Mind over Matter Read online

  Copyright © 2018 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  Darby Creek

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North

  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

  For reading levels and more information, look up this title at www.lernerbooks.com.

  The images in this book are used with the permission of: iStock.com/Vladimirovic; iStock.com/tolokonov; iStock.com/monsitj; iStock.com/edge69; iStock.com/sinemaslow.

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5. Typeface provided by Adobe Systems.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Martin, R. T., 1988– author.

  Title: Mind over matter / R.T. Martin.

  Description: Minneapolis : Darby Creek, [2018] | Series: Superhuman | Summary: On his sixteenth birthday, Parker, once a loner, discovers he has the power of telekinesis and uses it to help new friends stand up to a bully.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017026511| ISBN 9781512498325 (lb) | ISBN 9781541510487 (pb) | ISBN 9781512498332 (eb pdf)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Psychokinesis—Fiction. | Ability—Fiction. | Bullying—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Theater—Fiction. | High schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.M37346 Min 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017026511

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1-43587-33364-8/29/2017

  9781541517769 mobi

  9781541517776 ePub

  9781541517783 ePub

  For Dirk

  Sixteen years ago, on April 12, six people from around the country were born with a hidden special ability.

  On their sixteenth birthday, they each develop their special ability for the first time. Whether they can soar through the clouds, run faster than the speed of light, or tear through a brick wall, all the teenagers must choose how to use their powers. Will they keep their abilities secret? Will they use them only to benefit themselves? Or will they attempt to help others—even if the risks are greater than they could imagine? One way or another, each teen will have to learn what it means to be . . . superhuman.

  1

  “Move it!”

  Parker heard the words, followed by the crash of a student getting shoved into a nearby locker. He looked over and saw MJ Mursh, a senior, laughing with his friends and walking away from where Mark Pollack, a sophomore, bent down to pick up the books he’d just dropped.

  Some things never change, Parker thought to himself, walking past Mark as he headed toward the school theater. This happened nearly every day.

  No one paid Parker any attention as he moved through the halls. He had trouble being noticed at all, and not just by other students. Last year, a teacher had marked him as absent for a class because simply she hadn’t realized he was there.

  Sometimes Parker preferred things this way. Not being noticed meant less of a chance that he’d get picked on. He’d rather stay under the radar if it meant people left him alone.

  He’d had a few friends in middle school, but most of them had gone to a different high school once they all got to ninth grade, and the one or two that did come to the same school lost touch pretty quickly after they joined different clubs and sports. Nowadays, Parker tended to prefer solitary activities over social ones, and making new friends wasn’t exactly in his wheelhouse, so he soon found it was easier to just keep to himself.

  Then last year he signed up to work in the theater crew for the fall play just to have something to put on a college application. Ms. Frasier, the theater director and drama teacher, had put him to work building props because the students who did it previously had all graduated. The quiet, secluded workshop and the nature of crew members remaining behind the scenes suited him well, and Parker had signed up to work on the crew for every production since.

  He was heading to the workshop now. This year’s spring production was just getting started, and Parker had to build numerous set pieces—trees, bushes, benches, a rocking chair, the side of a house with a window and a door, an entire living room.

  He and Ms. Frasier would go over designs for set pieces, and he would work on them in the solitude of the theater’s workshop. During the actual performances, Parker, along with several other students, would wear all black clothing and move sets around between scenes. It was perfect—he could contribute without ever being seen.

  The theater was empty except for Ms. Frasier sitting on the edge of the stage, facing the empty seats and reading through the script with a pen in her hand. She looked up from the pages when he entered.

  “Ah, Parker, my saving grace, what would I do without you?” She was always like this, treating everyone as if they’d just pulled her from a burning building. “I’ve seen some of what you’ve built so far—fabulous, Parker, absolutely fabulous!”

  All I’ve built so far is a bench, Parker thought to himself. And it’s not even painted yet. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

  The door to the theater opened. Ms. Frasier waved an arm dramatically as students started walking in. “Good afternoon, everyone. Let’s get started!”

  He was grateful to leave the director’s presence. She was nice, but sometimes she was a little . . . too much. The workshop was empty off to the left, or stage right in theater terms. Through a hallway, the door to the workshop was a sliding piece of plywood with a lock that wasn’t attached to anything. Parker usually had the space to himself since he was the only person on the theater crew who built props. The other crew members worked on sound and lighting and other production jobs.

  That was fine with him—the more solitude, the better. Occasionally, someone would walk by or poke their head into the workshop, but it was mostly to ask him when a prop would be ready or where a tool was. Ms. Frasier had tried to have the shop teacher oversee Parker in his projects, but Parker had quickly proved he was capable of doing nearly everything by himself. So after two productions, the shop teacher decided to take back his evenings.

  Parker put his bag on a hook by the door and got to work painting the bench. He could hear the play practice going on down the hall, but he tuned it out. When he’d first started working crew, he occasionally brought in a small set of speakers to listen to music. But that started to draw more attention to the workshop than he liked, so now he stuck with headphones.

  He hadn’t gotten to everything he’d wanted to, but when he saw it was 5:15, he stopped what he was doing, grabbed his bag, and left through a side door so he wouldn’t disturb the rehearsal. He had to be home by 6:00 for his birthday dinner.

  When he came through the front door, his dog, a yellow lab named Foster, greeted him excitedly. “Hey, buddy,” Parker said, scratching him behind the ear.

  His dad came out from the living room. “You ready to go?” he asked. “I’m starving.” They were going to Parker’s favorite Greek restaurant.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I just have to toss my bag upstairs.”

  Parker, his parents, and his little sister, Jamie, got into the car and headed to the restaurant. Other than the special location, dinner was exactly like the meals they had at their house. Parker’s family didn’t typically make a big deal out of birthdays. It suited Parker just fine—he didn’t particularly like being the center of attention, even on an occasion like this.

  When they arrived back at home, Parker quietly f
ollowed his sister back into the house.

  “Mom, can I watch TV downstairs?” she asked.

  “Jamie,” their mom said, shrugging out of her coat, “it’s Parker’s birthday—how about we do something as a family?”

  “Board game?” their dad suggested.

  Parker gritted his teeth. He really didn’t mind everyone doing their own thing for the rest of the night. He’d endured enough attention today already. “I’ve got a paper due actually,” he said. “I should get to work on it.”

  “You can work on it later,” his dad protested. “You only get one birthday a year—and this one is your sixteenth birthday! Let’s have some fun!”

  But Parker was already shuffling out of the kitchen. “I’m already pretty tired. I’d rather just get to work and turn in early.”

  His parents exchanged a glance before his dad shrugged and said, “If that’s what you want.”

  Parker went upstairs and shut himself away in his room. When he was about halfway through writing the paper for English on his laptop, he decided to take a break and grab a soda from the kitchen. As he moved to sit back down at his desk, one of his feet got hooked on the other, and he tumbled into the chair, dropping the open can right over his computer.

  It should have fallen and landed right on the keyboard, spilling the drink and ruining the computer. But it didn’t. Parker felt his jaw drop as he looked at the open can hanging in midair, upside down, about a foot above the desk. Parker could see the brown, bubbling cola inside. It stayed in the can as if an invisible barrier was keeping it from pouring out the open top.

  He quickly moved his computer out of the way, laying it on his bed. He turned back to the can, unable to believe what he was seeing. He poked his finger into the opening and felt the sticky soda fizz around it. There was nothing holding up the can or blocking the mouth opening. What he was looking at was impossible.

  2

  Parker didn’t know what to do. This defied physics. Should I show Mom and Dad? he asked himself. He stared at the can, still stuck in the air as if Parker had paused a movie.

  He was focusing so hard on the can that he jumped when someone tapped on his door. The can fell to the desk where his computer had been. Soda spilled out of it, pouring all over the place. Parker quickly grabbed the can as he said, “Uh, yeah . . . come in.”

  His parents popped their heads in. “We just wanted to—what happened?” his mom said.

  “Nothing. Just an accident,” Parker replied, putting the mostly empty can back on the desk. “I’ll clean it up.” Once again, he considered telling them what had just happened. But they won’t believe it, he thought. I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t just seen it myself.

  “Oh. Well, we just wanted to wish you one last happy birthday before we head off to bed,” his mom said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t stay up too late,” his dad said with a smile.

  “Uh-huh, I know.”

  They lingered for a moment, smiling at him, as if they were hoping he’d have more to say. He knew they were just being nice, but he was still so hyped up over what happened that he couldn’t wait for them to close the door already so he could get back to figuring this out.

  After they finally walked away, Parker leapt out of his chair and headed downstairs to grab some paper towels. When he came back up to his room to mop up the mess, he couldn’t help shooting glances at the can as if it might do something else strange. But it didn’t move.

  Did I imagine the whole thing? He picked up the can, turning it around in his hands, looking for something—anything—that could have allowed the can to stop while it was falling. It looked ordinary, just like all the other soda cans he’d ever held. Maybe I can make it happen again.

  Using his index finger, he slowly started pushing the can toward the edge of the desk. It tipped and fell to the ground just like it should. Parker picked up the can and tried one more time. The can dropped. He shook his head and muttered to himself, “Of course it falls. Nothing stops in midair.”

  He decided to call it quits for the night, putting his books into his backpack and setting his laptop aside. After getting ready for bed, he crawled under the covers. Nothing stops in midair, he said to himself as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Parker hadn’t quite shaken off the soda can incident. He was in the theater workshop sculpting a tree branch out of plaster, but his mind kept returning to the image of the can halted in place in the air. The more he thought about it, the more he had convinced himself that his mind had been playing tricks on him. That was the only logical explanation.

  He had tried one more time to make the can pause in the air before he left for school that morning. He pushed it off his desk and it hit the ground with a metallic clang.

  I should probably just let it go, he told himself, putting the finishing touches on some twigs at the end of the branch. The whole thing still had to be painted, and that part took the longest. He let out a sigh and looked at the clock. Rehearsal was over, and Parker decided to go home. The plaster had to dry before he could paint it anyway.

  He grabbed his bag off the hook by the workshop door. He could leave through the main entrance today since the actors had already left.

  But then he heard a voice.

  Parker sneaked over behind one of the backstage curtains and peered around it. Two girls stood facing each other just behind the main curtain. Parker didn’t think either of them could see him.

  “I’m just worried for you is all.” Even though he could only see the back of her, Parker knew that was Caroline. He rolled his eyes. This was typical of her. “Being the lead is hard—I would know. I’ve had a lead role in every show since freshman year, and to be honest, I don’t want to see you get eaten alive out there. It’s a lot of pressure, especially when you’re under the spotlights and the whole school is looking at you. I’d be more than happy to take over for you if you don’t want to disappoint Ms. Frasier.” Caroline sounded concerned, but her real motive wasn’t exactly subtle.

  She was talking to Yuan, the girl who had been cast as the lead in the play. Yuan was turned in his direction, but Parker didn’t think she could see him. He didn’t know Yuan particularly well, but he knew Caroline. She had a reputation for thinking that she was the most talented person in whatever room she happened to walk in to. Parker was surprised to see her alone today. She usually had a group of friends—or, as Parker thought of it, followers—with her.

  Yuan didn’t say anything in response, so Caroline continued. “I just don’t want you to get embarrassed during a performance in front of the whole school and regret it later.” She casually passed a water bottle from hand to hand as she spoke.

  Yuan folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going to give it up,” she said. “The role is mine. I auditioned, just like you, and earned it fair and square.”

  Caroline put a hand on Yuan’s shoulder, and Parker easily pictured the fake concerned look on her face. Yuan looked down at Caroline’s hand and shook it off. “I’m trying to do you a favor,” Caroline said. “I’ll take the lead, and you can have my role. It’s still a good part, just not as much pressure. No one’s going to judge you for giving it up. You’d be helping the show.”

  “Not going to happen.” Yuan said firmly, shaking her head and hoisting her bag further up her shoulder. She turned to leave. For just a second, she glanced in Parker’s direction, and he shrunk back a little farther.

  Before Yuan could take more than a few steps, Parker saw Caroline’s shoulders tense up. She was practically shaking with anger. She looked down at her water bottle and began to unscrew the cap.

  Caroline followed Yuan, and Parker could see the way she pretended to stumble. “Whoops!” she yelped, thrusting the open bottle toward Yuan.

  Water came shooting out toward Yuan, and Parker felt a sudden rush of adrenaline.

  The water stopped in midair.

  For a second, Parker
thought time had frozen, with the blob of water hanging between Caroline and Yuan. But when he saw Yuan slowly move out of the way of the floating water, he knew what had happened.

  3

  Caroline’s hand slowly lowered from where it had still been outstretched toward Yuan. Both girls stared in shock at the suspended water. “What—” Caroline wasn’t able to finish the question. The sudden sound of her voice startled Parker, and the water fell to the ground with a splash.

  “That was . . .” Caroline trailed off. “Well, I have to go. Make sure you practice.” She gave Yuan a tight little smile as she walked away.

  Did I do that? Parker wondered, still hiding just out of sight. I must have. I’m the common factor here. I didn’t imagine what happened last night. What is going on?

  Caroline left through the theater’s main door behind the empty seats, while Yuan continued to stare at the space where the water had been floating just seconds ago.

  Then, to his surprise, she turned right toward him. “Did you see that?”

  Parker stepped back. “I didn’t try to,” he blurted out. Yuan looked at him in confusion. He felt his heart beating faster as his face flushed. “There was a—I didn’t know—she was—I didn’t mean to do it,” he finally spit out, a lot louder than he intended.

  Yuan’s eyes went wide. “Wait, that was you? But . . . the water just froze in the air. How did you do that?”

  Stupid! Parker screamed in his own head. “I have to—I have to go.”

  He heard Yuan call after him, but he was already halfway to the side door and had no intention of turning around.

  Once he was outside, he started running. He ran almost the entire way home and came bursting through the front door out of breath.

  “Hey there,” his dad said from where he was lying on the living room couch with a book on his chest. “What’s with you? You get chased by a dog or something?”