by Marilyn Kaye
"Because I was right with my prediction! You just met a tall, dark, handsome stranger."
"I couldn't tell if he was handsome," Jenna pointed out.
Emily sighed. "Well, he was tall and dark and he was a stranger. Three out of four isn't bad." Then, suddenly, her face changed and she shivered.
"Now what's the matter?" Jenna asked.
"I just got a bad feeling about him," Emily said. "Like maybe he's not a nice person."
"That doesn't make sense," Tracey said. "If he was a burglar or something like that, he wouldn't have told Jenna not to open the door."
"That's true," Emily admitted. "See? You can't rely
55
on me. I get these visions, but a lot of the time I don't understand what they mean."
"It's too bad we can't blend our gifts and work together," Tracey commented. "Jenna could read your mind and make sense out of what you see in your head."
"She can't read my mind," Emily reminded her.
"I didn't say that," Jenna argued. "I never try."
"Try now," Emily urged. "What am I thinking?"
Jenna closed her eyes and concentrated. Then she frowned. "Nothing. You're as empty as Carter Street."
Emily grinned. "I just imagined a wall in front of my thoughts."
"Ooh, let me try that!" Tracey cried out excitedly. "Jenna, try to read my mind."
"You made me promise not to."
"Well, I release you from your promise, just for one minute. Starting now."
Feeling like a circus performer, Jenna groaned, but how could she say no to someone who was putting her up for two weeks? So she closed her eyes again.
It didn't take much concentration to read Tracey's thoughts. "You're thinking about dinner tonight and
56
hoping for spaghetti and meatballs."
Tracey made a face. "But I put up a wall, just like Emily did. A brick wall! How come it didn't work for me?"
"How should I know? "Jenna retorted. "Why are some of Emily's predictions right and others not?"
"We're mysteries," Emily said. "We're not like other people. We've got weird gifts that we don't understand, so we can't expect them to work all the time until we learn more about them."
Once again, vague, scatterbrained Emily was making an intelligent observation. They really were mysteries, all of them, Jenna thought.
And personally, she liked being a mystery. It meant that life would be full of surprises.
57
Chapter 5
THE NEXT DAY, WHEN she arrived at school, Amanda went up to the principal's office. There was a student working at the reception desk--a girl named Heather who'd been in Amanda's geometry class last year. Heather wasn't a nerd, but she wasn't in the top clique either, and Amanda was pretty sure she could get Heather to do her a favor.
She was right, and after graciously accepting a compliment from Heather on her new yellow platform shoes, she left the office with a copy of Ken Preston's class schedule. Then she organized her day so that she would accidentally bump into him at various times between classes.
The first two times, he didn't even see her. The third time, he saw her, and when she greeted him, he said hi but didn't stop to talk. And the fourth time,
58
when she tried to start a conversation, he claimed to be busy and hurried off.
It didn't make any sense. Was it possible--really, truly possible--that he wasn't attracted to her? It was hard to believe, but she decided she would have to explore all the possibilities of getting together with him.
For the first time since she'd started the class, she hurried to room 209. She knew Ken wouldn't be there--he always showed up at the last minute. There was someone else she wanted to see--someone who just might be able to help her connect with Ken.
Being the perfect student, Sarah was already in her seat when Amanda arrived. Whoever sat in front of her wasn't there yet, so Amanda took that seat. Sarah looked up in surprise.
"Hello, Amanda."
Amanda tried to remember if she'd ever spoken directly to Sarah. She didn't think so, but she smiled brightly and tried to act as if they talked every day.
"Hi, Sarah. How're you doing?"
Sarah recovered from her shock quickly. "Fine. How are you?"
59
Amanda put on a doleful face. "Not too good."
Sarah had a reputation for being sweet and understanding, and she demonstrated that now. She looked concerned. "What's the matter?"
"It's Ken," Amanda said sadly. "You know--Ken Preston, in our class."
"What's wrong with Ken?"
"Well, he's so timid . . ."
"Really? I never noticed that."
Amanda continued quickly. "Well, he is, and I know he wants to ask me out, but he's too shy. Maybe you could help him."
Sarah looked confused, "What could I do?"
"You've got that special ability to make people do things with your mind. And I was thinking, you could make him ask me out. Nothing major--just something like a movie or miniature golf."
Sarah just stared at her, speechless. Her eyes were very wide.
"It would just be this one time," Amanda assured her. "I'm sure once I got him alone, he'd recover from his shyness. Would you do this for me? I mean, for him?"
60
Sarah shook her head. "I can't, Amanda."
"Of course you can. You've got the gift!"
"I suppose I should say, 'I won't.' Amanda, my gift is dangerous. And the only way I can deal with it is to not use it at all."
"But that's silly!" Amanda exclaimed. "It's just a date. How is that dangerous?"
"That's not the point, Amanda."
Amanda frowned. She didn't care about the point. She just wanted a date.
Sarah explained, "I used to have a fantasy about going to the Winter Olympics so I could help the figure skaters not fall. But 1 know now that doing good deeds can be just as dangerous as doing bad deeds. Because one thing could lead to another. Do you see what I mean?"
"No. Look, Sarah, if you do this for me, we could be friends. You could sit with us at lunch." Amanda knew that her table, with Britney, Sophie, Nina, Katie, and the others, was considered the best girls' table in the cafeteria. Heather-in-the-office would kill for a chance to sit at that table.
But Sarah wasn't Heather-in-the-office. "I'm
61
sorry, Amanda. I just can't."
She sounded as if she meant it, too. Amanda rearranged her features into an expression that she hoped looked menacing. "Sarah, do you remember what my gift is?"
"Of course I do--you talked about it yesterday."
"Well, what if I took over your body and made Ken ask me out? I mean, me-Amanda, not me-you."
Sarah didn't seem the least bit frightened. "You'd have to feel sorry for me first, Amanda. And you don't, do you?"
She was right. Sarah wasn't the coolest, prettiest, or most popular girl at Meadowbrook, but there was nothing pathetic about her either. Amanda gave up on the idea of using Sarah. She'd have to find another way to reach Ken.
The others were coming in now, so she went back to her own seat. As usual, Ken came in last, and he still had that distracted expression on his face. She didn't even bother trying to catch his attention. What was she going to do? There had to be a way.
The bell rang, class started, and Madame called on Tracey to give her report. Amanda didn't bother
62
listening--having been Tracey, she knew Tracey's story by heart. Tracey had been a happy only child, then her mother had septuplets, Tracey was ignored, she started to disappear, blah-blah-blah. Amanda spent the time doodling, trying to come up with a way to get Ken's attention. What if she went to his house, knocked on his door, and asked him to--
"Amanda?"
She looked up. "Yes, Madame?"
"Don't you have something to say to Tracey?" The teacher gazed at her sternly. "Apparently you weren't listening. Tracey was thanking you for helping h
er learn to assert herself."
Sarah turned to look at her with a startled expression, as if she was surprised to learn that Amanda could do something nice for someone else. Jenna was looking at her, too, and grinning--she'd known when Amanda had been inside Tracey's body because of her mind-reading skills. And she knew perfectly well that Amanda hadn't been trying to improve Tracey's life--only her own for as long as she was stuck being Tracey. But there was only one reaction Amanda was really interested in.
63
She looked at Ken. He was staring out the window, daydreaming, maybe, or listening to dead people, but in any case, he obviously hadn't been paying attention to Tracey's story. What a relief.
Madame was still staring at her. "Amanda?"
"Oh, yeah. Uh, that's okay. I mean, you're welcome. Whatever."
Madame called on Martin next. The boy--who looked to be at least two years younger than anyone else--spoke in a very annoying, whiny voice, which made it hard to listen to his story.
"It was a couple of years ago. I was shooting baskets in my driveway."
The thought of undersized Martin playing basketball was almost too much for Amanda to deal with, but she knew better than to show it. But neither Jenna nor Charles had her self-control, and they started laughing. Martin clenched his fists.
Madame rapped on her desk. "Stop it at once! Martin, remember your exercise. Close your eyes and count backward from ten."
Amanda half hoped that the exercise wouldn't work. She'd never actually seen Martin demonstrate
64
his gift. It would be interesting to see if he would attack a person in a wheelchair. As for Jenna, Amanda wouldn't mind seeing her get shaken up a little.
But Martin relaxed, and the animal or whatever was inside him calmed down.
"Anyway, a couple of guys came by and said they wanted to play with me. Only they kept the ball and wouldn't let me have it. I tried to get it back, but they were bigger than me. And they laughed."
He didn't have to say more. Everyone knew what happened when Martin thought people were making fun of him.
"Did you hurt them badly?" Madame asked.
"One of them got away. I broke the other one's arm, but that was all."
"So you were able to restrain yourself," Madame commented.
"Well, not exactly. It's just that he was screaming so hard that I lost the feeling."
Supposedly, it was this "feeling" that gave Martin the strength of a bear or some other type of strong animal. In any case, his power went beyond anything a normal human being could do--even
65
a big bodybuilder.
"And that's the first time you remember getting the feeling?" Madame asked.
"Yeah, I think so. But my mother told me that when I was three, my father took a toy away from me and I pushed him across the room. My father says she dreamed this and it never happened." He grinned. "But he never tried to take anything away from me again, so I guess he learned his lesson. I must have done a pretty good job for a three-year-old."
"This is nothing to be proud of, Martin," Madame reprimanded. "You have to learn to channel your strength and direct it appropriately."
"Maybe you could go into demolition work someday," Jenna suggested. "I'll bet you'd be great at tearing down buildings."
Martin considered this. "I'd rather tear down people."
Sarah gasped. "Martin! That's not right!"
"It's their own fault," Martin complained. "People are always picking on me. I'm small, so they think they can push me around. If they didn't pick on me, I wouldn't get the feeling and I couldn't hurt them."
66
"Martin, you have to take responsibility for your gift," Madame said. "We'll hear from Jenna next."
Luckily, Jenna was saved by the bell--not the usual one, but the three special chimes that signified an announcement was about to be made over the intercom. This was followed by the disembodied voice of the principal's secretary.
"Would Jenna Kelley please come to the office?"
Everyone looked at Jenna, who immediately went all defensive. "I didn't do anything!"
"Just go to the office, Jenna," Madame said. "You can give your report another day."
Lucky dog, Amanda thought. It was very likely that Madame would forget that Jenna hadn't given her report and would never call on her again to do it. Jenna didn't deserve the good fortune.
On the other hand, Jenna was on her way to Mr. Jackson's office. Amanda brightened. Nobody ever got called to the principal's office for a good reason.
67
Chapter 6
JENNA RACKED HER BRAIN, trying to think of a reason for being called to the office so that she could come up with a story or an excuse to get out of it. She'd done plenty of bad things in her time at Meadowbrook, but she hadn't broken any major school rules recently. She hadn't been cutting classes--not for a while, anyway. She hadn't cheated on any tests lately. Come to think of it, she'd been unusually good the past couple of weeks, not even going to the mall and hanging out with Slug and Skank, the lowlife types she'd befriended on the street. She hadn't even seen them since they'd been picked up for shoplifting.
What could be so big that she'd be called out of class? Had they looked in her locker and found something bad? Okay, it was a mess, but there weren't any cigarettes or drugs or alcohol stashed away. Surely
68
you didn't get called to the office for a couple of Kit Kat bars.
Then another possibility occurred to her, and she felt sick. Her mother . . . had something happened to her mother? Her legs turned to jelly and she stopped walking. That was definitely the kind of thing a person would be called out of class for--a family situation. Something really terrible, like an accident or ... or worse.
Her mother. She was weak, she was an alcoholic, she'd never win any mother-of-the-year prizes, but jenna loved her. And the thought of losing her . . .
"Jenna? Are you all right?"
The concerned voice belonged to Mr. Gonzalez, the school counselor. Jenna had been forced to have sessions with him after her stint in the juvenile detention center. He was nice enough, but she'd put so much effort into lying to him during their sessions that she couldn't tell him the truth now.
"Sure, I'm fine. I'm just on my way to, um . . ."
"The principal's office?" He smiled. "It's okay. I know all about it. If you need to talk later, you know where I am." And he ambled off.
69
He left Jenna gaping. He knew why she'd been called to the office, and he was smiling. So she couldn't be in trouble and it couldn't be anything terrible, like her mother being hurt. It had to be something else.
Then she wanted to kick herself. Why hadn't she read his mind? Then she'd already know!
She moved quickly now, down the hall, around the corner, and up the half flight of stairs to the administration wing. When she walked into the main office, the secretary recognized her, but for once she wasn't wearing a reproving look. She beamed at Jenna and picked up the phone.
"Jenna Kelley is here, Mr. Jackson." She put down the phone. "You can go right in, Jenna."
Still feeling shaky, Jenna went to the door and rapped. A familiar booming voice rang out. "Come in, Jenna."
She opened the door. The heavyset principal was behind his desk, and for the first time ever, he looked pleased to see Jenna. There were two chairs facing the principal's desk, and a man was sitting in one of them.
He turned as Jenna approached, and she thought he looked vaguely familiar. "Hello, Jenna," he said.
70
It was his voice that put the memory in focus. This was the man who had come to the door yesterday looking for her mother.
"Hello," she said uncertainly.
"Sit down," the principal said, and as she did, once again she became nervous. Had this strange man come to give her bad news about her mother? No, that couldn't be it. He, too, was smiling. And Emily had been right about something--he was definitely handsome.
/>
The principal spoke. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Stuart Kelley."
Jenna's eyes darted back and forth between the principal and the strange man. Kelley was a pretty common name, but she had to ask.
"Are you related to me?"
The man nodded and spoke gently. "I'm your father, Jenna."
His voice was soft, and Jenna was certain that she'd misheard him. "What?"
The principal repeated, "This is your father, Jenna. He's been searching for you for--how long, Mr. Kelley?"
71
"A long time," the man said, smiling. "But now I've finally found you, Jenna."
Jenna narrowed her eyes. She didn't know what kind of scam this guy was trying to pull, but she wasn't about to fall for it. She turned to the principal.
"This is a mistake, Mr. Jackson. I don't have a father."
Mr. Jackson gave her a jovial smile. "Everyone has a father, Jenna, even if they don't know who he is. It takes two, you know." He uttered a hoarse laugh at his silly remark.
Jenna had never much liked the principal, and now she really disliked him. She stood up.
"Can I go back to my class now?" Boy, those were words she'd never expected to hear herself saying. Of course, she'd never expected to be confronted by some prankster claiming to be her father.
"Sit down, Jenna!" Mr. Jackson's tone had changed--now he was his usual authoritative self. She sat down, but she didn't look at the man. She kept her wary gaze on the principal.
"This man is your father," Mr. Jackson declared. "I have checked his credentials, and I am satisfied with
72
the evidence he has provided."
What evidence? Jenna wondered, but she didn't ask. She tried to do a quick read of the principal's mind, but all she could come up with was a confirmation that Mr. Jackson didn't like her any more than she liked him.
"Look at me, Jenna," the strange man said quietly. Despite herself, she did. He had nice eyes--a deep, rich blue, like hers. But lots of people had blue eyes.
"I can understand how you feel," Stuart Kelley went on. "What I did to you and your mother--it was a terrible thing. But I wasn't a very nice person back then. I was young and restless and I didn't want any responsibilities. I loved your mother, but when she told me she was pregnant, I couldn't deal with it. I didn't have the maturity. So I left."