As soon as I got home, I started on my report to get it out of the way. Also because I have no life and I had nothing better to do. Anyhow, I was finished by dinnertime.

       Tonight was my week for table-setting. Each one of us five kids in the family has a job to do, and it rotates each week. There's also clearing the table, washing the dishes, emptying the dishwasher, and the laundry. We also have once-a-week chores like vacuuming, window washing, sock-pairing, etc. Kind of an organized household my mother runs. Gives you an idea of what kind of person she is.

       Anyway, setting the table's the easiest chore, so I was happy.

       I came out to set the table after I finished my report.

       "Where ya been?" asked my organized, efficient, orderly but overly neurotic mom as she tousled my hair. I wanted to tell her to cut it out because I hate it when she does that, but I didn't want to put her in a bad mood.

       So I said, "In my room," went into the kitchen to pick up the silverware, and left it at that.

       "In your room? All this time?" I nodded. "Are you OK? Is everything all right?"

       "Everything's just fine, Mom," I told her, trying not to spit the words out. "I wish you'd stop putting me through the third degree every time I want some time alone," I added.

       "OK, just asking," she replied, holding up her hands as if she were defending herself from some kind of attack. "Go and see what everyone wants," she told me.

       "Where is everyone?" I asked.

       "Um, Nicky and Zoe are in the den and Alex is doing homework in his room."

       "Okay."

       "Oh, and I almost forgot, Joyce is going to be here tonight, so set an extra place for her, all right?"

       "All right, all right," I grumbled. If Joyce isn't at work or at classes at the community college, then she's with some guy or out at some party. Thinks she's too good for us now.

       As I wandered over to Alex's room to ask him what he wanted to drink (my mother makes you do everything that goes with the job if you've got to do it) I wondered if the reason Joyce was eating with us was because she wanted to or if she couldn't get a date. Maybe she was becoming a social moron like me.

       "Come in," said Alex politely after I knocked. He's the nicest to me in my family besides my mother, probably because he's closest to my age and, although we're not in the same boat, at least we're in the same fleet.

       Also, his personality helps.

       "Ginger ale, right?" I asked him.

       "Yeah," he replied. Then he frowned.

       "Homework problems, huh?" I asked. "More logic?"

       "Mm-hmm."

       "Ah." I came over to look. I'm good at logic problems, and he knows it, but I don't gloat and he doesn't get jealous. We have an understanding. Sort-of.

       You know those doofy little logic things where the problem is to guess the word from the picture? Like the word "sand" in a box means "sandbox" or the word "zero" with "10º" written under it means "ten degrees below zero"? Well, he had a hard one.

       "I can't get it," Alex complained. I took a look. It was the word "moth" with the word "cry" written three times beside it.

       "Mothballs," I told him.

       "How do you figure?" he asked after glancing at the picture and looking puzzled.

       "It says 'moth' and the 'balls' part comes from the 'cry' thing. See, 'bawls' means 'cries.'"

       "Oh, I see! So it's really 'mothbawls,' spelled b-a-w-l-s instead of b-a-l-l-s!"

       "Yep!"

       "Thanks, Skye!"

       "No problem," I said happily, feeling useful.

       "Skyler!" bellowed my mom from the kitchen. Uh-oh, I thought. I have to find out what everyone else wants, too!

       "Okay, got it," I told Alex. "One order of ginger ale!" I ran back to the kitchen to get an extra plate and silverware for Joyce's place. Then I ran into the den to ask the other kids what they wanted.

       They were watching M^TV. "What do you guys want?" I asked, unheard.

       "Hello! Anybody home?" I knocked on the doorframe. Zoe glanced at me and then turned her attention back to the screen.

       "Hey, Nicky, what do you want to drink?"

       "Just water, and don't call me Nicky," replied Dominic.

       "Orange juice," said Zoe simply.

       I went back to the kitchen to get everything, giving my mother and Joyce water and me milk.

       I carried all the drinks to the table, aware that my mom was watching me as she stirred the noodles.

       "What?" I sputtered, exasperated.

       "Are you sure you're OK?" she asked. "Is there a problem?"

       "No, Mom!" I yelled. "You're being overly concerned again!"

       "Well, sorry for caring," she replied. Then I felt bad for making her feel that way, but I decided that she deserved it.

       We finally sat down to dinner. Joyce sat silently in her chair, scowling. Mom tried to get her interested in the conversation, but she refused to answer any of her questions. She just sat there and frowned at her dinner.

       The phone rang.

       Joyce got up to answer it, hoping fervently that it was Jimmy, her date for the night who had canceled.

       "Skye for you," she told me, disappointed. I got up and picked my plate up.

       "You don't have to leave yet," my mom said to me. "It's not often that we're all together like this."

       "That's okay," I said, leaving. "I was done anyway." I put my plate in the sink.

       I took the call in my room.

       "Hello?"

       "Hey, I thought I'd never find you," the person on the other end said cheerfully.

       "Austin?" I asked incredulously.

       "What?"

       "Just making sure."

       "I called everyone in the book with the last name of Stories to find you!"

       "Well, what was so important?"

       "I was reading this book and I couldn't wait till Wednesday to try it out."

       "What is it?"

       "It's like that one test we did today. Get a piece of paper."

       "Huh?"

       "Paper. Pencil. Now."

       "Oh, okay."

       "Great, um, see, the book says to try this with a friend on the phone or in separate rooms. Start drawing something and I'll try to guess what you're drawing and draw the same thing."

       "Okay." I started drawing a hand with a ring on the pinky.

       "This is under the telepathy section."

       "Telepathy?"

       "Yeah, mind-reading!"

       I continued to draw. For some reason I felt nervous. I didn't know why, but I did.

       "So, are you drawing yet?" Austin asked.

       "Yes and have been."

       "Oh, okay!"

       When we were finished I asked Austin if she'd drawn what I'd drawn.

       She'd made a cocker spaniel.

       "We can't be good at everything," I told her.

       "Let's try it the other way," she replied.

       "What do you mean?" I asked, feeling dense.

       "This kind of stuff depends on whether you're good at receiving or broadcasting. Let's try you on the receiving side now!"

       "Right." I turned the paper over and waited.

       "Hey," she said, "maybe you should keep your eyes closed, Skye. I kept mine open and you can see how well that worked."

       So I sat there and stared at my eyelids. Almost immediately I kind of saw two white, fuzzy lines leaning towards each other. I thought maybe this was what it was supposed to do when you tried this, so I drew two lines on my paper and looked back at my eyelids.

       "I'm finished," said Austin. "Tell me what you got."

       "I don't know," I told her. "I can't identify it!" My drawing resembled two stick figures connected at the stomach by a large heart, and they seemed to be standing in some kind of pie. I tried my best to describe it to her.

       "It's not a pie," Austin informed me. "It's one of those merry-go-round things you find at kiddie playgrounds."

       "Then it worked?" I asked.

       "I guess so. You're a better receiver than me, I guess!"

       "I guess," I replied, feeling nervous. I hoped she wouldn't think I was weird.

       "You know, I don't do this kind of stuff often," I told her, trying to explain. "I've never done this before even once! You don't think I'm weird, do you?" I was scared of losing the closest thing I had to a friend besides the TV and my shadow.

       "Of course I don't think you're weird! I think it's great," hooted Austin. "No wonder no one wanted to play poker with you! I get it!" she carried on and on.

       "Okay, okay," I yelled into the phone, trying to shut her up.

       "Let's do this every night," Austin suggested. "I've got lots of other stuff we can do!"

       "What else is there?" I asked, curious about what the book said.

       "There's other stuff on telepathy, that thing you seem to be so good at, and thre's some on psychometry, clairvoyance, even some on telekinesis! Whoa, we'll have a blast!"

       "Yeah," I said, having no idea whatsoever about what she was trying to say. "What are all those things?" I asked.

       "Oh, cool, you don't know! I get to tell you!" Clunk. Muffled rustling noise.

       "Sorry," said Austin. "I dropped the phone."

       "That's okay."

       "Anyway. Um, clairvoyance is, like, there's two kinds, um, the, um, like the kind where you know something's going to happen, and then there's the kind, um, where you like know stuff without people telling you.

       "Okay, then there's telepathy, which as you know is mind-reading . . . "

       "Why do they call it 'mind reading?'" I broke in. "It's, like, nothing like reading."

       "Oh?" Austin said. "What's it like, then?"

       "Can't explain," I said, not wanting to go into it.

       "Oh, you're one of those," Austin said.

       "Huh?"

       "Most people don't like to talk about it if they're psychic," Austin informed me.

       "Whoa," I interjected. "I don't like that word."

       "Why not?"

       "'Cause it's connected to astrology and a lot of mumbo-jumbo!"

       "What do you suggest we call it?"

       "Don't ask me, up until just now, I didn't even know this thing had a name . . . . "

       "Fine. Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was about to tell you about t.k., a.k.a. telekinesis, a.k.a. mind-over-matter, a.k.a. . . . "

       "I get the point. It has a lot of names."

       "Yeah."

       "What is it?"

       "Duh. It's like making stuff move without touching it."

       "Sounds useful," I replied.

       "And how," she said, and I wondered where she got hold of such a weird phrase. "I prefer to call it t.k. because it's shorter."

       "Suits me."

       "So, like, where was I?"

       "Dunno. Psycho-something?"

       "Right, psychometry. Umm . . . like knowing the past history of an object by touching it."

       "Like those pictures at your store today."

       "Right, psychometry. Let's see, umm, I got an idea! Next time you come to the store, bring something with you that has a history!"

       "Right."

       There was a click on the line and a few numbers were dialed, then Dominic's voice said, "Who's on the phone?"

       "This is Austin Bell trying to have a private conversation with Skyler Stories and only Skyler Stories, so unless you are an FBI agent on official business or Mel Gibson then I suggest you get off the line now."

       "Chill, Austin," I told her. "It's only my brother. Hang up, Nicky." Click.

       "Jeez, how many people are at your house now invading your space?" she asked, sounding exasperated. "I can hear noise in the background!"

       Mom and Joyce were fighting because Joyce refused to do the dishes.

       "Two brothers, two sisters, and a mom," I told her. "All older."

       "Your brother's rude," she informed me.

       "I know, but I better get off, because he needs to use the phone and if I don't let him have it he'll pound my face into the ground. And I called him Nicky on top of it all."

       "Yeah?" Austin said. "Kick him!"

       "He's a football player," I told her.

       "Scratch that."

       "I gotta go."

       "Right bye," she said quickly and hung up. I shook my head and replaced the receiver.

       How weird, I thought. I didn't know books like the one Austin had existed.

[Notes on this: 1. I don't know why Skye talks to the reader so much, and why I wrote it like she thought she had to explain everything to you. 2. I'm inconsistent here about whether I write "OK" or "Okay." 3. I think it's weird that Skyler asks her mom where everyone is. I make it pretty obvious throughout the story that she has a basic awareness of anything conscious in the general vicinity, so the only reason she'd ask this question is to make her mom think she needed to ask it. And I didn't say that was why she did it. 4. I usually italicize people's thoughts, so when Skyler was thinking stuff to herself it surprises me that I didn't do it in this excerpt. 5. I like when Austin gets flustered and drops the phone and then she doesn't talk easily for the next sentence or so.]