Mind Games (Mindjack Origins) (2 page)

She smiles up at me, and I’d like nothing more than to spend the summer with Kira watching old sim-casts. Or pretty much anything else she’d like to do. But I’m leaving, which makes my chest pull tight. “Actually, I’m going away to a camp in Indiana for the summer. I’ll have a chance to practice with the Twisters, and…” I swallow. The fading smile on Kira’s face is ripping me up inside.

“Oh,” she says. “Um, wow. That’s ... great. The Twisters, huh? Is that one of your new synchrony bands?”

I laugh, a strangled release of breath. The Twisters are World Cup champions three years in a row. She knows this. “Yeah, they’re an amazing band and they’re letting me play. They heard what a great guitar player I am.”

“Right,” she says. “Like you could actually play a musical instrument.”

Her slim fingers are well-practiced in playing the saxophone, nothing like my clumsy mitts. “Hey, I’m not bad at the Sync Rock Games.” I regret it as soon as her face shadows. I had to mention the Games. What is wrong with me?

She puts on a fake smile, the kind I can see right through. “Wow,” she says, grinning. “Rock hero
and
soccer champion. Must be hard being you. I bet you have to beat the fans off with a stick these days.”

Before I can say anything, Mr. Hampton’s voice reaches over the mind-noise of the room and yanks everyone’s attention to the front. “Take out your e-slates, class. I’m casting the instructions for your final. Remember, you’ll need your parents to sign off on your isolation while taking the test. No mindreading partners, no friends, no cheating.”

He starts to review the final, talking loudly to focus our mental chatter while drawing notes on the wireless board. The class synchronizes to his voice, and with everyone focusing on him, my stray thoughts aren’t noticed as much.

I study the sliver of Kira’s face that I can still see. Small lines radiate from the corners of her eyes as she studies the sheet Mr. Hampton has cast to our e-slates. Her shoulders cave in, making her slender frame take up even less space in her chair. Her legs pull forward, hiding her bare knees under the desk.

She’s drawing in on herself, as if hiding from the world inside her own skin.

Learning how to read Kira Moore has become a full time occupation for me. I want to know her thoughts, even if they are still trapped inside her head, hidden from the rest of the world. It started last fall when I realized that the girl I’d been friends with since Kindergarten made my heart beat like a crazed monkey whenever she came near. She started to disappear inside herself about the same time, after a pack of girls cornered her in the bathroom and inked a red zero on her cheek with a synth tattoo that took two months to wear off. A sour taste rises up in my throat at the memory. She laughed it off, but I couldn’t miss the red blotches on her face and the tear streaks down it. The need to hug her then was a crazy ache inside me, but I didn’t have the nerve to try.

I run my hands over my face and try to focus on my e-slate.

Of all the girls in school, why did
she
have to be the one who didn’t change? There’s usually a kid every other year who never changes, whose brain never flips the switch from childhood to adolescence. But why did it have to be
her
? Every once in a while, Kira lashes out and slices someone to ribbons with that wicked wit of hers. But mostly it’s wearing her down, bit by bit, like a glittering stone made dull by an endless flow of water.

Suddenly, my reasons for spending the entire summer in Indiana sound hollow in my head. A chance to run around a field, kicking a ball? Even with the best kickers in the world, it pales next to watching old sim-casts with Kira and convincing her that she’s important. That she has a place in the world.

A sharp thought from Mr. Hampton pulls me out of my day-dreaming. He doesn’t speak aloud, thank god.
Are you so familiar with
Lord of the Flies
, Mr. Lobos Santos, that you don’t need to review it?
It pulls mental twitters from the rest of the class.

My face heats up and I focus on his voice. He doesn’t miss a beat and continues to outline the contents of the final. We spend the rest of the period locked in a point by point review of Othello, which was torturous the first time I read it, as well as several poems I’m certain we never covered in class. Mental muttering around the room tells me I’m not the only one.

Why do we still read stories that predate the mindreading world, anyway? Othello is completely implausible. Everything in that story is built on lies and deception, something that wouldn’t last two minutes now. I can hardly keep my own thoughts private in a high school hallway, much less orchestrate the fall of an important leader. Besides, everyone knows politicians are the most trusted people on the planet—how could they possibly hide anything, being in constant contact with so many people?

While I mull the serious possibility that I will fail my English final, the soft tone of the bell breaks into Mr. Hampton’s review. As I dig my backpack out from under my chair, Kira is up and fleeing the classroom before I can say a word to her. By the time I manage to get my e-slate stuffed in my pack, she’s gone.

I search for her at lunch, but the swirling thoughts in the cafeteria make it difficult to concentrate. Veering between mind-numbing banality and heart-wrenching angst, it’s a rugby scrum of thoughts all tangled with one another, dancing through my head. I decide she’s skipped lunch to take a run, like she often does.

I grit my way through the rest of school, waiting for the final bell. Sprinting through the hall, I inadvertently bump a gangly kid with my bare arm, receiving a nasty mental curse in return. I think an apology, but don’t slow down, determined to reach Kira’s locker before she does. When I turn the corner, she’s there, digging around and pulling out her gym bag.

I stop to take a breath and try to calm my heart, not wanting to look like I sprinted across the school to see her. A cluster of students stand on the opposite side of the hall from her, and a couple of rich kids stroll past, holding hands through their Second Skin gloves. I have a flash of envy that draws a smirk from the boy. I wonder what it would be like to hold hands with Kira like that. I could, even without the Second Skin, since she’s not a mindreader yet. There wouldn’t be any rush of intimate emotion sharing, no mingling of hearts. Kira doesn’t have that emotional suit of armor to protect her from the pravers of the world who might want to take advantage of her. She won’t have it unless—
until—
she changes. Until then, she’s vulnerable to anyone who might want to run their hands over her. Suddenly, I’m rooted to the carpet, realizing that’s exactly what I want to do.

Maybe I’m a praver after all.

I second guess everything and sourness climbs up my throat. Maybe Tony is right. Maybe I shouldn’t think that way about her. Then Kira peers up from her locker. Her small smile unlocks my legs and I stumble forward, looking like an idiot. I wish more than ever that she could hear my thoughts, so I wouldn’t have to find the right words to say out loud. So she would just
know
what I think and how I feel. That I want more than anything for her to forget about what other people think. That I want her to come to the Gamesdance with me, my last night in town before I leave for Indiana.

“Hey,” I say. Wow, I’m incredibly brilliant and witty.

She sighs and examines her locker again before answering. “Hey.”

“Look, I was wondering if …”

Raf, Raf, Raf! There you are!
The sound of my name pulls my attention behind me. It’s Jessica, the girl from the hall who wanted to run her hands through my hair.
Tony said you would be here.

Tony’s not here.
I move closer to the locker wall to let her pass, but she comes to a stop next to me. Her perfume is like a toxic cloud that makes my eyes water.

“And you must be Kira,” Jessica says out loud. Kira arches her eyebrows, mirroring the shock that must be on my face. Why is Jessica talking out loud? And to Kira? Are they friends? By Kira’s pinched look, I doubt it.

“Um, that would be me,” Kira says. I’m struggling to figure out what’s going on, glancing between them. Jessica’s thoughts are meant for me, even though she’s smiling at Kira.
Tony says you need a date for the Gamesdance and that I would be the perfect girl for you.

Tony’s wrong. I’m not looking for a date. I don’t even know you.

We can certainly change that.
Jessica beams a fake smile. “Kira, you’re so cute!” she says. “I could just pinch your cheeks if I had some Second Skin!”
Tony says you need a real girl for the dance. Everyone knows you’re making a mistake with this zero, Raf. Just say yes, and I promise you’ll be glad you did.

My mouth drops open as I stare at her. I’m startled by the metallic bang of Kira slamming her locker shut. “I’ll take a pass on the cheek pinching,” Kira says, her voice dripping with ice. “Thanks for the offer, though. See ya around, Raf.” She turns to leave.

“Kira, wait!” I say, barely recovering from the crazy images in Jessica’s mind of me and her at the Gamesdance, slow dancing in formal wear. “I…I wanted to talk to you. About going to the Gamesdance.” I flash a look at Jessica.
I don’t know what game you’re playing, but why don’t you go play it with Tony?

Well, that would defeat the purpose. Tony’s not the one who needs help, Raf, you are.
Out loud, she says to Kira, “Oh! The Gamesdance! Are you going?”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Kira examines Jessica like she’s not sure if she’s crazy or just stupid. Then she looks at me. “Not quite my scene.”

“Oh, but it could be!” Jessica says. “You don’t need a guy to have fun. You don’t even have to play, you can just watch. There’s a group of us girls going together, to cheer the Gamers on. You should come with us!” Her voice is chipper and light, but her thoughts are filled with dark amusement. She’s enjoying this deception thing she’s doing with Kira, like it’s a shiny new toy, being able to lie. The bottom drops out of my stomach as she pictures her gang of friends tricking Kira into a darkened alley behind the Games.
Come with me to the Gamesdance, Raf, or I’ll have Kira as my date.

“Wow,” Kira says, slightly bemused. “That’s really, um, great of you. What was your name again?”

Jessica’s smile is a hideous mask over the thoughts beneath. “Jessica!”

“Ok,
Jessica
.” Kira gives me a look that says,
What in the world, Raf?
“I guess that could be fun. Not sure what I’ll do, but I could give it a try.”

“No!” My outburst garners a frown from Kira. “I mean, I don’t think you’d enjoy it.” It sounds lame, but I don’t want to validate everything she’s been thinking about the world. How she doesn’t fit in. How she should assume everyone is out to get her—even though they are.

“Wait,” Kira says. “Didn’t you just say something about going to the Gamesdance?”

“No, Raf’s right.” Jessica schemes for a more devastating way to hurt Kira. My stomach churns. “The Gamesdance isn’t the place for you. You’ve never been, have you, poor thing? It’s not all that great. But we should do something girly and fun, just the two of us. How about shopping? Do you like to shop?”

“Not really.” Kira’s brows pull together.

“Not even for clothes?” Jessica gives a muted shriek. “I know! Makeovers!”

Kira looks uncertain, and my stomach starts to chew a hole in itself. Jessica glances at me.
Take me to the Gamesdance, Raf, or I’ll make sure she has a good time with me and my friends.

My mouth goes dry. Jessica and her friends targeting Kira. All summer. While I’m gone. I won’t be here to ward them off or threaten them with retribution. Her brother Seamus will keep an eye on her, but he leaves for WestPoint soon. My mind spins. When is he leaving? Is it the beginning of summer or the end? I can’t remember …

Jessica smiles as she hears my doubts. My fears.

No.
I drill into her eyes with mine.
Leave her alone.
“I don’t think Kira likes makeovers.”

Jessica’s smile grows.
You know what I want.
“Don’t be such a spoiler, Raf.”

The image of a bright red zero on Kira’s cheek swims up in my mind. Jessica sees it and smirks. I can’t tell whether she did it herself or if she’s echoing the images that circulated through the rumor mill for weeks afterwards.

I clench my fist, take a breath and let it out slow.
Okay. Fine. I’ll go with you, if you promise to leave her alone.
Belatedly,
I tinge it with a threat of my own.
If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.

“Hello?” Kira snaps her fingers in my face. “Still right here…” She looks annoyed. “And I can arrange my own playdates, Raf. Thanks for the help, though.”

Jessica has a cat-eats-bird smile of satisfaction.
You won’t be sorry, Raf, I promise.
She tosses a smile at Kira, like an afterthought. “See you later, Kira.” She says it brightly, but I hear the threat underneath it.

Jessica saunters down the hall, throwing extra sway in her walk. I glare at her back.
You won’t be fooling anyone, Jessica. Everyone will know you blackmailed me into this. I’ll make sure of it.

Everyone will think I’m brilliant,
she thinks without glancing back
. I’ll be the girl that finally got you back on track, saved you from making a desperately tragic mistake with that zero.