Mrs. Elliot, the teacher that âranâ the art room (she very seldom came into it, and on such days, it was only to bring bad news), stood with a boy that I had never seen before.Â
âThe art room?â The boy exclaimed, looking around. âYou didn't tell me we were coming here! I thought you said there was a music program at this complex.â
âYou're the first person in a long while to take interest in music, but I am sure that administration could supply you with needed materials, when they get around for it. For now, you can hang out here. I'm sure that once Natalie realizes we are here, she will show you around,â Mrs. Elliot replied, nodding at Natalie in the background. She was still dancing like a goofball. The boy chuckled for a moment before turning to me.
âWhat's your name,â he asked. I stared blankly back at him.
âNobody.â Mrs. Elliot had spoken for me.
âThat's what we call her.â
Yes, and it's pretty shitty. I thought.Â
âYeah, I would hate to be called that too,â he muttered.
Holy crap...its as though he just-
âRead your mind?â He completed my train of thought. âYeah.â
Mrs. Elliot put her hands on her hips. âNobody, this is Timothy. He's... different.. just like you.â
âOh, I see,â the boy said, looking back and forth between us. âShe can't talk, can she? What do you want me to do, read her mind for you, so you guys can have a decent conversation? Is that why you brought me here? Am I being used again?â
I waited for Mrs. Elliot to reply, but she didn't. Instead, Tim just shook his head, as though he was having a conversation with her. He was having a conversation with her. âNo, no I won't do that......Yes, I probably could extract that information rather quickly, but I won't do it. I've turned her background thoughts off.âÂ
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