She entered the classroom, scanning for empty seats, and sat down in the back.  The classmates around her chatted and laughed, exchanging gossip and stories.  She sat and listened, secluded and quiet.  The teacher strolled in; the class quieted, but in her head, the voices were still clear.  The teacher began her droning lecture, but the girl in the back only listened to the voices in her head.  These voices in her head were thoughts - her classmate’s thoughts - and she could always hear them.  They flew through her mind like the wind, passing and then gone.  Unintentionally, the thoughts would always fill her mind; she kept her power, her ability to read minds, secret and suppressed, low and hidden.  With years of practice, she was able to hush the ghostly thoughts in her head to a mere whisper, but she never silenced them.  She peered around the room. 
        Students looked toward the window or at the intoning teacher with glazed eyes, their minds far from here.  She watched their daydreams pass through her mind like fish swimming through a river.  Sitting in the front row - without glazed eyes - was a boy.  Alert, he stared intensely toward the front of the room.  The girl tried to hone in on his thoughts - but to focus on one person, she had to center her mind immensely, searching through the sea of whispered voices until she found him.  She quieted all the voices while bringing his thoughts into focus.  The process was a balancing act, a house of cards, that with one mere blow would crumble it entirely.  His voice became clear.   
        If I just push... push... push slightly... - his thoughts obsessively repeated the pattern over and over again.  Analyzing the strange boy, she realized he wasn’t staring at the teacher at all but the vase of flowers next to her.  As she shifted her gaze to vase, it began shaking back and forth, tilting, shifting, and then turned and spilled, drenching the teacher.  The boy was smiling clandestinely, his intense focus loosening, his flexed muscles relaxing, his demeanor victoriously slouching.  Others raced around the room, gathering rags and towels, but the boy remained motionless and smiling.  The girl continued to stare at him.  Did he just move that vase with his mind?
        Ten minutes early, the boy entered the class, making sure to sit in the front today.  The boy had been practicing at home - and getting better.  While waiting patiently as the students filed into their seats, the boy eyed down the teacher as she strolled in.  Her hair was messy and twirled like a bee hive; her glasses, big and round like those of a bug; her dress, layered over her like wings: she was the Queen B - that is B as in boring.  The teacher began her usual drone; slowly the class disappeared in daydream. 
        The boy bit his lip to hide his excitement.  While lecturing, the teacher leaned on her desk - next to a large vase of bright yellow flowers.  The boy stared.  At first he just pictured the vase tipping and falling - focusing all efforts into this image.  He had to silence his ears, aim his sight directly at the vase; his focus glared, his breath held, his muscles clenched.  I just gotta push.  Gotta push.  Push.  Push.  PUSH.  The vase shook slightly, then more, then entirely, then tipped, spilling and drenching the teacher.  As everyone rushed around to clean, the boy leaned back in graceful satisfaction.
        While enjoying the chaos he created, he noticed a girl in her in the back of the room, staring at down, frozen and disappointed.  The boy turned away, yet the girl kept staring at him.  There is no way she knows I moved the vase with my mind.  Now he sat uncomfortably in his seat.  Did she just read my mind?
Later that day, the girl walked home, thinking about school, her test tomorrow, but mostly about the boy in class today.  He was another person like her - another one with powers.  Coincidentally, the boy appeared a block ahead, walking home as well.  He walked rather slowly, his head was lowered, as if in deep thought.  She stopped walking and tried to focus in on his thoughts. The girl... How?... moved the vase... who was she...  the thoughts resonated like a weak radio signal.  The boy entered the street - it happened fast.  Lost in thought, his senses were dulled and unaware of the oncoming school bus.  The girl watched the unfolding scene and yelled - not out loud, for he was too far to hear, but in her head.  Loudly.  LOOK OUT! : her internal scream bolted toward the boy, who looked up just in time to dive out of the way.  Lying stunned on the ground, he wondered about the sudden voice of reason and guidance in his head.  It sounded like a girl’s voice...
He peered up, spotting the girl from this morning looking toward him.  She turned and walked away.
A few mornings thereafter, the boy traveled to the school’s library early in order to check out a book.  He then went outside to read on a bench; outside, there were few students arriving, sitting, talking - he noticed the girl from the other day sitting under a tree across the lawn.  She tapped on her phone, not noticing him.  He tried to read but lacked concentration: his almost-fatality from the other day burned in his mind, vivid and scarring.  How did she do that?  Closing his book, he stared back toward her, realizing something wasn’t right.
A group of three snickering girls were furtively sneaking toward the girl under the tree; she sat under the copious shade unaware of the approaching girls.  Clasped in the group of girl’s hands, was a carton of orange juice.  It sloshed methodically; the girls’ smiles mischievously grinned.  Instantly the three were upon the girl under the tree and poured the juice from its container 
Instantly reacting, the boy aimed his mind onto the falling juice.  Push.  His firm force speared into the midair liquid, and it splashed away from the girl back into the others’ faces.  Speechless, the girl turned toward the girls behind her, toward the dripping juice above, toward him.
They locked eye contact.  He felt her power present in his mind; she felt his
power controlling her surroundings.  The two stared in realization, stared in understanding, then walked in different directions.