The Third Eye

by B R Coelho

  Selena Gonzales and the Third Eye

  B. R. Coelho

  Cheshire Front Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by B. R. Coelho

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Thank You!

  Introduction

  Hello Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoy reading this story, just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Yours Truly,

  B.R. Coelho

  Chapter One

  Everything you know about super-powers is a lie. Super-powers aren’t amazing. They aren’t cool. They’re scary, even down-right disturbing. They don’t come with instructions, and they are definitely more of a hassle than a gift. Like being born with an extra quirk you didn’t want or ask for.

  No-one chooses their powers. No-one chooses their family, their relatives, or what country they come from. No-one chooses their name. It all happens by accident. Mere chance. By the way, my name is Selena Gonzales, and I’m psychic.

  No-one knows I’m psychic, at least as far as I can tell. And if I could take it back, I would, but I can’t. I just want to be normal, like everyone else.

  If I ever did tell someone, who would believe a 14-year-old weirdo like me could read minds? You believe me though, don’t you? The first time I found out I was psychic was when I turned six. It was the day my parents dropped me off on my first day in kindergarten.

  I can still remember it like it was yesterday. The room had that sweet, vanilla-like, playdoh smell to it, mixed with milk. Warm milk. Somebody’s milk bottle must have been leaking. Everyone around me was crying. Not just any crying, it was full-on wailing.

  No one wanted to be there. No normal kid in their right mind wants to be ripped away from the loving, familiar surroundings of their home, and put in a room with total strangers. Especially a room with a strange woman they’ve never seen in their lives. Trust me I’d know. But there we all were. Everyone was crying, but I wasn’t. I was still in shock, in denial. In my head, I was trying to figure out why my parents had abandoned me here. In this hell.

  The worst thing about my powers is that I can’t control them. Like. At. All. But under stressful situations they turn on. They come out blaring, like an obnoxious ringtone from your cellphone, in the middle of a deathly quiet math class. And boy did they come out blaring.

  All the thoughts and memories from the other kids came pouring into my mind. I honestly thought I’d gone crazy. I was seeing visions of different kid’s parents and their homes, their pets, their toys, their candy, and felt their emotions. Feelings of neglect and abandonment, despair, longing for home. It was too much. Especially for six-year-old me.

  So, I did what any normal six-year-old would do. I burst out crying and ran out into the hall calling out for my Mom and Dad. But they were gone, long gone. I ran into the boy’s bathroom. I remember it was the boy’s bathroom because I saw urinals against the wall.

  They looked really strange and almost alien. I ran into a stall and closed the door, I was still crying but thankfully the voices were gone, the visions and images were gone and I was back to normal. Ms. Greene, bless her heart, she found me. She took me into her arms and told me that everything was going to be okay. I wanted to believe her, but I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

  Chapter Two

  Fast-forward to today and I’m joining a new school. The name of the school is Arlington High. My family and I moved to the small town of Arlington, New Mexico. It’s much smaller than the city I’m from. I hate it here. We moved because of dad’s new job, not to mention I passed an entrance exam into one of the most elite high-schools in town.

  I’m a nerd, I admit. But that isn’t the whole truth. Like I told you before, my power comes online when I get anxious or stressed. Exams are a prime example of this, and as a student I live in constant dread because of them. Like waiting for the inevitable.

  I trained my mind since the first incident, and I’ve learned to channel my power. I can’t turn it on and off whenever I want, but I’ve become a master at channelling it. I can read teachers and even other students’ minds and get the answers to the questions on a test.

  I know, I know, it’s cheating but hey what would you do if you had my ability? Don’t get me wrong, I still study my butt off for my exams, but I always have that little extra push of telepathy to help me along if I need it.

  One other thing that has helped me become smart, is that I always tend to rewrite my notes, simply because I have an irrational fear of losing them, or the pages I write them in will get crinkled, or worse ripped. I can’t control it. Just like my powers. It takes over me, and I just have to do it. As you can imagine that takes a lot of time and effort.

  I also had to have my binders organized and color coded to each subject I am taking. Math is black, Science is green, English is red, Art is yellow, and History is brown. I also am a time-management freak, and I always try to organize my day to a set schedule and stick to it. At any point, if I deviate from the norm, I get anxious.

  From the way I babble on and on, you might think I’m super obsessive and neurotic. At least that’s what the psychiatrist at the clinic told my parents when I was ten. This is what happens when you tell your parents that you can hear voices, and they see you obsessively spend time re-writing all your notes on a weekend, rather than playing outside with your friends. I learned from then on to keep my mouth shut, and try to act normal, otherwise people would think you were crazy, even the people you love.

  I live with my Mom and Dad, and I’m an only child. I also live with my Grandma, I call her Nana for short. Nana doesn’t speak English as much as I can’t speak Spanish, which is by a lot. I think we’ve always had a strained relationship because of this.

  I call her meany to her face, she’s always grumpy and frowns a lot. She reminds me a lot of Mr. Grinch. Dad tells me it’s rude, and really, I should understand that she’s had a rough life and been through a lot. I mean sure, we can all have rough lives, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on your only granddaughter. Anytime I’d call Nana meany she’d always yell: ‘Puedo leer tu mente’. I had no idea what she said. Was she insulting me?

  As far as I know I’m the only person in my life who has powers. I haven’t come into contact with anyone so far yet. It can really be lonely having an ability that no one else can relate to, and that makes me sad. I’ve looked online for people like me, but so far all I’ve found are fakes and conspiracy theory weirdos.

  Most of the people claiming to be psychic turn out to be con-artists looking for a quick buck, and always in it for the fame. People with real powers tend to avoid the spotlight, because we know most people fear what they don’t understand. And when people are afraid of something it turns into hate. I learned that from the witch trials of Salem in history class, and wondered if one of them had been like me.

  My Mom dropped me off at school today, and I’m already late for first period. It’s her fault, she got lost on the way to school, figures. And worst of all, first period is math. I’m going to make a bad first impression. I burst into the class to watch a sea of heads turn to look at me. The teacher stops mid-sentence and tilts her head impatiently with a sigh.

  I smile glibly and apologize
to her, quickly walking to the back of the room where there’s an empty seat waiting for me. I’m getting anxious now, because I hate being late. For a split second I start hearing thoughts entering my head. I shut my eyes and grit my teeth trying to hold it off. The wave subsides and am back to normal. Phew!

  “…As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we are all going to stand and introduce ourselves to the class.”, the dark-haired teacher crows.

  I could already tell I was going to really like this class. Why? Oh Why?! Why do I have to take math with her? I mean don’t get me wrong. I LOVE math, maybe a little more than the average kid should. But it also has to be taught by someone I’d like to learn from too.

  And I could already tell from the get-go, we weren’t going to be the best of friends. She sits down poised and self-assured with a well-placed fake smile. I don’t have to be a mind-reader to know it’s fake. Then one by one each student stands up and introduces themselves.

  “Hi, I’m Rob Baker and I like video games.”

  “Hi everyone, I’m Julie Pena and I love drawing.”

  “Hello, I’m Josh Norman and I play soccer.”

  “Hello there, Im….”

  Josh Norman is a total knockout. He has brown hair and deep piercing green eyes. From the moment he said his name I didn’t pay much attention to what the other kids said. Most of the other girls seemed to feel the same way too. The way they looked at him just told me everything. I guess correctly that he must be super popular at the school.

  “Hey guys, I’m Octavia Summers and I’m the president of the debate AND math club.”

  That obnoxious snarky voice is what brought me back from my day-dream with Josh. She’s blonde and sits at the very front of the class. Just the sound of her voice alone makes me hate her. The math teacher seems very pleased and beams at her ever more brightly.

  I notice that it’s almost my turn and I have to come up with a hobby that I like pretty quickly. Everything’s a blur and I’m not sure what to say. That right there is my anxiety kicking in again, whatever I was going to say had to be perfect.

  “Hello, I’m Selena Gonzalez, and I like to read minds…uh I mean novels…novels.”

  The whole class suddenly erupts into laughter and the math teacher is not happy.

  “Okay, alright class, you can sit down now Selena.”

  I sit down wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole. The introductions continue until the end. Then it strikes me that I still don’t know my math teachers name.

  “Hey…hey”, I whisper at the girl to my right.

  She nervously turns to acknowledge me.

  “Hi, what’s up?” She whispers back.

  “What’s the teacher’s name?”

  “What! I can’t hear you?”

  “What’s the teacher’s name?”, I whisper a bit louder.

  “Ms…”

  “Selena, since you’re a mind-reader, do you know what I have planned for the class today?”, the math teacher asks. She definitely heard me. I’m in trouble now. The whole class turns to stare at me. Everyone’s waiting for me to respond. The silence is so thick, you’d need a jackhammer to drill through it. I think I hear the butterflies in my stomach fluttering.

  “No Ms…”, I try desperately to read someone’s mind. Her name I just need her name.

  “Ms. Stanger my dear. Class you will now have a pop quiz, hope you’re ready.”

  What?! Now I’m really freaking out. Pop quiz on the first day? Who does that? We haven’t even learned anything yet. She starts handing out the papers. There’s a murmur of complaining buzzing around. No-one is happy.

  “Put away all your books and anything that might have any form of writing on it, do not turn the page over until I’ve handed everyone a paper.”

  “Remember that these pop quizzes are worth 20% of your final mark, and there will be five of them given throughout the semester.”

  “If you miss a pop quiz for any reason, Lydia…”

  The whole class bursts out laughing again.

  “Your mark will be transferred to the final.”

  “Alright students turn your papers and begin, good luck.”

  I turn the page over. It looks like Greek to me. I don’t understand a single thing I’m looking at. I’m starting to panic now. I look at the next question, still nothing. The next question after that is even harder. Oh no!

  My stomach is in knots, and I can feel sweat forming in my palms. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Then it starts. I can feel them taking over. The voices. It starts softly like a murmur, akin to a light drizzle, and it slowly starts picking up, getting louder and louder, turning into a full blown hurricane.

  Chapter Three

  The good news is that most people are just as clueless as I am. Bad news is my anxiety level is skyrocketing, which means that I can’t channel my powers properly. I can’t even focus long enough to write my own name. Okay deep breaths, deep breaths Selena, you got this. I shut my eyes and try to ignore the girl’s thoughts to my right.

  “Oh my God, does she expect us to know this?”

  The boy in front of me is on full-panic mode.

  “I’m going to fail this class, I’m going to flunk out this semester for sure.”

  The girl on my left is looking at me and thinking.

  “Wow, is she praying? hahaha…”

  I’m channeling my power and trying to find someone who at least has an idea of what is going on. Like tuning into different radio stations. Only I need to block out other people’s thoughts and just focus on one at a time. Took me awhile to figure it out over the years, but it works like a charm.

  “…hmmm, I could really use a ham sandwich…”

  “…my butt is itchy, I wonder if I scratch...”

  “…my dad is going to kill me…”

  “…no more sports for me this semester…”

  “…carry the two then use SOHCAHTOA and the answer is…”

  Jackpot! Now all I have to do is access her memories. It takes a bit of effort. Ignoring all her thought processes. Getting ready for school, nope not that one. Rehearsing points for the debate team symposium, hell no, not that one. Getting tutored by someone in math. Bingo! Then I hear a thought:

  “Oh, Aunt Gloria, you’re so evil, that’s why I love you.”

  Aunt Gloria? Who’s Aunt Gloria? Oh! Ms. Stanger’s face suddenly appears in a vision, and I can see her tutoring Octavia in one of their tutor sessions. Ms. Stanger is your Aunt?! She has the same style of hair and jade earrings. She’s peering lovingly and unabashedly at me, no not me, but Octavia’s face. It’s very creepy seeing genuine kindness coming from that frigid looking face.

  In the memory, she’s given almost the exact same quiz to solve. Just the numbers have been changed a little bit. I begin learning, taking notes and writing them lightly on my paper. I’m going to erase them later once I finish.

  “You have 15 minutes left.”, Ms. Stanger’s shrill voice echoes.

  Oh crap! I have to hurry now. I begin to solve the equations. I’m smiling and my anxiety is going away. I can feel my powers slowly turning off. The girl to my left who had been laughing at me is staring at me as if I’m an alien.

  She cranes her neck ever so slightly to take a peak. I cover my paper with my hand. No chance, I murmur to myself. The mental chatter from Octavia’s mind is slowly dying out as if someone was turning the volume all the way down, until eventually it stops. All I can hear now is the soft sound of pencils scraping paper.

  “5 minutes left.”, Ms. Stanger barks, she seems happy watching her students suffer. I finish solving the last question. Then, after I barely finish erasing the light notes on my paper.

  “Put your pencils down now! If I catch you writing you will get a zero.”

  Zero? I think to myself. I think that’s probably going to be the class average.

  The cafeteria is huge, it’s way bigger than the one at my last school. The lunch they’re serving looks r
eally good too, not to mention it smells delicious. It’s like an all you can eat buffet. Huge plates of sandwiches, pasta, rice, burgers, sausages, fried chicken, they even have vegan food on there. I grab a plate and start filling it. I was definitely starving, especially after using my powers. I tend to get hungry after using it.

  I look for a place to sit. I see Octavia Summers sitting surrounded by a large group of kids. Hey it’s little Ms. Popularity, I think to myself. She’s happily talking to the group when she sees me and stops.

  “There she is…”, She points in my direction. The whole group turns and starts laughing.

  Is she pointing at me? I turn to make sure. There’s no one behind me. This little action makes the group laugh even louder. I decide to pick a spot as far away from their table as is humanly possible. I want the space-time continuum to split open and drag me into whatever parallel universe is on the other side. Anything is better than facing them.

  “Hey mind-reader.” Someone shouts from their table, followed by howling laughter.

  “God! She’s so weird.”

  I try to ignore them.

  “I…is anyone sitting here?”, a girl’s voice penetrates my thoughts.

  I look up and see it’s the girl I’d been whispering to in math class.

  “No.”, I say, half-excited that she seems friendly. She pulls a chair from my table and drags it all the way to sit at another table. Typical. This day just keeps getting better and better. I decide to focus on the food. It doesn’t even taste as good as I thought it did. Or does being treated like a weirdo seem to be leaving a bad taste in my mouth? I pull my cell out and check my schedule. Okey-dokey, I’ve got History and Art in the afternoon. Not too bad. I love history but suck at art. I just hope I’m not in the same class with Octavia again.