Instead, she turned down the hallway to Dunn’s empty classroom. Teddy found herself studying a particularly complex diagram of the brain. What made her brain so different from someone else’s, someone like Nick? Or Corey?
Footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Teddy turned around to see Dunn, who was shrugging a blazer over his Science Rules T-shirt. “Sorry, Professor, I was just—”
“Supposed to be in Empathy 101?” he said.
Teddy watched as he unpacked his bag at the front of the room. “I just got back from San Quentin with Agent Stavros.” She looked down. “Felt like I wasn’t really up to class after seeing the justice system up close.”
Dunn nodded. “I understand.”
She remembered the first days of school, when Dunn had spoken of mental attacks. Though the students had continued to work on strengthening their telepathic communication, they hadn’t talked about mental influence since then. Had Yates influenced her, too? Made her come talk to him? Had she been played? But she’d seen the signs enough to know the symptoms. The dilated pupils, lost time, the distorted thoughts afterward.
“Professor,” Teddy started. “May I ask you a theoretical question?”
Dunn put down a graph he was looking at and nodded. “Of course.”
“You mentioned mental attacks last semester.”
“I did.”
“How do you know if . . .” Teddy began. “I’m not really sure how to put it.”
“There are a lot of different kinds of mental attacks,” Dunn said. He sat down behind his desk. “It’s any kind of uninvited connection. Mental influence, for example, when you direct people to perform an action against their will.” Like Clint had in Vegas. But that wasn’t what Yates had done to her.
“Clint sometimes gets into my head. But it doesn’t hurt.”
Dunn pressed his hands together. “Go on.”
Teddy nodded. “Can pain accompany telepathy or other forms of psychic communication? Like influence?” She thought of the viselike pain that had accompanied Yates’s first words.
“Is this still purely hypothetical?”
Teddy looked away. She was sure that, like Clint, Dunn could tell what she was thinking, so she checked her wall, sent another jolt of power to be sure it held.
“Yes, there’s certainly a way to make your presence known. That’s why it’s so important to have a strong wall or defense, which I know you’ve worked on with Professor Corbett,” he said. “But here at Whitfield, we don’t believe in using power like that. Even when we mount a mental attack.”
“Thanks,” Teddy said. “I should probably go back to class.” She turned to leave, but Dunn stopped her.
“You know, technically, what you do is a mental attack.”
“But I don’t hurt people.” Teddy thought about the way she slipped into people’s minds. An invasion of privacy? Yes. But an attack?
“You may not intend to hurt people,” Dunn said. “But sometimes when you try to force your way in, you leave scars. Like with Ms. Quinn.”
“I never meant to hurt Molly.” She’d barely been in control of her abilities back then. Teddy would apologize; they would argue; Molly would forgive her like Jillian had. That’s what friends did.
Dunn nodded. “I know.”
“She said that your techniques have helped her shut out students’ feelings. She’s not as, well, jumpy, as she used to be.” Teddy looked down, rubbed her hands on her pants. “Almost like a different person.” Molly had hung back as they worked the case. She may have been keeping others’ emotions at bay, but she was keeping her own at bay, too. After their conversation in the library, Teddy hadn’t pushed further, though she could have.
Dunn shuffled some papers on his desk. “Ms. Quinn hasn’t shown up for her tutorial in weeks.”
Every time Teddy thought she understood Molly, she discovered something that changed her perception. Molly had said Dunn’s techniques were helping her, yet she’d been bailing on his sessions.
“My second-years are coming in soon. If you have any other questions about theoretical mental attacks, please let me know. But Teddy?”
“Yes?”
“This is a very serious and potentially dangerous realm of psychic study. Not one to be taken lightly.”
Teddy left Dunn’s classroom. She still wasn’t ready to go to class. Everyone would want to know about her trip to San Quentin. She wasn’t sure she could deliver that information without mentioning Yates.
Yates had been right about the handwriting. And the hat. Clearly he’d known her parents and Clint. There was a photograph to prove it. But could she trust that he was telling the truth about Whitfield? Or Clint’s involvement in his setup? She needed evidence. Evidence she might have once she accessed the video file Yates had mentioned. Convenient that Teddy knew someone who was a certified CIA-level hacker.
* * *
It was dark when Teddy knocked on the door of Molly and Dara’s dorm room. Inside, Molly sat on her bed, a laptop on her knees. Dara wasn’t there.
“You’re supposed to wait for a response before you enter someone’s room,” Molly said, closing the laptop.
“And we’re supposed to be technology-free at Whitfield,” Teddy said. “But I guess we’re both rule-breakers, aren’t we?” She’d meant it as a joke, but the words came out more harshly than she intended.
Molly ignored the question. “Where have you been all day? Everyone’s been looking for you.”
“Around,” Teddy said. She had been so focused and careful in her conversation with Corey, but now, across from Molly, she floundered. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t an interrogation. This was an apology, and she couldn’t rely on any psychic tricks.
“Great talk,” Molly said.
“Listen, I know I’ve been a bad friend,” Teddy said. “But I’m working on it.”
“I appreciate that, Teddy,” Molly said. “But I think you should go.” She stood up and moved as if to usher Teddy out the door.
Teddy had come for a few reasons; her
