A Secret Talent

Shut up, Shut up, Shut up. That’s what I wanted to tell the grumpy old man standing ahead of me in line. I was trying to read a trashy magazine but it was hard to pay attention with the old man practically yelling at the woman behind the counter. Of course I couldn’t tell him this because he wasn’t actually saying all the stupid mean things, he was just thinking them. I could hear the words loud and clear though. Not just his thoughts but everyone else’s as well. For the most part it can be cool, but at times like this it’s just plain annoying. I don’t know this old man and I don’t care that he thinks if the lady cuts her long purple fingernails she’d have an easier time picking up the bloody cans. I also don’t care that the woman behind me can’t remember if her husband wanted red or green bell peppers for his stew. I would have turned around and told her it doesn’t matter because they taste the same but she would have just looked at me extremely confused and maybe freaked out a little.

When I was little I would have conversations with people’s thoughts. They didn’t have to say anything because I knew what they were thinking, I could answer their questions or just respond to their thoughts. People were amazed by my talent. It wasn’t always good though. When I was eight years old, kids stopped hanging out with me because they didn’t want me listening to their thoughts. I was miserable and lonely so my parents decided we should move.

We left San Francisco and moved to Los Angeles. I started fresh. I didn’t tell anyone about my talent and I started making a lot of friends. I guess some people would call the way I made friends cheating, but I just think of it as taking advantage of my talent. I know what people want, what they’re interests are, what they’re thinking about. Why shouldn’t I be able to use that to my advantage? I can spark up a conversation and know that the other person is genuinely interested in what I’m saying.

            Life was better than ever until I met Dr. Withers. My parents thought I should see a therapist so I could talk about my feelings before I became depressed again. My parents told her all about my ability and she was blown away like everyone else. She asked our permission if she could tell her husband about my ability. We said she could. Little did we know, her husband was none other than Sherriff Withers, a big shot cop in L.A. When he heard about my abilities he started calling me the “walking lie detector”. He had everything all planned out. Together we would solve crimes, put the toughest criminals behind bars, and I was the key part of the operation. Without my ability, none of his dream would be possible. I would go down to the precinct afterschool, stand behind the mirror-window thing, and tell Sherriff Withers what the guy was thinking through an ear piece Withers had.  Since I was underage, and not an actual officer I couldn’t be in the interrogation room with the Sherriff so sometimes it was hard to hear the suspects thoughts, but for the most part all the suspects were angry enough that they were yelling at the Sherriff in their thoughts so I heard them just as clear as I would have if I was in the room with them.

At the beginning I didn’t like coming down to the precinct and telling the Sherriff what these suspects were hiding by listening to their thoughts. I felt like it was cheating and I didn’t like that the whole police department knew about my secret talent. I came to L.A. to hide my secret from the world, and I felt like slowly the secret was starting to unravel. I was worried that someone would leak everything to the press and my new friends at school would find out and it would be like San Francisco all over again. The officers kept promising me and reassuring me that I was doing the right thing. That using my talent in the way was helping out a lot of people. I didn’t really believe them until I saw the Sherriff put one criminal after another behind bars because of our teamwork. That was when I actually became proud of my hidden talent. By the fourth month on the job, I sincerely enjoyed coming down to help out. Something good was finally coming out of my talent that had hurt me so bad in the past.

I knew the officers really appreciated having me around, but never really fully realized how much they actually needed me on the cases until one case a few months ago when a suspect in a drug bust came in for questioning. Sherriff Withers was in with the guy for over an hour before almost giving up. It was a high profile case so the Sherriff didn’t think it would be good for me to take part in something so large. Instead he had me running around doing stupid errands for him. I was filing paperwork when he stormed into the room.

            “Need help yet?” I asked, knowing the answer, “You know you won’t get anything out of this guy without me there.”

            “I don’t know if letting you on this case is the right thing to do,” Sherriff Withers said, flipping through the papers on his desk.

            “Come on. I can lead you to the drugs in five minutes, you know that,” I said, begging him. I heard his thoughts leaning towards letting me in, but I knew I’d have to wait a little longer for him to finally make up his mind.

            “I promised my wife I wouldn’t let you in on high profile cases,” he said rocking back and fourth in his chair.

            “I know but I want to help. I know I can and I know you need me,” I said. He just sat there thinking, not saying anything. “You know, I can hear everything you think and I have an argument for all your points, so why don’t you just let me help you and we can put this guy behind bars and go home for dinner.”

            “Okay fine, but don’t tell my wife,” he said, getting up from his chair.

            “Okay, I promise,” I said, jumping up and down. We left the office and walked down the hall to the interrogation room. I was so excited for this case I had to refrain myself from skipping there. When we got there I saw Officer Lucas unsuccessfully try to get some answers out of the suspect.

            “Has he told him anything?” Withers asked me.

            “No,” I said, reading the Officer’s thoughts, “and he’s getting pretty frustrated in there,”

            “God damnit,” Withers said, putting his earpiece in his ear, “I’m going to switch with him.” The Sherriff went into the room, whispered into the Officer’s ear that I was here to help. The officer looked relieved and exited the room.

            “How much longer are you guys going to ask me all these stupid questions?” The suspect asked, looking up at the Sherriff.

            “We just have a few more questions,” the Sherriff said, getting ready to get some real answers.

            “Well, shit. Ask away, but I already told you, I ain’t got nothing to say,”

            “We’ll see about that,” the Sherriff said, “Why did you have three ounces of cocaine in your car?”

            “I already told ya. It ain’t my car. I was framed, I had no idea all that shit was in there,” the suspect said, holding his right bicep with his left arm.

            “He’s lying. I know that, but I don’t know what he’s hiding yet. All he’s thinking about is the lie he’s telling. It was his sister’s car, but I’m pretty sure they’re his drugs. Ask him a different question,” I said into the earpiece.

            “How about I just cut to the chase then,” the Sherriff said, staring at the suspect.

            “Good plan,” I said.

            “Sure, whatever,” the suspect agreed.

            “We know you were driving your sister’s car. Now why don’t you just tell us where the rest of the drugs are and we can leave your family out of this,” the Sherriff said, not losing eye contact with the man.

            “You don’t know nothing. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the suspect said, looking down at the table.

            “His sister is younger than him. He doesn’t want her to get it trouble,” I told the Sherriff, “Oh wait for it, he’s thinking. He’s thinking about the best place to hide the drugs. He wants to move them from where they are now… Right now they’re in at his house... He doesn’t think having them hidden behind books on a bookshelf is a good idea anymore. Ha, I told you I could tell you where the drugs are in under five minutes,” I said doing a little victory dance.  

Sherriff Withers stormed out of the interrogation room and gave me a big hug. “We need to get another warrant, ASAP,” he said turning to Officer Lucas. “I don’t know how we missed that the first time we searched.”

            “It isn’t the most obvious spot,” I said, reassuring him, “this guy is pretty creative, if you ask me.” And that was it. Together we solved the case in record time. The Sherriff got a warrant and along with three other officers, they found the hidden drugs. The suspect was put behind bars and once again the whole department made me feel very important.

            In my everyday life, my secret talent can be a real pain sometimes. But when I’m working at the precinct I couldn’t ask for more. This weird thing I was born with is saving the world, one criminal at a time, and for the time being, that’s all I really need.