Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 8

A bonus, my butt. Van was just trying to do whatever he could to get under my skin. And to be quite honest, he was doing a pretty good job at it. I didn't like one speck of this kid. He was all smoke and mirrors, a pretentious braggart who hid behind his so called achievements and ability. You could tell by the way that he held himself, not literally, that he thought the world should bow down to him.

This mystical "power of knowledge" he had, added about a hundred pounds of weight to his ego. And he wasn't afraid to throw that weight around. He expected people like me to grovel at his feet, just because he could seep into my brain like spilled milk. Well, he was dead wrong. I didn't grovel for anyone, especially sour and curdled jerks.

A vision of him speaking to me telepathically zinged across my mind. It was just as odd, just as eerie to hear it in my vision, like looking into a mirror that was facing a mirror-- a hallway of never ending mirrors, an echo of unending voices. "Keep your mangy voice out of my head," I hissed.

Van chuckled once, a smile crawling up one side of his face. "John,"—I demanded that he stop calling me "Johnny" the moment he sat down-- "I told you already, it's the only way I can help you with Lindsey. You'll just have to get used to it," he sneered, eyes glinting. In time... his voice drifted into my brain. You'll get used to it...

I ground my teeth together, I would not get used to that feeling anytime soon. It was exposing, making me appear before him completely naked, which totally skeeved me out. I avoided the guy's locker room for a reason, you know. Too much junk hanging out for my liking.

I hated it.

Even if he had restrictions, like distance, it was still so intrusive. So utterly unnatural for anyone to be able to invade someone else's thoughts! But, then again, if people knew about my visions, they'd probably think that I was unnatural too. I'd be labeled as a freak. Outcast. They'd probably hold me responsible for a lot of tragedies, saying that I had the power to stop them from happening at all. But my visions were never that encompassing, never affected those other than myself.

No, I was lucky to get a small vision once or twice a week, and what use were they anyway?! None! They didn't stop wars, or murders, or kidnappings. They just helped me to blend into the background. Some good this gift is.

"It's a lot better than you think it is," Van spoke outwardly this time, but pointed at the text book lying open on the table. It was our cover in case anyone overhead.

"Really?" I asked skeptically. He might have had the "power of knowledge" but that didn't mean he knew everything. He couldn't, could he?

"Mine is obviously superior, but yours isn't completely underwhelming," he mused. It has gotten you out of a few sticky situations, hasn't it?...

I cocked an eyebrow at him, feeling another layer of my privacy being peeled unceremoniously from my body. Could he know my past as well as my present? Could he read me like a book? God, I hoped not.

Van kicked off the floor, tipping the chair up on two legs. "Hypothetically," he said, dismissing my worries. "I'm just guessing that it's come in handy a time or two."

"It has," I nodded, releasing a small breath of relief. Good, he didn't know my past. Not that I had anything to hide, it was just soothing to know that I could keep some things hidden from him. "So are we gonna talk about how you plan on helping me with Lindsey or sit here like a couple of chumps with a literature textbook?"

Maybe if I kept him on track, he wouldn't dig any deeper into my mind, wouldn't have any more of my own words and thoughts to use against me. How weird, I was protecting myself from myself. Talk about mind games.