Think
Wild, that's what she was. He watched in agony, knowing how he could never have her. Her fiery hair fanned out behind her as she sprinted down the track, coming in first, as always, as the other competitors still were taking their first step across the starting line. Her Amazonian friends waited at the finish line, all complimenting her in their sing-song voices, and the boy was enraptured by her enchanting laugh. She was almost too good to be true, a Goddess. But since when had anything God-like helped anybody on Mars? Nothing good ever happened on Mars, and nothing ever would. She was so free, so hard to tie down and excruciatingly hard to approach. And the boy had no talents, no powers, no speed, and no looks. He thought he was nothing. His only power was more of a curse. He could never speak. Not to anybody. His parents had always told him it was a gift, his silence. But he could never believe them, and he never would. Because the utter and forever silence that now filled them and pierced right through their lifeless eyes didn't seem like such a gift. And now, he might as well be one of them, forgotten, left alone in the dark of silence. No, nobody ever payed attention to the dead, and nobody ever payed attention to that poor little boy, Stranger. Yes, that was his name. And it reflected what he was. Nobody even stole a glance at him. Nobody knew who he was. He vaguely remembered the last time somebody did try to talk to him, when he was three years old. He tried to write them a response to what they told him, but the paper had gone up in flames, and the boy he'd been trying to talk to, a possible friend, had never approached him again. Now he was a freshman at Metanowatculivitzmerowgoringcroustivitch High. Yes, really. At any rate, nobody had ever tried to communicate with Stranger since then. Living in his world of silence, it was often times like these that he would wish with all of his heart that he could tell this girl, Fiera, how he felt about her. But, her gift, or mutation that she had was speed and beauty. Everybody knew it. Stranger couldn't even recall his mutation surgery that he'd gotten before his great move to Mars. All he knew was that it had stranded him in utter silence forever. Stranger tensed when he realized that Fiera was watching him stare, but before he could look away in embarrassment, their eyes met. Stranger realized that she wasn't scared, but interested, and curious about him. She offered him a small portion of a smile, and Stranger tried to pull the corners of his lips up, but he felt like he was melting under the radiant glow of the girl. Or at least, his heart was.
"Does she know?" He thought to himself. All of sudden, her eyes grew even more curious, and her head cocked to the side. And, out of the blue, Stranger heard the faintest, most gorgeous, tinkling voice in the back of his head.
"Know what?" Stranger whipped his head around, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Was there a mind reader somewhere around him? There was nobody around him, other than a girl and a boy making little hearts out of fire and ice. Another boy with super strength sauntered past them and coolly and quickly smashed the heart to pieces. Stranger watched as the ice shattered and broke into even smaller pieces as it hit the ground.
Stranger tried to ignore all of the seniors that pushed him around and ruffled his hair and taunted him as he opened his locker. It slammed shut again. "Great. A telepath." He thought angrily. He just didn't have time for them today. He was running late to science, his last class of the day, and Fiera was in it. He shot them a glare that could kill, but they almost never backed down.
"Oh hoh." One of the boys chuckled, taking off his blue and orange football team letterman jacket. Stranger couldn't help but notice his muscles, he knew that there was no way a tall, lanky thin freshman could hold off a senior with a build like his.
"He's going to try to run, man. I'm seeing it." One of his friends warned the muscular senior. His finger twitched quickly to the left, and just as he did, Stranger decided that that was the best way to escape.
"A fortune teller? How many different powers do they have?" He thought worriedly. Foretold or not, left was still his best chance at getting away from the gang. He lifted his foot to try to sprint, and before he could place it back on the floor, it flew up from under him, leaving him dangling in the air by it, and then Stranger was flung across the hallway, finally skidding to a stop as he hit the wall behind him roughly, head first. "I hate telepaths." He thought in between blasts of pain, searing through his head. And, out of nowhere, there was the voice again, but it had an edge to it.
"Yeah, me too." And then a flurry of hair and red blew past him, through the group of seniors, and not even the fortune teller could see the creature's movements to protect himself from its next move. Soon, the gang had altogether disappeared in a midst of surprised shouts, and now, Stranger's savior stood above him, hand extended towards him. Stranger took it, and warmth and comfort flowed through his entire body as he pulled himself up. And then he realized that his savior was more like an angel. It was Fiera. He felt himself become lost in her liquid-gold eyes, and he didn't let go of her hand.
"Are you ok?" Stranger felt his head rush at her musical voice, but he found the strength to let go and smile. It was a start. He opened his mouth to thank her, and then reality struck once more, and he remembered. Realizing any hope of her talking to him again after this was gone, and he decided not to build anything up, as they would only crash down. He simply turned and walked away. He could almost feel her worried eyes burning through his back, but he continued on to Science, knowing that she would probably never talk to him again. For the millionth time in his life, he wished he could rise from his silence.
"So that's what you are." The voice returned, a golden glow in his mind, but he convinced himself it was simply his imagination, sparked by lost hopes and dead fantasies that he would ever be able to talk to somebody.
"Can you tell me? Are you really ok?"
"Go away." If this was really his own voice, he could talk back to it.
"I'm sorry." The voice sounded defeated and innocent, and truly apologetic. What happened when a boy living inside his own head went insane?
"I'm not crazy."
"No. I don't think you are. Are you?" Why was he asking himself questions?
"You're not. I am." Walking into his science class, Stranger froze. There was Fiera, smiling and giving him a small wave. Of course she would get there before him, but her eyes glinted with something that made Stranger wonder, was he talking to… Fiera?
"Well, I think you are." The voice returned, and he could hear the smile that he saw Fiera wearing.
"How are you….."
"I don't know. I'm not a mind reader, not a mind controller. All I've ever had was my speed. Don't you have anything?"
"Well, I can't talk. That's pretty much it. Great gift, huh?"
"Actually, yes." Her voice was so sincere, Stranger's legs practically carried himself over to the seat next to her, instead of that dusty seat in the back corner. He slid into the seat, and for a moment, his hand brushed across hers, and his head was blasting with voices. He jerked it back, and Fiera's eyes finally showed fear. "What was that?" She was thinking the exact same thing he was.
"What were you thinking about just now, before I sat down?" He looked down at his hand. It shook uncontrollably, and he realized the very tips of his fingers were aching.
"The trip to Mars. That's all." He could tell there was more.
"What about just a second after that?" He was almost sure of what she was about to say.
"The operation." Her eyes filled with sorrow, and her voice nearly broke.
"I thought so. What did they do to you? That felt so painful."
"I hurt you? Wait, you saw what I was thinking? You felt it? How's that possible?"
Stranger thought slowly, trying to take it all in, fit the pieces together. "Well… I can hear your thoughts when we're apart, can't I? And you can hear mine? Maybe, when we touch…"
"It gets more vivid." She completed his thoughts.
"Did you feel anything?"
"Just fear… remorse. What were you thinking about?"
"It's just, the last time I tried to talk to somebody. I'll show you. Then you need to decide if you still want to do this."
"That's stupid. Of course I want to! Nothing's happening. I want to get to know you." He could hear the stubbornness in her voice, read it in her eyes, and it almost felt… urgent.
"Just let me show you." Under the desk, he pressed his palm to hers, trying to concentrate on that one time, trying not to hear her thoughts, trying not to feel her pain. But soon, his efforts weren't needed, as her feelings melted into his own, and they thought about it and watched together. He closed his eyes, and he could see her sitting next to him, watching it like a projection, together. And then, in the middle of it all, he felt her mind resist, try to pull away, and he shut off the projection, and pulled his hand away. He opened his eyes, and studied her face. She was looking at him with a shocked expression, yet she still showed no fear.
"Scared yet? Still want to talk to me?"
And then, still surprised, her lips trembled and moved, and she spoke. "Yes."
The entire class turned to look at her, swiveling around in their chairs, craning their heads, straining their ears.
The mechanical computer in front of her spoke in it's robotic voice, "Does not compute. No question asked."
The teacher that strutted around the class room paced haughtily over to her desk. "Ms. Flame, this is a typed assignment. You're supposed to find out why we only use solar panels, and type an essay. Haven't you been listening?"
Stranger thought to her, "Oh no, what are you going to say? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to." As if those words had ever helped him. Not even when he was three and tried to write it out. In fact, those words had always worked against him. What if she was angry with him? He'd never had to talk to a teacher before. Was it a big deal?
"Don't worry about it." She thought back. She was brushing it off easily. That was a good sign.
"Oh, sorry Mrs. Red, I was just trying to see if the speech sensors worked better on solar powered items than electrical items. You see, when I was younger, I was wondering about when I found something that seemed to run on electrical battery, and it responds to voice activation commands. I was just comparing the two. I was just about to record the data." And that was all she said. But it was one of the best on the spot excuses Stranger had ever heard. And she pulled it off. Mrs. Red gave her a smile, complimented her on what an academic hard worker she was, and walked off. In spite of it all, their conversation stopped.
"I hate her name." Fiera thought randomly to Stranger as they sucked up their computers into their transport cubes, and stuffed them in their pockets at the end of class.
"Why?"
"Because it's Red. That's a color, isn't it? My parents told me that Green used to be the popular last name, her last name. But nobody knows what green is anymore, so Mrs. Green became Mrs. Red. Can you imagine the color green? It bothers me to know that we will never see it. I hear it was all over Earth. Why can't we ever remember anything about it? Why were our memories so much harder to use before we came here?"
Stranger somehow knew Fiera wouldn't like the answer, so he simply thought, "We were young then."
"Why else?" He turned to face her, and her eyes were practically digging into him.
"Well, I think they had to get to our head for the-"
"The surgery." Her voice became tainted with sadness, and she dropped her head, letting her long, ginger red hair frame her face and drape over her shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes tortured. "Can we walk home together?"
Stranger wasn't really sure what to tell her. He didn't have a home. He lived in a small crevice inside a rock near the school. "I-I guess so." He could leave her at her house and walk back to the school. They walked out the school's doors, and a gust of dust-filled wind hit their faces. Stranger turned towards Fiera and realized that she was staring at him yet again. Her complexion was so depressed, and before Stranger knew it, he'd opened his arms, and wrapped himself around her. She pressed herself into him, and he could feel her tears on his shoulder. He hugged her closer, and there was no end to the comfort he gave her. He could practically feel her heart warming, and he realized one of his dreams might actually be coming true. But then, he felt her getting warmer and warmer, until she was burning hot, and she was shrieking. She fell out of his arms and crumpled to the ground. "Are you ok? What happened? What did I do to you?" And then, he remembered. He remembered what happened last time they'd touched. What had he been thinking about? How warm her heart was. He looked down at her frantically. She was clutching at her heart. He knew what he'd done to her. "I'm so sorry." He lay beside her in the dust, and tried to brush some of the red dust out of her already ginger red hair. She slapped his hand away, and he felt as if she'd slapped his heart. He knew such a quick romance with somebody he'd secretly loved for years was too good to be true. "Can I help you?"
A long, horrible screech burned through his thoughts, and his head ached. "Please calm down, I need to know. What can I do to help you?" He tried to think to her calmly, hoping it would rub off on her. "I'm so sorry."
She spoke to him, her voice cold with anger, high pitched from her pain. "Tell me you're sorry."
"I-I'm sorry?" He thought.
"No. Tell me." The burning look in her eyes was beginning to frighten him.
His heart dropped. "I can't." He stood, starting to walk off, realizing his hopes were going to crash down yet again. So suddenly Stranger barely knew what was happening, Fiera shot out her hand with lightning speed and gripped his ankle, yanking him back towards her and pulling him back down to her level.
"Say it." She hissed.
"I can't." He thought to her. "If I could, I would."
"You're just too shy. Why can't you talk to me? Just one word." She searched him with her eyes.
"I can't. The surgery."
"I don't believe you. You said all the other kids said that it's painless. What about you? What did you think of it? "
"I just, well, I just don't remember it. But I know they did this to me. I'm not just shy. I can't talk. Ever."
"Fine. I still don't believe you though. I know you'll talk at some point in your life." She was being stubborn.
"Isn't it enough for you that I can talk to you like this? I said I was sorry."
"No you didn't." She retorted. "But it doesn't matter. I'm sorry." Her voice lightened. "I just-I was so angry, and then when we hugged I still saw nothing about the surgery. Just silence, and heat."
"That's because I don't remember it. You're never going to see it. I'm-"
She cut him off. "Don't say you're sorry. It was just a stupid impulse. We should get to walking home now." Stranger held out his hand and then slowly began to draw it back. Fiera ignored it and stood up on her own, brushing herself off.
They hadn't walked far before Stranger realized it was getting harder and harder to take each step. Something was fighting their feet, making it more complicated to trudge along in the dust roads. Fiera strode along, undaunted, but even she was beginning to slow her pace. Nobody was around, and Stranger began to wonder how long their little episode had gone on for. It seemed like everybody had already made it home. And then, Stranger, who had been staring at his feet, looked up. He saw what was making it so hard to walk.