6

Saturday morning arrives quietly, sunlight filtering through the blinds of Jaydean's room. He stirs beneath the covers, groggy but content. The house is unusually quiet, save for the occasional sound of the coffee machine whirring in the kitchen. Jaydean yawns and stretches, already aware of the plans forming in his mind for the day.

He can sense his mom's thoughts hovering just beyond his door. *Ray's leaving soon. Don't forget to say goodbye.* Her thoughts are gentle, a nudge rather than a command. Jaydean smiles to himself—she never misses a beat.

He quickly dresses and heads downstairs, finding his uncle Ray at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. His mom is busying herself with breakfast, her movements efficient and practiced. Ray looks up and grins when Jaydean enters the room.

"Morning, kid. Got up just in time to see me off," Ray says, his tone light.

Jaydean nods, already feeling the bittersweet tug of saying goodbye. He's always liked Ray—his easygoing nature and the way he makes every visit feel like a small adventure. Even now, Jaydean can sense the remnants of last night's conversation between his uncle and mom, the mix of affection and concern that comes with family ties.

Ray finishes his coffee and stands, ruffling Jaydean's hair as he grabs his coat. "Take care of yourself, and don't let your old man work you too hard," he jokes, winking at Jaydean's mom.

She just smiles, the response already in her thoughts before Ray even finishes speaking. *You know he doesn't listen anyway.* The humor in her thoughts is warm, a gentle teasing that makes Ray chuckle.

Jaydean follows Ray to the door, the usual mix of goodbyes and promises to visit more often exchanged in thoughts and words. As the door closes behind him, Jaydean feels the quiet settle back into the house.

It isn't long before the peace is interrupted by the familiar buzz of his phone. He checks the screen, seeing a message from one of his friends, Jake, flash across it. *Karaoke this afternoon?*

Jaydean grins, the idea of hanging out with his friends instantly lifting his mood. But before he can even think about asking for permission, his mom's thoughts brush against his own.

*Yes, you can go. Just be back by dinner.* She doesn't even look up from the stove, her mind already attuned to his.

Jaydean groans inwardly at the embarrassment of being so predictable. "Thanks, Mom," he says aloud, though he knows she caught the thought before the words left his mouth.

*You're welcome,* she replies mentally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

By early afternoon, Jaydean finds himself heading toward the karaoke bar where he and his friends often hang out. The streets are busy but familiar, and as he walks, he can't help but catch snippets of thoughts from passersby. Most are mundane—shopping lists, weekend plans, a fleeting worry about work on Monday. But every now and then, he catches something more interesting—a spark of excitement, a sudden flash of anger, a private joke shared between friends.

It's all part of the background noise, the constant hum of the Collective that he's grown so used to over the years. He hardly notices it most of the time, but occasionally, something catches his attention, and he's reminded of just how intertwined everyone's lives have become.

When he arrives at the karaoke bar, Jake and the others are already there, laughing and talking over the playlist. Jaydean slides into a seat next to them, joining the conversation without missing a beat. The thoughts of his friends wrap around him like a familiar blanket, full of jokes, teasing, and the usual banter.

The afternoon passes in a blur of music and laughter. The Collective makes everything flow smoothly—everyone knows the next song to choose, the right time to switch up the mood, and when someone's feeling a bit off and needs a quick pep talk. It's all effortless, the kind of synchronicity that only comes from years of shared thoughts and experiences.

As Jaydean takes his turn at the mic, belting out a song that's half-serious, half-joke, he can feel the amusement of his friends bubbling through the Collective. It's light, fun, the kind of moment that makes life feel simple, even in a world where nothing is ever really private.

He laughs as he hands the mic to the next person, settling back into his seat. His mind is already drifting toward the rest of the weekend, thoughts of schoolwork, video games, and maybe catching a movie with friends tomorrow. It's just another Saturday, another day in the life of a teenager in a world where everyone's thoughts are an open book.

But as he leans back and listens to his friends singing, he can't shake the feeling that there's more to it—something just out of reach, waiting for him to notice.