The Endowed (Book 1): Mind Talkers

The Boy That Cried (EDITING)

But the life I wanted to save most of all; the one I loved most of all, I couldn’t save. And it never left my mind. Like a rash I couldn’t cure. But with all this and Mel in mind, I’d always hoped I and this ability, were meant for more. 

Just then, a man brushed my shoulder walking in the opposite direction. We locked eyes as I turned to apologize. He carried on in the same direction while I stood still, his eyes baring an unnatural hatred towards either me, or life in general. I’d seen him twice before, but never around here. Strange, but I let the thought go.

“How’s Mel doing?” asked Angelo, my father, in his half Italian accent as he pulled out the weed eater to do repair work. A lot of his heritage had been consumed by the American twang since we moved here eight years ago.

“Same as always. Nothing’s changed,” I replied after giving it some thought, while refilling the lawn mower with oil. We paused for a while in thought. “She seems to want to tell me, I can see it in her eyes.”

He looked up from the chair, giving me a concerned look. I knew what it meant. So many years of us discussing this ability; the things I’ve done for others; his objections and praises; he’s been so understanding through all of it. And that look, only meant one thing.

“Tancredo.” When saying my full first name, he had something important to say. “I know how you feel about her, and her fragile situation. But you need to understand that you cannot play God with people’s lives.”

He was right of course. He brought me up with all the right ideals and morals, but how do I justify my standing aside and merely letting things happen? I dropped the can of oil and rested my hands on the table beside the mower, looking for some kind of thought that never came. He stood up, and walked over to me putting his hands on my shoulders saying, “Her time will come. As much as we would love to see her at her best, we just have to wait. Ok?”

Yet again, he was right. But as a teenager, I was always determined to prove him and other adults wrong. I was pretty good at it, but not always successful. This time, I would prove it again, whether he liked it or not. I simply nodded, lying to him, and he patted me on the back and returned to work, repairing the weed eater that brought us our income for our daily meals. Being a simple man, I often wondered how he was able to understand everything about me since he showed no sign of any abilities. But I appreciated it nonetheless.

“I’m done, mind if I go wash up for dinner?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said looking up at me again smiling. I returned the smile, and walked out of the garage, through the back door and into the kitchen, and walked passed Angelica finishing up dinner.

“Hey my boy, dinner in thirty minutes ok?” she called after me as I head toward the stairs up to my room. She was great, but not being my real mother, I always found it a little hard to connect with her on that level, even though she tried so hard.

“Sure thing Angie!”

After washing up, I was lying on my bed thinking. The radio was playing my favorite tape. It helped me relax. Things became clearer when I was by myself too. Melinda most importantly; her father. Fred. Fred. I sat up to a state of realization. Is it time to use my manipulation techniques again? I could break him oh so easily. Melinda would open up to me, and everything would be history. A plan started formulating in my head. I knew this would work.

When I got to school the next morning, Mat was the first to see and give me his overbearing morning handshakes. Being one the popular and bulky kids, I found it hard to understand at first why he decided to be friends with me. I was far from popular. But we had a good arrangement. He kept the bullies at bay, and I helped him with math. The rest kind of just unfolded. Although, I never really had a problem with fights after the first ambush in the locker room. Strange really.