Feel My Pain

My lunch table is empty. The cafeteria is full. Here's something I've learned recently: finishing other people's sentences before they're begun is outcast material. Answering their silent questions tends to freak people out. Never mind my eyes that seem to peer into your very soul- mainly because they do- all told, it's no surprise I sit alone.

When you hear every thought, something as simple as walking to class is a nightmare:
There he is, they think with a shudder every time my eyes make contact with theirs. Freak. 

If my hand ever touches their skin, even for a second, I have to flinch away from the barrage of hostile thoughts they unknowingly send my way:
I always see him alone... total know-it-all... look at those eyes... what a loser. 

It wasn't always this way. Before I got my 'ability', if you can call it that, I had a few friends. Not popular by any means, but friends.

They left me one by one. "Oh, I'm just going to sit with those guys for the week," they'd say, all the while thinking, Thank God for this excuse, I'd die if I had one more conversation with him. 

"Oh, I don't think I can go with you to that party. My parents won't let me," but I'm going anyway.

By far, though, the broken friendship that hurt the most was Ashley. She was psychic, too. When I was near her, it was like looking into a mirror facing a lake. A feeling of peace went over both of us every time we touched, every time we looked at each other. Neither of us knew where our powers came from, or why it chose us. And really, when we were together, it didn't matter.

 But then something happened. She decided my power was taking over my life.

You never ask questions anymore, she thought towards me, avoiding my gaze after a test in the one class period we shared. You never even speak... it's like you're trying to freak me- freak people out.  I had no reply. She was sitting in front of me, and noticed that I was staring at the back of her head. She turned around to look at me, and for the first time, she flinched just like the rest of them.

That was about when my life plunged into a steep downwards spiral. My parents started to consider counseling more seriously than ever. Meaningful glances conveyed thoughts that were entirely too clear to me:

He was never like this before. What could he be so stressed about? What did we do wrong? Will he outgrow this?

My grades fell, along with my spirit. When it came to people at school, I was feared at best, hated at worst.

To illustrate: a year ago, one of the (many) out-of-my-league girls asked me to a dance. I'd known before she opened her mouth that she had lost a bet, and that she was desperately hoping I'd say no.

I granted her wish.

"Really?" She'd asked, trying to sound disappointed.

"Yeah. Really," I'd muttered, turning away.

After that, every mental insult seemed to intensify. The casual judgments, once as easy to ignore as feathers, now piled on me and became unbearable stones.

The anger starts small. I clench and unclench my fists, then I take deep breaths like you're supposed to. I repeat my mantra to myself:

 Freaking out would make you a freak. Freak out and they'll know you're a freak.  

I close my eyes and grit my teeth. So many years of trying to be normal... I can't let it slip away now.

What the heck is he doing? 

What a retard. 

My mind snaps. About time, too.

I'd envisioned this moment, even as I hoped it would never come. I know what to do.

I spin, grabbing the wrist of the nearest person. He tries to twist away, opening his mouth to swear. 

As luck would have it- or maybe I chose this subconsciously- this guy is one of the worst offenders. I can't count the times he's tried to fight me, forcing me to avoid him for weeks on end. I'd always thought I couldn't take him, but that was only because I was afraid to use my only advantage. Well, no longer.

Everyone's watching. Speaking low but loud, I say the first painfully true thing that comes to me;

 "Stacy knows you cheated on her."

He fakes a laugh, but I'm not the only one who sees his discomfort.

 I smile sarcastically, letting go of his wrist. I turn to face the crowd. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don't look at the ground or at my hands. I meet the eyes of everyone who stands in the circle square-on, and they flinch away. For once, they're all looking at the ground while I look up.The first guy tries a punch to the back of my head while I'm turned away, but I knew he'd do that. I duck, and as he loses his balance, I grab his hand without looking and pull him down in front of me.

 Everyone takes a few steps back. Someone leaves to report this to a school guard.

 "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Megan," I say, glancing at her as she walks away.

 She hesitates. Ew. How does he know my name? 

 I move on. I make random eye contact again, and I barely pay attention to who it is. I'm interested in only one thing- their biggest secret or fear.

 "Everyone thinks you're an idiot."

 I turn again and again, noting with satisfaction the damage I cause each time.
 Right in the middle, I come to Ashley. I'm in the groove, and I don't hesitate.

 "You're just as freaky as I am."

Tears come to her eyes, more for myself than for her, and for a moment, I regret my words. But only a moment.

 As I continue my tirade, no one else is dumb enough to try and touch me.  Finally, they feel my pain. 

 But I'm not done yet.

I walk to the locker of one of the richer kids and open it with a few flicks of my wrist. Behind me, I hear,

"Did you give him your combo?"

"No! Of course not!"

Smiling crazily, I lift a pair of car keys out of a purse pocket.

Walking through the crowd, I avoid a few more punches. I start to giggle when they make a path for me. By the time I leave the school building, my laughs echo. 

Forget Ashley. For once, it's good to be psychic.