“What are you thinking about in terms of college?” Mrs. Hayes fills in, emitting a supportive warmth that reminds me a bit of the teachers at school. But coming from her, it feels like there’s a right answer.

“Oh.” I look to Adam for some kind of hint on what I should say, but he’s staring at his mom, irritated embarrassment aimed like a laser beam at her. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s still a long way away. I think my parents and I are gonna do, like, a big college tour road trip this summer or something.”

“Not everyone plans their lives out five years in advance,” Adam complains, and I learn where Adam got his head-tilt-half-smile expression from. On Mrs. Hayes’s face it reads like You’re being an idiot but I love you anyway and my brain gives me a quick slideshow recap of all the moments Adam has looked at me like that. Hope pushes my heart into my throat.

“It was just a question,” Mrs. Hayes shoots back lovingly.

“You’re an athlete, isn’t that right?” prompts Mr. Hayes, cutting through whatever battle of the wills was about to start between his wife and son.

“Um, yeah,” I answer. “I play football. Running back.”

“Oh, very good.” Mr. Hayes nods sagely. “That’s very impressive. Very good position.”

“Dad,” Adam deadpans. He and his mom are both looking at Mr. Hayes now, fond amusement dancing around them.

“Elijah, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mrs. Hayes teases, her laugh ringing loud and clear, hinting at looseness that I didn’t think was possible in Adam’s mom.

“I thought I was pulling it off.” Mr. Hayes shrugs good-naturedly, joining his wife in laughter. It brings a burst of yellow-sparked joy into Adam’s chest and he holds back a laugh, not wanting to give his parents the satisfaction of thinking they’re funny.

That’s not something I know because of the empath power. Adam doesn’t feel withholding from his parents. But I know that’s what he’s doing. I know because I can see him trying not to smile, wanting to roll his eyes and call his parents dorks, because that’s what he does. I know him. All empath stuff aside, I know who Adam is. And that makes me feel like more of a superhero than anything.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Mrs. Hayes says, smiling at me. “He likes to pretend he knows everything about everything, but we’re not exactly a sports family.”

“Yeah, I sort of got that,” I admit, and Mrs. Hayes laughs again.