Psychic

My name is Olivia Chase (I go by Liv), just in case you’ve forgotten by now.

I’m fifteen years old. I have red hair and freckles. Ever since I was little I knew I was strange, and not just because I was a foster kid.

But while we’re on that subject, I might as well explain it.

I can’t remember anything from before I was seven years old. Normal people have little fuzzy memories of being in a playpen, or puling on the dog’s hair, or watching the babysitter walk through the door, but me? It was like my life started when I was seven.

I have no memories of my parents, well at least not real ones. When I was little I used to make up a vision of these perfect parents who would someday come back for me. Who would walk through the door with open arms, apologizing for ever leaving me alone without them.

Not all dreams come true though.

I had been jumping from foster family to foster family ever since I was seven. I hated it when I was sent to the children’s homes, where too many kids and teens were crowded in small rooms and you start to forget whose clothes are whose. When you feel more like pigs in a pen than kids looking for a permanent home.

I was just as hopeful at being adopted as any other foster kid out there, but everyone knew that once you turned twelve you were dead to the world. No one wanted to adopt any preteens or teenagers. We just weren’t cute anymore. We didn’t have that baby glow or that elementary smile that could fool any parent into thinking that we were their own.

I had real trouble making friends whenever I moved to a new family. It wasn’t that I was incapable – reading minds came in handy in those situations, but it was the fact that I knew I probably wouldn’t be there long. I’d rather spend a couple months friendless than have to feel the pain of leaving one behind.

I never seemed to stay with most families long. Sometimes it was because I said something that I shouldn’t know, and others it was because I didn’t get along well with the kids my age. Most of the time it was because my foster parents knew something was off about me. They could never tell what, but most adults could sense that I was different, broken.

(Knowing when someone is lying about liking you or knowing what they really think about you and others isn’t the best when trying to make a friendship or any sort of relationship with anyone.)

But the house I was living in now, with the Andrews, wasn’t that bad. It was in a small city in southern Georgia, Chesnutt Falls. I’d already been there for almost a year. One of the longest times I’d ever spent with a caring family ever.

Maybe that’s why I let myself get attached. I made friends, including Bella, my best friend. She knew about my abilities, and was one of the few who didn’t run away screaming “psycho!” at the top of her lungs.

(That happened a lot more often than you’d think.)

Bella’s dad was a neuropsychologist. Basically, he studied the brain. He was one of those people who were intrigued about my ability instead of freaked out. He was always trying to get me to read his mind, and was always ecstatic when I did so. He was someone I could trust not to turn me in to the White Jackets, who would jump at the chance to experiment on someone who could read minds.

Bella herself was one of those happy-all-the-time people. She was always trying to convince me to get dirt on other girls in our grade and to see if the guys in our classes liked her.

But for me to really explain everything about my life that’s interesting, I should probably start with the day that it all changed.

The day Magnus Moore moved to Chesnutt Falls and my life changed forever.

*

*

*

In Chesnutt falls, you can always expect rain. It is the one constant that you can always count on above anything else. And that first day in March was no different.

The walk to the school from my foster mom’s car was also the same.

Oh my god, I think Drew Michaels got hotter over the weekend!

When the zombies come, these useless idiots will all die.

If I pick my nose now, will anyone notice?

I should have listened to Jess! How did I get into this mess?

The things I would do to that girl if she wasn’t my student!

That last one was accompanied by a striking visual of Mr. Peterson doing some very inappropriate things on a desk with one of the hotter girls in my grade, Mandy Dawson.

That was one of the huge drawbacks of my gift. If thoughts, images, fantasies, or memories were strong enough, I would almost always automatically see or hear them in my head. Every thought on your surface seemed to find its way to me.

Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, I can block out most people’s thoughts. But it takes effort. It was why teachers and psychologists diagnosed me with ADHD early on. It’s not exactly easy to concentrate when there are little voices in your head. They don’t know the real reason I can’t concentrate.

Before I even fully make it to my first period, Bella Barnes is already hovering over me.

“Hey, Liv!” She yells, almost tripping over her own two feet to get to me. “Guess who passed her Geometry test from Friday?”

I heard her voice squealing, ’Me! Me! Me!’

Even without mind reading I could probably tell what she was thinking.

She scoffed. “Of course you know! Anyways, did you hear any good gossip on your way in?”

It was like this every morning. “Not anything new.”

She lowered her voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, “Is Mr. Peterson still a pedophile?”

“Yep.”

She pretended to gag. “Ugh, I feel sorry for Mandy even being in his thoughts. Are you sure it’s just a fantasy and not an actual memory?”

I nodded. “Yeah, memories are more solid. The fantasies come in a little foggy because it’s never actually happened. Besides, Mandy is smart enough not to get involved with a teacher.”

She nodded like she’d heard this information for the first time, even though I’ve explained these things many times.

“Anyways,” Bella changed the topic, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder, “did you hear any of the gossip about the new kid? It isn’t often we get a new arrival, and a hot one at that.”

I frown for a second, not remembering whether anyone was thinking about him. I hold up a finger, a sign for Bella to know when I was busy searching through someone’s mind.

I let my small imaginary filter fall and braced myself for the bombardment of thoughts coming my way.

Does Andy really like me?

I wonder if Ms. Marigold will notice if I cheat off of the smart kid in front of me.

Was that the new kid?

Ah, found it. I focused in on that brainwave, a girl who sits next to me in English.

In the memory a boy walks down the hallway. He has raven-black hair and striking blue eyes. He sports skinny jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt, making him stand out against the modest students of Chesnutt Falls High. He turns a corner and the memory ends.

I had to admit, he was kind of cute. I focused on a couple other people’s memories, but find them a bit vague. No one knew much about him.

“Well,” I start off slow, “he’s cute enough. He gives me that kind of Pop Punk vibe though. No one seems to know his name or where he’s from.”

Bella frowns. “Awe, I wish your super-secret spy skills could’ve been handier. I want that boy candy yesterday.”

I laugh, but the warning bell cuts me off. “Alright, let’s go to History, maybe he’ll be there.”

Bella jumped in excitement and linked her arm in mine so we could be on our way to class.

Now, there’s a thing you’ve got to understand about Mrs. Lu’s classroom. She thinks that by assigning seats that no one will be talking because they won’t be sitting next to their friends. But Mrs. Lu doesn’t understand that there is such thing as texting and yelling across the room, which makes her class even more impossible to control.

She separated me and Bella early on. It was mostly Bella’s fault since she loved to talk nonstop, but it was also okay because I sat right next to her in all the other classes we shared.

My seat was in the back, which I hated. Sitting in the back was a bad thing considering that I actually wanted to learn in this class. At least if I was up front, I could have a fighting chance at focusing on the lesson on the board.

Because I moved from foster home to foster home a lot I switched schools constantly, and different school require different credits to graduate and such. Since I didn’t know where I was going to be when I did finally graduate, I usually tried to take as many classes as I could and get the best grades I could. This way I could also prepare if another school’s curriculum was ahead of the one I was at before.

Chesnutt Falls High was one of the only schools where I ever got to be for almost an entire year, meaning my subconscious was already freaking out about when I’d have to move next.

The only good thing about my seat was its proximity to the window. I found it calming to be able to watch the rain pattering on the glass. The noise seemed to calm the thoughts ransacking my brain.

The bell rang, but instead of dread in the thoughts of my fellow students, it was curiosity. I tuned in to one brainwave and turned to the door, not believing what they were thinking.

But they had been right, because Mr. Punk was standing at the door, backpack hanging off of one shoulder and an uninterested expression on his face.

“Are you Mrs. Lu?” The boy asked.

Mrs. Lu nodded, walked over and looked over the boy’s schedule, making sure he was in the right class before scanning over the class for an empty seat.

She looked my way and then back at the boy. “You can sit in the empty seat by Liv Chase. Liv, raise your hand.”

I unwillingly raised it. The boy’s gaze turned to me and he seemed to be just as unhappy about the arrangement as I was. No doubt with a boy like him sitting next to me, it would be nonstop talking or he would always ask for answers on tests. He didn’t seem like the kind of kid who cared about his grades, or who wanted to stay for the long term.

He set his bag down and took out a journal, most likely to take notes.

“I’m Liv.” I greeted him, eager to get to know some information on the mystery boy.

He grunted. “Yes, I established that.”

Wow, rude much?

I searched his mind for any outstanding thoughts about me, but he was blank. He wasn’t thinking anything prominent right now.

Huh. Maybe he didn’t think I was very interesting.

“What’s your name?” I asked, this time focusing my mind towards his, yearning to hear his thoughts.

“Magnus.” Ooh, now we’re down to one word answers.

I huffed and searched his mind for something, anything. All I was getting was darkness. No thoughts or images were coming to my head. None.

Maybe Magnus was just a simpleton and that’s why is mind was blank.

I instead focused on his attire. If I he was such a blank slate, then maybe I could learn something about him by what he was wearing. Besides the Nirvana T and skinny jeans, Magnus had on some sort of necklace. I could only see the string that held it together, not the main piece.

He tilted his head and I saw a glimpse of a red gem on the end of the string around his neck. I subconsciously reached for it, curious, but it flashed bright red when I got close, the light catching on the glassy surface.

Suddenly Magnus’s head lifted up from his note taking and he looked at me carefully. Panic seemed to flash through his eyes. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to touch is necklace. It was probably a family heirloom or something.

Instead of an outburst, he just said, “Is Liv short for anything?” and then he hid the red gem necklace further down his shirt.

I was glad Magnus was finally making conversation, so glad that I almost forgot the strangeness of his change of actions. “Yes, my full name is Olivia. But I think it makes me sound too much like that pig in that children’s TV show. I think I must’ve had scarring childhood memories of it or something like that.”

But Magnus was no longer focused on my story, it was now more than just his eyes that showed panic.

He whispered sarcastically under his breath, “Great,” combed a hand through his hair and then turned back to his notes. He muttered some more under his breath and put his head in his hands.

I huffed again and turned away from him. If he was going to be like that, then I didn’t have to talk to him. But it still didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t read him. This had never happened before.

I spent the rest of class half listening to Mrs. Lu, and the other concentrated on reading Magnus. By the time the bell rang, I hadn’t been able to get a sliver of information out of his head.

My gift had never failed me before, and, quite frankly, it scared me that it did. Why couldn’t I read him?

Bella caught up to me almost as soon as I left class. “So, what was going on in Mr. New Boy’s head?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, no brain activity. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero. It was like a wall was blocking his thoughts from mine. All I saw was darkness.”

Bella gave a confused look. “Are you sure? Maybe you just missed it.”

I shook my head, “No.” I sighed and elaborated. “He felt different. And about thirty seconds into knowing me, he got a panicked look in his eyes and asked if Liv was short for anything. When I told him my full name, he froze. Before that he had just been staring at his notes with an intense look on his face.”

“Hmm, maybe he’s just weird. You know first-hand how hard making new friends is.” Bella said offhand.

I nodded to myself. I was in no place to judge someone for being weird.