Psy-chik

.~1~.

The dinner table was extremely awkward, our silverware clacking against our dinner plates being the only noise in the room.
I knew my mom could tell something was wrong, I could tell by the way she narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. After a while of avoiding her eye contact, she broke the silence.
"You can't stop every crime from taking place, Jess."

Of course she knew what I was thinking, being that she insisted on reading my thoughts like I was a teen magazine. "You can't be superwoman."

"I know." I mumbled, shoving a spoonful of Mac and cheese in my mouth and ignoring the urge to roll my eyes at her.
She's the one who refuses to teach me more about my ability, the one who hid us away from everybody in town, who chose to live in some small house in the woods. All of my life, we've been hiding. From what or who exactly? Who the hell knows.
However, the worst part about living with her is that I can never read her thoughts. I've tried as hard as I could, squinted my eyes until it felt like they were gonna pop out of my head. I've watched her while she slept, attempting to get something out of her, but to no avail. She was simply unreadable. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that I was an open book, all of my personal business on the table for her to read.
When she wiped her mouth and dropped her fork down on her plate, I knew she'd read those thoughts too. She got up slowly and left the dinner table.
Hell, I didn't care. She needed to know what I thought. I were to say it, I'd get the lightning slapped out of me, and the last thing I needed was a fight between us. We already fought every single day- verbally I mean.
At least if I think it she can't ground me. If she ever tried to confront me about something I said in my head, she'd have to admit she stalks me via.. personal thoughts? Whatever. I don't know. But what I did know is that I was fed up.
I let out a long, drawn out sigh at her child like behavior. "Dinner was good, mom." I complimented sarcastically, heading upstairs to my room. I flopped down on my bed and unlocked my phone, seeing that I had a missed call and text from my best friend, Eva. We were going to some party shortly, but with all those creepy things getting in the way earlier, It completely slipped my mind. "Shit." I mumbled, running downstairs.

"Mom?"

My mother raised her head, her blond hair lightly sweeping the sides of her face. I never understood why I got stuck with boring, brown hair, while she was your typical beautiful blond. Blue eyes, tall and slim. The only thing that gave away her age of fourty-two were the wrinkles on her face, which she attempts to cover with heavy foundation. Me and my mom are complete opposites, and not even just physically.

"I'm going out with Eva. I should be back by 10 or later."

"Okay fine," she breathed. "No later than 12, Jessaline."

Leave it to my mom to give an 18 year old a curfew.
I bit my tongue to resist fighting with her. It wouldn't do me any good, so why even bother?
"Okay." I smiled, quickly heading back upstairs. I made my way to my small pink bathroom, (a shade I hated.) And began brushing my hair up, away from my face. I spotted my makeup bag on the floor, and let out a sigh of relief. After taking out everything I needed, I began working magic on my plain looking face. After finishing my concealer, contour and highlight, I began on my big brown eyes.
Hm, I think to myself. Should I go with a light pink, or maybe black? Jesus, why does looking cute take so much work?
I groaned and raked through some clothing that wasn't dirty. After a few minutes of looking, I came across a black cutout dress that Eva picked out for me a couple months ago. I smiled at the memory of her skimming over my body. "Your ass looks so bomb in that dress! I'm jealous!"

I've only ever worn the dress one time, and that was to some lame school dance. One that I went to with Domnik Reid, a scrawny wannabe bad boy. I can't believe I wasted my first kiss on him.
I settled for a black eye theme and then added red lipstick to mix. I held up the dress to the light, making sure the black dress matched my makeup theme. Holding in my stomach, I squeezed myself into the dress. To not look over dress, I ruffled up my hair a bit and shrugged on a Jean jacket I bought from the thrift shop a couple months ago, and white Adidas.
I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance for once.
"I'm outside, Bitch!"
Right after I received Eva's text, a honk sounded from the front yard.
"Geez, I'm coming." I murmured to no one in particular, practically flying past my mom and out the door. I was able to read what she was thinking as soon as I neared her silver Bentley, where her skinny arm hung out the window, her long pink nails holding a cigarette butt.
"She is gonna be so jealous of my new seat heaters!"
I kissed her cheek and strapped on my seatbelt. "Did you like.. get new seat heaters?" I said in awe, even though the seat was no where near warm. Damnit.

"Darn right I did." She grinned, lighting another cigarette and popping it in the side of her pink glossy lips. "God, I swear you can read my mind sometimes." She chuckled. I cringed at her remark. If only she knew.
Eva was easily one of the most gorgeous girls in our school, hell, maybe in all of Minnesota. With strawberry red hair that touched her waistline, hazel green eyes, and a butt to you'd think she paid for, (she didn't) it wasn't hard to fall into her trap.

And why am I friends with her out of all people, you wonder?

Because thanks to my excellent mind reading abilities, I know exactly what she wants me to say, do and when to say or do them.
To her, It's like I'm the perfect friend. The one thing I can do perfectly.

"Ready?" Asked Eva, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

"Absolutely."