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nothing. The rest of the room partnered up and then Mrs. Rochester was handing out what looked like playing cards, but she was only giving maybe four or five to each group.
     “I wonder what we’re doing,” Timothy said when she handed him our cards. He held them up and we both looked at them. There were five of them. They were black on one side and on the other there was a shape.
     “These are called Zener cards,” Mrs. Rochester explained. “They were used to test psychic ability, specifically for telepathic communication.”
     My ears perked up and I looked more closely at the cards. They each displayed a different shape. One was a star; another was a circle, a square, a plus sign and then squiggly lines.
     “The idea was if a person could guess with any amount of accuracy what was on the card being held up that they contained some kind of psychic ability. We’re all going to test one another today. With your partner, randomly hold up a card so they can’t see what it is and have them guess the shape on the back. Do this twenty times each and I expect all of you to record your results. We’ll discuss them at the end of the class.”
     This was it, I thought. This was how I could test what had been happening to me. For a moment I felt myself freeze up, my eyes focused on the cards and I bit my lip. It was scary to think that my thoughts about what had been happening to me could be confirmed. It was also equally scary to think that they wouldn’t be. I quickly snatched the cards from Timothy.
     “You first,” I said and proceeded to test him.
     I would hold up a card and he’d guess. It was all very simple. I kept a tally of how many he got right and how many he got wrong. He answered incorrectly much more then did correctly, but still he’d get excited whenever he’d get one right. By the time we did this twenty times, he had only gotten excited over his answer maybe three or four times.Then we switched. I handed him the cards and felt my whole body stiffen with anxiety. I took a deep breath trying to undo the knots that were starting to form in my muscles as he shuffled them. He held a card out to me. I stared at the black back of the card and sighed. I heard nothing. For a moment I felt the frustration start to set in, and then something came to me.
     I wonder why they picked squiggly lines. They coulda used like a triangle or something.      “Squiggly lines,” I said and his eyes lit up.
     “You’re right.” He marked it down on the sheet and picked another card. Alright a square, let’s see if she gets this one.
     “Square,” I said and he flipped the card around to show me I was right.
     “Two in a row.” No way she’ll get three , he thought and picked another card, star.
     I continued to guess right and I could tell that Timothy was starting to get a little freaked out. I didn’t stop though. This was my proof, I needed this. If I couldn’t guess right then the only other answer was that I was crazy. So I kept listening to his thoughts and I kept guessing correctly. I didn’t realize that we’d gone through more than twenty cards. I didn’t realize that I’d attracted an audience. I was focused. I was listening.
     “Dude, she’s totally got ESP,” I heard someone say then and I stopped.
     I looked around. The groups nearest us were all looking at me. The two girls behind us had their eyes glued to me, as did the two jocks in the row in front of us. I looked behind me and saw that even Brant had noticed and was looking at me like I was some kind of sideshow freak. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and my mind rushed to find an excuse to explain why I could do what I did. All I knew was that I couldn’t tell them the truth. I couldn’t tell anyone the truth. I may have convinced myself that I wasn’t completely nuts, but I wouldn’t be able to convince anyone else of