Friday Night Lights - "Julie Taylor and the Case of the Unexplainable...", Julie/Tim, PG
Title: Julie Taylor and the Case of the Unexplainable, Embarrassing, and Seriously Irritating Extrasensory Perception
Author: lindentree
Rating: PG
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 4,702
Summary: "If I tell you something really strange, do you promise not to freak out or like, try to have me committed, or think I’m totally crazy?"
Notes: Takes place in an alternate universe to "There Goes The Neighbourhood" wherein Tim rescues Julie from Riley, but does not get kicked out of the house by Coach, and is therefore still living with the Taylors when this fic takes place. This was written for cliche_bingo, for the "telepathy" prompt on my card.
Thanks to the_wanlorn for the speedy and supportive beta. ♥
Stuck living in a small, football-obsessed Texas town completely devoid of arts and culture (Julie did not feel that the Carr County Historical Society Museum counted) with a PDA-loving football coach and guidance counsellor for parents, a baby sister sixteen years her junior, a distractingly hot and kind of adorable homeless fullback sleeping on their couch, and an ex-boyfriend who had begun making out with his new girlfriend all over town, Julie Taylor was pretty convinced that her life could not possibly get more bizarre or painfully unfair.
That is, until the day she woke up with the ability to hear people’s thoughts.
It happened one morning before school, when she was just waking up. She’d been dreaming she had met a hot older musician guy who didn’t turn out to be a total disappointment, and she was kissing him right in the middle of a raucous football game, burning Matt up with jealousy. But a persistent, somewhat obnoxious voice was dragging her up out of the dream.
Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight-, forty-nine, fifty...
Julie scowled, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Why was Tim standing outside her door, counting? He could be so weird sometimes.
Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven...
“Ugh,” Julie groaned, her voice hoarse. “Quit it, I’m awake.”
Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four...
“I said quit it,” Julie said, swinging her feet out of bed and getting up. “Seriously - you’re not funny.”
Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy, seventy-one...
“I’m up!” Julie shouted, wrenching her door open, ready to punch Tim in the arm for waking her up early.
The hallway was empty, however, and the only sound was of the coffeemaker percolating. Frowning, Julie wandered down the hall to the family room.
Seventy-five, seventy-eight, seventy-seven, seventy-six...
The couch was empty of its usual occupant, his sleeping bag shoved to one side. Julie walked across the living room and looked out the glass doors to find Tim doing sit ups on the deck, his iPod on and his face fixed in a frown of concentration.
Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five...
Julie could hear his voice counting out the reps, but his lips weren’t moving. She stared at him through the glass, confounded. His lips were definitely not moving. Struggling to understand what was happening, Julie stood at the door long enough that Tim became aware of her presence. Stopping in the middle of a sit up and pulling out one of his earbuds, he stared up at her and mouthed, “What?”
That Taylor kid sure is squirrely sometimes.
Julie’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, and she pushed the door open. “What did you just say?” she said, her voice shaking.
She looks real cute in those little pyjama shorts, though. Dancers are the best.
“Excuse me?” she squeaked, self-consciously pulling her shorts down to cover more of her bare legs.
Tim was still staring up at her, looking confused. “I asked you what you wanted,” he said slowly, as though speaking to someone who was either very stupid or on the verge of hysteria.
She has no idea how hot she is, either. Wouldn’t believe half the stuff the guys say behind Saracen’s back.
Julie continued to stare back at Tim, her mouth hanging open. This could not be happening. She was still dreaming, or having some kind of hallucination or something, because this could not possibly be happening.
I wonder if Mrs. Taylor’s gonna make waffles for breakfast.
“We only have waffles on Saturdays,” Julie replied, not thinking. Tim frowned, taken aback.
Did I say that out loud?
“Oh, right,” he said, standing up slowly and stretching. “I didn’t think I even said that out loud.”
“You did!” Julie blurted. “You asked me if my mom was making waffles for breakfast.”
“Looks like it’s a Pop Tart on the road. Breakfast of champions. Need a ride?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I just need to have a shower and get ready.”
“No worries, I’m gonna go for a run first, anyway.” I like taking a shower after her. Always smells like fruit salad.
“Sounds great!” Julie replied, her voice almost a shout. She turned quickly and went back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Great ass, too. Like mother, like daughter.
Holding her hands over her ears, Julie brushed past her confused parents and quickly cloistered herself in her bedroom, leaning back against the closed door and trying to remain calm.
There was no getting around it - she could hear people’s thoughts. Or at least Tim’s thoughts. She hadn’t heard a peep from her parents in the hallway. She frowned, slowly lowering her hands to her sides. Why, if this was really happening and was not some kind of vivid, fish taco-induced nightmare, could she hear Tim’s thoughts and no one else’s?
Determined, Julie began stripping off her pyjamas to go get in the shower. There was only one way to deal with this situation. She was going to have to proceed as though everything was normal, and simply gather all the information she could about her present condition.
***
Julie stared straight ahead through the windshield, trying to empty her mind of all its own jumbled thoughts so that she might be able to hear Tim’s.
Sneaking a look across the cab of the truck at its driver, she strained again to hear something. Seconds ticked by, and the only sound was of the truck’s engine running and its wheels rolling over the pavement. Smiling to herself, Julie sighed happily. Whatever it was, it seemed to have cleared up.
I think it might be sloppy joe day today.
Julie’s head snapped over and she glared at Tim. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Tim replied, taking his eyes off the road only to glance once at her, warily.
“Yes you did,” she said, her voice rising. “You said that you think it might be sloppy joe day today.”
“No, I didn’t,” Tim insisted, sounding irritated. “I was wondering to myself just now if it was sloppy joe day today, actually, but I didn’t say it out loud. How did you know I was thinking that?”
“I didn’t,” Julie sputtered, backpedaling. “You must have just said it out loud without realising. It happens.”
Julie tried not to think how absurd it was to say that about Tim, who was usually about as laconic as a person could be.
“No, it doesn’t,” Tim replied, pulling over and parking the car. “What’s with you? You've been weird all morning.”
“Okay,” Julie said, looking down at her hands. “If I tell you something really strange, do you promise not to freak out or like, try to have me committed, or think I’m totally crazy?”
Tim gave her a look which suggested it was a little too late for that, but he nodded.
“Okay,” she said again, taking a deep breath. “So, this morning I woke up, and I could kinda... Well, I could hear your thoughts. Like, telepathically.”
“Telepathically,” Tim repeated, staring.
“Yeah,” she replied, her cheeks burning. She couldn’t even stand to look at him; she could hear the disbelief in his voice. God, she was so lame.
“Hm,” he said. “So what am I thinking right now?”
Think of something you wouldn’t normally think about, so she can’t guess... John Steinbrenner! I’m thinking about the novels of John Steinbrenner.
“You’re thinking about the novels of John Steinbren... Do you mean John Steinbeck? Like, Of Mice and Men?”
“Yeah,” Tim replied, leaning closer and peering at her curiously. “How did you do that?”
"I don't know," she moaned, letting her head fall forward and burying her face in her hands. "This is horrible. I think I'm going crazy."
Julie felt Tim's hand come down on her head, where he patted her awkwardly. "You're not crazy, trust me. I know crazy."
Having a bipolar alcoholic for a mom teaches you a thing or two about crazy.
Julie lifted her head, looking at Tim closely. Colour rose in his cheeks and he pulled his hand slowly away to rest on his leg as he realised Julie must have heard what he thought.
"I didn't know your mom was...ill," Julie said softly, uncertain whether she might be better off pretending she hadn't heard that.
"Yeah," he replied, looking down at his lap.
"I don't know much about your family at all, actually."
"Not much to tell," Tim mumbled, giving a faint shrug.
"Look, I know this is really weird and everything, and there's nothing I can really do about it, but... I would never tell anyone anything. Not that you have anything to be ashamed of, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah?" Tim asked, glancing over at her. Julie was dismayed to see such doubt in his eyes. Did he really think she would turn around and use something like that like it was just juicy gossip about Tim Riggins?
"Of course," she insisted, surprised at how hurt she felt. "That's really private. I shouldn't even know about it, and I would never just go around telling people."
Tim stared at her for a moment before finally giving a little nod and looking away, out at the road in front of them. "No, you wouldn't."
"Yeah," she said. She turned to the front as well, an awkward silence falling between them. It lasted so long that Julie almost began to hope again that her new power was disappearing, but her optimism was crushed by Tim's sporadic internal monologue.
Coach sure is lucky to have his girls.
Julie cleared her throat. "It's getting late. We should get to school."
"Yeah," Tim agreed as he started the truck's engine and pulled back onto the road. He seemed unaware of the last thought Julie had heard. "So, what are we gonna do about this?"
"We?"
"Sure," he said. "Don't think I'm not flattered that you can hear my thoughts, but we gotta fix this thing. I'd rather keep them to myself."
"Well, so far I can only hear you, so I need to get to school and see if I can hear anyone else, you know? Then at least I'll know what I'm dealing with," Julie replied. She wrinkled her nose. "I guess."
“You couldn’t hear your parents this morning?”
“No, but I didn’t stick around long enough to really test it out.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” Tim shrugged.
They were quiet the rest of the way to school, and although Julie’s thoughts were racing as she tried to digest this strange turn of events, it occurred to her that Tim had either figured out how to block his thoughts from Julie, or must not do a whole lot of thinking, because Julie didn’t hear a thing.
***
Oh my god, if this class gets any more boring, I’m seriously going to have no choice but to try to kill myself using only the objects I can find in this room.
I think this new deodorant is working!
I can see Jenny Bernard’s thong. Nice. I wonder if I could get a picture with my camera phone.
Please don’t let her be pregnant, please don’t let her be pregnant, my parents are going to be so mad at me, please don’t let her be pregnant...
Is this going to be on the test, or is he just rambling? Should I be taking notes? No one else is. Well, Emily is, but that’s not surprising. She’s a total kiss-ass.
The party after the game tomorrow night is going to be totally epic.
None of these charlatans really appreciate poetry. Ugh, I hate this place. I can’t wait to go to college in a real city.
Burying her face in her folded arms, Julie grimaced. She resisted the overwhelming urge to cover her ears, knowing it wouldn’t help and it would just draw attention. But the noise of her classmates’ thoughts was driving her crazy. It wasn’t only that she could hear the thoughts of thirty other adolescents at once, but that their thoughts were self-centred and incredibly repetitive, and none of them ever seemed to shut up. Unable to stand it another second, Julie swallowed her pride and put her hand up.
“Julie?”
“May I go to the nurse’s office, please? I think I’m going to throw up.”
Gross.
Ugh.
Just thinking about someone barfing makes me want to barf.
TMI!
“Please?” she begged, half standing up out of her seat.
“Of course,” her teacher replied, looking a bit bewildered.
Moving as quickly as she could while maintaining the demeanour of someone suffering from a sudden attack of the stomach flu, Julie gathered up her things and bolted out of the room. Bypassing the nurse’s office, Julie walked as quickly as she could out of the school, through the parking lot, dashing up to the farthest corner of the bleachers. Dumping her things, she collapsed on the bench and held her throbbing head in her hands once again.
Silence.
It was quiet up there, the only sound the creaking of the bleachers in the wind and the dull, constant hum of cars on the highway. Julie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, feeling the tension start to slowly drain out of her head.
She had no idea how long she sat there, curled up into herself while the wind blew around her, but she was eventually startled to awareness by the sound of someone stomping their way up the bleachers. She looked up to see Tim standing several tiers down, watching her with a little smile on his face.
“Hey there, Professor X,” he said, coming to sit down next to her.
“Professor X?” she asked wearily.
“Yeah, you know, the guy in X-Men with the slick wheels.”
“Right,” Julie replied, squinting at him.
“He’s telepathic,” Tim explained.
“No, I got it,” she sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I can hear people’s thoughts, Tim. I can’t not hear them. It’s horrible.”
“Hm,” he said, nodding sagely. “Sounds to me like you’re suffering from passive telepathy.”
“What?”
“Passive telepathy,” he repeated.
“There’s a term for this... condition? How did you find that out?”
“I’ve been Googling.”
“You’ve been Googling.”
“Yeah, I wanted to see if there was a cure, or if you could learn to control it.”
Julie stared at Tim for a beat. “A cure? Tim, telepathy isn’t even real!”
Tim merely raised his eyebrows at her.
“Ugh,” Julie groaned, looking out at the field. “What if it’s permanent?”
"You could get into professional poker," Tim suggested.
"That's helpful, Tim, thanks."
"No worries," he replied, deliberately ignoring her sarcasm.
They fell silent, both looking out at the football field and the grey day around them.
"This makes me feel even more like a freak," Julie mumbled, after several minutes passed.
Tim glanced at her, frowning. "It's weird, I'll grant you, but why would you ever feel like a freak?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging, a little embarrassed now for having spoken. "I guess I just... I've never felt like I fitted in, not in any of the towns I've lived in or schools I've gone to. I'm always the new girl, the coach's daughter, with all this weird attention focused on my dad and my family. I feel exposed, but like no one really sees me. Does that make sense?"
Tim leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking out over the field.
Feeling like you stick out, like everyone's watching, but no one knows who you are, what's really going on with you... Like maybe it's easier for them to believe the things they believe and not have to look any closer. Maybe they should look deeper, even if they won't like what they see.
"Yeah," Julie said, watching Tim's face closely.
Tim turned and looked at her, his expression inscrutable.
"You heard that?"
"Sorry," Julie said, looking down. "I'd turn it off if I could."
"It's okay," Tim replied. "I'll try to dial it down on my end."
"Is that why you're so quiet? You're turning it off somehow? Everyone else is incredibly loud. The noise is just constant."
"Dunno," Tim shrugged. "Never been much of a thinker."
"I don't know about that," Julie smiled. "Anyway, I appreciate it. My head's pounding. Did you know that guys really do think about sex every minute of the day?"
Tim merely smiled at her, his eyes glinting with the obvious joke.
"Ah," Julie said, leaning back and kicking her legs up onto the seats in front of her. "I guess you already knew that."
***
Julie spent the rest of the school day in the nurse's office, complaining of a migraine. There was no football practice after school that day, so Julie waited for Tim after classes by his truck, armed with orders from her mother to pick up fried chicken on the way home.
One interesting thing Julie had discovered while lying on a cot in the nurse's office, silently bemoaning the state of her life, was that she definitely could not hear the thoughts of any adults. They were completely shut off from her, just like normal. It was only other teenagers she could hear. Whenever classes changed or a student came into the nurse's office, her head would become crowded with thoughts and feelings. But from Ms. Pritchard, the nurse, and all the teachers, there was nothing but silence.
She told Tim this on the way home, the bucket of fried chicken nearly scalding her legs through her jeans.
"Hm," he said, his brow furrowed. "Wonder why? Seems kinda random."
"I know, right?"
"Guess it's a good thing, though. This way you don't gotta hear what your dad thinks about your mom's butt or whatever."
"Nice," Julie sniffed. "I already heard what you think of my mom's butt, I don't need to be traumatized by that, too."
"You did?" Tim asked, his cheeks colouring.
"I did," Julie replied, smiling. "Very charming. Thanks for the compliment, though."
"We're here," Tim gruffed, clearing his throat as he pulled into the Taylors' driveway. "I'll take the food."
Tim grabbed the bucket of chicken and the paper bag full of side dishes, striding quickly into the house without waiting for Julie, who was laughing so hard she could barely get herself out of the truck.
"What are you two giggling about?" called Coach from the living room, as Tim and Julie came into the house.
"Nothing," Julie replied, raising an eyebrow over the table at Tim as she began unpacking the food.
"Did you get extra macaroni salad?" Coach asked.
“Yes sir,” Tim replied, shooting Julie an embarrassed look.
“Good,” Coach replied. “I hate it when we run out of macaroni salad.”
***
Julie lay awake in bed that night, staring up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars she had stuck to her ceiling several years earlier.
Coach says the best option for us against these guys is to go back to running the ball, so I just gotta focus on Smash and getting everything and everyone out of his way. Just gotta keep my eyes out for him, and bulldoze anything in the way...
Tim had been carrying on in this fashion since everyone had gone to bed. Julie had been just drifting off to sleep when she’d started to hear Tim’s anxious thoughts at the very edge of her consciousness. Now he was babbling away to himself at an impressive volume, and with a great deal of repetition.
Julie grabbed a pillow and pressed it into her face, groaning loudly into it. She just barely restrained herself from screaming.
Don’t worry about how big they are, I’m stronger, even if that one guy has a good thirty pounds on me, doesn’t matter because I just have to keep my head up and my heart in it and I can plow through them...
Julie threw the pillow aside, and it hit her bookshelf with a dull thwack. Kicking the covers off, she walked as quietly as she could out of her bedroom and into the living room. Tim was stretched out on the couch, looking like he was asleep.
Just gotta keep my head in the game and not let all that other stuff crowd out what I gotta do, which is just block for Smash so we can run the ball, we just gotta run the ball and we’ll run those boys right into the turf...
She stood with her arms crossed over her chest for a moment, watching him lying there in the dark, before speaking.
“I know you can’t help it any more than I can, but it’s really hard to sleep with all this chattering going on out here.”
“Huh?” he replied, his voice muffled by the arm across his face.
“I can hear you thinking all the way over in my room, Tim.”
“Oh,” he said, his head appearing over the top of the couch. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Julie sighed, coming around the couch and sitting down as Tim moved his feet out of the way. “I never really had you pegged as the kind of guy who got nerves before the big game.”
“I’d shut it off if I could, believe me.”
"So, you can’t sleep because you’re thinking about tomorrow night?" she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
"Yeah," Tim said, sitting up a little.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," he replied.
"Okay. It's just that you're sitting here broadcasting anxiety at me, and I thought that maybe talking it out might help."
"I'm not broadcasting, you're eavesdropping."
"Eavesdropping unintentionally," Julie huffed. "Do you usually get this nervous before a game?"
"I dunno," Tim shrugged. "Usually I try to get laid before a game. That seems to help.”
“Oh,” Julie replied delicately, blushing. "Well, is it good nervous or bad nervous?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like, is it the kind of nervous where you're so anxious that you're coming up with irrational ways of avoiding what you have to do or like, breaking out into hysterical crying, or is it the kind of nervous where it gets your blood pumping and gets you all fired up? I get that way before dance recitals."
"Yeah, I guess it's more the second one... I run plays over and over in my head, and I can't sleep, and I get butterflies in my stomach, but it all kinda gets me going."
"Well, that's good. That's just adrenalin."
"I only ever felt the other kind of nervous after Street got hurt."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You couldn't really tell."
"What, you were watching?"
"Well, yeah. I go to all your games. I kinda have to."
"No, I mean... You were watching me?"
Julie paused, looking across the couch at his face, which was mostly in shadow. "Everyone was, Tim. For a while there it was like the whole town was holding its breath."
"I remember," he said, nodding.
"Does it still bother you?" Julie asked cautiously, not wanting Tim to feel like she was probing.
"Does what bother me?"
"That something like that happened to someone so young, with this whole bright future ahead of him? Don't you ever wonder why?"
"Not really," he replied. Julie must have looked sceptical, because Tim smiled. "I never understood, when something bad happens no one can explain, why people always wonder why."
There's no use in it. Even if you can figure out an answer, doesn't change anything. It can't bring someone back or make them whole again.
“Injustice bothers some people more than others,” Julie observed. “They can’t help but want to know why, because what happened was so unfair.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Tim replied, sounding unconvinced.
“Sometimes people should ask why,” she continued. Tim didn’t reply, but Julie felt compelled to press on. “I wonder why for you, sometimes.”
“For me? What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, I wonder why your parents left you, how they could do that, and why no one ever did anything about it. Why everyone in town just shrugged their shoulders and let you and Billy go through it alone.”
Tim was silent for so long that Julie was afraid she’d said too much; that she’d embarrassed or offended him.
“Sorry,” she said, moving to get up and go back to her room. “It’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She was stopped by Tim grabbing her wrist and holding it loosely in his hand.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice rough.
Julie looked at Tim in the dim light, still unable to see his shadowed face.
“I should go to bed,” she said softly. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
“I will,” he replied, still holding onto her wrist.
“Goodnight, Tim,” she said, gently pulling away. She stood and left the room without another word, soon curled up once more in her bed.
Tim must have fallen asleep fairly quickly, Julie thought, for she didn’t hear another word from him, and she too was soon fast asleep.
***
The following morning, Tim and her father were both gone before Julie was even up, headed out for an early practice before that night’s game. Julie got a ride to school with her mother, and as such, it wasn’t until she was sitting in the back of her ethics class half-listening to Mr. Richman’s monotonous voice that she realised that the only voice she was hearing was Mr. Richman’s.
Frowning, Julie sat up straighter and looked around the room at her classmates, who all looked about as engaged as she felt. Some were taking notes, others were doodling, others were obviously daydreaming, and a few were texting furiously under their desks. But Julie couldn’t hear a single one of them thinking about their GPA, or their social life, or their body odour. She closed her eyes and, breathing deeply, tried to make her mind as “open” as possible.
There was nothing in there but her own voice.
Trying to stifle her triumphant grin, all Julie could think about was that she couldn’t wait to tell Tim. She knew he’d be relieved to have his privacy back.
It wasn’t until right before the game that she even had a chance to talk to him. Telling her mom and Gracie to go ahead and find their usual spots in the bleachers, she ducked around to the field house. She spotted Tim getting out of his truck and walking towards the locker room, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
“Tim!” she called, jogging to catch him. “Hold on!”
Tim turned around and, when he saw who was calling his name, stopped and smiled at her. “Hey Jules,” he said, as she came to a stop in front of him.
“You’ll never guess what!” she said breathlessly.
“No, I probably won’t. What’s up?”
“It went away! It’s gone, I can’t hear people anymore!”
“For real?”
“Yeah!”
“Since when?”
“During the night, I guess! I didn’t even realise I couldn’t hear anything until second period.”
“Hold on, let’s test it,” he said. “What am I thinking about right now?”
Julie concentrated hard. Tim looked down at her, and Julie could tell from the intensity of his expression that he too was concentrating. She listened. There was only silence.
“Can’t hear a thing!” she said, grinning at him.
He looked at her for another moment, a strange expression on his face. It was like he was smiling and frowning at the same time, his eyes a bit sad. Julie frowned back, confused.
“Congrats,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle bump as he turned to walk towards the locker rooms.
“Wait, Tim!” she called, taking a few steps after him. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you were thinking?”
Tim stopped and turned back to look at her, squinting against the bright sunset.
“I was thinking we’re gonna get us a big W tonight, little Taylor,” he replied, before smiling once more at her and disappearing into the locker room.
Julie smiled at his retreating back, rolling her eyes. She turned away, and went to find her mother and Gracie in the stands.
-end-
Author: lindentree
Rating: PG
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 4,702
Summary: "If I tell you something really strange, do you promise not to freak out or like, try to have me committed, or think I’m totally crazy?"
Notes: Takes place in an alternate universe to "There Goes The Neighbourhood" wherein Tim rescues Julie from Riley, but does not get kicked out of the house by Coach, and is therefore still living with the Taylors when this fic takes place. This was written for cliche_bingo, for the "telepathy" prompt on my card.
Thanks to the_wanlorn for the speedy and supportive beta. ♥
Stuck living in a small, football-obsessed Texas town completely devoid of arts and culture (Julie did not feel that the Carr County Historical Society Museum counted) with a PDA-loving football coach and guidance counsellor for parents, a baby sister sixteen years her junior, a distractingly hot and kind of adorable homeless fullback sleeping on their couch, and an ex-boyfriend who had begun making out with his new girlfriend all over town, Julie Taylor was pretty convinced that her life could not possibly get more bizarre or painfully unfair.
That is, until the day she woke up with the ability to hear people’s thoughts.
It happened one morning before school, when she was just waking up. She’d been dreaming she had met a hot older musician guy who didn’t turn out to be a total disappointment, and she was kissing him right in the middle of a raucous football game, burning Matt up with jealousy. But a persistent, somewhat obnoxious voice was dragging her up out of the dream.
Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight-, forty-nine, fifty...
Julie scowled, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Why was Tim standing outside her door, counting? He could be so weird sometimes.
Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven...
“Ugh,” Julie groaned, her voice hoarse. “Quit it, I’m awake.”
Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four...
“I said quit it,” Julie said, swinging her feet out of bed and getting up. “Seriously - you’re not funny.”
Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy, seventy-one...
“I’m up!” Julie shouted, wrenching her door open, ready to punch Tim in the arm for waking her up early.
The hallway was empty, however, and the only sound was of the coffeemaker percolating. Frowning, Julie wandered down the hall to the family room.
Seventy-five, seventy-eight, seventy-seven, seventy-six...
The couch was empty of its usual occupant, his sleeping bag shoved to one side. Julie walked across the living room and looked out the glass doors to find Tim doing sit ups on the deck, his iPod on and his face fixed in a frown of concentration.
Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five...
Julie could hear his voice counting out the reps, but his lips weren’t moving. She stared at him through the glass, confounded. His lips were definitely not moving. Struggling to understand what was happening, Julie stood at the door long enough that Tim became aware of her presence. Stopping in the middle of a sit up and pulling out one of his earbuds, he stared up at her and mouthed, “What?”
That Taylor kid sure is squirrely sometimes.
Julie’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, and she pushed the door open. “What did you just say?” she said, her voice shaking.
She looks real cute in those little pyjama shorts, though. Dancers are the best.
“Excuse me?” she squeaked, self-consciously pulling her shorts down to cover more of her bare legs.
Tim was still staring up at her, looking confused. “I asked you what you wanted,” he said slowly, as though speaking to someone who was either very stupid or on the verge of hysteria.
She has no idea how hot she is, either. Wouldn’t believe half the stuff the guys say behind Saracen’s back.
Julie continued to stare back at Tim, her mouth hanging open. This could not be happening. She was still dreaming, or having some kind of hallucination or something, because this could not possibly be happening.
I wonder if Mrs. Taylor’s gonna make waffles for breakfast.
“We only have waffles on Saturdays,” Julie replied, not thinking. Tim frowned, taken aback.
Did I say that out loud?
“Oh, right,” he said, standing up slowly and stretching. “I didn’t think I even said that out loud.”
“You did!” Julie blurted. “You asked me if my mom was making waffles for breakfast.”
“Looks like it’s a Pop Tart on the road. Breakfast of champions. Need a ride?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I just need to have a shower and get ready.”
“No worries, I’m gonna go for a run first, anyway.” I like taking a shower after her. Always smells like fruit salad.
“Sounds great!” Julie replied, her voice almost a shout. She turned quickly and went back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
Great ass, too. Like mother, like daughter.
Holding her hands over her ears, Julie brushed past her confused parents and quickly cloistered herself in her bedroom, leaning back against the closed door and trying to remain calm.
There was no getting around it - she could hear people’s thoughts. Or at least Tim’s thoughts. She hadn’t heard a peep from her parents in the hallway. She frowned, slowly lowering her hands to her sides. Why, if this was really happening and was not some kind of vivid, fish taco-induced nightmare, could she hear Tim’s thoughts and no one else’s?
Determined, Julie began stripping off her pyjamas to go get in the shower. There was only one way to deal with this situation. She was going to have to proceed as though everything was normal, and simply gather all the information she could about her present condition.
***
Julie stared straight ahead through the windshield, trying to empty her mind of all its own jumbled thoughts so that she might be able to hear Tim’s.
Sneaking a look across the cab of the truck at its driver, she strained again to hear something. Seconds ticked by, and the only sound was of the truck’s engine running and its wheels rolling over the pavement. Smiling to herself, Julie sighed happily. Whatever it was, it seemed to have cleared up.
I think it might be sloppy joe day today.
Julie’s head snapped over and she glared at Tim. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Tim replied, taking his eyes off the road only to glance once at her, warily.
“Yes you did,” she said, her voice rising. “You said that you think it might be sloppy joe day today.”
“No, I didn’t,” Tim insisted, sounding irritated. “I was wondering to myself just now if it was sloppy joe day today, actually, but I didn’t say it out loud. How did you know I was thinking that?”
“I didn’t,” Julie sputtered, backpedaling. “You must have just said it out loud without realising. It happens.”
Julie tried not to think how absurd it was to say that about Tim, who was usually about as laconic as a person could be.
“No, it doesn’t,” Tim replied, pulling over and parking the car. “What’s with you? You've been weird all morning.”
“Okay,” Julie said, looking down at her hands. “If I tell you something really strange, do you promise not to freak out or like, try to have me committed, or think I’m totally crazy?”
Tim gave her a look which suggested it was a little too late for that, but he nodded.
“Okay,” she said again, taking a deep breath. “So, this morning I woke up, and I could kinda... Well, I could hear your thoughts. Like, telepathically.”
“Telepathically,” Tim repeated, staring.
“Yeah,” she replied, her cheeks burning. She couldn’t even stand to look at him; she could hear the disbelief in his voice. God, she was so lame.
“Hm,” he said. “So what am I thinking right now?”
Think of something you wouldn’t normally think about, so she can’t guess... John Steinbrenner! I’m thinking about the novels of John Steinbrenner.
“You’re thinking about the novels of John Steinbren... Do you mean John Steinbeck? Like, Of Mice and Men?”
“Yeah,” Tim replied, leaning closer and peering at her curiously. “How did you do that?”
"I don't know," she moaned, letting her head fall forward and burying her face in her hands. "This is horrible. I think I'm going crazy."
Julie felt Tim's hand come down on her head, where he patted her awkwardly. "You're not crazy, trust me. I know crazy."
Having a bipolar alcoholic for a mom teaches you a thing or two about crazy.
Julie lifted her head, looking at Tim closely. Colour rose in his cheeks and he pulled his hand slowly away to rest on his leg as he realised Julie must have heard what he thought.
"I didn't know your mom was...ill," Julie said softly, uncertain whether she might be better off pretending she hadn't heard that.
"Yeah," he replied, looking down at his lap.
"I don't know much about your family at all, actually."
"Not much to tell," Tim mumbled, giving a faint shrug.
"Look, I know this is really weird and everything, and there's nothing I can really do about it, but... I would never tell anyone anything. Not that you have anything to be ashamed of, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah?" Tim asked, glancing over at her. Julie was dismayed to see such doubt in his eyes. Did he really think she would turn around and use something like that like it was just juicy gossip about Tim Riggins?
"Of course," she insisted, surprised at how hurt she felt. "That's really private. I shouldn't even know about it, and I would never just go around telling people."
Tim stared at her for a moment before finally giving a little nod and looking away, out at the road in front of them. "No, you wouldn't."
"Yeah," she said. She turned to the front as well, an awkward silence falling between them. It lasted so long that Julie almost began to hope again that her new power was disappearing, but her optimism was crushed by Tim's sporadic internal monologue.
Coach sure is lucky to have his girls.
Julie cleared her throat. "It's getting late. We should get to school."
"Yeah," Tim agreed as he started the truck's engine and pulled back onto the road. He seemed unaware of the last thought Julie had heard. "So, what are we gonna do about this?"
"We?"
"Sure," he said. "Don't think I'm not flattered that you can hear my thoughts, but we gotta fix this thing. I'd rather keep them to myself."
"Well, so far I can only hear you, so I need to get to school and see if I can hear anyone else, you know? Then at least I'll know what I'm dealing with," Julie replied. She wrinkled her nose. "I guess."
“You couldn’t hear your parents this morning?”
“No, but I didn’t stick around long enough to really test it out.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” Tim shrugged.
They were quiet the rest of the way to school, and although Julie’s thoughts were racing as she tried to digest this strange turn of events, it occurred to her that Tim had either figured out how to block his thoughts from Julie, or must not do a whole lot of thinking, because Julie didn’t hear a thing.
***
Oh my god, if this class gets any more boring, I’m seriously going to have no choice but to try to kill myself using only the objects I can find in this room.
I think this new deodorant is working!
I can see Jenny Bernard’s thong. Nice. I wonder if I could get a picture with my camera phone.
Please don’t let her be pregnant, please don’t let her be pregnant, my parents are going to be so mad at me, please don’t let her be pregnant...
Is this going to be on the test, or is he just rambling? Should I be taking notes? No one else is. Well, Emily is, but that’s not surprising. She’s a total kiss-ass.
The party after the game tomorrow night is going to be totally epic.
None of these charlatans really appreciate poetry. Ugh, I hate this place. I can’t wait to go to college in a real city.
Burying her face in her folded arms, Julie grimaced. She resisted the overwhelming urge to cover her ears, knowing it wouldn’t help and it would just draw attention. But the noise of her classmates’ thoughts was driving her crazy. It wasn’t only that she could hear the thoughts of thirty other adolescents at once, but that their thoughts were self-centred and incredibly repetitive, and none of them ever seemed to shut up. Unable to stand it another second, Julie swallowed her pride and put her hand up.
“Julie?”
“May I go to the nurse’s office, please? I think I’m going to throw up.”
Gross.
Ugh.
Just thinking about someone barfing makes me want to barf.
TMI!
“Please?” she begged, half standing up out of her seat.
“Of course,” her teacher replied, looking a bit bewildered.
Moving as quickly as she could while maintaining the demeanour of someone suffering from a sudden attack of the stomach flu, Julie gathered up her things and bolted out of the room. Bypassing the nurse’s office, Julie walked as quickly as she could out of the school, through the parking lot, dashing up to the farthest corner of the bleachers. Dumping her things, she collapsed on the bench and held her throbbing head in her hands once again.
Silence.
It was quiet up there, the only sound the creaking of the bleachers in the wind and the dull, constant hum of cars on the highway. Julie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, feeling the tension start to slowly drain out of her head.
She had no idea how long she sat there, curled up into herself while the wind blew around her, but she was eventually startled to awareness by the sound of someone stomping their way up the bleachers. She looked up to see Tim standing several tiers down, watching her with a little smile on his face.
“Hey there, Professor X,” he said, coming to sit down next to her.
“Professor X?” she asked wearily.
“Yeah, you know, the guy in X-Men with the slick wheels.”
“Right,” Julie replied, squinting at him.
“He’s telepathic,” Tim explained.
“No, I got it,” she sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I can hear people’s thoughts, Tim. I can’t not hear them. It’s horrible.”
“Hm,” he said, nodding sagely. “Sounds to me like you’re suffering from passive telepathy.”
“What?”
“Passive telepathy,” he repeated.
“There’s a term for this... condition? How did you find that out?”
“I’ve been Googling.”
“You’ve been Googling.”
“Yeah, I wanted to see if there was a cure, or if you could learn to control it.”
Julie stared at Tim for a beat. “A cure? Tim, telepathy isn’t even real!”
Tim merely raised his eyebrows at her.
“Ugh,” Julie groaned, looking out at the field. “What if it’s permanent?”
"You could get into professional poker," Tim suggested.
"That's helpful, Tim, thanks."
"No worries," he replied, deliberately ignoring her sarcasm.
They fell silent, both looking out at the football field and the grey day around them.
"This makes me feel even more like a freak," Julie mumbled, after several minutes passed.
Tim glanced at her, frowning. "It's weird, I'll grant you, but why would you ever feel like a freak?"
"I don't know," she said, shrugging, a little embarrassed now for having spoken. "I guess I just... I've never felt like I fitted in, not in any of the towns I've lived in or schools I've gone to. I'm always the new girl, the coach's daughter, with all this weird attention focused on my dad and my family. I feel exposed, but like no one really sees me. Does that make sense?"
Tim leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking out over the field.
Feeling like you stick out, like everyone's watching, but no one knows who you are, what's really going on with you... Like maybe it's easier for them to believe the things they believe and not have to look any closer. Maybe they should look deeper, even if they won't like what they see.
"Yeah," Julie said, watching Tim's face closely.
Tim turned and looked at her, his expression inscrutable.
"You heard that?"
"Sorry," Julie said, looking down. "I'd turn it off if I could."
"It's okay," Tim replied. "I'll try to dial it down on my end."
"Is that why you're so quiet? You're turning it off somehow? Everyone else is incredibly loud. The noise is just constant."
"Dunno," Tim shrugged. "Never been much of a thinker."
"I don't know about that," Julie smiled. "Anyway, I appreciate it. My head's pounding. Did you know that guys really do think about sex every minute of the day?"
Tim merely smiled at her, his eyes glinting with the obvious joke.
"Ah," Julie said, leaning back and kicking her legs up onto the seats in front of her. "I guess you already knew that."
***
Julie spent the rest of the school day in the nurse's office, complaining of a migraine. There was no football practice after school that day, so Julie waited for Tim after classes by his truck, armed with orders from her mother to pick up fried chicken on the way home.
One interesting thing Julie had discovered while lying on a cot in the nurse's office, silently bemoaning the state of her life, was that she definitely could not hear the thoughts of any adults. They were completely shut off from her, just like normal. It was only other teenagers she could hear. Whenever classes changed or a student came into the nurse's office, her head would become crowded with thoughts and feelings. But from Ms. Pritchard, the nurse, and all the teachers, there was nothing but silence.
She told Tim this on the way home, the bucket of fried chicken nearly scalding her legs through her jeans.
"Hm," he said, his brow furrowed. "Wonder why? Seems kinda random."
"I know, right?"
"Guess it's a good thing, though. This way you don't gotta hear what your dad thinks about your mom's butt or whatever."
"Nice," Julie sniffed. "I already heard what you think of my mom's butt, I don't need to be traumatized by that, too."
"You did?" Tim asked, his cheeks colouring.
"I did," Julie replied, smiling. "Very charming. Thanks for the compliment, though."
"We're here," Tim gruffed, clearing his throat as he pulled into the Taylors' driveway. "I'll take the food."
Tim grabbed the bucket of chicken and the paper bag full of side dishes, striding quickly into the house without waiting for Julie, who was laughing so hard she could barely get herself out of the truck.
"What are you two giggling about?" called Coach from the living room, as Tim and Julie came into the house.
"Nothing," Julie replied, raising an eyebrow over the table at Tim as she began unpacking the food.
"Did you get extra macaroni salad?" Coach asked.
“Yes sir,” Tim replied, shooting Julie an embarrassed look.
“Good,” Coach replied. “I hate it when we run out of macaroni salad.”
***
Julie lay awake in bed that night, staring up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars she had stuck to her ceiling several years earlier.
Coach says the best option for us against these guys is to go back to running the ball, so I just gotta focus on Smash and getting everything and everyone out of his way. Just gotta keep my eyes out for him, and bulldoze anything in the way...
Tim had been carrying on in this fashion since everyone had gone to bed. Julie had been just drifting off to sleep when she’d started to hear Tim’s anxious thoughts at the very edge of her consciousness. Now he was babbling away to himself at an impressive volume, and with a great deal of repetition.
Julie grabbed a pillow and pressed it into her face, groaning loudly into it. She just barely restrained herself from screaming.
Don’t worry about how big they are, I’m stronger, even if that one guy has a good thirty pounds on me, doesn’t matter because I just have to keep my head up and my heart in it and I can plow through them...
Julie threw the pillow aside, and it hit her bookshelf with a dull thwack. Kicking the covers off, she walked as quietly as she could out of her bedroom and into the living room. Tim was stretched out on the couch, looking like he was asleep.
Just gotta keep my head in the game and not let all that other stuff crowd out what I gotta do, which is just block for Smash so we can run the ball, we just gotta run the ball and we’ll run those boys right into the turf...
She stood with her arms crossed over her chest for a moment, watching him lying there in the dark, before speaking.
“I know you can’t help it any more than I can, but it’s really hard to sleep with all this chattering going on out here.”
“Huh?” he replied, his voice muffled by the arm across his face.
“I can hear you thinking all the way over in my room, Tim.”
“Oh,” he said, his head appearing over the top of the couch. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Julie sighed, coming around the couch and sitting down as Tim moved his feet out of the way. “I never really had you pegged as the kind of guy who got nerves before the big game.”
“I’d shut it off if I could, believe me.”
"So, you can’t sleep because you’re thinking about tomorrow night?" she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
"Yeah," Tim said, sitting up a little.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," he replied.
"Okay. It's just that you're sitting here broadcasting anxiety at me, and I thought that maybe talking it out might help."
"I'm not broadcasting, you're eavesdropping."
"Eavesdropping unintentionally," Julie huffed. "Do you usually get this nervous before a game?"
"I dunno," Tim shrugged. "Usually I try to get laid before a game. That seems to help.”
“Oh,” Julie replied delicately, blushing. "Well, is it good nervous or bad nervous?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like, is it the kind of nervous where you're so anxious that you're coming up with irrational ways of avoiding what you have to do or like, breaking out into hysterical crying, or is it the kind of nervous where it gets your blood pumping and gets you all fired up? I get that way before dance recitals."
"Yeah, I guess it's more the second one... I run plays over and over in my head, and I can't sleep, and I get butterflies in my stomach, but it all kinda gets me going."
"Well, that's good. That's just adrenalin."
"I only ever felt the other kind of nervous after Street got hurt."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You couldn't really tell."
"What, you were watching?"
"Well, yeah. I go to all your games. I kinda have to."
"No, I mean... You were watching me?"
Julie paused, looking across the couch at his face, which was mostly in shadow. "Everyone was, Tim. For a while there it was like the whole town was holding its breath."
"I remember," he said, nodding.
"Does it still bother you?" Julie asked cautiously, not wanting Tim to feel like she was probing.
"Does what bother me?"
"That something like that happened to someone so young, with this whole bright future ahead of him? Don't you ever wonder why?"
"Not really," he replied. Julie must have looked sceptical, because Tim smiled. "I never understood, when something bad happens no one can explain, why people always wonder why."
There's no use in it. Even if you can figure out an answer, doesn't change anything. It can't bring someone back or make them whole again.
“Injustice bothers some people more than others,” Julie observed. “They can’t help but want to know why, because what happened was so unfair.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Tim replied, sounding unconvinced.
“Sometimes people should ask why,” she continued. Tim didn’t reply, but Julie felt compelled to press on. “I wonder why for you, sometimes.”
“For me? What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, I wonder why your parents left you, how they could do that, and why no one ever did anything about it. Why everyone in town just shrugged their shoulders and let you and Billy go through it alone.”
Tim was silent for so long that Julie was afraid she’d said too much; that she’d embarrassed or offended him.
“Sorry,” she said, moving to get up and go back to her room. “It’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She was stopped by Tim grabbing her wrist and holding it loosely in his hand.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice rough.
Julie looked at Tim in the dim light, still unable to see his shadowed face.
“I should go to bed,” she said softly. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
“I will,” he replied, still holding onto her wrist.
“Goodnight, Tim,” she said, gently pulling away. She stood and left the room without another word, soon curled up once more in her bed.
Tim must have fallen asleep fairly quickly, Julie thought, for she didn’t hear another word from him, and she too was soon fast asleep.
***
The following morning, Tim and her father were both gone before Julie was even up, headed out for an early practice before that night’s game. Julie got a ride to school with her mother, and as such, it wasn’t until she was sitting in the back of her ethics class half-listening to Mr. Richman’s monotonous voice that she realised that the only voice she was hearing was Mr. Richman’s.
Frowning, Julie sat up straighter and looked around the room at her classmates, who all looked about as engaged as she felt. Some were taking notes, others were doodling, others were obviously daydreaming, and a few were texting furiously under their desks. But Julie couldn’t hear a single one of them thinking about their GPA, or their social life, or their body odour. She closed her eyes and, breathing deeply, tried to make her mind as “open” as possible.
There was nothing in there but her own voice.
Trying to stifle her triumphant grin, all Julie could think about was that she couldn’t wait to tell Tim. She knew he’d be relieved to have his privacy back.
It wasn’t until right before the game that she even had a chance to talk to him. Telling her mom and Gracie to go ahead and find their usual spots in the bleachers, she ducked around to the field house. She spotted Tim getting out of his truck and walking towards the locker room, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
“Tim!” she called, jogging to catch him. “Hold on!”
Tim turned around and, when he saw who was calling his name, stopped and smiled at her. “Hey Jules,” he said, as she came to a stop in front of him.
“You’ll never guess what!” she said breathlessly.
“No, I probably won’t. What’s up?”
“It went away! It’s gone, I can’t hear people anymore!”
“For real?”
“Yeah!”
“Since when?”
“During the night, I guess! I didn’t even realise I couldn’t hear anything until second period.”
“Hold on, let’s test it,” he said. “What am I thinking about right now?”
Julie concentrated hard. Tim looked down at her, and Julie could tell from the intensity of his expression that he too was concentrating. She listened. There was only silence.
“Can’t hear a thing!” she said, grinning at him.
He looked at her for another moment, a strange expression on his face. It was like he was smiling and frowning at the same time, his eyes a bit sad. Julie frowned back, confused.
“Congrats,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle bump as he turned to walk towards the locker rooms.
“Wait, Tim!” she called, taking a few steps after him. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you were thinking?”
Tim stopped and turned back to look at her, squinting against the bright sunset.
“I was thinking we’re gonna get us a big W tonight, little Taylor,” he replied, before smiling once more at her and disappearing into the locker room.
Julie smiled at his retreating back, rolling her eyes. She turned away, and went to find her mother and Gracie in the stands.
-end-