did you do back there?’
‘What d’you mean?’ Ed assumed an extremely phoney look of puzzlement. ‘Nothing.’
For God’s sake.
‘You got inside my head, man.’ I frowned. ‘Told me what to say.’
‘You’re imagining it.’
‘You did ,’ I insisted. ‘You can read people’s minds. You’ve met Jack Linden. He told me about you. You’ve got the Medusa gene. Why won’t you admit it?’
There was a pause. The wind rustled in the trees above our heads. Then Ed looked up, slowly. ‘It’s wrong, what I can do,’ he said. ‘Getting inside people’s heads is . . . it’s evil.’
‘No.’ I stared at him. ‘That’s what Fergus wants you to think.’
‘My parents think so too,’ Ed insisted. ‘Mr Fox told them about the Medusa gene a year ago. He offered me a place at school then . . . said I’d be safer here. But they didn’t believe him. Then I started being able to communicate telepathically and—’
‘Tele- what?’
‘Telepathically.’ Ed reddened. ‘It means I can “hear” other people’s thoughts and they can “hear” mine, if I want them to.’
A worrying possibility struck me. ‘So . . . so how many of my thoughts could you “hear” just now?’
Ed shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Not many,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I wasn’t prying. You’d know if I was. I was just sensing the surface stuff, really – mostly all I felt was how freaked out you were about the idea of Mr Fox seeing whatever was in your pocket – which would have been obvious to anyone looking at you anyway.’
‘God, Ed, you can read people’s minds . . .’ I grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t you see, it’s amazing . Didn’t Jack make you see that?’
Ed shook his head. ‘We only spoke for a minute. It was horrible. I mean, he turned up out of the blue outside my old school, about a month ago, telling me I was going to develop some mad genetic ability . . . that I was one of four people implanted with this deadly virus-type thing. My parents were really cross he’d come to me directly rather than going through them.’
I frowned, suddenly remembering what the Medusa gene had done to my mum. ‘You keep talking about your parents,’ I said. ‘Isn’t your mum . . . didn’t she . . .?’
‘She died when I was four.’ Ed looked away. ‘Sandra’s my stepmother, but I think of her as my mum. I mean, I don’t remember my real mum much.’ He looked at me. ‘It must be the same for you?’
I shrugged, embarrassed. Then I realised what he’d said.
‘How did you know I had the gene too?’ I said. ‘I never said.’
Ed sighed. ‘I saw it in Mr Fox’s mind the day I got here. He made me look him in the eyes and when I do that to someone, it’s really difficult not to just go straight into their head. Mr Fox was trying so hard not to give away that you had the gene that I couldn’t help but see it.’ He paused. ‘Look, I only helped you out today because you helped me with that boy yesterday. But we’re quits, now. I thought you’d understand, seeing as you’ve got the gene too. Mr Fox and my parents are right. The Medusa gene is a curse – it kills people. I’m not going to use it any more, so please leave me alone.’ And with that he scuttled away, back into the school building.
I stood in the silence of the Tranquillity Garden for a few moments. Ed was so wrong about the Medusa gene. I checked the time. I was already late for my next class. A few more minutes wouldn’t make any difference.
I took out my new phone, called Jack and told him everything Ed had done and said.
Five minutes later I strolled back into school, a smile on my face – juggling seven pebbles perfectly in the air.
Saturday afternoon, and almost everything was in place. Once I’d mastered the juggling on Friday I’d been tempted to show Ketty straight away, but I knew that doing it privately was one thing – and making it work in front of her was another, so I kept practising.
As soon as Jack had
‘What d’you mean?’ Ed assumed an extremely phoney look of puzzlement. ‘Nothing.’
For God’s sake.
‘You got inside my head, man.’ I frowned. ‘Told me what to say.’
‘You’re imagining it.’
‘You did ,’ I insisted. ‘You can read people’s minds. You’ve met Jack Linden. He told me about you. You’ve got the Medusa gene. Why won’t you admit it?’
There was a pause. The wind rustled in the trees above our heads. Then Ed looked up, slowly. ‘It’s wrong, what I can do,’ he said. ‘Getting inside people’s heads is . . . it’s evil.’
‘No.’ I stared at him. ‘That’s what Fergus wants you to think.’
‘My parents think so too,’ Ed insisted. ‘Mr Fox told them about the Medusa gene a year ago. He offered me a place at school then . . . said I’d be safer here. But they didn’t believe him. Then I started being able to communicate telepathically and—’
‘Tele- what?’
‘Telepathically.’ Ed reddened. ‘It means I can “hear” other people’s thoughts and they can “hear” mine, if I want them to.’
A worrying possibility struck me. ‘So . . . so how many of my thoughts could you “hear” just now?’
Ed shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Not many,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I wasn’t prying. You’d know if I was. I was just sensing the surface stuff, really – mostly all I felt was how freaked out you were about the idea of Mr Fox seeing whatever was in your pocket – which would have been obvious to anyone looking at you anyway.’
‘God, Ed, you can read people’s minds . . .’ I grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t you see, it’s amazing . Didn’t Jack make you see that?’
Ed shook his head. ‘We only spoke for a minute. It was horrible. I mean, he turned up out of the blue outside my old school, about a month ago, telling me I was going to develop some mad genetic ability . . . that I was one of four people implanted with this deadly virus-type thing. My parents were really cross he’d come to me directly rather than going through them.’
I frowned, suddenly remembering what the Medusa gene had done to my mum. ‘You keep talking about your parents,’ I said. ‘Isn’t your mum . . . didn’t she . . .?’
‘She died when I was four.’ Ed looked away. ‘Sandra’s my stepmother, but I think of her as my mum. I mean, I don’t remember my real mum much.’ He looked at me. ‘It must be the same for you?’
I shrugged, embarrassed. Then I realised what he’d said.
‘How did you know I had the gene too?’ I said. ‘I never said.’
Ed sighed. ‘I saw it in Mr Fox’s mind the day I got here. He made me look him in the eyes and when I do that to someone, it’s really difficult not to just go straight into their head. Mr Fox was trying so hard not to give away that you had the gene that I couldn’t help but see it.’ He paused. ‘Look, I only helped you out today because you helped me with that boy yesterday. But we’re quits, now. I thought you’d understand, seeing as you’ve got the gene too. Mr Fox and my parents are right. The Medusa gene is a curse – it kills people. I’m not going to use it any more, so please leave me alone.’ And with that he scuttled away, back into the school building.
I stood in the silence of the Tranquillity Garden for a few moments. Ed was so wrong about the Medusa gene. I checked the time. I was already late for my next class. A few more minutes wouldn’t make any difference.
I took out my new phone, called Jack and told him everything Ed had done and said.
Five minutes later I strolled back into school, a smile on my face – juggling seven pebbles perfectly in the air.
Saturday afternoon, and almost everything was in place. Once I’d mastered the juggling on Friday I’d been tempted to show Ketty straight away, but I knew that doing it privately was one thing – and making it work in front of her was another, so I kept practising.
As soon as Jack had
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