2003, November

The neighbors have moved out and to the left of Ryan's house lay a wide expanse of forestry surrounding a small park. The absence of people housed right beside him, luckily, left his mind uncluttered with thoughts. However, he no longer reads as far as he could before, and it only gets better as days continuously pass. Perhaps by now he wouldn't even be able to hear the neighbors, had they been housed next to him.

Being on Tyroxinex is definitely something. It's not perfect, nor did he expect it to be, but it's a lot different. He's incredibly grateful that the crackling voices aren't at all present at his six month mark, and he's generally safe to drive without slipping into a reading, now.

Breathing in slowly, he prepares himself for the drive to school, alone. He focuses solely on driving, even managing to ignore the man shaking hands with someone in an official looking suit on the lawn right next to his own. He'll have new neighbors soon, unbeknownst to him.    

•••••

He parks across the street at one of the many local stores in this small town. He walks across the quiet street to the school.

Once he gets to the large, brick building, and first stops in the lobby to check his schedule. His first class of the day is health. He's never liked health. The new trimester means he'll have it every day now for first period. The state began requiring three years of health about four years after they found out readers existed. Ryan hates people discussing what he is without them knowing he can read. He knows the chances of anyone else reading is incredibly slim, and he feels singled out. Outnumbered.

Maybe friends would help him feel less vulnerable. However, friends often meant people knowing your secrets, and Ryan wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Surprisingly enough, Ryan wasn't ever picked on for being alone. Most people realized Ryan wasn't really lonely, just alone, and that was fine by him.

He walks slowly with his head down throughout the halls. Everyone's talking about a new kid, from what Ryan can hear. The occasional read will come through randomly, but mostly only when Ryan looks someone else in the eyes for too long as they pass by, or maybe, if they accidentally brush into him and he looks up in their direction. Three, maybe even two months ago, walking through this hall probably would have resulted in blacking out a few times.

Ryan's never usually the nosy type, he thinks, as he looks up at a group of girls. Specifically the one who happened to look up at Ryan when he looked towards the group long enough. Not usually nosy.

New kid. Cute. Singl- Ryan blinks, hard. Snapping out of the brief read.

"Hey is the new kid single?" Girl 1 asks girl 2, diverting her eyes away from Ryan. Girl two shrugs, and says, "I don't know. I think so, though!"

Ryan rolls his eyes and continues down the hall. Once he gets to health, he takes a deep breath, and opens the door. He finds most of the students have directed their attention to some kid sitting in the back.

Immediately, a wave of the same repeating name hits Ryan. Too many people sharing the same thought. Ryan sighs, and holds a shaky hand to the side of his head, trying to assure himself he'll still be conscious soon.

Brendon- Brendon! - Brendon- Brendon.

Ryan tries to discreetly shake his head as he moves past everyone surrounding the new kid, who must be Brendon, and moves to sit behind him a couple rows.

Ryan sits, looking bored, with his head resting on a closed fist. He stares ahead, and hopes for the best. The shrill sound of the bell rings, and before their teacher walks in, Brendon picks up all of his things and moved to sit next to Ryan.

"Hey," he whispers to Ryan as their teacher walks in. 'Great,' Ryan thinks, 'he's old.' Old means that he was raised, just a bit, differently than Ryan. There's a good chance this class could make him feel like shit. Every morning!

"Hey," Ryan whispers back to Brendon, keeping his eyes forward. Who knows what's going on in there - Ryan sure doesn't want to know either. "Do you know what they teach in this class? Like- I mean, why is it required every trimester for three years?"

"Do they not have Health classes at your old school?" Ryan asks quietly.

"Well," Brendon looks down sheepishly for a moment, but raises his head up energetically soon enough, "It wasn't required three years, like it is here. We learned about sex. Well- they talked about sex. More like they told us not to do it." Brendon gives Ryan a wide smile.

Ryan chuckles lightly, and returns to his bored position; hand resting on closed fist, as their teacher introduces himself.

"Hello class. I'm Mr. Lhar, call me Mr. L. preferably," he drawls on a bit longer in monotone. "We'll be startin' the lesson like I did with the classes 'fore you. We'll be starting out with learnin' more about Cephalfertarians. Anyone have any preexisting knowledge?"

"Oh," Brendon whispers to Ryan, "this is what we're talking about? I kinda know about this. I'm Brendon, by the way." Ryan's grateful he doesn't try to shake his hand.

"Ryan." Brendon smiles, again.

A girl in the back raises her hand. Mr. L. calls on her and turns to face the white board as she speaks. "Those are the people that can read," she states confidently, her gum smacking in between her teeth. He picks up a dark red marker and begins writing on the board. "We can all read," he tells her, glancing over his shoulder, and then continuing to write. "Be more specific."

Brendon raises his hand, next to Ryan. "New kid, have at it," he calls stepping away from the white board, revealing what he's written.

Cephalfertarian
     Cephal-Fert-Arian

Directly meaning:
"Mind stealing person"

A person who possesses the ability to read the thoughts of another person.

"Um, they're quite rare, and they can read people's thoughts." Brendon's quieter now, and Ryan continues to keep his eyes glued to the desk in front of him.

Mr. L. gives a gruff nod, the small glasses on his nose threatening to fall off and shatter any moment. "Involuntarily or voluntarily?" He asks, looking towards Brendon still. Ryan let's his eyes slip closed slightly.

"Um, I don't know that much about this stuff..." Brendon shrugs.

"Well, some say it's involuntary, but most everyone agrees that it can be done voluntary, uh...?"

"Brendon."

"Yeah, Brendon," Mr. L. turns back to the bored, and erases the red words he wrote earlier. "We'll be watching a documentary. It's quite recent. Made this year, even."

The documentary all about people like Ryan begins with two 'normal' people, quickly running away from some guy who looks insane, with wild hair and big eyes. His clothes are torn and his eyes are bright blue. He stares into the eyes of one of the (dumb) screaming people, and immediately the scene changes to something wonderful. It's a land full of grass, and there are fields upon fields surrounding the clearing they stand in. In the middle of the grassy field, there lay a small baby. The camera angles downwards, and you see hands as if you're in first perspective, looking around the beautiful field.

You also see a cradle, with a small, glowing child inside. It looks innocent, and calm. The camera moves up, again. Now you see the crazed looking man from before. He looks slightly smug as he peers down at the child, who's always also turn a slightly brighter blue.

The baby starts crying, and the woman, who's eyes we're looking through currently, begins screaming, loudly. The baby is dead, and the reader is gone.

So this is what they're teaching students about readers?

No one pays much attention when Ryan (who doesn't have bright blue eyes, and torn clothes. Although his hair is a it messy) let's his head fall from his hand, and gently hit the wooden desk below him.

•••••

In English, Ryan was told he had an essay due in two weeks. There were three available topics, but the teacher chose which the student was given, and then partnered them up with someone given the same topic. It's supposed to help their peer editing, which will in turn help their own writing.

Brendon was in Ryan's English as well. He decided to sit next to him again. He was smiling again, and- Why is he always smiling?

As tempting as it was, Ryan hadn't voluntarily read anything from Brendon. It feels... Personal. And strange. Even more so after the disgusting documentary.

"Patrick, your paper is an in depth analysis of text. You can choose whatever text you want. You'll be paired with Pete or Janice. I really do not care, just pick one." Ryan had usually always liked Mrs. Halmire, but she seems to be moodier today. Ryan shrugs it off, and daydreams while we waits to hear his name.

"Ryan, you're reporting on Cephalfertarians, Mr. L. and I discussed the idea, and he said it would be great to apply what you learn in health here. You're with either Brendon or ... Oh. He's absent. You're with Brendon." She shoots Ryan an apologetic look, and Ryan's confused at first. Does she know? He turns to his left, where Brendon sits, grinning excitedly. Brendon's eyes are- Oh shit-

Partner. Ryan. Hot. Awesome! House, new, his? Aweso-

Ryan tears his eyes away from Brendon's, and Brendon's smile doesn't falter in the slightest. He assumed someone so hyper would have even more fast paced thoughts than usual, but, Jesus.

•••••

The halls are pretty much empty by the time Ryan makes his way to front of the school. He had to stay a little later in Math than he cared for.

"Hey! Ryan, wait up!" Ryan turned slightly, enough to see that Brendon was jogging slightly towards him. Ryan's been careful not to touch Brendon, or look him in the eye ever since English. "Hey," Brendon says, a little breathless, having caught up to Ryan.

"Hey," Ryan replies, quietly.

"Where do you live?" Brendon asks, and Ryan hesitates momentarily. "So we can work on the project," Brendon clarifies, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh! Oh yeah, um, I'll text you the address? Here's my number," Ryan rambles, reaching inside his backpack to grab a piece of paper. Brendon breaks into another famous grin.

He scribbled down his number, and hands it to Brendon. Their fingers brush, slightly.

-onna be so much f-

Slightly is too much. Ryan shudders lightly, and waves goodbye to Brendon. Ryan keeps his head down when he walks across the street. The drive home is boring, cold, and void of Brendon.