By the following week, the whispers had spread.
I didn't know what they were saying.
Nobody ever said anything directly to me.
They didn't have to.
I could feel it whenever I walked into a room.
Conversations stopped.
Eyes followed me.
Then everyone pretended they hadn't been looking.
It was exhausting.
"Don't listen to them," Maya said.
We were walking toward class.
"To what?"
She looked at me.
"You know."
"I really don't."
She sighed.
"People are talking about you."
"Why?"
"Because you're suddenly good at things you weren't good at before."
I frowned.
"I'm not good at anything."
"You caught a ball thrown behind your head."
"Once."
"You knew about the fire before the alarm."
"I smelled smoke."
"You knew Ethan was going to have an accident."
"I guessed."
She stop
