Mind Games (5 page)

I started practicing at night when I was sleepy. I would put my hand on Sunshine's head and feel her nose go from wet to hot. I would feel her whiskers tickle under my fingers and her eyelids flicker so the whites showed under her red eyelashes. Then I would bury my face in her fur and imagine her dream. Myself in her dream.

Pretty soon, I could wag my tail. I could smell Penny the barn cat from inside my bedroom. And see how the moonlight looked different, with new colors in every single thing—my Beauty and the Beast curtains and the freckles on my hands and the sheep I would count when my eyes were closed. And I could see Claire in the new light, too, with the moon shining on her hair so it looked as sparkly green as her eyes.

It was a long time ago when I started dreaming with Sunshine, maybe even before special ed. But I never told anybody about it until now. You know Claire would just say it was dumb and weird. I finally told because of the science project.

I don't think Ben believed me, but he said if it did really happen with Sunshine, it's called an out-of-body experience, which is a pair of normal [sic] phenomenon. I knew it. I knew it was normal. I guess it's called a pair because it's both of us—me and Sunshine.

Ben says we need to do an experiment on me and Sunshine so we can have evidence that this out-of-body thing happens. I don't know what he's talking about. It happens. Would I make up something like that?

So I said no to the experiment. Anyhow, how was he planning to do it? I don't think you can prove what's in a person's dreams, or even a dog's. Sometimes you just have to trust someone, and that's all there is to it.

T
ONIGHT IS A
S
ATURDAY NIGHT
. H
ALLOWEEN NIGHT
, and I am sitting at home. I am sitting at home because I am grounded, and it is all because of our stupid science experiment for which I am now writing this stupid report.

Of course, being grounded has given me plenty of opportunity to contemplate the supernatural, as I have handed out Mars bars to ghosts and devils and witches and angels. All pretend, of course.

It is easy to pretend. To pass a scientific test is not so easy. If there is one thing our research group has managed to prove, that would be it.

The first experiment our group did was a pretest to increase our chances of finding somebody with
ESP.
We got as many people as we could to do the Zener
ESP
card test. We decided to do more testing on only the subjects who scored the best. That way we'd eliminate the definitely nonpsychic duds.

The way a pretest works is, somebody shuffles the twenty-five cards and puts them in a box. Once the experimenter is ready, the subject is supposed to guess the order of the cards inside the box and write it on the answer sheet.

Marina got some people from her ESL class to take the test after school in the library. One spoke Spanish, one spoke Mandarin. One spoke Korean, and she got very excited when she saw me. But I don't remember how to say anything in Korean besides the menu at No Da Gi and the Lord's Prayer, which you can't say in school anyhow.

A girl named Kamala got a pretty good score, but it had to be luck. After all, she couldn't even understand the directions.

Then there were the people Kathleen brought in from special ed. They couldn't understand the directions, either. Kathleen tried to explain to them. I am the head experimenter, but they listened to her way better than they listened to me. One of them was a hair-sniffer, like Kathleen. I actually had to wear a bun for the rest of the week. I hope everyone appreciates my sacrifice for the sake of science.

Brandon couldn't get any of his friends (not that I've noticed him having any friends in Waverly) to come in for a dumb experiment, as he called it. He finally dragged in his little brothers. They were very cute, I have to admit, but little Michael was more interested in wiggling his front tooth than finishing the test. Hosea got a pretty good score, but you can't get useful results from just one run, and he never came back to do any more.

Ben was even less successful at recruiting subjects than Brandon. He got none.

Unlike Ben, I have tons of friends. In fact, I found seventeen people who agreed to be tested. I did most of them over the phone, since I have my own line. My parents were happy I was using it for homework for once. (I didn't tell them which homework.) Unfortunately, it wasn't much help. I have seventeen definitely unpsychic friends.

That doesn't count my five unpsychic Mad Science acquaintances who also took the test. Check out our so-called
Data
:

T
OTAL
C
ORRECT
: 0/25 = 0 percent

E
XPERIMENTER
C
OMMENTS
: A historic moment—Ben's worst test grade.

S
UBJECT
C
OMMENTS
: Actually, Ji, the space above is intended for test-related observations. Examples of this would include ambient noise in the room (you talking to your friends), stomach growling (yours), etc. Also, I have previously scored 0 percent on a P.E. test on lay-ups. But I'm glad to know that you weren't paying attention during that class, either.

May I also point out that my test results here are noteworthy for being significantly lower than those expected by chance (which would be five correct, or 20 percent). Could this abysmal score be significant in the case of a non-ESP believer like me? Perhaps I just wasn't trying very hard. Though if I had wanted to skew the results, believe me, I would have guessed the same symbol twenty-five times and been assured of attaining a decent score of 20 percent.

T
OTAL
C
ORRECT
: 2/25 = 8 percent

E
XPERIMENTER
C
OMMENTS
: Poor English does not count as an excuse when the whole test involves symbols.

S
UBJECT
C
OMMENTS
: I do not know why Ji should ask about my strategy for this test when I do so bad, but of course I will tell. For each question, when I try to make the right answer I think of a person in our Mad Science class. Who comes into my mind first, I pick and match them to their symbol. Ben, he is like the square,
¹
straight and even on each side. Kat, she is the circle, arms always open to embrace. The lines are Claire with the curly hair that is filled with static. The plus sign is like the gold necklace Ji wears when I first see her, and that she often moves to touch now since it is gone. And Brandon—he is the basketball star.

Why have I not included myself in this list? Ji wants to know. Well, I did not once think of me. Now that she asks, I realize—how could I choose which symbol to be? On the basketball court, I put my arms out and make a square that no one can penetrate. I am energy, like those lines. Positive plus energy that I must give to Babushka, as Mama and Papa remind me plenty more often than they need to. The circle forms in my mind an Olympic ring, which is the symbol I would wish to choose for me when I go play on the basketball team for American women. I like to think I am humble and therefore will not call myself Star. But the Star of David pendant Babushka has hidden in her denture powders must be meant for me on my thirteenth birthday. Yes?

T
OTAL
C
ORRECT
: 5/25 = 20 percent

E
XPERIMENTER
C
OMMENTS
: Does this even count?

S
UBJECT
C
OMMENTS
: Ji said close my eyes and pick the symbol in my heart. My grandma would think I was being lazy and not trying here, but that's not it. This is the answer
I
get every time. The
ESP
books call it circle.
I
call it big, fat, empty zero. But at least that's not my grade—this time.

T
OTAL
C
ORRECT
: 2/25 = 8 percent

E
XPERIMENTER
C
OMMENTS
: Test scored by Ben Lloyd to prevent possibility of cheating.—BDL

S
UBJECT
C
OMMENTS
: A
S
if I care about my grade on this.

T
OTAL
C
ORRECT
: 10/25 = 40 percent

E
XPERIMENTER
C
OMMENTS
: Re-test and see if above-chance score is repeatable.

S
UBJECT
C
OMMENTS
: I wonder how
I
did that?