Sometimes I wish I could control people's thoughts. Hearing them is great, but controlling them would be the ultimate super power. I could be so much more progressive if that were true. I could have Principal Thatcher in the palm of my hands and the girls, who attempted to play hard to get with me, impotent to resisting me.
But no, I was stuck hearing everyone's thoughts and they always clouded over my own. I could never think for myself and it was annoying at first, but I guess I'm used to it. Who needs to think for themselves when they can have hundreds of people thinking for them?
Aaron Paul is not hot. Aaron Paul is not hot. The girl that stood beside me kept repeating to herself and I did all I could to hold back my laughter. She glanced at me as I smiled and she blushed.
Okay, maybe a little. I laughed turning my glance away from her and onto the history teacher in front of me. She was young, very pretty, and she seemed intrigued by my presence.
She looked at me as if I were just another student but I heard her think about the things she would do to my body. I looked down, urging my puke to stay put.
Did teachers usually think such vile things about students. Or just me? Was I some sort of special case. I had to tune into her thoughts to hear her. It felt like the teacher of Riverdale, waiting to strike. And her name was Ms. Geraldine.
"I'm going to call roll now." She said, "you can sit wherever." She told the class and everyone did as they were told.
"Alice Abraham." She began and a bunch of muffled 'here's' spouted around the classroom.
"Aaron Paul." She called, her eyes landed on mine and a faint smile twitched on her lips. I tried my best to block out her thoughts, but it wouldn't work. They were too strong, flying at me faster than the speed of light. I couldn't push them away or focus on anyone else because her thoughts were too prominent.
Mindreading is a blessing and a curse. I wouldn't dare repeat her thoughts here.
After a few more names, she had a particularly difficult time pronouncing the raven-haired girl's name. Violet Veowsalot. It wasn't hard to remember, very unique, and had an odd satisfaction in saying the name.
Meows-a-lot with a V was how I remember it. I wondered if Violet had a cat, but if she did I never heard her think of it. Her mind was always focused on school which made it hard for me to learn of her deepest darkest secrets. Unlike the rest of the horny high school population that focused their attention on the next party, Violet focused on school. Probably why she never got invited to those parties.
"Violet Ve- vow? I'm sorry could you help me out."
"Veowsalot." I finished for the teacher. She looked new, like she walked into her interview and stripped down for her interviewers and viola, hired. It was understandable that she might not have known how to pronounce it, but she could have at least tried. It really bothers me when people don't do something they're absolutely capable of and make someone else do it- like me, I'm a hypocrite.
Did Aaron just...
I didn't think he knew her...
Is something going on between them...
I've never seen them talk...
Eyes turned to look at me as the judgemental idiots of my high school history class voiced their opinions. They couldn't possibly assume that I knew Violet in any way, she wasn't the type of girl I talked to.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy Who Read MindsScience Fiction
Aaron's special power might just be the coolest -or scariest- thing ever! It's always helped with his bad boy reputation, his rightfully arrogant all-knowing intimidation seemed to go a long way with his love life. Until he met Violet, one of the sm...