Chapter Nineteen: Secrets of the Mind

It seemed to me, that the only way to improve my telepathy was to actively use it. And while invading an individual's privacy just to practice seemed wrong, I had an idea that was possibly more moral.

As I sat on the train home, I decided to 'skim' the thoughts around me. It was nothing worse than what I'd done accidently when I couldn't control my powers, and what harm would a few stray thoughts from strangers do? No harm at all.

I imagined my city red brick wall.

Then I dissolved it.

Suddenly, all the voices were hammering through my skull, words thumping like bullets, and emotions whirled like a kaleidoscope.

I threw my hands over my ears and leaned over my knees, trying to breathe evenly.

I'm late! Ellie is going to kill me – I can't believe he did that! He's such an assho – I wish it could be like – Who do they think-? – Not now! I can't – What?

I breathed in.

And out.

I can do this.

I took another breath, focusing on a formally dressed lady across from me. I want to hear her next thought, I told my brain firmly.

A female voice rose from the clamour, "What day is it again? Tuesday? I need to finish my tax returns by Friday." I breathed out and let the voice go.

My head was pounding, but I felt like I was making progress. I hadn't freaked out, after all. It seemed worth it to risk another person.

I took a deep breath in and concentrated on a young man in casual wear at the other end of the carriage. "Ugh, I hate trains. Everyone is too close together. I wish Callie had left me the car."

Breathe in, breathe out.

I should probably stop now, I thought, wincing at the stabbing pain in my head and the sharpness of the train's florescent lighting. To get better, I was going to have to endure some serious headaches. Maybe I should stock up on asprin?

I reimagined my wall, building it brick by brick until chipped maroon clay and greyish mortar again surrounded my mind and I relaxed. I rolled my shoulders, muscles slowly unclenching.

Unfortunately, the awful headache remained.

Fiddlesticks.

By the time I got home, it was late afternoon, and the headache was still pounding.

As I reached the gate, I saw Cara talking with someone on the front porch.

Then I noticed the motorcycle out front.

Jinn's motorcycle.

As I came within earshot, I heard, "She's not here. Now leave."

"Is she okay? Grounded?" Jinn asked sincerely, and I felt touched by his concern.

"None of your business." Cara snapped, then slammed the door. I clenched my fists, scowling. And who's fault would it be if I was?

Jinn walked back towards his bike, and I hurried to catch up with him.

"Jinn!" I called, reaching him as he picked up his helmet.

He turned around in surprise, "Jules?"

"Hey," I said a little breathlessly, "Sorry about Cara. That was really rude of her."

"Nah, it's all good," he mumbled with a tired smile, "I didn't really expect her to roll out the red carpet after last night."

"Still, she didn't have to be a jerk about it. It wasn't your fault."

He shrugged, and looked awkward, "So," he began, "she said you were out?"

"Ah," I said, "I was, I just got back. Though…" I trailed off, glancing at the house.

"What?"

"Sorry," I said, "I just was thinking that I'm not sure I should go in just yet."

"Fair point," he grinned, running a hand through his hair.

"Where are you going?" I asked, feeling a little bolder. Be confident! Be brave!

"I was just going to meet Oli in the city again," he paused, looking at the house nervously, "I would ask if you'd want to come, but I have a feeling I'd get in trouble."

"With Cara?" I snorted, "Why do you care what she thinks? Besides, I'll be the one getting in trouble, not you. Besides, I'm already in trouble after last night, so why not add some?"

"Are you advocating for 'better to ask forgiveness than permission'?" He asked suspiciously, fiddling with one of his many ear-piercings.

I suddenly felt nervous. What am I about to do? This is going to end badly.

But the other voice in my head that was getting stronger daily, argued, What, are you afraid of a lecture? You already got one of them last night and it wasn't so bad. Why not let the dust settle before you come back?

The second voice won.

"Yes. You game?"

He chuckled in surprise, digging a second helmet out of the storage compartment beneath the seat.

"Good thing I hadn't put this away yet then. I'll be honest, when we first met, I thought you were a mouse, but it seems you've got some lion in you after all."

I felt a golden glow in my chest, warming me from head to toe, and took the helmet.

Jinn's driving was very different to Oliver's.

Where Oliver was smooth, calculated, and ultimately careful, Jinn was all sharp turns and sudden stops.

Normally, I'd prefer a safe driver over a dangerous one, but today I felt dangerous, and every thrilling corner and black skid-mark got my heart racing in a way that just made me feel alive and free and like every worry had been blown right out of me.

By the time we made it to the city, I was breathless and laughing, my cheeks flush, and my eyes bright and watering.

We got off and removed our helmets, grinning at each other. He locked up and we walked in silence down the street until we reached an alley where Oliver was waiting.

Oliver raised his eyebrows but said nothing to me.

I knew the drill by now, so I stood at the entrance to the street, keeping half an eye out for official-looking graffiti disapprovers and playing more Big Belly Bust, picking up from where I'd left off this morning.

About an hour later I glanced up to see a CCPD patrol car coming up the main street. "Guys!" I called at them, "There's a CCPD patrol car coming!"

Jinn quickly ran up to join me while Oliver hid the paints behind a dumpster.

"Thanks," Jinn muttered, "nice pick up. Now just act natural as it passes us."

"How do I act natural?" I asked, wringing the hem of my t-shirt.

"First, don't do that-" he said, grabbing my hands, "-it makes you look nervous."

His hands were cool from the metal paint cans and gave me a little shock which ran up my arms. My face felt flushed and red. I'd never had a boy this close before.

Wait, that's not true. Technically you were closer when you rode the motorbike with him just before.

I blushed harder, because Jinn still hadn't let go of my hands. He was looking over my shoulder at the cop car.

"Why do you want to hide from the cops anyway?"

He paused, watching as they turned out of the street before replying, "You know how we're part of The Pack?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, I don't know if you've seen the news, but the cops aren't fans of us. And we paint black paw prints at the end of every message."

"Why do you graffiti? Why not just avoid the cops by not vandalising walls?"

"To get our message out," he smiled, stepping back, "it's cheaper than a billboard, and if we're lucky, the News will show pictures so more people see them."

"What are you writing this time?" I asked, wondering what message was so important it was worth breaking the law for.

"Wanna see?" He said, suddenly stepping back and letting go of my hands.

"Of course,"

He led me back to where Oliver was sitting with the paints.

"We're all clear."

Oliver nodded and stood up, leading the way to a mostly finished message written in red.

"'A registered meta is a dead meta'," I read, a chill going down my spine. I stepped back, hitting my back against the opposite wall.

My hands got caught in my shirt hem again.

I'm not registered.

"Why?" I don't realise I'm going to speak until the word came bubbling out.

"Why what?" Oliver asked.

"Why are registered metas going to die?"

"Didn't you hear what happened with Cicada?" Jinn asks me.

I shake my head.

"Cicada hunted down and killed every meta with a record because there was a traitor in the CCPD who gave him a list. Now the CCPD will have access to a list of all registered metas, not just ones with criminal records. If that list gets leaked, then something like that could happen again." Oliver explained, using a stencil to complete the final pawprint that marked the message as The Pack's.

I sucked in a breath.

I hadn't known that.

"Hey, are you alright?" Jinn said glancing at my hands, which were still being strangled in my shirt hem.

"…ah, yeah, I mean - " I stammered, letting go of the fabric, "I'm glad I'm not registered."

Then I realise what I've said.

Darn, darn, darn, darn –

"You're a meta?"

Oh.

"Yes?"

"That's cool! I'm glad you're not registered too then," Jinn smiled, "Who else knows then?"

"My family and Layla, I think. And now you and Oliver I guess."

"Layla already knows?" Oliver asked, frowning.

"I asked her not to tell anyone," I mumbled, not wanting to be the cause of division.

"It makes sense," Jinn told Oliver, "That's probably why she's been so interested in getting Jules to join."

Join the Pack?

"So, what do you do?" Oliver asked, directly addressing me.

"I – uh – um," I stammered, reluctant to tell them I could read minds. People didn't tend to be appreciative. Maybe if I phrased it differently? The word 'telepath' was a little more neutral, right?

"It's okay," Jinn was quick to reassure me, "you don't have to say if you don't want, but I'll admit, I am curious."

"I'm a telepath."

"How did you get them?" Oliver continued to question, seemingly intensely focused on me, "Was it the original particle accelerator explosion, or was it the bus or the satellite incidents?"

"Uh, the particle accelerator," I mumbled, feeling uncomfortable with his attention.

"And-" Oliver began again, but Jinn cut him off.

"Enough with the interrogation, Oli," he smiled, picking up the paints and gesturing towards the entrance to the alley, "Let's roll, before someone catches us red handed."

Oliver shrugged but his eyes never left me as we walked out onto the main road.