Open Minds by Susan Kaye Quinn Page A

whole thing or caught it in the thought-speed rumor mill. The image of a blond girl stomping off pulsed through her mind. I put two and two together. Simon avoided my gaze.
    So, Kira, what are you, a freshman?
Zach asked. He thought he was very funny.
    I linked my thoughts to all of them at once.
No. What are you, a second-year senior?
    Then I heard the most amazing thing. Mental laughter. It sounded like tinkling bells and soft sizzling and little breathy snorts. I was pretty sure the last one came from Miguel. None of them laughed out loud.
    I see why you like her
, Katie thought. Then Simon’s voice rang loud through all their minds,
She’s all right.
They all echoed it back.
She’s all right. All right. Right.
    Simon finally met my gaze and gave me a crooked smile.
    Martin pitched the empty beer bottle into the darkness, and it landed with a soft swish of prairie grass. He cracked open another and flung the bottle cap after the first.
    The five of us mindtalked about nothing: the bugs; the blessed event that was the weekend; the lack of true art in tattooing today. I struggled to keep up with the four simultaneous conversations. Their thoughts were lightning fast and played over each other, like strings on a guitar, harmonizing yet separate. Simon’s linked thoughts played along, subdued in the harmony and not echoing through their minds, unlike his jacked in command before. It was difficult to keep up, and I wondered how readers managed it all day, every day.
    As Martin finished the second beer, Katie and Zach shuffled nearer to him, and even Miguel sidled closer. Martin sent the second bottle sailing and cracked open a third, giving a tremendous belch that sent twitters of mental laughter ringing around the blanket. As he chugged the third one, I leaned away from him. If Martin’s stomach rebelled against the onslaught of alcohol, I didn’t want to be in spewing distance. No one else was concerned, so I tried to relax.
    Martin burst out singing in his head, some bawdy song I didn’t recognize.
    Jesus, Mary and Joseph
, Miguel thought.
If you’re going to sing, man, I’m leaving.
    No one’s making you stay.
Martin sent the third empty flying. With a crash of glass, the bottle met its mates in the weeds. A mental grumble went around the blanket, but no one moved to leave. In fact, they edged closer to Martin, who let his hands fall by his sides. His head flopped forward and his lips moved slightly, as if he’d forgotten that he didn’t need to use them.
    Good beer, Simon.
    Miguel tapped his finger on Martin’s bare foot, exposed as he sat cross-legged on the blanket. Martin flinched at his touch and then stilled. Katie and Zach rhythmically touched the outstretched fingers of one hand. Simon gestured to Martin’s other hand, a pale silver fish flopped on the blanket. Simon and I each took a different finger. Martin’s skin was as clammy as it looked. As for faking the effect of the beer, I wasn’t sure what to do. Martin was breathing heavily, and Miguel’s eyes were closed. Their thoughts were jumbled.
    I glanced at Katie and Zach and was shocked to see them holding tight to each other and kissing. Katie’s dark skin mashed against Zach’s pale face mesmerized me until the brush of Simon’s lips near my ear made me jump.
    “This is the fun part.” His whisper sent a shudder down to the spot where his hand pressed the small of my back. I jerked away. He gave me a measured look, then pulled me up from the blanket and led me across the meadow, away from his heavily fuzzed friends.
    Halfway to the car, he veered to a glistening boulder sitting lonely in the meadow. He leaned against it and laced his fingers with mine. The moon glazed half his face with light, and his hair fell loose in a frame of darkness.
    “Still mad at me?” he asked.
    “Yes.” I pulled my hand away and rubbed my eyes, even more tired than when I juggled thirty minds in math. At least in class they weren’t all talking to me at