to shield your children from that. The pharmaceutical company has agreed to settle with you all now, with an immediate check for fifty thousand dollars to every affected person.”

  We all took a collective breath. That was a lot of money.

  “But what if something goes wrong with the antidote?” Courtney asked. “What if we develop more ‘unusual neurological symptoms’ ”—she made air quotes on unusual neurological symptoms—“or our eyes turn orange?”

  “There is a provision in the pharmaceutical company’s agreement that if the antidote doesn’t work, or if there are any additional unusual symptoms—besides nausea and a low-grade fever for twenty-four hours after the vaccination—the agreement is null and void.”

  Our parents made their decisions.

  Where do we sign?

  She could use that money for college.

  I’m not risking him having a stroke.

  But we weren’t as sure.

  I don’t want to die.

  Only one person died.

  But still—he died!

  Fifty thousand is a lot of money.

  It’s not that much. My family spent more than that on our last trip to Cannes. We flew private.

  Won’t you miss it?

  I’d miss being able to see more than I’d miss hearing your thoughts.

  We turned to Pi. She’d know what to do. She always did.

  Do we sign? we asked.

  Pi nodded. Yes, it’s the only option. We can’t risk our lives.

  If even Pi thought we should get the antidote, then we figured we really should.

  So we agreed. We would take the antidote.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  LAST CHANCE

  It was a week of weirdness.

  Levi’s week had him working overtime at Candy Heaven, listening for shoplifters. Over the course of the week, he was able to stop twenty jelly beans, three Blow Pops, and one bag of circus peanuts from disappearing from the store.

  Courtney’s mom and dad avoided her. They stayed out of her room. They even let her stretch out on the couch and watch all her CW and ABC Family shows by herself.

  Isabelle’s dad hosted his monthly poker game. With Isabelle by his side, he won six hundred and eighty bucks.

  Mackenzie’s parents attempted celibacy. Yes. Attempted.

  Olivia’s mom panicked and Googled stuff.

  Tess’s mom spent extra time at the gym.

  Cooper’s mom and Cooper had a long, long talk.

  And the twins’ parents … well, they pretty much just laughed and gave up.

  In class, and in our spare time, we hung out together. We thought of it as our last hurrah.

  We’re going to have to start talking to each other again when this is done.

  And studying.

  At least we’ll have some privacy.

  So I can start imagining you all naked again?

  As if you ever stopped, BJ!

  * * *

  Mackenzie was leaving school when Cooper caught up with her. “Can we talk?”

  Mackenzie and Cooper hadn’t spoken since he’d punched Bennett, except for across the room at the meeting the night before. He’d been avoiding her all day.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk. Talk sounded ominous. Like he was going to break up with her again. Maybe it wasn’t a breakup talk? Maybe the talk wasn’t about her at all?

  He sighed. It’s a breakup talk.

  Fuck.

  “Can we walk?” he asked.

  They waited for the light to change and then crossed the West Side Highway.

  I don’t want to have the breakup talk, Mackenzie thought at him.

  I know.

  So let’s not.

  We have to. He sighed. We have to break up.

  She stopped in the middle of the street. No.

  He put his arm on her elbow and led her to the sidewalk. Yes.

  “No!” she yelled. “I’m sorry about what happened with Bennett! I’m really sorry!” Her chest hurt. Her feet hurt. She couldn’t move off the sidewalk. Cars zipped by her. “I don’t want to break up!”

  He led her away from the street, closer to the water. “I think you do,” he said. At least, you did.

  She shook her head. No, no, no. “I didn’t. I don’t. I love you.”

  “Maybe you do. But we’re not breaking up because of what you did with Bennett.” He shook his head. “Well, not just because of that. I’ve been thinking a lot about this and … well, you do stuff like this all the time.”

  She didn’t understand what he was talking about. “I cheat all the time?”

  “No. You ruin things.”

  It felt like there was an elastic band tightening around her chest. “What does that even mean?”

  “You self-sabotage.”

  “No, I don’t.” That’s crazy.

  “Yeah, you do. You never study, so you g
et bad grades. You hand in homework late for no reason. Like that English essay. Mackenzie, why’d you quit gymnastics?”

  “I don’t like competing!” I was afraid to lose!

  “No, you’re afraid of winning. Of trying. And why’d you invite the guy you cheated on me with to your Sweet?”

  I wanted you to know, she realized. Her eyes stung. She had invited Bennett so Cooper would find out what she’d done. So he’d break up with her. What was wrong with her? The tears spilled down her face.

  “I can’t … It’s hard to hear what you’re thinking when you cry,” he said after a few minutes.

  It’s true. Crying garbles incoming and outgoing telepathy. Too bad we can’t all cry on demand.

  “I’m sorry,” Mackenzie said, wiping her eyes with her jacket sleeve. “I’m fucked up.”

  “We’re all fucked up,” he said softly. “And what’s happening to us is fucked up. And my life is really fucked up right now. And I just don’t think we’re the right people to help unfuck each other up. Am I making any sense?”

  She shrugged, still crying. Now her nose was running too. She knew she was an ugly crier. She was glad she couldn’t hear him noticing.

  “I think I want to walk on my own.” She hiccupped and dried her eyes again.

  He shifted his weight. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.” And fucked up, apparently.

  I heard that.

  She bit her lip. “So …” We’re really over?

  He nodded. Do you want me to walk you home?

  Always a gentleman. No. Go. I’ll be fine.

  All right. Goodbye, Mackenzie. He turned and re-crossed the street. She watched him walk east. At first he moved slowly, but he moved faster as he got farther away.

  She didn’t want to go home yet, so she walked into Battery Park and kept going south. She walked until she could see the Statue of Liberty.

  Maybe Cooper was right about the self-sabotage. Because now that she was truly free, she felt miserable.

  * * *

  Tess wasn’t sure if she was avoiding Teddy or if he was avoiding her. Either way, it was Tuesday morning and they hadn’t spoken since the Sweet.

  After the kiss at the party, she’d run. She couldn’t take it. They had finally had their perfect kiss and he was still thinking about Sadie. She couldn’t deal.

  Since he hadn’t chased after her, she assumed he thought the kiss was a mistake. And she … well, she thought it was a mistake too. How could she be with someone who liked someone else? She couldn’t. She wanted more. She deserved more.

  You totally do, BJ told her in homeroom. He’d started sitting next to her in the back row.

  But we were best friends and now that’s ruined.

  It’s only ruined if you want it to be ruined. He’s confused. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, he just doesn’t like you enough. He doesn’t want to lose you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t know you know about Sadie. If you want to stay friends with him, let him off the hook.

  She suspected BJ was right, so just before lunch, she texted Teddy to meet up and grab a bite.

  When they met at the school door, he gave her a stilted hug. She wants to talk about the party. I’m not sure what to say. We’re best friends. She’s cute. Why am I not into her? I should be into her.

  Tess died a little death with every unspoken word.

  But still, she agreed with BJ. It was like the kids’ song “Going on a Bear Hunt.” The only way over this was through it. As they walked down the street, she said, “Teddy, I’m sorry about what happened. It was a mistake. See, the thing is, I like you. I’ve liked you since we became friends. Even when you had a girlfriend, I’ve had feelings for you—more than friendship feelings.”

  He nodded. “I guess I knew that.”

  “So I wanted what happened at the party to happen. But I know you don’t like me like that.”

  His eyes widened. “But—”

  “No. Don’t say you do. I know you don’t. I know how you feel about Sadie.”

  He blushed. “You do?”

  She nodded. “I do. And I don’t want to be the person you hook up with just because I’m there. I want to be someone’s Sadie.”

  “I’m sorry I kissed you.” Not that sorry. It was a good kiss.

  It really was. She took a deep breath. “Good. Now that that’s settled, where should we go for lunch? I’m starving.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Shake Shack?” To hell with the five—no, seven—pounds. She wanted a cheeseburger, and a milk shake, and bring on the fries! She was absolutely sure she deserved it.

  * * *

  “Olivia?” Mr. Roth asked. “Are you sure you want to try your presentation again?”

  “Yes,” Olivia said, standing up.

  She’s totally going to bomb, thought Lazar. She thinks she’s too good for me. She’s not even that pretty.

  Screw you, Olivia thought, and oddly that gave her the burst of confidence she needed. Olivia pushed Lazar’s thoughts out of her mind and focused on her notes. “I have a new topic.”

  “What is it?” Mr. Roth asked.

  “It’s about Oprah.”

  He nodded. “All right, go ahead.”

  She could do this. She would not forget what she was talking about. She would not faint. She would not die. She would care about what Lazar—or anyone else—thought. She cleared her throat. “Oprah was born …”

  She focused on her own words and her own thoughts and didn’t stop until she reached the end.

  * * *

  On Wednesday, BJ sat next to Tess in homeroom. What’s happening, gorgeous? How’s Teddy?

  It’s over.

  Well, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t know that already. You know he’s not good enough for you, right?

  I guess. I want to be someone’s first choice.

  Even though she was looking down at her notebook, she could feel him watching her.

  You’re my first choice.

  She smiled. I am not.

  You are too. Can I be your first choice?

  That’s it? You’re throwing down the gauntlet?

  He inched his seat closer to hers. I’m throwing down the gauntlet. Putting it out there. You and me. What do you think?

  She wasn’t sure. What about Teddy?

  I thought it was over with Teddy.

  It is over. But I, you know, can’t pretend I don’t still have feelings for him.

  Do you know what would really help you forget about Teddy?

  What?

  Me.

  Ms. Velasquez walked in and closed the door.

  Tess smiled to herself. I’ll think about it.

  Does that mean you’ll fantasize about me tonight?

  Courtney turned around and glared at them. “You know we can still hear you, right?”

  Oh, right.

  * * *

  One more day.

  Pi could hardly wait.

  She stood in the bathroom and checked under the stall doors to make sure she was the only one there.

  She was.

  Her shoulders relaxed. She was alone. Finally.

  She exhaled a big sigh of relief. Controlling her thoughts all week had been exhausting. But she had no choice if she was going to do what she wanted to do.

  After Suzanna had approached Cooper at the Sweet and he had shrugged her off, Pi had decided that she had to control the situation. The authorities already knew about the telepathy. The cat was out of the bag. Pi had to find out exactly what Suzanna knew.

  Pi had approached her in the lobby. She had asked Suzanna to join her for a cup of coffee.

  “Sure,” Suzanna had said while thinking, She must have received one of the vaccines. Her eyes are definitely purple. She must have ESP! She wants to talk.

  “I do have ESP, and I do want to talk,” Pi announced.

  Holy crap, she can really hear me! She’s it! She’s it! I found one! She’s real!
This is actually happening! Holy shit!

  When they sat down across from each other, Pi began the meeting by saying, “How did you get into the party?”

  “Mackenzie’s parents invited me,” Suzanna answered smoothly. I slipped the doorman a hundred bucks.

  “You slipped the doorman a hundred bucks. Got it. But why were you there?”

  She blinked repeatedly. How am I supposed to keep things classified if she can hear everything? I guess I can’t. “I figured out that most of the students with probable ESP were from your homeroom. I was instructed to follow you all as much as possible.”

  “But how did you know that most of us were in the same homeroom?”

  “I spotted four students with purple eyes. I tracked who they were and what grade level they were in and discovered that they—you—were all in homeroom 10B.”

  Pi kept on. “Why did you come to the party?”

  “We suspected that a group of students had telepathy. But we didn’t know for sure. We needed someone to admit it before we could move on.”

  “Move on? What does that mean?” Pi pressed.

  Suzanna went on to tell Pi that once they knew who the affected students were, they planned to debrief our parents. Pi also learned about the other tainted batches, the other infected populations—including the old man who’d had a stroke—and the antidote. And she learned that they expected us all to take it. That everything would go back to normal. That there would be financial compensation.

  “No,” Pi said, sipping her coffee. “I’m not taking an antidote.”

  What? You have to! “But it’s dangerous,” she sputtered. “Someone’s already died.”

  “Please. He was over eighty and in a nursing home.” Pi dismissed Suzanna’s concern with a wave of her hand. “What happened to me is exceptional. I am not getting rid of it. You can’t force me.”

  “We can’t take that risk with twenty-four students.”

  “We’re only twenty-two students.”

  “The batch had twenty-four vaccinations in it. The additional two were given to other students. We’re looking for them. We’ll be offering them the antidote as well.”

  “So offer it to them. Don’t risk their lives. Risk mine only.” Her plan began to formulate. I’ll get everyone else to take the antidote. I’ll remain the only one with telepathy. I’ll be the last remaining Espie.