Mindwalker by AJ Steiger Read Free Book Online Page B

found a sticky note on the inside of a bathroom stall. And of course, because the stalls are the only places that don’t have cameras, they can’t tell who it was.”
    â€œA note? What did it say?”
    â€œ ‘Burn it all down.’ They’re treating it as an arson threat. Personally, I think the administration did it, just to have an excuse to raid, since there hasn’t been one for a few weeks—”
    I clamp a hand over his mouth and hiss, “Ian! Be careful!”
    He rolls his eyes. When I lower my hand, he says, “Theyalready scanned me. They know I’m not a threat.” Despite his words, there’s an edginess in his voice and posture that I’ve never seen before. His large brown eyes dart back and forth. They usually remind me of a hound’s, but right now, they look more like a fox’s. Did
he
place the note? No, that’s absurd. Ian’s always had a bit of a rebellious streak, but he wouldn’t go that far.
    â€œYou know,” a boy nearby says in a hushed tone, “after this, I bet they’ll try to put cameras in the stalls, too.”
    â€œYeah,” another says. “Those pervs just want to watch us poop.”
    Muffled snickers greet this remark.
    â€œAfter that, they’ll be putting cameras
in
the toilets,” a girl says in that same hushed tone.
    â€œYeah, you never know, we might be smuggling something up there.”
    More laughter. But they keep glancing furtively around to make sure none of the guards are listening.
    I scan the crowd, looking for Steven’s pale blond hair.
    â€œHey, you okay?” Ian asks.
    â€œFine. Mostly.”
    His face softens, and for a moment, he looks more like himself. “Don’t worry. This’ll all blow over in an hour, and we can get on with our lives.”
    I smile, but it takes an effort.
    Sure enough, within an hour, the police give the all clear, but I see them haul off a struggling boy. His hair is dark, not blond. I don’t know whether or not to feel relieved. I don’t want Steven to be locked in a treatment facility, but if that boy
were
him, it would at least mean he was still alive.
    â€œPoor bastard,” Ian says.
    Steven’s not dead, I tell myself. We’re supposed to meet today. He wouldn’t take the pill before then, would he?
    They shove the thrashing boy into a police car.
    â€œHow can they be sure he was the one who wrote the note?” I ask.
    â€œI don’t think they’re too concerned with proving who did it,” he says. “As long as they catch
someone,
people will feel like it’s been dealt with.”
    I look at him uneasily from the corner of my eye.
    The car drives away, taking the boy with it. Suddenly, I feel cold. Without thinking, I put my arms around Ian, leaning against his shoulder for comfort. To my surprise, he tenses and pulls away. I look up, brows knitted. “Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his palms over his face. His hands are shaking. “I just—I don’t want to be touched. Not now.” He clutches his arms. His pulse flutters in his long, skinny throat.
    What’s going on? Then I remember. His last client was a sexual assault victim. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I forgot.”
    â€œIt’s fine.” His eyes are glazed, his face a sickly whitish gray. “I’ll be okay in a few days.”
    I study his face, uncertain. Ian’s dealt with similar cases in the past, but he’s never been affected like this, at least not that I’ve seen. Was there something especially bad about this one? I want to ask, but don’t quite dare. “I wonder what’s going to happen to that boy,” I say instead.
    â€œHe’ll probably be Conditioned. Nothing we can do about it now.”
    I went through Conditioning myself a few times, though for me it was voluntary, an effort to battle the anger anddepression I faced after my