The successful (and entirely effortless) repair of the gym's sound system might have been cause for celebration for the average high school student, but for Lily, it was merely another tick in the "mundane problems effortlessly solved" column. Her true focus remained the enigmatic void that was Kyle Bartlett.
Operation: Blank Canvas was demanding her full (though still nonchalant) attention.
Her latest strategy: indirect interrogation. If she couldn't read his mind, perhaps she could subtly influence her friends to ask the questions she couldn't, thus forcing him to vocalize his internal processes. It was risky, inefficient, and frankly, beneath her usual telepathic shortcuts, but Kyle was proving to be an unparalleled challenge.
The perfect opportunity presented itself during Friday lunch. The cafeteria was, as always, a symphony of mastication and predictable adolescent chatter. Lily sat with Priya, Chloe, and Seth, watching Kyle at a nearby table. He was laughing again, a booming, unrestrained sound that seemed to reverberate in Lily's mentally silent corner of the universe.
"So, I was thinking," Lily began, her voice carefully casual, "about the new student. Kyle. He seems… quiet." She nudged Priya's thoughts, implanting a subtle suggestion: Ask him about his hobbies. Something that would reveal inner thoughts.
Priya, ever eager to make new connections (and to fulfill Lily's seemingly random requests), immediately perked up. Her thoughts: Good idea! He probably feels out of place. This is good for student council outreach! "Oh, that's so true! I should go say hi. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."
Chloe, whose thoughts had momentarily drifted to the ideal filter for her post-lunch selfie, snapped back to attention. Her eyes gleamed. Ooh, Priya going over there? Perfect opportunity to get some B-roll footage for a 'Day in the Life of a High Schooler' video! Maybe he has an interesting backstory for content! "Wait for me, Priya! I need to get a good angle!"
Seth, predictably, just blinked. His thoughts: Humans are so transparent. Except for Lily. And apparently, the new guy. He went back to quietly sketching a caricature of the cafeteria's perpetually exhausted lunch lady.
Lily watched her unwitting pawns approach Kyle's table. Priya, ever earnest, launched into a polite inquiry about his transition to Northwood. Chloe, with her phone discreetly (or so she thought) recording, beamed at him.
Lily strained her senses. She could hear Priya's every well-meaning thought, Chloe's frantic mental checklist of camera angles, and even the thoughts of the other football players at Kyle's table—mostly about practice strategies and upcoming video games. But from Kyle himself? Still nothing. The silence was maddening.
Then, Priya asked the planted question. "So, Kyle, what kind of hobbies do you have? Anything you're passionate about?" Her mental emphasis was on passionate, hoping to extract some deep-seated thought.
Kyle shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. His voice, however, remained warm. "Hobbies? Uh… not really. I mean, I like football, obviously. And… sometimes I just… walk around." He shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Nothing too exciting, I guess."
Lily's internal monologue was a symphony of frustration. Walk around? That's his passion? No inner monologue about the joy of strolling? The meditative rhythm of footfall? The profound connection with nature? Nothing? He's either genuinely empty, or he's a Zen master. I'm leaning towards empty.
Chloe, undeterred, pressed him. "But like, what do you think about when you're walking? Do you plan things? Do you, like, compose poetry in your head? My friend Sarah does that!" Her thoughts: Please say something quirky! Something shareable!
Kyle blinked, clearly confused by the line of questioning. "Poetry? Uh, no. I just… walk. Sometimes I hum a song. Sometimes I just look at stuff. I don't really… think much, I guess. My mind just kind of blanks out." He tapped his temple again, a habit Lily had noticed.
Blanks out! Lily mentally shrieked. He's admitting it! But why? Does he not have an inner voice? Is he a simulation? This is unprecedented! The notion that someone could genuinely experience a "blank mind" was so alien to her own perpetually noisy existence that it bordered on the absurd.
Priya, her mental checklist already moving on, smoothly changed the subject. Chloe, looking slightly deflated by the lack of shareable content, turned her phone away. Lily watched them retreat, her initial plan a comical failure.
Subtle manipulation won't work if the subject has no inner thoughts to manipulate or extract. This was a revelation. She couldn't play chess with a phantom.
The rest of the day was a blur of Lily's escalating internal frustration. Her Korean food craving, usually a potent distraction, was now intertwined with her Kyle obsession. She needed something intensely satisfying to soothe her perplexed psyche.
After school, instead of heading straight home, Lily detoured, walking past the small Korean grocery store. The aroma of kimchi and simmering broth wafted from its doors, a comforting promise. She stepped inside, the familiar clutter of exotic snacks and brightly colored produce a balm to her overstimulated senses.
Her eyes immediately landed on a stack of freshly prepared tteokbokki containers, still warm from the kitchen. And right beside them, a display of individually wrapped mochi, their pastel hues promising a burst of sweet, chewy delight.
Yes. Her mind hummed with something akin to satisfaction. This was a problem she could solve. A desire she could fulfill. No blank minds, no unanswerable questions. Just pure, edible bliss.
She bought a large container of tteokbokki and a handful of assorted mochi, the plastic bag warm against her fingers. As she walked home, munching on a sweet red bean mochi, its subtle sweetness calming her agitation, her thoughts circled back to Kyle.
He said his mind 'blanks out.' Is it a defensive mechanism? A unique psychic mutation? Or just… him?
She popped another mochi into her mouth. This mystery was proving to be far more complex than any math problem or social dilemma she'd ever encountered. It was frustrating, yes. But it was also the first thing that had truly captured her attention in years.
And that, Lily realized, as the sweet chewiness of the mochi gave way to a satisfying burst of flavor, was almost as good as a perfectly executed invisibility spell. Almost.
Operation: Blank Canvas was demanding new tactics. And clearly, more desserts