His Paper Heart ✓

•17|His Psychic Powers

"HER VITALS ARE LOOKING GOOD but she has to use the oxygen tank for a while. At least till the antibiotics do their job and the infections in her chest heal. Good news is you can go to school today if you want." Kenzie grins widely at me, clapping her hands once then running her fingers through her thinnedout blonde hair. When I don't say anything, she decides to continue, "how do you feel,  Gigi?" 

"I'm fine. School sounds. . .great."

«»

"You're a psychic," I say to Gray, strolling down the stinking hallway of my school to my next class: citizenship, pushing my oxygen tank forward with both hands and trying my possible best to ignore the sympathetic gazes passed my way by the students. I showed up to school two hours late this morning, nonetheless, I was excused from any sort of disciplinary punishment —mostly detention— because what kind of teacher is cruel enough to punish a girl needing the help of a machine to breathe? And per my anxious requests at the hospital this morning, Gray came to keep me company. He is doing a subtle job at that; there's less and less of his sarcasm today.

He shrugs. "I'm not."

"You are. Just admit it, you are. My English teacher lost her ring and she asked us to help her look for it. You knew who gave her that ring, you knew how important it was to her."

"Gigi." Gray crooks his neck sharply. "A second grader would be able to guess that."

"A second grader and every non-psychic, normal person would guess that her husband or fiancé gave her that ring, not her daughter. . ." I turn silent for a moment, chewing on my lower lip for thought. "How did you know? Tell me your secret."

"Apart from all the books, there were five beauty magazines on her desk and a mirror. She cares about her looks but lately she wakes up with no desire to dress up and look beautiful. I figured she's missing something important. When she wanted someone to explain metaphors, she mentioned the name 'Anna' without taking a glance at anyone in the class. Your teacher was holding back soft sobs when she realised there wasn't an Anna in your class and her eyes immediately dropped to her finger then she realised the ring was gone," he explains.

"But how did you know Anna was her daughter? Her spouse, who might be a woman, could have given her that ring. And how did you know Anna died four months ago?"

"She looks like a very strong woman. She would not have given her emotions away that easily if it was her spouse and as for when Anna died, I saw it in her eyebrows."

"Eyebrows." I laughed. Sometimes I allow myself to believe there is no way can be so smart yet so far deep an idiot. "You're psychic."

"There are no such things as psychics. It's all science. It might be mysterious, yes but hardly magic."

"You want to know how I know you're a psychic?" I ask.

"Enlighten me."

"You know the real psychics, the ones who have the real gift? That's exactly what they say. It's all science and that there are no such things as psychics. Do it again. Read another person." I insist. He looks doubtful but as he starts to shake his head, I laugh, delighted. "Please. It's very impressive."

"Yes I know, I'm very irresistible." he rolls his eyes.

"An irresistible idiot, is what you are."

Wait, does that make sense?

"Just read another person."

He sighs again, his gaze skipping from person to person in the hallway like a stone skimming the surface of a lake, unable to find someone worthy with a great background to be described by him. At last, his eyes comes to a rest on a girl, her hair hidden under a hijab, engrossed in a book by her locker. Even staring at the side of her face, I can already see her soft features.