by Marilyn Kaye
The little round-faced boy entered. Amanda knew nothing about him, not even his name. And finally came Jenna, who knew what people were thinking.
As Amanda glanced at Jenna, she saw that Jenna was staring directly at her, and there was the oddest expression on her face. Ohmigod, she's trying to read my mind! Amanda realized. Frantically, she tried to imagine what Tracey might think about in class. She would probably be depressed, thinking about all the people who had ignored her so far that day--her parents, the bus driver, kids at school. Or maybe she'd be thinking about the person who hadn't ignored her--the girl everyone thought was Amanda Beeson. It dawned on Amanda that she really deserved the title Queen of Mean ...
Oh no, she was thinking like Amanda! Quickly, she turned her thoughts to Tracey's seven little sisters and tried to remember their names. Sandie, Mandie, Kandie ... Blandie? No, that couldn't be right.
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"Good afternoon, class," Madame said. "As you recall, yesterday we were discussing Ken's current problem. A man who believes he was murdered by his wife wants Ken to inform the police. Ken does not want to get involved, and he's right to feel that way. Why is he right?"
Martin's hand flew up, and he waved it wildly.
"Yes, Martin?"
"He's right because the police wouldn't believe him. No one believes any of us. When I tell people what I can do, they just laugh at me, so then I have to prove it to them. And everyone gets really mad at me."
Ken spoke. "Martin, maybe it's better if you don't tell them. Then they won't laugh, and you won't have to prove anything, and no one will get mad at you."
Madame smiled at Ken. "Very good advice, Ken. But Martin, you did answer my question. Ken is doing the right thing by not telling the police because he wouldn't be believed. You have to remember that ordinary people--people who are not gifted--don't believe in the kind of talents you have. What could happen if any of you tell people what you can do? Emily?"
There was no response.
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"Emily!"
"Huh? I mean, excuse me, Madame, what did you ask me?"
Madame spoke sternly. "Emily, you must keep your mind here, in class."
"I'm sorry, Madame. It's just that, well, I keep seeing an earthquake, and I think maybe it's going to happen tomorrow, but I don't know where"
Madame shook her head. "Emily, you're supposed to try to control your visions, not elaborate on them."
"But if I know where the earthquake's going to happen, I could warn the people there so no one would get hurt."
Charles offered a comment. "They wouldn't listen to you. It's like Martin just said--they wouldn't believe you. They'd just think you were nuts."
Emily persisted. "But they'd find out later that I was right."
"And then what would happen to you, Emily?" Madame addressed the entire class. "What would happen to any of you if people accepted the fact that you have a gift? Sarah, what do you think could happen to you?"
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Sarah's permanent smile actually wavered. "Someone might ask me to do terrible things for them."
"You could always say no," Charles said. "That's what I'd do."
Jenna piped up. "Oh yeah? What if that person was holding a gun to your head while he asked you?"
"Easy," Charles replied. "I'd make the gun fly right out of his hands. And Sarah could do better than that. She could make the person put the gun to his own head and blow his own brains out!"
"I would never do that!" Sarah cried out.
"Maybe you wouldn't," Jenna said, "but you could!'
Madame took over. "The point is, if people found out what you can do, they'd try to use you for their own purposes. You'd be taken away somewhere and studied, tested, examined. Imprisoned, possibly. Tracey, do you have an opinion about this?"
Amanda didn't know what to say. She was still trying to come to terms with what she'd just learned--that Emily could see into the future. That Sarah could control what people did. And she was bewildered by the way Madame was talking to
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them--she sounded like a parent reminding children why they shouldn't talk to strangers. It was a strange attitude for a teacher to have. And Amanda still didn't know what she herself---no, what Tracey--could do.
Madame was waiting for an answer, and she was gazing at Tracey with a slight pucker on her forehead.
"Uh, no, I don't have an opinion, Madame."
"Typical!" Charles snorted.
From his reaction, Amanda gathered that Tracey didn't say much in this class. That was fine with her.
Madame continued. "Let's get back to Ken's situation. Yesterday I asked you to think about a moment when you successfully controlled your gift. It's possible that Ken could benefit from your experience. Who wants to tell us about a particular incident? Emily? Emily!"
"Yes, Madame, I had a good experience last weekend. My aunt and her boyfriend were having dinner with us. They're getting married in a couple of months, and they were talking about where to go on their honeymoon. My aunt wants to go to Bermuda, and I don't even know where that is, exactly, but I closed my eyes and concentrated, and I saw a tropical
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storm going on there in two months, just around the same time as their honeymoon!"
Madame appeared concerned, but Amanda didn't think this had anything to do with the aunt's honeymoon. "Did you tell your aunt?"
"Not exactly. I told them that I knew some people who went to Jamaica for their honeymoon, and they liked it a lot. So then they started talking about Jamaica. And it turns out that my aunt's boyfriend has always wanted to go to Jamaica, so they're changing their honeymoon plans!"
"Hey, that's pretty cool," Ken commented. "You got them out of the tropical storm, but you didn't have to reveal anything about yourself."
Madame nodded slowly. "Yes, that was creative thinking, Emily. But you were still taking a risk. You might have raised suspicions."
"But she's my aunt, Madame! She wouldn't want to hurt me."
"Not intentionally, perhaps," Madame said. "But the danger is there, Emily, and you must always be aware--"
"Wait a minute," Jenna broke in. "How about all
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those other people in Bermuda? Some of them might be on their honeymoons, too."
"But I can't help everyone!" Emily cried out.
"Why not?" Charles challenged her. "If you had seen the future before I was born, you could have told my parents that the doctor was going to make a stupid mistake when he delivered me, and they could have changed doctors, and I wouldn't be in a wheelchair!"
"I wasn't even a year old when you were born!" Emily wailed.
Madame clapped her hands. "Class, class! That's enough. We're supposed to be talking about Ken's situation today."
But just then the classroom door opened, and in walked the principal, Mr. Jackson, with a young woman Amanda had never seen before. Madame frowned slightly at the interruption.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson," she said politely, but there was an edge to her voice that Amanda found interesting. Whenever the principal came into classrooms, teachers behaved very respectfully and made a big deal out of welcoming him. Something
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about Madame's voice and expression told Amanda that she wasn't too crazy about Mr. Jackson. Maybe other teachers didn't like the principal, but they certainly never showed it. And once again, Amanda was intrigued by how different Madame was from other teachers.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Jackson?" Madame asked, but she sounded like she didn't want to do anything at all for him.
The principal's normally solemn face was unusually cheerful. "It's what I can do for you, Madame. And for your entire class. I would like to introduce you all to Serena Hancock, your new student teacher."
Madame was clearly taken aback. "Student teacher? I didn't request a student teacher, Mr. Jackson. We've never had a student teacher in this class."
The principal's face hardened slightly. "Well, you do now.
And I would think you'd be grateful to have the help. Your students are supposedly gifted, isn't that right?"
Madame looked at him cautiously. "Yes."
"Well, Ms. Hancock has a gift, too. She can
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perform hypnosis."
To Amanda's eyes, Madame seemed alarmed now. "And why would my students need to be hypnotized?"
The principal shrugged. "Special children, special needs, special solutions. I'll leave Ms. Hancock with you now." And he left the room.
Along with the others, Amanda gazed at Ms. Hancock curiously. She was actually pretty impressed with this new addition to their classroom. Like most student teachers, Ms. Hancock was young, probably in her 20s. Unlike most student teachers, she looked very cool. She had long, thick blond hair that hung down her back in perfect waves and a scarlet mouth. Her dress was amazing--short, figure hugging, and printed in bold colors, turquoise and deep violet. Being a loyal reader of Teen Vogue, Amanda knew that turquoise and deep violet were very big this season.
"Please take a seat, Ms. Hancock," Madame commanded. "I'm sure you'll just want to observe today."
The younger woman smiled, revealing perfectly brilliant white teeth. "Thank you, Madame. But
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please, call me Serena." She turned to the students. "All of you can call me Serena."
Amanda could completely understand the startled expression that crossed Madame's face. No teachers, not even student teachers, were ever called by their first name at Meadowbrook.
Everyone watched as Serena took a seat at the back of the room. Then they turned back to Madame.
Amanda thought she looked flustered, as if she wasn't sure how to proceed. It was an odd expression for Madame--after only two classes, Amanda could tell that the teacher normally had an air of complete confidence. What was she worried about? Did she think she'd lose control of the class to a student teacher? No one ever paid much attention to student teachers.
Finally, Madame spoke again. "I think this is a good time to do some silent reading. I'm sure you've all got books with you. Please take them out now." She, too, went to her desk and opened a book.
This was very odd, Amanda thought. It was as if Madame didn't want to continue discussing their gifts in front of the student teacher. But surely the other
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teachers must know about the weird stuff these students could do? At least Mr. Jackson had to know about them--he was the principal! And surely he must have told this student teacher, Serena, before sending her into this room to work with these weirdos.
So why couldn't they go back to what they were talking about? If they did, maybe Amanda could finally learn what Tracey's gift was. Why was Madame suddenly acting like she wanted them all to be quiet? It seemed to her like Madame was always trying to protect them. But protect them from what--or from whom?
They didn't have to read for long. Moments later, the bell rang, and Madame dismissed them without even giving them homework to do for the next day.
Amanda gathered her books and walked out into the hall. She headed down the corridor toward her next class, and she didn't realize that Jenna was following her until Jenna whispered in her ear.
"You're not Tracey."
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Chapter Eight
FOR ONE BRIEF MOMENT, Jenna thought she might have made a mistake. The reaction to her accusation was typical Tracey. The girl who now gazed back at her looked nervous, fearful, and almost ready to cry.
But any doubts in Jenna's head disappeared as "Tracey's". expression quickly changed. She stared right back at Jenna with a challenging look.
"You're crazy," the girl said. "Of course I'm Tracey. Who else could I be?"
This response only confirmed Jenna's suspicion. Tracey would never have been confrontational like that. "You're Amanda Beeson."
"I am not," she declared hotly, but Jenna didn't have to be a mind reader to see the panic in her eyes.
"Oh yes, you are. You're Little Miss I'm-Too-Cool-for-Words Amanda Beeson. I remember when you
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and your prissy friends called me a vampire. Huh--I wish! I would have drained your blood by now."
"You're disgusting and crazy," the girl-who-wasn't- Tracey's aid, and she turned away. Jenna grabbed her arm.
"Do your snotty friends know you're a body snatcher? What would they say if they found out you're gifted, like the other freaks in the class?"
"They'd never believe you!"
"Let's try it." Jenna looked around. "There's Sophie Greene--isn't she one of your friends?"
"And look who she's meeting at her locker," her classmate retorted. "Amanda Beeson."
Jenna's brow puckered as she watched Sophie and Amanda walk down the hall together. "I don't know who that is. Your clone, maybe. Or a robot. It's not Tracey, that's obvious. She looks too sure of herself." She looked at Amanda-Tracey appraisingly. "So you and Tracey didn't change places?"
"No. That's me and I'm me and I don't know how it works, but ..." Amanda- Tracey's topped suddenly, and Jenna grinned.
"So it's true. I was just guessing, but you really are
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a body snatcher. I've heard of people like you, but I've never met one before."
She recognized the flash of anger on Amanda-Tracey's face. She'd seen it before once, in the cafeteria, when someone spilled orange juice on Amanda's white jeans.
"If you tell anyone," Amanda said, "if you dare, I'll--"
Jenna didn't give her the opportunity to complete her threat. "Don't worry, Amanda, I'm not going to tell anyone. Not yet. There's something I'm curious about, though. Why would you want to be Tracey?"
"Are you kidding? Do you think I want to be inside this creepy girl's body? It--it just happened. I was thinking about her, and then ... poof!"
"Why were you thinking about her? I can't believe the great and wonderful Amanda Beeson gives a hoot about poor little Tracey Devon." Jenna was having a good time teasing Amanda. She'd never had this kind of encounter with a popular girl, and she had to admit it was fun, even if the popular girl didn't look like herself.
"Can't you just go away and mind your own
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business?" Amanda fumed.
"No. I want to know where Tracey is."
It was so weird to see a haughty expression on Tracey's face. Jenna had to keep reminding herself that behind the face was super snob Amanda Beeson.
"I don't know," Amanda finally admitted.
"You can't hear her thoughts or anything?"
"No."
Jenna felt a twinge of concern. "She's not ... dead, is she? Did you kill her when you took over her body?"
"No!" Amanda exclaimed. She hesitated. "I mean, I don't think so." She bit her lip. "Wouldn't I feel it if there was someone dead inside me?"
"You don't feel her being alive, do you?"
"No." Amanda looked up at the hall clock. "The bell's about to ring. I don't want to be late for class."
"It doesn't matter," Jenna said. "Half the time no one sees Tracey anyway."
Amanda frowned. "Yeah, what's the deal with that? Madame keeps saying it's nice to see me."
"You haven't figured that out yet?"
"Figured what out?"
"Tracey's special talent. Her gift."
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"What is her gift?"
The bell rang, and the few remaining students in the hall headed off. "Meet me after school, at the mall, in front of Barnes & Noble." She couldn't resist one more insult: "That's a bookstore, in case you don't know. It's next to Style Session, and I'm sure you know where that is."
Feeling unusually pleased with herself, Jenna swaggered off to her next class. For the rest of the school day, her spirits were high. She didn't like anything about Meadowbrook, but she particularly despised Amanda Beeson and her crowd. She was going to enjoy watching Amanda squirm.
Amanda felt sick. To have a freak like Jenna Kelley acting superior to her was almost as bad as being a fre
ak like Tracey Devon. Things were getting worse and worse.
But by the end of the day, she'd made the decision to meet Jenna at the mall. Jenna knew Tracey, and Jenna could read minds, so maybe, just maybe, Jenna would be able to help her get out of Tracey's body. She didn't know how Jenna could help, but she
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figured there was a chance that all these weird kids were connected in some way---that they had some sort of special knowledge.
Only, would Jenna want to help her? Obviously, Jenna despised Amanda, which was natural. Dweebs, nerds, and geeks all pretended to hate popular girls, when they actually envied them and wanted to be them.
But it seemed as if Jenna might care about Tracey. And maybe she'd help Amanda if she thought she was helping Tracey. In any case, Amanda didn't have anything better to do, and going to the mall was preferable to going back to Tracey's house and being ignored.
So when the last bell rang, she hurried out of the school and went directly to the corner where she could safely cross the highway and head to the mall on the other side. And, despite Jenna's snide remark, she knew exactly where Barnes & Noble was. Stupid Jenna didn't realize that just because a girl was pretty and cool and popular didn't mean she'd never read a book.
Just moments after she arrived at the bookstore,
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Sophie, Nina, and Other-Amanda strolled into the mall. For a second, Amanda froze--what if they saw her with Jenna? And then she almost laughed at her silly thought.
"Why do you look so happy, Tracey?" Nina asked as the group passed her. "You've got nothing to smile about."
Now that was interesting, Amanda thought. Usually, Nina ignored Tracey like everyone else. Maybe she was just trying to impress Other-Amanda with her nastiness. Or maybe she was about to challenge Amanda's status as the Queen of Mean! Amanda made a mental note to keep a close eye on Nina.
She was distracted by the arrival of Jenna, who must have overheard Nina's remark.
"Nice friends you've got," she commented.
"Oh, shut up," Amanda-Tracey replied. "The only reason I'm meeting you here is because maybe you can help me get back inside my body. And get Tracey back inside hers," she added quickly. She guessed Jenna would be more likely to help if she thought it was for Tracey's sake.