The Picture

The Picture: Chapter 4

“Alright,” replied Locke, “Bye Leslie.”

            I didn’t even get to say bye before he swiftly got up, and left the library. I couldn’t help but think that Locke was nice, but he was too mysterious for me…so not my type.

            “So, Les, what do you say to us leaving this room of boredom and going to my room and playing some video games?”

            “First of all, this is not a room of boredom, and second of all, you guys have video games here?”

            “Of course we do!  We’re not that boring down here.  So do you want to play me in Playstation 2 & 3, Xbox 360, game cube, or Wii?”

            “How about I play you in all five and beat you?” I asked as we walked to his room.

            “Well, you can try,” he responded.

            “All right, come on.” He opened the door and gestured for me to go in ahead of him.  Reed’s room looked exactly as I’d thought it would.  It reflected him and his goofy ways perfectly.  He had a bed the same size as mine, only his was a race-car water bed with fake fish floating around in it, three of his walls were covered with handwritten jokes and punch lines, and the last was just a giant screen TV!

            “Get ready to lose more times in a row than you’ve ever thought possible,” he said smiling.

            “I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” I replied, “Imagine how much more embarrassed you’ll feel when you lose.”

            “We’ll see.”

            We played seven different games, and I only won three, which I think he let me win.  After spending two hours playing and joking around with Reed, I began to feel like he was the big brother I never had.  But I was still sad about the whole, winning only twelve games thing, partly because back at home I was the video game champ.  I found myself pouting.

            “Aww come on, Leslie; don’t be sad, it’s not your fault you lost.”

            “Yea, yea, yea,” I responded.  Besides, it could be worse, at least you lost to your “big brother”.” He smiled and elbowed me playfully. “We’re supposed to beat you at everything.”

            I froze. “Why did you say that?” 

            “Say what?”

            “You said my ‘big brother’.  Where’d you get that from?”

            “Oh, I-er…well, um,” he stammered.

            “Tell me!” I asserted, angry that he was stumbling for a lie to tell me.

            “I kind of read your mind,” he said in a rush.

            “You can read minds?” I repeated in disbelief.

            “Yeah.”

            “All the time?  Can you like, turn it on and off?” I was intrigued.  Imagine how weird that would be!

            “Yea, I can turn it on and off now.  It used to be horrible, I didn’t know how to control it or anything and I’d stay up at night listening to other people’s dreams.  Talk about torture.”

            “Woah.  So can you hear everything I’ve ever thought, or just what’s going through my head?” 

            “Only what you’re thinking while I’m with you.  Oh, and that reminds me, at dinner yesterday, it wasn’t your imagination, Opal does hate you.”