Cheater just looked at me like I was crazy.
“Really,” I said. “It’s true. Cheater is telepathic. He can read minds. That’s why he always has the same answers on his tests as other people in the room. I’ll prove it.”
I needed to concentrate on something so Cheater could read my mind. A number—that would be a good test. But not a small number. It couldn’t be something simple like the number seven. Everyone thinks of seven. Just like everyone thinks of the ace of spades if you ask them to name a card. It had to be a bigger number. My house was on 85 Pritchard Drive. I closed my eyes and thought real hard of the number eighty-five. I pictured a big eighty-five—huge, red digits flashing like a score in a video game. I said, Eighty-five, eighty-five, eighty-five, over and over in my mind, then asked, “Okay, Cheater, what number am I thinking of?”
“How should I know?” Cheater said.
“Come on, take a guess.” I knew he could get it.
Cheater shrugged, then said, “Seven. Is that it?”
“Yeah. I mean, it was, but then I changed it. It started out as seven.”
“Big deal,” Flinch said. “Everyone picks seven.”
“Forget about the numbers. That doesn’t matter. Think back,” I urged the others. “Cheater always knows what I’m thinking. It must have happened to the rest of you, too. Haven’t any of you noticed? Come on, you must have.”
“My mom usually knows what I’m thinking,” Torchie said.
“I’m thinking you blew a brain gasket,” Flinch said.
I could tell they were ready to walk away. This was not how it was supposed to go. They should have been thrilled. They should have been thanking me. Maybe Cheater wouldn’t cooperate, but I wasn’t ready to give up.
“Flinch,” I said, pointing at him. “I know this sounds really wild, but you’re precognitive. That means you know things are going to happen before they happen. Like with the milk. You jumped before I spilled it.”
“You did that on purpose?” Flinch asked, his face shifting from surprise to anger. “Hey, that’s really rotten. I could have gotten all wet.”
“But you didn’t. That’s the point. Why do you think you’re so jumpy? It’s because you see stuff coming before it happens. You knew the milk was going to spill. Somehow, you saw it before it happened, or felt it, or just knew it was coming. The rest of us, we go through life getting bumps and having small accidents. I’m always stubbing my toes. Or I’ll bang my elbow when I walk around a corner. You avoid all that, but it makes you look real jumpy. And you start worrying about all the stuff you see coming from the future instead of paying attention to the present.”
I paused to catch my breath. I felt like I was giving a speech, but I couldn’t help myself. There was so much to tell them. “You get in trouble for interrupting, too. You think the teacher’s done talking, but that’s ‘cause you’re seeing ahead. Or hearing ahead. Don’t you get it? It makes perfect sense.”
Flinch shook his head. “I just can’t believe you spilled that milk on purpose.”
“It doesn’t make sense at all,” Cheater said. “And Flinch is right, it wasn’t nice of you to spill milk on him.”
I ignored Cheater and revealed my final piece of evidence. “Think about Torchie,” I said. “Have you ever seen him actually light a fire? Even once? I haven’t. And I live in the same room with him. They’re always blaming him, but nobody’s ever caught him. He’d have to be the sneakiest kid ever born to get away with that. Torchie isn’t sneaky. He’s telepyric. That means he can start fires with his mind.” I grabbed my notebook, ripped out a page, and thrust the sheet of paper at Torchie.
“Come on, light it.”
“Martin,” Torchie said. “This is some kind of stupid joke, right?”
“No joke. Come on, light it.” I moved the paper right in front of his face. “Please.”
“I can’t do nuthin’ like that. Honest. I told you I didn’t start no fires.”
“You didn’t know you started them,” I said. “But you caused the fires—not with a lighter, but with your mind. Come on, try. If you’re my friend, you’ll at least give it a shot.”
Despite his protests, Torchie tried. He stared at the paper. His brow got all wrinkled. His eyes narrowed to slits. He concentrated so hard that he grunted.
Nothing happened.
“Are you sure you’re trying?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m trying. It’s not working. Face it, Martin. You’re crazy. How’s that for a simple explanation? Edgeview has gotten to you.”