I originally posted this here in reply to a writing prompt.
Okay, you may or may not believe this, and I don’t blame you if you don’t. Let me preface this by saying that I was in the wrong, at least regarding my attitude. I don’t remember why (my frequent headaches had not been diagnosed as migraines yet), but I was in a vile mood and ready to bite off anyone’s head.
This was in high school, and we had a substitute. Now, this substitute just rubbed me the wrong way. I’d say he was being too silly or something, but we were juniors and he was handing out stickers like this was preschool. I half expected him to dress up as a purple dinosaur and have us all sing together.
So anyway, back in those days, one student would have to take the attendance sheet back to the main office because . . . I have no idea why. We had computers. Maybe subs didn’t have logins or something. I don’t recall. I think this was a regular occurrence, though. So, I saw my chance. I really couldn’t stand this guy and his stupid face, and so I volunteered to take the attendance.
Now, in his defense, he and I had crossed swords already at this point. He had good reason to suspect I might be truant if he let me go out that door. But, he was a very silly, annoying person, and instead of saying no, like an adult, he decided this was a good time to play a game.
He explained the rules. Number between 1 and a hundred. We each got a guess. Whoever was closest wins. He thought a bit and said he was ready.
Here is the point you may not believe. I read his mind. Or something like that happened. I don’t know what occurred, but I was suddenly possessed of the notion that he was thinking of the number four (I don’t really remember what the number was). So, before anybody raised a hand, I looked him in the eye and said “Four.”
He may have been putting me on, but by the look on his face, I don’t believe it. That annoying smile faded from his face, and he asked me how I knew. I told him I didn’t know. He let me take the attendance sheet down to the office, as per the rules of the game, and by the time I made it back to class, we were already watching some movie on the projector screen. I had no further interaction with the man.
The most likely solution to this mystery is that he just wanted to be rid of me as much as I desired to be rid of him and had concocted the game by way of forcing me to cooperate with his inane joviality. I threw a wrench in the works when I blurted out my answer and forced him to make a decision of either getting rid of me or saying I was out of the game.
But when I think of how strongly impressed I was that I knew the number even though I couldn’t explain how I knew it, combined with the look that came over his face when I blurted it out, I sometimes wonder whether or not there was some third agent playing a game with the both of us. That, or I have latent psychic powers.
Tale Told 