[Sophie Cuckoo's Pov]
Gene's wine sloshes precariously as he gestures wildly, his auburn hair catching the light. My sisters and I are arranged around him in our usual formation, identical postures, identical expressions of polite interest. Inside our shared mental link, it's a different story.
'How much longer do we have to listen to this?' Phoebe projects, her projected voice dripping with boredom.
'Until he passes out or walks away,' I respond, maintaining my outward appearance of rapt attention.
Gene leans forward, emerald eyes slightly unfocused. "The responsibility of telepathy is... it's enormous, girls. Enormous." He takes another gulp from his oversized wine glass. "People think it's just reading thoughts, but it's... it's an ethical minefield."
'We know,' Celeste's mental voice is razor-sharp with irritation. 'We literally deal with this every day.'
'But he's such a pretty disaster,' Esme adds, her mental tone almost fond. 'Look at him trying to mentor us like we need his advice.'
Irma sighs in our minds. 'Miss Frost could give this lecture in her sleep. And it would be infinitely more useful.'
I nod at Gene, my face a perfect mask of interest while I silently agree with my sisters. Miss Frost's lessons on telepathic ethics make Gene's drunken ramblings look like kindergarten finger-painting compared to fine art.
"The thing is," Gene continues, swirling his wine dramatically, "you have to establish boundaries. Strong ones. Otherwise, you start drowning in other people's thoughts and lose yourself." He taps his temple. "I've seen it happen."
'To whom?' Phoebe scoffs. 'Himself?'
'He does seem particularly unhinged lately,' I respond in our private link.
Gene takes another long sip before leaning in conspiratorially. "Speaking of boundaries, I had lunch with Jack yesterday."
My entire body goes rigid. My sisters' voices fall silent instantly.
"Jack Crackwell?" I ask.
Gene nods, seemingly oblivious to our collective shift in attention. "Mmhmm. Had to set some things straight with him." He taps the side of his head again. "Needed to see what was really going on in there."
'Did he just admit to invading Jack's mind?'
'What does he mean by "setting things straight"?' Celeste adds.
I lean forward slightly. "What did you discuss with him?"
Gene's smile turns smug. "Oh, just making sure he understands some... boundaries. About Scotty." He sniffs dismissively. "The guy's walking around like he's the king of the sorry people. Thinks he can sleep with anyone in the mansion. Not my girlfriend though!"
The mental link between my sisters and me vibrates with shared anger. Jack Crackwell. That insufferable boy who appeared out of nowhere and immediately became the center of Miss Frost's attention. Our teacher barely has time for us anymore, her prized students, because she's too busy making eyes at that freak with the healing factor.
'She spent the entire class yesterday oozing thoughts about him,' Irma recalls bitterly.
'And canceled our advanced telepathy session to go on that rescue mission with him,' Phoebe adds.
"Did you learn anything interesting about him?" I ask Gene, keeping my voice casual while our collective mental landscape burns with jealousy.
Gene scoffs. "He's slept with Nightcrawler, can you believe that? Through some religious 'loophole.'" He makes air quotes with his free hand. "And he's absolutely obsessed with Emma."
My fingernails dig into my palms. Of course he is. Everyone's obsessed with Miss Frost. She's brilliant, powerful, beautiful, everything anyone could aspire to be. But her attention should be on us, not some random boy.
'We don't like Gene, right?' Esme's voice slides into our collective consciousness, cutting through my rising irritation.
'Correct,' we all respond in unison.
'And we all hate Jack,' Esme continues, a dangerous undertone coloring her thoughts.
'Yes,' again, our collective agreement resonates through our link.
'It wouldn't be hard to make Jack sleep with Gene's girlfriend, would it?' Esme's suggestion drops into our shared mind like a stone in still water, sending ripples of possibility outward.
I struggle to maintain my neutral expression as my lips threaten to curl into a smile. 'With the combined might of the five in one?' I think back at her. 'Of course not.'
'But they might be able to see after the fact that Jack and Scotty were being influenced,' Celeste cautions, always the practical one among us.
Esme's confidence floods our connection. 'Then it's a good thing that Miss Frost showed us how to hide our mental signatures. And there are at least a dozen other telepathic students in this school. We'll be fine.'