The Mind Readers, Book 1

by Lori Brighton

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  Those mental spokes vibrated, thoughts pouring into my mind from every chair, but for one. His chair. For thirty minutes now he’d sat two chairs behind me, for thirty minutes I could feel his gaze burning into my back. For thirty minutes I’d had to listen to all the girls wondering why he was staring at me. But there was one thought I hadn’t heard. His.

  The bell rang. I bolted from my chair and scurried toward the exit. Emily and Sarah stood by the door, whispering about the new guy and preventing my escape.

  “Excuse me,” I snapped, almost panicked.

  They turned and glared as one. Well, it hadn’t taken Emily long to turn Sarah against me. Just freaking great. All those months of hard work and my status was sinking faster than the Titanic.

  “Cameron,” Mr. Banks called out.

  Crap. I resisted the urge to ignore his voice and bolt out the door. Instead, like the good girl I was, I glanced back. The new guy leaned against Mr. Banks’ desk, watching me. A shiver of unease whispered across my skin. This couldn’t be good. “Yeah?”

  “This is Lewis, he’s new.”

  Obviously.

  Lewis was staring at me, an odd gleam to his blue eyes. Really blue, like the bay in summer. Square jaw, straight nose and those lips…

  For a murderer, he was cute. He looked away briefly, breaking our connection and I wondered if I’d imagined the amusement in his gaze.

  Mr. Banks was barely paying attention to us, eager to get to the teacher lounge before all the cookies were gone. “Show Lewis around, take him to his next class, will you?”

  No! “Sure.” Wild panic sent my heart racing.

  Lewis smiled, a smile that produced a dimple in his left cheek. For a moment, my panic was forgotten. Oh God, how could I be attracted to a murderer? I was sick.

  “Ready?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

  I nodded dumbly and led the way into the hall. I was safe. I mean, I was in the middle of the school, in a hall crowded with people. What could he do? Still, it didn’t stop my heart from racing.

  “Hello, Cameron,” he said, stepping closer to me. So close, I could smell his soap and aftershave. He smelled… wonderful. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  I nodded, not even bothering to look at him as I tried to think of a way out of this mess. Why the heck couldn’t I read his thoughts? Was he a droid? A robot? Or maybe psychos didn’t have thoughts. I rarely dealt with them, so who knew what they were capable of. But no, that didn’t make sense. I’d heard the murderer’s thoughts.

  “Where’s your locker?” I dared to look at him. I was eager to dump him off at his next class and be done with the whole charade.

  He was smiling, although why, I wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem in a hurry. In fact, he seemed quite relaxed, his stroll slow and unhurried, as if he had something he wanted to say. Instantly, my suspicion grew.

  “I’ve never known anyone in such a hurry to get to class.”

  “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 what he believed.

  “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 muffled. There were too many emotions swirling through my body.

  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. “Where are you from?”

  “North.”

  Vague answer. Mysterious or shy? Completely confused, I opened my locker and shoved my books inside, trying to focus on his thoughts yet again. It was like hitting a brick wall. Surely if he had killed her he’d be thinking about it right now, wouldn’t he?

  “Did you know her well?” he asked, his voice soft and kind.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that compassion. “Well enough that I didn’t want her murdered.” My voice came out 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 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, contrite. After all, I didn’t know Lewis. Maybe he was just a normal guy.

  “English.”

  I frowned, finding it odd that we were going to the same place. It didn’t matter, we had assigned seats. I’d drop him off at the door and hopefully avoid him for the rest of the day. We were silent as we walked slowly to class. My thoughts were in turmoil, rushing this way and that in full panic mode. I practically oozed nervousness. But I had a feeling he was completely in control of his own mind.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said and it seemed like he meant it, but did he?

  “It’s all right, you didn’t know.” The bell rang and the halls emptied. We were alone. Completely alone. The school grew quiet, the only sound the soft murmur of Teacher’s voices and the buzz of the fluorescent lights above.

  “Do they have any suspects?” he asked, his deep, smooth voice oddly calming.

  “No,” I said, wondering why he asked. But wondering more where he came from, why he was here and why the heck I couldn’t read his thoughts.

  He paused near some benches and sat, looking thoughtful as he stared at nothing in particular. I glanced nervously down the hall at the classroom door. I’d always been a good girl, never skipped class, 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, feeling slightly sick. “Yeah, the murderer. I’m sure he knows a lot.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. He was lean, but fit. “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 the intensity of his scrutiny. Did he believe me? “We really should get to class; the principal 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. My brain felt muddled, my body buzzing with some unidentifiable emotion. “Fine, I want to go to class, 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? 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.”

&nb
sp; 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. “Then perhaps we’d know the killer’s identity.”

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

  He knew. Oh God, 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 here. Unless Grandma had. Was this some sort of test from her? I wouldn’t put it past the old bat. But that didn’t explain why I couldn’t read his mind. I swallowed hard and on trembling legs, I made my way toward class.

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

  No.

  I froze outside the door and studied the classroom 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, answering my question.