The Set Up Read Free

except that the power you demonstrated is highly destructive. That’s it. Come on, Nico. You saw what you did.’
    He was lying, I was certain. He must know more. How else could he have worked out so quickly that what he was seeing was telekinesis – and that I was making it happen? Smashing clocks and vases with your mind wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence at Fox Academy.
    ‘Now promise me we won’t have a repeat of this morning’s events.’ Fergus attempted a wry smile.
    I frowned. It didn’t make sense. Surely any normal person would be curious about how or why I’d suddenly developed telekinetic powers?
    ‘Don’t you even want to know what actually happened?’ I said.
    Because I do. I want to know a whole lot more – and, anyway, I can’t control what I’m doing, even if I wanted to.
    Fergus shuddered. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘Whatever you can do is evil. Your mother would have hated it. I know she would.’
    I stared at him, my resentment building. How could Fergus know for sure what my mum would have thought?
    ‘Are you listening? It’s really important you don’t ever try to use your telekinetic powers again. For your own good. Understand?’
    I narrowed my eyes. How typical was this? Fergus treating me like a child who had to be told what was good for him. When was he going to see that I was old enough to work stuff like that out for myself?
    ‘Promise me you’ll stop, Nico. For the sake of your mother’s memory.’
    ‘Sure, Fergus.’ I lied. He was just using my mum to get me to agree. He didn’t care about her memory. ‘Whatever you want.’
    The next two days passed in the usual boring blur of school activities. There was a bit of minor excitement when the local paper’s story on our ‘freak electrical storm’ came out. But everyone soon forgot about it.
    I tried a few times to make stuff move again. But nothing happened. I was just starting to believe that maybe I’d imagined the whole thing, including Fergus’s strange reaction, when I got a text that changed everything.
     

    Like most schools, Fox Academy had strict rules about switching off your mobile in class. I usually kept my phone in my pocket, on vibrate, so if I got a call or a text I would know, but the teacher wouldn’t.
    It was double maths. Boring as hell. And I was almost asleep, when my phone vibrated. I fished it out of my pocket, checking first that our teacher, Mr Rogerson, wasn’t looking. The text read:
    That was no freak storm.
    I know the truth. All of it, including what Fergus will never tell you.
    If you want to find out who you really are, come to Nelson’s Column, Trafalgar Square, 2 p.m., Saturday.
    A friend.
    I froze, staring at the words, then checked the sender. Number withheld. My first thought was that it was some kind of wind-up. But who from? No one apart from Fergus knew that I had been responsible for what had happened in Monday’s assembly. I glanced quickly round the class. Over to my left, Ketty was busily writing in her maths textbook. Next to her, chin propped in his hand, Billy was staring into space. Behind them Tom and Curtis were passing notes. On the other side of the room Lola and Lauren were surreptitiously peering into mirrors under their desks. Everyone else was working on their algebra. No one was paying me any attention.
    I slid my mobile back into my pocket, heart thumping. If the text hadn’t come from someone in my class then who had sent it? Who was ‘ a friend ’? The words drummed in my head.
    Find out who you really are.
    What on earth did that mean? I turned the whole thing over in my mind as Mr Rogerson droned on about some equation. How did the sender know my number? And how did they know that the storm wasn’t real? I tried in vain to tell myself the text was just some weird bit of random nonsense, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what it meant and who had texted it and why they’d sent it.
    By the time the class ended I’d decided.
    I had to