Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

by Marilyn Kaye

  She was close enough to hear Ken now. It sounded like he was congratulating the other two.

  "That was an amazing game last night."

  "Incredible," one of the boys said. He cocked his head toward the taller boy. "When Mike made that

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  first basket, I was totally blown away. It looked like a wild throw to me."

  "It was a wild throw," Mike admitted. "I was as shocked as everyone else when it cleared the net."

  "You were lucky," Ken remarked.

  "Yeah," Mike agreed. "And I stayed lucky all night. I didn't miss a throw."

  "It couldn't be just luck," the other boy said. "You were terrific at Monday's game, too."

  "I know," Mike said, but his forehead puckered. "I don't know what happened. I haven't been that good all season."

  "No kidding," the other boy said. "You've been a disaster. I don't think you scored half a dozen points before Monday." He turned to Ken. "You should have heard the way Coach has been bawling him out."

  "So that's what got you going," Ken commented.

  "I guess," Mike said, but he didn't sound very sure of himself. "Hey, Ken . . . you know that kid in the wheelchair?"

  "Charles Temple? Yeah, what about him?"

  "He was at the game last night."

  "So what?" the other boy asked.

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  "He was at Monday's game, too. I noticed because of the wheelchair--he couldn't go up into the stands. He was on the floor, just at the edge of the court."

  Ken echoed the other boy. "So what?"

  Mike looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I don't know. I never saw him at a game before. And he kept giving me weird looks. There's something spooky about him."

  Now Ken looked uncomfortable. "Spooky?"

  "Yeah . . . You know anything about him?"

  "No." Ken noticed Jenna on the lower step. "Uh, I gotta go talk to that girl. See you guys."

  He hurried down the stairs and joined Jenna. "Did you hear those guys? Geez, I hate when people ask me about the gifted group."

  Jenna had more important things on her mind. "Listen, something's happened. Emily's gone."

  He looked at her blankly. "Gone where?" Then his eyes widened. "You mean, she's disappeared like the others?"

  "Not exactly. She left a note for her mother, so she didn't just disappear--she knew she was going

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  away. Her mother called me this morning. She was completely hysterical."

  "Did the note say where she went?"

  Jenna shook her head. "Only something about how she had to find her friends and not to worry about her."

  "But how would she know where to look for them?"

  "I don't know. Maybe she had a vision. We should find Madame and tell her."

  That turned out to be unnecessary. Once inside the building, they were witness to a commotion going on just outside the principal's office. Madame's calm, measured tone could be heard, but Emily's mother's angry voice was louder.

  "How can you let this happen?" she cried. "Young people start disappearing from one particular class and parents aren't notified?"

  Madame replied, "The parents of the missing students were notified immediately, Mrs. Sanders."

  Emily's mother wasn't satisfied with that. "And what about the parents of the other students? If I'd known what was happening in that so-called

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  gifted class, I could have prevented my daughter's disappearance!"

  Other kids had been attracted by the noise and were gathering around. The principal, Mr. Jackson, looked nervous. He ushered the two women into his office and closed the door.

  By the time the bell rang for homeroom, word of all the missing students had spread through the school. Homeroom classmates who knew that Jenna was in the gifted class gave her uneasy looks, like they half-expected her to vanish before their very eyes. Jenna didn't care about that--with her goth makeup, black clothes, and tough-girl attitude, she was used to being stared at. But she cared about her friends, Tracey and Emily, and she was even worried about the classmates she wasn't so friendly with. She looked forward to class and the opportunity to talk with Madame and the remaining students about what they could do.

  She didn't have to wait for the class. Before homeroom was over, the teacher received a note and beckoned to Jenna.

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  "You're to go to room 209 immediately," the teacher told her.

  When Jenna arrived, Amanda was the only other of her gifted classmates in the room.

  "Do you know why we're meeting now?" Jenna asked her.

  Amanda shrugged.

  "Is it about Emily?"

  Amanda just shrugged again. Jenna gazed at her curiously.

  "Have you even heard about Emily?" "No."

  "She's missing. I think she ran away to look for the other students."

  "What other students?"

  "The ones who disappeared from our class!"

  Amanda nodded. "Okay," she said. She rose from her chair and started toward the door. Jenna blocked her. She hadn't expected Amanda to show any deep concern about this, but not getting any reaction at all surprised her.

  "Amanda! C'mon, we have to talk about this, we have to do something."

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  Amanda looked at her blankly. "Why?"

  Now Jenna was shocked. None of Amanda's friends could hear them, so there was no reason for her to put on an act. And she knew Amanda had some decent qualities, some real feelings. This total lack of interest was very, very strange.

  Unless . . . unless . . . "You're the other Amanda," Jenna declared, her heart sinking.

  The real Amanda would have snapped at Jenna and called her crazy. This Amanda simply stared at her blankly.

  Jenna sighed. "Sit down, Amanda."

  The Other-Amanda obeyed.

  There was no point in trying to talk to this whatever-it-was, this thing that looked like Amanda, talked like Amanda, moved like Amanda--but wasn't Amanda, just a robotic shell of the real girl. Oh, what a crummy time for Amanda to suddenly do a body snatch! She might not have the world's best personality, but at least she was smart.

  Which was probably why she'd done a body snatch. She must have really believed Emily's prediction. Which clearly didn't come true, since the body

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  of Amanda was still here. But where was the real Amanda?

  So there was only herself, Ken, and Charles left to work with Madame on this situation. Ken was the next to arrive.

  "I just saw Madame," he said. "She's going to be a little late. The police are here, and she has to talk to them."

  Jenna shook her head. "I don't think the police are going to be much help. You know these aren't regular kidnappings. There won't be ransom demands or anything like that."

  "You're right." Ken turned to Amanda. "Hi, Amanda. You got any theories about this?"

  "About what?"

  "The missing students! Jenna and I were just saying we don't think these are ordinary kidnappings."

  Other-Amanda opened her handbag and brought out a cosmetic case. She set up a little mirror on her desk and began applying mascara to her eyelashes.

  "Amanda!" Ken said again. "Do you have any ideas?"

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  "No," she replied and continued putting on her makeup.

  "Don't bother with her," Jenna informed him. "She's not Amanda."

  Ken understood what she meant and groaned. "Oh, no."

  Madame arrived. Despite the events of the morning, she seemed calm, though Jenna thought she detected a dark glint in the teacher's eyes. She didn't waste any time on opening remarks.

  "We have a situation," she said abruptly. "And we've all got to work together." She stopped. "Where's Charles?"

  As if on cue, the door opened and Charles wheeled himself in. "Sorry I'm late," he said casually. "I was hanging with my friends."

  "What friends?" Ken murmured. "Could I have everyone's attention?" Madame demanded. "Amanda?"

  "She's n
ot Amanda, Madame," Jenna told her.

  The teacher sighed and closed her eyes for a moment as if trying to absorb this new bad news.

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  "All right, thank you, Jenna. Charles, would you please stop that immediately!"

  Jenna realized that paper clips were jumping out of the tray on Madame's desk and going into the cup that held pencils and pens. But Madame had spoken more sharply than usual, and Charles stopped.

  Madame continued in the same tone. "We can't afford not to take this seriously, people! I do not believe that Tracey is invisible or that Martin has run away from home. Someone--some organization--is causing members of our class to disappear, and these disappearances have something to do with who you are. We have to figure out who is behind this and why."

  "Do you think they're in danger?" Ken asked the teacher.

  "It's quite possible, though not in the way you think. I don't think they will be physically injured. But I do think they will be used."

  Jenna knew what she meant. It was Madame's greatest fear for them--that their gifts could be utilized by people with bad intentions. Trust no one--that was her mantra. But Madame's next comment surprised her.

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  "I must say, though, I feel a little better knowing that Emily has gone in search of them."

  Jenna's mouth fell open. "Why?"

  "Because in a situation like this, I think she's our best hope," Madame said simply.

  Jenna couldn't believe what she was hearing. Emily, their best hope? Emily, with her inaccurate predictions? Emily, whose gift was the weakest of them all?

  If Emily was their best hope, Jenna thought, then they were in more trouble than she'd ever imagined.

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  Chapter Six

  WHEN SHE WOKE UP, Emily had no idea where she was--geographically speaking. She could tell that she was in a bed, but that was about it.

  Immediately after she'd entered the back seat of the car, the man in the passenger's seat turned around, leaned toward her, and put a blindfold over her eyes. He'd done this gently, almost apologetically, but even so it had been a frightening moment, and Emily had started to panic. This wasn't alleviated by the woman's sharp voice.

  "Don't struggle, Emily. There's nothing you can do."

  "What's going on?" Emily asked, without much hope of getting an answer.

  "You'll find out when the time is right," the woman said.

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  The man spoke in a kinder tone. "Here's something to drink."

  She felt a bottle being placed in her hand. Then she heard a soft whirring sound. Reaching out, she felt a glass panel that now separated her from the people in the front seat, like in a limousine. She wouldn't be able to hear anything they said to each other.

  There was one benefit to the silence and darkness. It might be easier to concentrate and envision her future. She took a sip from the bottle and almost immediately wanted to kick herself. How stupid can I be? she wondered as drowsiness swept over her.

  Now, awake, she sat up in the bed. There was nothing covering her eyes, but the room was pitch-dark. She could feel a table next to her bed and something that could be a lamp on it. By touch, she located a button and pushed it in.

  Light flooded the room. There wasn't much to see though. It was a plain room, with light blue walls. There was something on one wall in the shape of a window, but it was completely covered by a metal

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  shutter. A white chest of drawers stood against the far wall.

  There were two other beds in the room, but both were empty. They were unmade and looked as if they'd been slept in recently. The door started to open, and Emily stiffened.

  "Good morning."

  Emily let out the breath she'd been holding. "Tracey."

  Tracey came over and sat on the edge of Emily's bed. "How are you feeling?"

  "A little groggy," Emily admitted.

  Tracey nodded. "They gave you something to make you out of it."

  "Where are we?"

  "I don't know," Tracey replied. "In some kind of house, but I don't know the address. And all the windows are blocked."

  "How did they get you here?"

  "They grabbed me inside the girls' bathroom at school and put a wet towel on my face. There must have been something in it that knocked me out.

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  They must have put me in a car and taken me here. I woke up in this room."

  "A man and a woman with blond hair?"

  Tracey shook her head. "There were two men, and the woman was a redhead."

  So there were at least jour of them, Emily thought. "Who are they?"

  "I don't know."

  "What do they want us for?"

  "I don't know that either."

  "Tracey!" Emily exclaimed in frustration. "You've been here three days. Haven't you learned anything?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing. I managed to go invisible on the first night and looked around the place, but I couldn't find any clues. There's a floor above us, but the door at the top of the stairway is locked. I guess that's where they stay."

  A creak above them confirmed this. Someone was up there.

  "I think they know about my gift," Tracey continued. "Even when I'm invisible, they whisper to each other and I can't hear a word they're saying."

  "Did you try just asking them what they want?"

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  "Of course I asked them," Tracey said. "They just keep saying I have to be patient. Maybe they're waiting till they have us all here before they explain what they want." She offered a half-hearted smile. "No offense, but I was hoping the next captive would be Jenna. At least she might be able to read their minds and figure out what's going on."

  "I can't believe you're being so calm about this," Emily marveled.

  Tracey shrugged. "Someone has to be calm. Carter's worthless, of course. He's just like he is back at school. He does what he's told, and the rest of the time he stares into space. Martin whimpers and whines. Sarah looks totally freaked and barely speaks. I think maybe she's in shock."

  "I can relate to that," Emily said with feeling. "Do they know about all our gifts?"

  "I don't know!" Tracey replied for the umpteenth time. Then she looked sadly at Emily. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. They made me write that message to you."

  "I didn't care. I wanted to help all of you. I felt

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  bad that I didn't see what was going to happen in time. I could have warned you."

  "Don't be such a goof. You couldn't have stopped them."

  Emily's stomach rumbled loudly.

  "You're hungry," Tracey declared. "Get dressed and we'll have some breakfast. I have to say, they're taking pretty good care of us here. The food's okay, and there's lots of entertainment."

  "It's still a prison," Emily reminded her as she got into the sweatpants and shirt that were laid out on the bed.

  "Well, at least it's an upscale one," Tracey said. "There are DVDs, an Xbox, games . . ." She was still extolling the virtues of their jail as Emily followed her out of the bedroom.

  Emily wasn't fooled by Tracey's cheery tone. This was a Tracey thing to do--take charge and try to keep their spirits up. Clearly this wasn't working for Martin. Entering what appeared to be a dining room, they found him slumped in his seat, eyeing his plate of food mournfully.

  "I like my eggs sunny-side up," he whined.

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  "Shut up and eat," Tracey ordered him. "Scrambled eggs are just as good. And look at that nice crispy bacon."

  Carter ate steadily, but the expression on his face--or lack of expression--gave no indication of whether or not he was enjoying the food. Sarah looked exactly like Tracey had described her--just plain scared.

  Remembering the drink in the car, Emily eyed the food warily. But Tracey had said it was okay, and there was Carter, not showing any side effects from eating it. Along with the eggs and bacon, there was toast and orange juice that looked freshly squeezed. Emily didn't think she'd be a
ble to eat, but she surprised herself.

  Maybe it was because the place just didn't seem scary at all. Except for the lack of windows, they could have been in any normal, ordinary house. They sat around a big table on comfortable, matching chairs. The plates were decorated with a floral pattern, similar to the dinnerware Emily knew at home. There were real forks, knives, and spoons, not plastic ones.

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  Surreptitiously Emily touched the edge of the knife lightly. No, it wasn't sharp enough to cut anything tougher than eggs. Not that she'd ever have the guts to stab a human being . .

  From what Emily remembered from the night before, they hadn't behaved like serious bad guys. The woman wasn't friendly, but she hadn't been nasty, and the man was almost nice.

  She was pretty sure it was the same man who entered the dining room at that moment. He was thin, slightly balding, with a neatly trimmed short beard and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. As he approached the table, everyone froze and looked at him.

  He placed a stack of napkins on the table. "Do you need anything?" he asked the group in general. "I suppose you're too young for coffee."

  He wasn't frightening at all. In fact, as he gazed around the table, he looked a little uncomfortable, almost nervous.

  No one said anything. "I can make more toast if you want it," he offered. When none of them asked for any, he left the room looking relieved.

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  As she continued eating, Emily noticed a tear trickling down Sarah's face. Tracey must have noticed it, too. Sitting next to Sarah, she leaned over and put an arm around her shoulders.

  "It's going to be okay," she said soothingly.

  Sarah flinched and shrugged off Tracey's arm. "Get off."

  Emily eyed her curiously. She didn't know Sarah well at all, but she was always nice in class, never rude. Clearly the situation was affecting her. She just hoped that meant Sarah would use her gift if it became absolutely necessary.

  They were all finishing their breakfast now. Again Tracey took charge.

  "Who wants to go into the living room and play Grand Theft Auto?" she asked brightly.

  No one jumped at the opportunity, and it didn't matter anyway, because at that moment the hostage-takers or kidnappers or whatever they were all entered the dining room. There was the balding guy and another guy with a lot of curly brown hair who was shorter and fat. While the skinny guy still looked nervous, the shorter one was grinning. They weren't