"Doesn't matter. I'm not doing art anymore."
"Don't say that! You're a brilliant artist and you can't give up just because something bad happened. You have all that art in you, everything you've ever created or will create. Don't let this steal your gift."
A melancholy seeped into my soul and quenched whatever small flame Lucy's pep talk might have ignited. Nothing mattered anymore.
Luke, in an attempt to change the subject, gently brushed my swollen face. "What happened?"
"I mouthed off to a client, and he punched me."
Their eyebrows shot up in comical unison. Luke glanced at Lucy, and she nodded her head. "She's telling the truth, more or less. But she's definitely not telling us the whole story."
"Hey, quit reading me!" I lightly punched Lucy on the shoulder, grateful to be talking about something other than my ruined art career. I pulled my red comforter over my head, as if that would keep her out of my secrets. No such luck.
"Sam, what's going on?" Lucy's voice lost its playfulness. "You've never talked back to a client before. Not even that guy who kept undressing you with his mind, and then dressing you back up in his wife's lingerie."
I'd forgotten about him. He was a real winner too. No one should ever have to see themselves naked in the mind of a pervert. I shivered at the memory and mentally closed my third eye to shut out the experience.
"Tell us." Luke spoke our secret language, the one I had created. It had evolved over the years to include thousands of words. So I told them everything—about the assignment, the molester, Tommy, Mary at the hospital.
"She's such a bitch," Luke said.
Gotta love Luke, though Mary sure didn't. She hated the one heterosexual man in all the world that her powers didn't affect. No one knew why, but we were grateful.
Lucy eyed me, no doubt waiting for the rest of the story. I scowled at her, but finally relented. I told them about the boy on the stretcher and the strange doctor with para-powers.
"Sam, you cannot get involved in whatever that is. You know that, right?" Lucy adopted the rigid face of Mrs. Kellerbuckle, the eighth-grade taskmaster at Rent-A-Kid. It was usually funny when she did that. This time, not so much.
"Yeah, I'm not. It was just weird, is all."
She shook her head. "Not totally the truth, though I think you believe your own lie at the moment. Just promise me you'll talk to us before doing anything stupid?"
"I promise."
Before they could start on me again, I slid over Luke and put in our favorite movie, "X-Men," and we settled in for some mindless entertainment. I pretended to ignore the voice in the back of my head that spoke of things best left forgotten.
***
All eyes were on me the next day at school, with the rumor mill full of juicy tidbits about my black eye, the fire in the art building, and the sudden disappearance of Mr. K. I kept my sunglasses on and hid behind Luke as often as possible.
When I bumped into him for the fifth time, he turned to face me. "Sam, I love you, and I know you're embarrassed, but if you bump me again, I'm going to have to walk through a wall to make it to class on time. Got it?"
I nodded and mumbled an apology. He softened and put an arm around me.
Lucy flanked me on the other side. "It doesn't look that bad. Honest."
"I don't need to be able to read minds or tell when someone is lying to know that's a big fat one."
She squeezed my shoulder. "Well, Chica, it could be worse. And it will get better. You should just ignore it and go on like everything is normal. People are only staring because you're acting so weird about it."
She's probably right. But with a mild case of OCD, I couldn't resist popping into people's minds as we walked down the halls to English.
'Wonder what happened to her?'... 'Heard she got punched by a client.'... 'Looks painful.'... 'She must have really screwed up.'... 'I wonder if Higgins punished her.'... 'I heard she got into a fight with a new kid... and he's been in the infirmary ever since.'
That last thought stopped me. Were they thinking of my mystery boy? I searched the crowd of teenagers to see who'd thought that, probing minds as I did. Everyone rushed to get books out of lockers and head to their next class before the bell rang. I couldn't pinpoint the person, but it gave me hope.
Lucy pulled me along. "What's the matter? We're going to be late."
"Sorry, just caught a stray thought that bothered me."
"Don't worry about what people are saying, or thinking. You'll be old news in no time flat. Besides, you won't even be here much longer, and none of this will matter."
No more thoughts came up about the boy, but the school was abuzz about the fire. Anyone with a penchant or para-power for fire became a suspect. When Lucy and Luke left me, I just ignored everyone, hid in the bathroom, and applied another layer of cover-up to my bruise, but hiding was no use.
Mary and her pack entered the bathroom chattering away.