Suddenly, my reasons for spending the entire summer in Indiana sound hollow in my head. A chance to run around a field, kicking a ball? Even with the best kickers in the world, it pales next to watching old sim-casts with Kira and convincing her that she’s important. That she has a place in the world.
A sharp thought from Mr. Hampton pulls me out of my day-dreaming. He doesn’t speak aloud, thank god. Are you so familiar with Lord of the Flies, Mr. Lobos Santos, that you don’t need to review it? It pulls mental twitters from the rest of the class.
My face heats up and I focus on his voice. He doesn’t miss a beat and continues to outline the contents of the final. We spend the rest of the period locked in a point by point review of Othello, which was torturous the first time I read it, as well as several poems I’m certain we never covered in class. Mental muttering around the room tells me I’m not the only one.
Why do we still read stories that predate the mindreading world, anyway? Othello is completely implausible. Everything in that story is built on lies and deception, something that wouldn’t last two minutes now. I can hardly keep my own thoughts private in a high school hallway, much less orchestrate the fall of an important leader. Besides, everyone knows politicians are the most trusted people on the planet—how could they possibly hide anything, being in constant contact with so many people?
While I mull the serious possibility that I will fail my English final, the soft tone of the bell breaks into Mr. Hampton’s review. As I dig my backpack out from under my chair, Kira is up and fleeing the classroom before I can say a word to her. By the time I manage to get my e-slate stuffed in my pack, she’s gone.
I search for her at lunch, but the swirling thoughts in the cafeteria make it difficult to concentrate. Veering between mind-numbing banality and heart-wrenching angst, it’s a rugby scrum of thoughts all tangled with one another, dancing through my head. I decide she’s skipped lunch to take a run, like she often does.
I grit my way through the rest of school, waiting for the final bell. Sprinting through the hall, I inadvertently bump a gangly kid with my bare arm, receiving a nasty mental curse in return. I think an apology, but don’t slow down, determined to reach Kira’s locker before she does. When I turn the corner, she’s there, digging around and pulling out her gym bag.
I stop to take a breath and try to calm my heart, not wanting to look like I sprinted across the school to see her. A cluster of students stand on the opposite side of the hall from her, and a couple of rich kids stroll past, holding hands through their Second Skin gloves. I have a flash of envy that draws a smirk from the boy. I wonder what it would be like to hold hands with Kira like that. I could, even without the Second Skin, since she’s not a mindreader yet. There wouldn’t be any rush of intimate emotion sharing, no mingling of hearts. Kira doesn’t have that emotional suit of armor to protect her from the pravers of the world who might want to take advantage of her. She won’t have it unless—until—she changes. Until then, she’s vulnerable to anyone who might want to run their hands over her. Suddenly, I’m rooted to the carpet, realizing that’s exactly what I want to do.
Maybe I’m a praver after all.
I second guess everything and sourness climbs up my throat. Maybe Tony is right. Maybe I shouldn’t think that way about her. Then Kira peers up from her locker. Her small smile unlocks my legs and I stumble forward, looking like an idiot. I wish more than ever that she could hear my thoughts, so I wouldn’t have to find the right words to say out loud. So she would just know what I think and how I feel. That I want more than anything for her to forget about what other people think. That I want her to come to the Gamesdance with me, my last night in town before I leave for Indiana.
“Hey,” I say. Wow, I’m incredibly brilliant and witty.
She sighs and examines her locker again before answering. “Hey.”
“Look, I was wondering if…”
Raf, Raf, Raf! There you are! The sound of my name pulls my attention behind me. It’s Jessica, the girl from the hall who wanted to run her hands through my hair. Tony said you would be here.
Tony’s not here. I move closer to the locker wall to let her pass, but she comes to a stop next to me. Her perfume is like a toxic cloud that makes my eyes water.
“And you must be Kira,” Jessica says out loud. Kira arches her eyebrows, mirroring the shock that must be on my face. Why is Jessica talking out loud? And to Kira? Are they friends? By Kira’s pinched look, I doubt it.
“Um, that would be me,” Kira says. I’m struggling to figure out what’s going on, glancing between them. Jessica’s thoughts are meant for me, even though she’s smiling at Kira. Tony says you need a date for the Gamesdance and that I would be the perfect girl for you.
Tony’s wrong. I’m not looking for a date. I don’t even know you.
We can certainly change that. Jessica beams a fake smile. “Kira, you’re so cute!” she says. “I could just pinch your cheeks if I had some Second Skin!” Tony says you need a real girl for the dance. Everyone knows you’re making a mistake with this zero, Raf. Just say yes, and I promise you’ll be glad you did.
My mouth drops open as I stare at her. I’m startled by the metallic bang of Kira slamming her locker shut. “I’ll take a pass on the cheek pinching,” Kira says, her voice dripping with ice. “Thanks for the offer, though. See ya around, Raf.” She turns to leave.
“Kira, wait!” I say, barely recovering from the crazy images in Jessica’s mind of me and her at the Gamesdance, slow dancing in formal wear. “I… I wanted to talk to you. About going to the Gamesdance.” I flash a look at Jessica. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but why don’t you go play it with Tony?
Well, that would defeat the purpose. Tony’s not the one who needs help, Raf, you are. Out loud, she says to Kira, “Oh! The Gamesdance! Are you going?”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Kira examines Jessica like she’s not sure if she’s crazy or just stupid. Then she looks at me. “Not quite my scene.”
“Oh, but it could be!” Jessica says. “You don’t need a guy to have fun. You don’t even have to play, you can just watch. There’s a group of us girls going together, to cheer the Gamers on. You should come with us!” Her voice is chipper and light, but her thoughts are filled with dark amusement. She’s enjoying this deception thing she’s doing with Kira, like it’s a shiny new toy, being able to lie. The bottom drops out of my stomach as she pictures her gang of friends tricking Kira into a darkened alley behind the Games. Come with me to the Gamesdance, Raf, or I’ll have Kira as my date.
“Wow,” Kira says, slightly bemused. “That’s really, um, great of you. What was your name again?”
Jessica’s smile is a hideous mask over the thoughts beneath. “Jessica!”
“Ok, Jessica.” Kira gives me a look that says, What in the world, Raf? “I guess that could be fun. Not sure what I’ll do, but I could give it a try.”
“No!” My outburst garners a frown from Kira. “I mean, I don’t think you’d enjoy it.” It sounds lame, but I don’t want to validate everything she’s been thinking about the world. How she doesn’t fit in. How she should assume everyone is out to get her—even though they are.
“Wait,” Kira says. “Didn’t you just say something about going to the Gamesdance?”
“No, Raf’s right.” Jessica schemes for a more devastating way to hurt Kira. My stomach churns. “The Gamesdance isn’t the place for you. You’ve never been, have you, poor thing? It’s not all that great. But we should do something girly and fun, just the two of us. How about shopping? Do you like to shop?”
“Not really.” Kira’s brows pull together.
“Not even for clothes?” Jessica gives a muted shriek. “I know! Makeovers!”
Kira looks uncertain, and my stomach starts to chew a hole in itself. Jessica glances at me. Take me to the Gamesdance, Raf, or I’ll make sure she has a good time with me and my friends.
My mouth goes dry. Jessica and her friends targetin
g Kira. All summer. While I’m gone. I won’t be here to ward them off or threaten them with retribution. Her brother Seamus will keep an eye on her, but he leaves for WestPoint soon. My mind spins. When is he leaving? Is it the beginning of summer or the end? I can’t remember…
Jessica smiles as she hears my doubts. My fears.
No. I drill into her eyes with mine. Leave her alone. “I don’t think Kira likes makeovers.”
Jessica’s smile grows. You know what I want. “Don’t be such a spoiler, Raf.”
The image of a bright red zero on Kira’s cheek swims up in my mind. Jessica sees it and smirks. I can’t tell whether she did it herself or if she’s echoing the images that circulated through the rumor mill for weeks afterwards.
I clench my fist, take a breath and let it out slow. Okay. Fine. I’ll go with you, if you promise to leave her alone. Belatedly, I tinge it with a threat of my own. If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it.
“Hello?” Kira snaps her fingers in my face. “Still right here…” She looks annoyed. “And I can arrange my own playdates, Raf. Thanks for the help, though.”
Jessica has a cat-eats-bird smile of satisfaction. You won’t be sorry, Raf, I promise. She tosses a smile at Kira, like an afterthought. “See you later, Kira.” She says it brightly, but I hear the threat underneath it.
Jessica saunters down the hall, throwing extra sway in her walk. I glare at her back. You won’t be fooling anyone, Jessica. Everyone will know you blackmailed me into this. I’ll make sure of it.
Everyone will think I’m brilliant, she thinks without glancing back. I’ll be the girl that finally got you back on track, saved you from making a desperately tragic mistake with that zero.
I think several nasty curse words that would horrify my mother, but Jessica’s out of range. When she finally disappears around a corner, Kira folds her arms and fixes a stare on me. “So, you want to tell me what that was all about?” she says. “I swear your girlfriends are getting stranger all the time.”
My head whips back to her. “She’s not my girlfriend!”
“Really?” Kira says. “With the way she was looking at you, and you checking her out all the way to the corner?” She shrugs. “You could do worse, Raf. She seems nice and she’s cute in a trying-way-too-hard kind of way.”
My shoulders drop. “She’s not my girlfriend.” My voice is low, weak. Of course, that’s precisely the rumor Jessica will stir up after the Gamesdance. If I’m lucky, Kira won’t hear it. I grit my teeth. Tony is behind all of this, helping me out by stabbing me in the back.
“Whatever, Santos,” Kira says. “So, are you going to come over this Saturday to help me get through some of those sim-casts?”
Saturday? That’s the Gamesdance. The one I’m apparently going to with Jessica. “Um, no. I can’t, I’m… busy.”
Kira glances down the hall. “Right,” she says. “How about Sunday? No school on Monday. We can stay up late and eat that awesome popcorn my mom likes to buy from the Boy Scouts.”
“I’m…” I swallow. “I’m leaving on Sunday.”
“Oh.” Kira frowns and picks up her gym bag from the floor. “Well, I’m doing Mr. Hampton’s take home test tonight, along with my other finals. Finishing up early. Don’t really see the point in sticking around here, you know? With nothing to do but study, this zero’s getting some A’s and getting out.”
I grimace at her use of the word zero.
“I guess…” She pauses. “I guess this is goodbye then.” She puts on a million watt smile, the one she brings out when things are bleak and getting worse. “Well, have a nice summer, Raf. Have fun with the Twisters, and, you know, don’t break too many hearts in Indiana.” She turns to walk away down the hall.
I should say goodbye. I should tell her to stop, explain what really happened with Jessica. But I don’t say anything, just watch her go.
Maybe Tony is right. Maybe I need to stop waiting for Kira to go through the change. Maybe I need to forget about the fact that I know everything about her: the way she likes her hot cocoa lukewarm and her ice tea ice cold; that she likes her music classical and her runs long and strenuous. Maybe a summer in Indiana is just what I need to forget the way she makes my skin prickle and my heart pound. Maybe I should date someone like Jessica—only less horrible—to help me forget. Even if I doubt it would work.
But I’m certain of one thing: the next time I see Tony, I’m going to punch him in the face.
Kira and Raf’s story is just beginning!
If you haven't read Open Minds, I recommend you read that next.
Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy
When everyone reads minds, a secret is a dangerous thing to keep.
Sixteen-year-old Kira Moore is a zero, someone who can't read thoughts or be read by others. Zeros are outcasts who can't be trusted, leaving her no chance with Raf, a regular mindreader and the best friend she secretly loves. When she accidentally controls Raf's mind and nearly kills him, Kira tries to hide her frightening new ability from her family and an increasingly suspicious Raf. But lies tangle around her, and she's dragged deep into a hidden underworld of mindjackers, where having to mind control everyone she loves is just the beginning of the deadly choices before her.
Flash fiction is just a really short story—meant to be read in a flash (although it takes considerably longer to write). Hemingway's famous flash fiction (which may be an urban myth) evokes an entire story in just six words:
Baby Shoes. Never Worn. For Sale.
Leaving Gurnee is a bit of Mindjack flash fiction, although it is arguably a vignette rather than a story: it represents a scene that occurs between Open Minds and Closed Hearts. Kira refers to the events in Leaving Gurnee briefly, in Closed Hearts, but the events are never actually seen "on screen" in the novels. Leaving Gurnee is told from Xander's point-of-view (the 12-year-old changeling that Kira rescued), and in spite of being a vignette, I think it encapsulates the story of his character.
Xander didn’t sense the clan of mindjackers until it was too late.
Their minds plunged into his, making him fall to his knees. They jacked further into his head, and the soft living room carpet rushed up to meet his face. Through the ragged strands that tangled with his eyelashes, he saw Mrs. Moore hovering over her husband, who had slumped on the couch. The sim-cast Mr. Moore had been watching—Famous American Mindreaders of the 21st Century—still played soundlessly on the wall screen.
The jackers were in control of Xander’s body, but it still jerked involuntarily with the crack-slam sound echoing up the stairs from the first level of the house. Under the circumstances, crashing down the front door seemed a little dramatic. After all, they could have jacked someone to open the door for them and saved the Moore’s home from being damaged.
But Xander had a feeling that inflicting damage was why they were here, just like the haters that had trampled their lawn last week.
From his vantage point on the floor, he couldn’t see the boots stomping up the stairs, but they must have arrived at the top, judging by the way that Mrs. Moore jerked up from crying over her husband.
Run! Xander thought, but the jackers who had disabled his body—he could feel two of them firmly in his head—kept him from reaching out with his mind to link his thoughts to her. And his mouth was busy spilling drool on the carpet. He mentally pushed as hard as he could on the two mindjackers in his head, but they weren’t going anywhere.
Why hadn’t they jacked Mrs. Moore? She was just a mindreader, which meant she was easier to jack than him—Xander at least had some ability to push back. Three bulky figures in long, dark trench coats strode into his field of vision. They didn’t touch her, but Mrs. Moore dropped to the floor all the same, writhing in some kind of pain. Maybe it was only mental pain, not physical, but his wimpy twelve-year-old muscles wouldn’t do much good against them, even if he wasn’t paralyzed on the carpet and mentally locked inside his own head. Two of the clan members bent over Mr. Moore, and blue spark
s arced from a small metallic device they held against his neck: tasing him, as if knocking him out wasn’t enough. The third jacker crossed his arms and watched Mrs. Moore’s dance of pain on the floor. A tear slid down to the carpet, blurring Xander’s vision.
At least Kira wasn’t home.
One of the jackers in his head seized on that thought, wrenching it up to the forefront of Xander’s mind.
No, no, no, Xander thought. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her. He fought against the rock-hard presence of the jackers embedded in his brain, but it was like beating a boulder with a feather. Then Xander realized, with a sick hollowing out of his stomach, why they hadn’t just knocked him out. They must be looking for her: Kira, the world famous jacker who had rescued him and the other changelings from Agent Kestrel’s experimental lab. She had literally saved his life. She was the big sister he never had, and now was his chance to repay her. Protect her.
Only he couldn’t keep the jackers out of his head.
Boots stepped in front of his face, just inches from his nose, the leather tips smelling of spring rain from outside. Xander almost wished they would kick him in the face, rather than whatever they planned to do to his mind. Rough hands grasped him by the shoulder, and a thick muscular arm lurked under the sleeve of the jacker’s trench coat. Xander couldn’t see his face, not that he wanted to.
Where is she? Where is Kira Moore? The thoughts rang like commands in his head, but he resisted the compulsion that rippled through his mind to answer them. Tell them.
mindjack 04 - origins Page 2
