The little gust took the boy by surprise, who startled back half a step. It mattered very little that the both of them had, to some degree, done away with physics moments ago: Jack was floating. It was as unnatural as...well, a lot of things about himself he'd been told were just that.

Still, it made him hesitate a moment, staring, trying to understand. Yet Jack was the only lead he had to...much of anything so far. He was in no position to refuse, especially stuck on a roof in the cold. The boy, licking his lips pensively, nodded, reaching out. Contact once again reinstated the flow of thought and feeling, and the boy himself came with doubt and heavy waves of guilt and echoes of a dozen nervous children like himself.

He can hear it? Just by thinking...

How?

Why is this happening? When can I go home?

I don't remember it. What do we do?