The next morning, Lily woke with a rare, almost imperceptible tremor of… something. It wasn't excitement, precisely. Excitement was for people who didn't know how every minute of their day would unfold. This was more like a low-frequency hum of professional curiosity, an itch that demanded scratching. Kyle Bartlett. The blank canvas. The unprecedented anomaly. Her own personal Everest of unknowing.
Her first target: Homeroom. Lily, armed with her usual bored expression, entered the classroom. Her mental senses immediately picked up the usual cacophony: Mr. Henderson silently rehearsing his boring lecture on quadratic equations, Brenda from the back row planning her outfit for Friday's football game, and the subtle, lingering scent of burnt toast from someone's breakfast. Standard. Predictable.
But then, tucked away in a back corner, slumped slightly in his chair, was Kyle. He was sketching something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. Lily subtly extended her mental feelers, gently nudging his mind, just a soft brush, like a feather across glass. Nothing. Not a single thought. It was utterly baffling. He was physically present, obviously engaged in an activity, yet his mind was a silent vacuum.
This is going to be harder than I thought, Lily mused internally, a flicker of genuine intrigue igniting behind her usually placid eyes. She usually found effort distasteful. This, however, felt… necessary. Like solving a particularly vexing puzzle.
Later that day, at lunch, the strategy intensified. Lily positioned herself at her usual table with her friends, strategically close enough to Kyle's table to observe him without being obvious.
"Seriously, Lily, you're staring," Chloe whispered, her thoughts a blend of concern and mild amusement. Is she finally getting a crush? On the new guy? Maybe I can help!
"I'm observing his posture. It's remarkably inefficient for a student his size," Lily deadpanned, effortlessly deflecting Chloe's mental machinations. "He's practically inviting back problems."
"He's playing football later, though," Priya interjected, meticulously organizing her salad greens. Her thoughts: Hope he stays healthy. Don't need any more drama this semester. "Coach Jensen seems really excited about him."
Lily mentally sifted through Coach Jensen's thoughts – indeed, a jumble of plays, projected stats, and a lingering desire for a post-practice donut. Kyle, however, remained a silent island in the coach's mind, just a series of promising athletic attributes.
Still nothing, Lily thought, watching Kyle take a huge bite of his burger. He chewed with an enthusiastic vigor, his eyes wide as if truly savoring every bite. Does he even think about how good that tastes? Or is he just… experiencing it? It was a concept so alien to Lily, who tasted food twice – once when she mentally cataloged its components, and again when she actually ate it.
Her own lunch, a perfectly adequate tuna sandwich, seemed utterly bland by comparison. Her mind began to wander to the small Korean grocery store. A fresh batch of hoddeok would certainly provide a more stimulating experience than contemplating Kyle's silent mastication.
After school, Lily found herself unexpectedly roped into a "study session" at Priya's house. Priya's mental agenda for the session was less about actual studying and more about orchestrating a subtle social gathering. Seth arrived with his sketchbook, already deep in thoughts of chiaroscuro, and Chloe, naturally, brought her phone, planning a series of "study vibe" TikToks.
"Okay, so for the calculus review, I was thinking we could go over chapters three and four," Priya announced, meticulously arranging a pile of textbooks. Her thoughts: And then maybe we can transition to a movie? And maybe Lily will talk about Kyle!
Lily sighed internally. Transparent, Priya. But she didn't mind too much. This environment offered prolonged exposure to her unreadable subject. She'd made sure Kyle was invited, subtly influencing Priya earlier in the day to extend the invitation to "any new students who might need help catching up." Priya, ever the diligent student councilor, had happily obliged.
Kyle arrived a few minutes later, clutching a well-worn textbook and looking slightly bewildered, a perfectly blank slate of a mind.
"Hey guys! Thanks for inviting me," he said, his voice surprisingly warm and a little rumbling. "I'm still trying to figure out where everything is."
Chloe, ever the social butterfly, immediately launched into a flurry of questions. "So, Kyle, where are you from? What brought you to Northwood? Do you like K-pop? What's your favorite boba flavor?" Her thoughts were a frantic scramble to gather content for a "New Guy Q&A" video.
Lily watched, her own mind a quiet observer. She listened to Kyle's verbal answers, comparing them to the torrent of thoughts from Chloe, Priya, and even Seth as they processed his responses. Kyle was polite, a little shy, and surprisingly earnest. He said he was from a smaller town upstate, that his dad got a new job, that he hadn't listened to much K-pop but was open to it, and that he actually preferred plain water.
Plain water? Lily mentally balked. Who prefers plain water when boba exists? Or bubble tea? Or anything with sugar? His tastes are as inexplicable as his thoughts.
As they pretended to study, Lily initiated her probes.
"So, Kyle," Lily began, her voice carefully neutral, her mental focus sharp as a scalpel. "What's on your mind about these calculus problems? Any particular sticking points?" She pushed gently, telepathically, trying to feel for a response, an echo, anything.
Kyle frowned, genuinely studying the page. "Uh, yeah. This part here, the chain rule. I just can't seem to wrap my head around it. It's like my brain just blanks out." He tapped his temple with his finger, looking frustrated.
Lily almost choked. Blanks out? Is that it? Is his brain literally just… blanking out when he tries to think? Like a literal thought desert? No, that's too simple. And too weird. She leaned in, focusing harder. Still nothing. Just the deep, inexplicable quiet.
Priya, unaware of the profound telepathic experiment taking place, chimed in. "The chain rule can be tricky! I can explain it, Kyle. It's all about breaking down the functions into smaller parts..." Her thoughts, already launching into a detailed explanation.
While Priya diligently tutored Kyle, Lily couldn't help but notice the small gestures. Kyle's genuine nods, his focused gaze, the way his fingers tapped impatiently against the textbook as he tried to grasp the concept. He was clearly thinking, just not in a way Lily could perceive.
Seth, meanwhile, was sketching furiously in his book, his thoughts a rapid succession of lines and angles. "The human brain is a funny thing," he mused aloud, apropos of nothing, his eyes fixed on a page. "Sometimes the best way to understand something is to stop trying so hard."
Lily glanced at Seth. He has no idea how profound that is in this exact moment, she thought, a dry amusement stirring.
The "study session" wound down. Lily hadn't gained any telepathic breakthroughs, but she had amassed a growing dossier of Kyle's quirks: his earnestness, his preference for plain water, his genuine struggle with math, and his ability to laugh loudly. He was… normal, in every way except the one that mattered most to her.
As Kyle said his goodbyes and headed out, Lily found herself staring after him. Her earlier craving for Korean food and desserts, which had momentarily been eclipsed, returned with a vengeance. She suddenly had an overwhelming desire for something sweet and comforting. A sugary, chewy songpyeon would be perfect.
But even the thought of delicious food couldn't fully distract her. Kyle Bartlett was a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and for the first time in her life, Lily Evergreen was completely, utterly, and fascinatingly stumped.
Operation: Blank Canvas was only just beginning.