Thoughtless

by Jacqueline Gardner

  Thoughtless

  by Jacqueline Gardner

  Copyright © 2012 Jacqueline Gardner

  Cover Art by Calista Taylor

  Smashwords Edition

  Thoughtless is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Author Contact

  website: jacquelinegardner.com

  email: author.jacquelinegardner (at) gmail (dot) com

  Twitter: Writer_Jacque

  FB: authorjacquelinegardner

  Dedication: To Joe – a dedicated husband and best friend. And to my supportive critique partner, Steffi. Thanks for all the pep talks.

  Chapter One

  The Body

  "What's your problem today, Bridget?" Emma wore an enormous grin and a wrinkle-free cheerleading uniform. "Look at me so I know you're listening. This is Brian, my date for homecoming." Brian stood next to Emma, eyeing her uniform. He glared at me. I forced a half smile but tried to avoid eye contact. Emma was obviously thrilled that Brian had picked her out of the crowd. But that was because he had already tried his luck with half the cheerleading squad. Emma was his backup plan.

  A voice in my head told me that Brian was bad news – Brian's voice to be specific. The instant he came close, I could hear his thoughts. They weren't PG. Not even close. But then again, most of the boys at Mountain View High got lost in X rated daydreams. It was how they passed the time.

  My fake smile towards Brian was my mask – the mask of a normal teenage girl. I put it on every morning along with my lip gloss while sitting at my vanity with the door shut. My room stayed quiet, unless my mom was digging through my laundry basket. Each day when I woke up, I prepared myself for the crowded hallways at school, wondering if I'd come home with my sanity intact. The older I got, the crazier I felt.

  Sometimes the overwhelming bombardment of voices and visions made my blood boil. Emotional stress made it hard for me to distinguish between thoughts and actual talking. Talking to yourself and hearing voices aren't exactly traits of the sane. But being locked up for life was the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to graduate high school without being singled out. I wanted to graduate with my freedom.

  "See ya, Emma." Brian nodded and walked off towards the football field.

  "Isn't he a hottie?" Emma looked joyfully dazed. She was imagining herself and Brian twirling together all night at the homecoming dance.

  "I guess." Emma wasn't pleased with my response. She wanted me to share her excitement. But how was I supposed to explain to her that Brian was already mapping out what she looked like naked? He wasn't interested in holding hands and sharing a bag of popcorn. He just wanted to see if Emma was easy like some of her cheerleading pals.

  "You guess?" Emma frowned. She adjusted her cheerleading skirt and glanced around at the rest of her scattered team. "You'll have to give me a better explanation than that if you want me to come over tonight."

  "Fine," I agreed. "He's ok." Emma's frown was still prominent. She shook her head with disappointment but she wasn't mad. We'd been friends since elementary school, despite the fact that we were opposites in every way but one. Emma and I looked alike. We both had dirty blond hair and petite frames. In all our years as friends, Emma had learned to put up with all my personality quirks, one of which was being blunt.

  I considered Emma my only real friend. She'd never lied to me and her thoughts stayed positive, believing that everyone had a good side. I trusted Emma but I could never tell her my secret. Who would want to stay friends with someone who violated their privacy on a daily basis? I would die if I knew that someone else was snooping around my brain. That's why another part of my morning routine consisted of wishing that doomsday would never come – the day everyone knew my secret.

  "Whatever." Emma erased the frown from her face. She was distracted by the constant giggling coming from the group gathered beside us. "I'm only coming over for pizza. I just want to make that clear."

  More girls, and most of the cheerleading squad, were gathering in a circle. All of them had one goal, to impress. Thoughts were pushed into my head so rapidly that they all blurred together. Each thought was gushier than the next. My brain filled with so much pressure that I thought it might crack open.

  "I wonder what's going on over there." Emma stood on her tip toes to see what the fuss was about.

  "A guy," I muttered, trying not to claw at my forehead. I took a deep breath. I was getting better at blocking things out but it took a lot of patience. Patience was a trait I lacked. I got that from my mom.

  "Oh, it must be the new guy! His name is Terrence and he's like British or something." Emma discreetly fixed her hair and imagined herself being asked out by Terrence. "Oh, I've always wanted to go to Europe." Her mind wandered to a giant English Manor with a fountain out front. The enormous house had vines growing up its dark colored bricks. The gravel paved driveway disappeared into thick fog, and pink rosebushes covered the grounds. Emma's fantasies usually involved things that were pretty. Emma stood waving at the massive front doors as a black Rolls Royce drove away. Her prince charming was leaving for work, giving her time to tend to her garden and little ones.

  "Em, you are so old-fashioned," I muttered. I quietly chuckled but Emma's fantasy only added to the pressure in my head. Terrence was the source of a fantasy overload. It made me want to cover my earlobes and shout at everyone to keep their thoughts to themselves. "I need . . . to go inside. I think I left something in my locker."

  My sudden comment tore Emma from her daydream involving Terrence and the English countryside. She gave me a weird look. "You put all your books in your backpack, remember? I was with you?"

  More girls crowded in near the football field and I caught a glimpse of the infamous new guy. He was what I expected – blond, good looking, and fit. Why else would every girl within eyesight fawn over him? There were so many girls around him that I couldn't single out his thoughts. That was fine by me. He was probably a tool like all the other guys at school. This tool just happened to have an accent.

  Terrence constantly moved his gaze from girl to girl, almost like he had trouble concentrating. When his eyes met mine, I felt a tingle in my stomach. He steadied his gaze and smiled. I looked away but soon found myself fantasizing like all the other girls. I couldn't help it.

  "Oh!" Emma looked at the ground and put her hands on her hips. "I forgot my pom-poms! Shoot!" The football field lit up and the bleachers were more than halfway full. I hated huge crowds, especially ones filled with teenagers. Always something scandalous, like watching late night television.

  "Huddle up ladies!" Emma's cheer coach clapped her hands. Emma glanced around for her pom-poms again, afraid that she might be yelled at in front of the entire team.

  "I'll get your pom-poms!" Emma looked relieved. I was happy to volunteer. Anything to get me away from any Terrence related thoughts. "Where are they? The locker room?"

  "Yeah, they're probably in my gym bag!"

  "Got it." I nodded and turned towards the doors. Emma smiled and ran to the rest of her team. I needed the alone time. My head was buzzing. I stepped through the double doors into an empty hallway. The o
nly sound around was the noise my sneakers made as they hit the floor. The girl's locker room wasn't far from the football field but I took my time digging through Emma's stuff. Her pom-poms had fallen on the floor. I grabbed them and closed my eyes, engulfed in silence. It made me feel normal. I sat on the cold locker room floor and let myself relax. Each breath washed away another foreign thought until the only person in my head was me.

  A distant bang made me jump. I jerked backwards, nearly hitting my head on a locker. "What the . . . ? Hello? Is there someone in here?" My voice was quiet and shaky. There were heavy footsteps somewhere close and another crash. I concentrated, but my mind stayed blank. Whoever was making noise wasn't thinking. I couldn't hear any thoughts in their head. Strange.

  My chest started pounding. My face got hotter and hotter. A bead of sweat dripped down my back. To hear noises with no accompanying thoughts never happened. Internal self talk was part of everyday living, even when meditating. I still heard nothing, not even someone counting their steps. "Hello?" My voice filled the locker room. I took a step towards the bathroom stalls. They all appeared to be empty. All I saw was tile that needed a good cleaning and rusty toilet seats. My breathing got heavier. Something wasn't right. The noises had to have come from somewhere. The sound of footsteps and crashing objects didn't just happen on their own. There had to be a source.

  My own reflection in a streaked mirror made me jump again. I clutched my chest. "You're just being paranoid," I whispered reassuringly. "And you're talking to yourself." With a sigh, I slowly opened the locker room door. The hallway was dark. No one was in sight. Light from the locker room flooded into in the hall.

  The janitor's closet was cracked open. I studied the hall, but I was alone. The janitor's closet was usually locked and for a good reason. There were enough chemical cleaners in there to run a meth lab. Someone must've broken in and knocked over a shelf. My feet inched towards the closet, careful to stay quiet in case the culprit was still around.

  I kept turning around. No one was there. The only thoughts in my head were mine. This is stupid, I thought to myself. I pulled the knob and the closet door swung wide open on its own. I staggered back.

  Complete terror filled my chest. I rubbed my eyes. Great! Now I'm seeing things too. The image in front of me couldn't be real. I tried to swallow but my throat was swelling up.

  "Stacy?" A raspy whisper managed to escape my lips. Stacy was lying motionless on the floor, her cheerleading uniform slightly ripped to reveal a strange bruise just under her collar bone. Maybe she fainted? Maybe she fell asleep . . . and someone shoved her into a closet! Her eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling.

  I knelt down a little too fast. My kneecaps banged against the floor. The pain was nothing compared to the pain in my chest. My cheeks were on fire. I touched Stacy's hand. It was cold. She didn't move. "Come on Stacy." I tugged at her cheerleading uniform but she didn't budge. Panic set in and I shook her shoulders. I shook them harder and harder making her loose curls wave through the air.

  I was horrified. Stacy was dead. I didn't want to admit it but she was. And the person responsible had been in the hallway just moments before me. The killer was probably outside right now, watching the football game. What if the killer had seen me?

  Without thinking I looked around and grabbed Stacy's wrists. Her body was a lot heavier than I'd thought. I had to put her back in the closet before someone saw me. There was no way I was being listed as a murder suspect. That was attention I didn't need – from the police and from Stacy's killer.

  Stacy's fists were closed so tight that her nails looked like they were digging into her skin. I pushed her body upright and a silvery thing fell out of her hands. I laid Stacy's body back down and picked up the shiny chain. It was broken.

  I shoved it in my pocket and lifted the body one last time. It fell back into the closet with a thud. And that's when I started to sweat even more. What was I supposed to do now? Call the police? I couldn't do that.

  What are you doing, girl? What's wrong with the cheerleader? The thoughts being pushed into my head weren't mine. They belonged to a curious onlooker – a guy my same age.

  My entire torso went stiff. How was I going to explain this? I'd been spotted shoving Stacy's body in the janitor's closet. This guy would rat me out for sure, especially if he was the murderer. Don't be stupid Bridget, I thought. Why would the murderer return to the scene?

  "The cheerleader's fine! I mean, Stacy's fine." I turned around to see a confused looking guy scratching his dark brown hair. The sight of him made my heart beat even faster from anticipation. Thick glasses framed his eyes, bright green. He walked closer looking curious. I slammed my back against the closet door.

  "Huh? I didn't say . . ."

  "I've got this, ok. Just go back outside." What's with the secrecy? Is the cheerleader drugged up? Plastered?

  "Yep, that's it. She's plastered! So if you could just keep this to yourself . . ."

  "How?" he said looking confused again. My head was spinning and my heart was racing. I was having trouble discerning between thoughts and actual words. This wasn't happening! "Here, let me help. I promise I won't rat her out." He grinned and quickly reached for the door knob before I could object.

  The door swung open and the both of us jumped back. Stacy's body crashed to the floor face first. Despite the blow to her face, her body stayed still. There was no movement. His eyes went wide with shock. I'd already seen Stacy's dead body but it was still terrifying to look at.

  "Is she?" He gulped and looked around.

  "Yeah. She's dead."

  "We have to call the police." He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. No! I couldn't talk to the police. I was a horrible liar, and I knew I'd screw up a one-on-one interview with a detective. A surging feeling of fear came over me as I imagined myself being questioned and locked up in an institution. I'd worked so hard to stay under the radar – to skate through high school without being put in the spotlight. All of that was in jeopardy. What if the police found out I was a mind reader? Chances are they wouldn't believe me, and I'd be force fed medication. The whole world would think I was a freak!

  "Wait!" I yelped. "I mean, I had nothing to do with it. I swear. And you can't tell anyone you saw me here." I was so nervous, I felt like I might vomit all over the floor.

  "Don't worry. The police will . . ."

  "Think I had something to with it! Swear to me you won't say anything?" The words were rapidly slipping out of my mouth. All I could think about was getting as far away as possible. The guy shrugged and didn't know what to say. He intended to keep my secret, at least at that moment. He was imagining the police arriving after one quick phone call, but he had a lot of questions. He wanted to know how I found her. He wanted to know more about me. But he always kept his promises. I could see proof in his head. He had since first grade when he caught his elementary school teacher throwing the class hamster in the trash. I was confident that my secret was safe, so I ran. I set my sights on a way out and my feet went to auto-pilot. Maybe one day I'd look back, wishing I'd done things differently. But I didn't care. My first instinct was to flee, and that's what I did. That's what I always did.

  Thoughts buzzed all around me as a cold breeze blew across my face. I burst through the doors and ran towards the football field. The bleachers were full and buzzing with thoughts, but I jogged closer anyways. The game had already started and crowds were cheering. The cheerleading squad clapped and shouted on the sidelines. I looked down. I'd dropped Emma's pom-poms. She was going to be pissed but I wasn't going back in there. I'd rather be in a sea of floating thoughts than hang out around a dead body. It was worth the migraine.

  "Just breathe normally and relax. That guy, whoever he is, will call the cops and they'll handle it." My eyes were watering as I muttered towards the ground. The pressure in my head and my chest was out of control. I had to calm myself down or I was sure I'd faint. A couple holding hands walked by and gave me a funny look. I smiled a
nd wiped the sweat from my forehead. Yeah, I was definitely going insane.

  I found a standing spot close to the football field, and away from as many onlookers as possible. I concentrated on the player's running back and forth. Whistles blew and I acted like I was completely invested in the game. And after what seemed like years of clapping and grinding my teeth, it was finally halftime. A whistle blew and the football team ran off the field to make way for the cheer squad. From a line of yelling girls, I spotted Emma. She waved her hands and did a cartwheel. She had a pair of pom-poms in her hands, probably spares.

  I was beginning to calm down. I kept telling myself that what happened earlier was just a crazy nightmare. After saying it over and over, I started to believe it. Stacy wasn't dead. She was alive and jumping around somewhere in the crowd. But my hopes were shattered when I heard sirens. They got louder and louder until they settled in the school parking lot. Heads turned and curious students started moving towards the building. I couldn't bring myself to see the police cars for myself. But then I heard it, a gut-wrenching scream. Someone else had seen Stacy. I finally turned my head and witnessed a long line of policemen. They were watching a stretcher being loaded into an ambulance. A white sheet covered the body and all I could see were white cheerleading sneakers.

  Chapter Two

  The Phone Call

  "I wonder what happened." Emma was leaning over the counter blotting her slice of cheese pizza with a napkin. She threw the greasy napkin aside and took a tiny bite.

  "Can we please stop talking about it?" Images of Stacy's lifeless body were burning in my brain. I had forced myself to eat and now I felt nauseous. I couldn't wipe the image of Stacy's face from my memory. What happened to her? And why did her killer shove her in the closet? I thought about the noises I'd heard in the girl's locker room, and it gave me chills. The killer could have seen me, but all I could do now was try and act normal.