Introverts

Mind Reader

Point Of View: 3rd Person
Troye runs his hands over the fabric of his shirt for what feels like the hundredth time this morning. He seems pretty anxious for a guy who is always so composed and held together. But that's where the acting skills pay off.

He's wearing a burgundy sweater thats two sizes too big and a pair of skin tight black skinny jeans, an outfit Sage will definitely scold him for. Which was probably why he's avoiding leaving his room till the very last minute. Starting a new school is difficult enough, but starting a new school in a different country is something else. Troye already has enough social anxiety with his stupid gift, not that he'd ever refer to it as that, and now he's miles and miles away from the only place he's ever called home. He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. His unruly curls are at rest on his forehead, his bright blue eyes shining with fear and anxiety.

"Troye, five minutes!" With a sigh, Troye grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. He has a game plan for the day, steer clear of everyone and stay in the background. He seemed to secede at this back in Australia, this thought giving him the confidence to open the door and walk down the stairs to his kitchen. Mrs. Mellet is busying herself with the dishes, not bothering to look up at her son. Troye can hear Tydes whines and Steeles grunts from the other side of the house and instantly his head starts to pound again.

"Can I get any peace in this house?" His dad exclaims as he walks back inside, probably tending to the garden he's excessively proud of. His mom laughs.

"Troye honey, have you eaten?" She asks.

"No." She's always doing this. Troye loathes eating in the mornings, and his mother loathes that he does.

"Well you need to, if you wanna have a good day today."

"I'm pretty sure eating some toast won't improve the day I'm about to ruin." He snaps, allowing his emotions be known, as per usual. Mrs. Mellet just rolls her eyes and hands him a granola bar, kissing his cheek and sending him on his way.

Once situated in his red Mustang, a gift from his filthy rich grandfather, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel. Different scenarios of how the day could go play out in his head, none of them particularly appealing. Eventually he sits back up, not wanting to be late on his first day. That would definitely attract more attention than necessary. The main concern on Troyes mind is the worrying amount of students that this particular high school has. More the merrier, his mother had said. But what she fails to see is that more people means more minds he'd enter without permission.

Troye isn't your typical teenage boy. Cast aside the cynical view and sexual frustration and there's something that separates him from the rest. Troye can read minds. No, he didn't get into some freak accident and gain this so called 'super power' overnight. It began to kick in around 12 with no explanation or reasoning, and he quickly caught on, although he was frightened and confused. Any time he makes skin on skin contact with someone he gets a familiar zap, and the most dominate thought they have will make its way to Troye. Its frustrating and has cost him any type of social life he could of had before. That's why he has separated from everyone, even his family. In a desperate attempt to fix their only broken child, the Mellets sent Troye to several different therapists over the years to try and figure out why he suddenly shut everyone out. Only Troye wouldn't speak and just spent an hour eating graham crackers in silence every Tuesday for two years. Eventually the Mellets gave up and settled on letting him do his own thing.

Breathing unevenly Troye looks up at the very intimidating building and sighs. Welcome to another year of hell, he thinks.

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T R O Y E

I sigh and grab my bag, suddenly more nervous than before as I lock my car and take a step towards the school. Welcome to another year of hell, I think. I get a few looks, but brush them off without making eye contact. I knew this car would bring me too much attention. I can already see a boy walking in my direction as I pick up my pace. When he see's I'm not into the talking vibe he stops short and retreats back to his stereotypical group of jockey friends. I walk through the doors and approach the front desk.

"Hello." The lady chirps. I give her a blank stare in return, hoping she'll just cut the crap and give me my schedule. She doesn't take the hint. "I'm Mrs. Burr, are you new?" No shit Sherlock.

"Yes. Troye, with an e." I say. She nods and turns to some files on her desk. After finding the one she's looking for, she hands me a schedule and a lock with a code written neatly on a sticky note. Before she can say anything else I turn away, but not before getting a familiar zap.

what a pretty boy, i wonder if he moisturizes.

I mumble a thanks and fast walk away, suddenly creeped out. Was that supposed to be a compliment? I go over my classes, my head down just in case someone decides to make conversation. But my peace only lasts a good two minutes before something bumps into me.

did I delete my browser- what the fuck? who's this twink?

I instantly move away, not wanting to hear anymore. This is overwhelming. Dodging people back and forth trying not to be touched or show my face too much. A few intrusive and inappropriate thoughts later I make it out of the main crowd and decide going to my locker was a no, and go straight to my first class. I groan inwardly at the sheet of paper. Math. What a wonderful way to start my day. I enter the class and sit in the very back, watching as the other kids file in around me. The bell rings over head and the teacher begins to tell us our assignment, thankfully not noticing my presence as a new one.

I'm two problems in when the door opens, and I look up with half the class to see a boy walk in, face redder than a fire truck. He obviously isn't too happy with the attention, I don't need to be a mind reader to see that. He scans the room before walking towards me, the only other empty seat in the class to my right. I mentally slap myself for not putting my bag in its place or something as the boy sits down. He's cute. Light brown hair that's in a quiff, piercing green eyes, his form a little bit shorter than mine. He doesn't look at me, instead focusing very intensely on the board, almost like his life depends on it. Nice to meet you too, rude. I soon focus back on my paper, only to be interrupted by a piece of notebook paper being shoved at me harshly. I furrow my brow and unfold the note.

I'm Connor.

He even put a period at the end, like it was a formal sentence. Check your grammar Connor. I look at him, pulling on my most annoyed expression, only to see him staring at his paper still. I decide to amuse him and write back.

Troye

He doesn't answer me, which is incredibly rude, if I say so myself. Why strike up a conversation then not reply? I huff, only to return to my math equations. The rest of the day went by quickly, me ignoring people who tried to talk to me, and politely declining every teacher who asked for 'something interesting about myself'. When I return home, I flop on my bed, suddenly tired. I know any second now I'll get a text from Kayla, my best friend back home, asking how my first day at an American school was. And I'd ignore it, only to get an angry phone call five minutes later. I let my eyes flutter shut and try to breathe as I think of how overwhelming today had been. I haven't had this much interaction with people since freshman year.

I've read enough thoughts to last a lifetime, and it's only day one.
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A/N
Another story! Yay! No but really, this story was inspired by the fan fiction Freak and the fan fiction Read My Lips. It's a mixture of both but in my way, and the ship is different. I hope you like it!

Also, I've entered this book along with two others into the Watty awards and would greatly appreciate it if you'd vote for this chapter and share this with your friends!!

Happy Reading!