by Marilyn Kaye
"If I knew which car they were in, I could get the gun away from her," Charles said.
"Okay, you and Madame find the car," Jenna said. "Ken and I will go into the bank."
"No," Madame said. "Wait until we get the gun. I'm not letting my students go into that place when there's someone around here with a firearm."
Jenna took the handles of Charles's wheelchair.
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"Maybe Emily's thoughts will get louder when we get closer," she said. She began pushing Charles between two rows of cars.
"Don't go so fast, Jenna," Madame chided her. "You don't want to attract attention. I think this Clare person just might notice someone running with a wheelchair in a parking lot. Not to mention the fact that she might recognize both of you."
"How?" Jenna wanted to know. "She hasn't seen me.
Madame spoke quietly. "You don't know that, Jenna. I have a very strong feeling that this Clare is no ordinary criminal. And this is no ordinary bank robbery."
Jenna had no idea what she was talking about, and she couldn't worry about it now. But she slowed her pace, and Ken and Madame followed closely behind. Jenna kept her eyes and ears open and hoped her special ability was in prime working order.
I wish I could see what was happening in the bank. The guard--he wouldn't shoot a kid, would he? Even if the kid was trying to rob the bank?
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Emily's thoughts were definitely louder. Despite Madame's warning, Jenna quickened her pace. Was it that truck over there? Or maybe the green car with the dent in the bumper. If only the lights in the parking lot were brighter so she could see people inside the cars . . .
"It's the SUV," Ken whispered.
Jenna stopped. "How do you know?"
"Howard's mother. She just told me it used to be her car."
Jenna brought the wheelchair up behind the SUV. She bent down to speak into Charles's ear. "Can you sense the gun yet?"
"No. I have to get around to the driver's side. Let go of the chair."
Something told Jenna not to argue. She lifted her hands. Slowly, Charles began pushing himself around to the side of the vehicle. Jenna stayed behind with Madame and Ken. She held her breath, and she couldn't hear any breathing coming from the other two either.
Suddenly the driver's window rolled down. Jenna heard a woman's voice.
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"What the--"
And then a gun came flying out of the window. Ken's former life as an athlete came in handy, as he ran and caught it. Then all the car doors opened. Emily leaped out, and at the same time, the car started up. Jenna and Madame leaped out of the way as the SUV backed out. With doors still open, it sped out of the parking lot.
Charles spun his wheelchair around, but it was too late. The big car was out of his sight before he could stop it.
Jenna didn't care. She was too busy hugging Emily tightly. Only for a second though. Jenna wasn't into public displays of affection.
"The others are in the bank," Emily told them.
"We know," Madame said. "Are the men with them armed?"
"I don't think so."
"We're armed," Ken said proudly, holding the gun.
"Put that down," Madame snapped. "I don't want any shooting. I'm calling the police. You stay here."
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She took out her cell phone. Jenna looked at Emily with her eyebrows raised.
She told Ken to stay put. Not us.
Jenna nodded. She grabbed Emily's hand, and while Madame's back was to them, they ran to the bank.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THERE'S MARTIN, TALKING TO the woman behind the counter," Emily said. "He's supposed to break down the door to the vault." She explained how Martin was supposed to demand money and unleash his superpowers when the teller treated him like a stupid little kid. A customer came out of the bank, leaving the door slightly ajar. Now they could hear Martin's shrill voice.
"But I want some money now!"
A man wearing a name tag approached him. "I'm the bank manager. Is there a problem here?"
The teller behind the counter spoke. "I'm trying to explain to this young man that we don't give money away."
The manager chuckled. "I see. Come with me, young man. I'll show you how banks operate."
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"I just want some money," Martin whined.
"Yes, of course you do," the man said kindly. "And I'm going to show you how to open a savings account and earn interest."
"I don't want interest, I want money!" Martin screamed.
"Where's Tracey?" Jenna asked Emily.
"Well, if my vision was right, she should be invisible. She's supposed to get the money out of the vault. See the curly haired man? That's Howard. The skinny one by the door is George." She turned to Jenna. "How did you find us?"
"Howard's mother," Jenna said. "Long story, tell you later."
Emily clutched Jenna's arm. "Uh-oh, it's happening now!"
They couldn't hear anything, but they could see, and the expression on Martin's face was something they'd seen before. And then, like a tornado, he tore across the room and crashed through a door.
Emily's heart sank when she saw a security guard draw his gun. Then she saw Amanda-Sarah running
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for the exit before she slipped on the floor and fell, hard.
"Ohmigod!" Emily shrieked. George was reaching inside his coat. For a gun?
She'd never know. Amanda-Sarah, still sitting on the floor, looked at him. And George froze.
Emily stared at the little scene for a second, thinking, Wow. Amanda really has got the hang of Sarah's gift. But something was off. Something about Sarah's eyes looked different ...
Emily gasped. "It's Sarah!"
"Well, of course it's Sarah," Jenna said. "Who else?"
Obviously, Jenna hadn't bothered to read her mind.
"Long story," Emily said. "Tell you later."
Then they both clapped their hands over their ears. Three police cars, sirens wailing and red lights flashing, pulled up in front of the bank. Six officers jumped out of the cars and ran in, shouting for everyone to put their hands in the air.
Now Madame, Ken, and Charles were by their side.
"What happened?" Madame asked in bewilderment. "I hadn't called the police yet."
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They heard Tracey's voice before they saw her. "I pushed the alarm button." Now Tracey was visible and beaming happily. "It's silent in the bank, but it alerts the police that something's going on. As I sneaked into the vault, I looked over my shoulder and saw you outside. I knew Emily must be safe, so I ducked back out the vault door and hit the button under the tellers' counter before Martin even broke the door down. How did you get away from Clare, Emily?"
"Charles got the gun," Emily told her.
Tracey stared in disbelief at the boy in the wheelchair. Charles gave her a haughty look. "I'm the real hero," he said.
Emily was sure he'd never let them forget it either. But that was okay with her.
Martin was the next to emerge from the bank. "That teller didn't bother me," he announced. "I used my strength all on my own."
Emily didn't have the heart to tell him they'd heard the whole thing--he'd definitely lost his temper.
Sarah followed him. She was the only one among
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them who didn't look relieved or happy. She actually seemed a little bit sad. She slipped past the others and stood beside Madame.
"I had to do it," she whispered.
"I know," Madame said and put a comforting arm around her.
Emily looked at her curiously. Had it been that awful for Sarah, using her gift? Maybe someday she'd learn why the girl was so sad.
Two police officers emerged. One had George in handcuffs, and the other had Howard. As they passed, Ken spoke.
"Howard, your mother is not very happy with you.
Howard gaped at him. George's eyes were searching the parking lot. But Clare was long gone
.
Another policeman came out. "Are you all okay?"
"Yes officer, we're fine," Madame said.
He shook his head in puzzlement and looked at Martin. "One of the tellers, she said she saw this boy break open the door to the vault."
Madame let out an odd little artificial laugh. "Well, that's hardly possible, is it, officer?"
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He shrugged. "I guess one of the robbers set up an explosive charge and it went off when the kid was by the door. Good thing you weren't hurt, young man."
"Nothing hurts me," Martin bragged. Madame grabbed his arm. "Ow!"
"You didn't get all the bad guys," Emily told the policeman. She explained about Clare. The policeman took out a notebook.
"Can you give me a description of this Clare?"
Emily, Tracey, and Martin exchanged looks. What could they say?
"Blue eyes," they chorused, and then fell silent.
The officer smiled. "Don't worry, kids, I know you're still pretty upset. We'll get details from the guys we caught." He closed his notebook. "So who's the hero here?"
Emily glanced at Sarah.
"Tracey hit the alarm button," Sarah said softly.
"But this is the real hero," Tracey said, putting her hand on Charles's shoulder.
"He got the gun away from Clare," Emily added. Madame glared at her, and she bit her lip.
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"Here's the gun, officer," Ken said quickly and handed it over.
"Good work, young man," the policeman said.
Emily looked at Charles. She wasn't surprised to see that he was pouting. She knelt by the wheelchair.
"Don't worry, Charles. We know you're the real hero. And we're going to treat you like one."
Slowly, his face cleared. His cheeks reddened. He smiled. And without even trying to look into his future, Emily suspected that it was going to be very different from what she might have predicted for him just days earlier.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ARE YOU SURE YOU want to go to school?" Emily's mother asked anxiously on Monday morning. "It seems to me you need more than a weekend to recover."
"I feel fine, Mom," Emily assured her. She got out of the car in front of Meadowbrook. "Don't worry. I'll see you later."
She had to admit, she felt a little tired. But she hadn't wanted to stay at home. More than anything, Emily wanted her life to get back to normal.
She still couldn't believe all the events of the past week. She'd returned home Friday night feeling as if she'd been away for a month. So many emotions . . . she'd been scared, confused, angry, depressed . . . and what was she feeling now?
She wasn't sure. But she knew it wasn't bad. And she knew she'd learned something about herself.
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Madame had told them all to come to her room first thing in the morning before school started for a debriefing. Emily was glad she wouldn't have to wait until the gifted class to see everyone. Having been through this adventure, would they be closer as a group?
She wasn't the first one to arrive at room 209. Jenna was already there. She nodded at Emily. "How do you feel?"
"A little tired," Emily admitted. "But okay. How are you?"
"Okay," Jenna echoed. But Emily thought she looked even more tired than Emily felt. Her eyes were unusually dark.
"I'm glad it's over," Emily said.
"Me, too," Jenna said. And she smiled--but to Emily, it looked a little forced.
Ken came in next, and he was definitely in good spirits. "I feel great," he told the girls. "You know, I always felt like I had the most worthless gift. I couldn't do anything with it. Yesterday, for the first time, it paid off!"
"How's that?" Emily asked.
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"Jenna read Carter's mind, and that's how we knew about the house. But then this dead woman told me where you were! She was the mother of one of the kidnappers--Howard. She wanted me to give him a message."
"What was the message?" Emily asked.
"She wanted me to tell him he was doing a bad thing and that she was very upset with him. What was he like?"
"He was okay," Emily said. "If I'd met him somewhere else, I might even have thought he was kind of sweet."
Jenna looked surprised. "Your kidnapper was sweet?"
"Yeah, that one was. The other man was okay, too. I don't think either of them was very smart, but they were never mean to us. The woman, Clare . . . she was scary."
"She knew how to dress though. I mean, the woman had style." That comment came from Amanda. Back in her own body, she sauntered into the room and took her seat. Then she examined her
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fingernails. "Whatever takes over my body when I'm out of it does a very nice manicure."
Charles wheeled himself into the room. Emily nudged Ken, and the two of them began applauding.
"Charles, you saved my life," Emily declared. "I wish you could have seen Clare's face when that gun flew out of her hand!"
Charles looked pleased, but a little embarrassed, too. He wasn't used to anyone making a fuss over him.
Tracey arrived next, followed by Martin. Then Carter Street walked in.
Their eyes were on him as he went to his seat and sat down, but, as usual, he didn't react.
"I wonder why they just let him go," Ken mused.
"Because he didn't have a talent they could use, I guess," Tracey suggested.
"Then why did they take him in the first place?" Emily wondered. "They seemed to know everything about all of us."
No one could answer that, and the classmates sat in silence for a moment.
The last student to enter was Sarah. She went directly to Amanda.
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"I want to thank you."
Amanda stared at her. "For what?"
"For taking over my body."
Emily was very surprised. "You're glad Amanda snatched your body?"
Sarah nodded. "It put me in a position where I had to use my gift. But I didn't use it before I absolutely needed to. If I'd been in control, I might have been tempted to use it earlier." And she took her seat.
Once again, Emily couldn't help wondering why Sarah was so anxious to avoid using her gift. It was one mystery that definitely hadn't been cleared up.
Finally Madame arrived. "Good morning, class. I won't keep you long, and we can spend more time talking during our regular class time. But while your memory is still fresh, I have to ask you something. What kind of an effect has this experience had on you in regard to your gift? Do you feel different about it now?"
"I do," Ken said. "I actually got something useful from one of my voices."
Charles had something to say, too. "It was kind of
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cool, using my gift to save Emily. That lady probably wouldn't have killed her, but--"
"But you never know," Emily said. "Thank you, Charles."
Madame looked at Emily. "What about you, Emily? Have your feelings about your gift changed?" Emily took a deep breath.
"Yes. Now I know I really have a gift, and it's just as good as everyone else's. Looking back now, everything I've envisioned has come true."
Martin interrupted. "Wait a minute. You said the bank robbery would be a success, and it wasn't."
Emily nodded. "That's because I assumed it would be because I saw Tracey get into the vault and you break the vault door. But I didn't envision the end result--I was just guessing."
"What about the two different visions you had of me?" Amanda wanted to know. "I mean, of me-as-Sarah? First you said I'd have her gift, and then you said I wouldn't have it."
"That's because you fell down," Emily said simply. "And I didn't see that.You wouldn't have been able to freeze George. But you did fall, and I guess that's what
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pushed you out of Sarah's body. Sarah came back into herself and froze George. In my vision, I saw all the possibilities." She grinned. "Maybe the floor was waxed that day and a butterfly flew past the floor cle
aner and she left too much wax on one spot."
Madame smiled. "The butterfly effect. I suppose it could have an impact on predictions."
"There's more," Emily said. "I have to learn to separate what I see in my visions from what I want to see. Like, I saw Martin would throw a sofa, and he did. But I'd only hoped he would throw it and break a door down--I didn't see that in the vision. And I have to look for details in the visions. Calendars, watches, newspapers--anything that might indicate a day or a time. I need to notice what people look like. Does someone have a suntan? That could mean the event I'm envisioning is going to happen in the summer." She went on to tell them about the vision she'd had of her mother's bad haircut, and how she thought the vision was a failure because her mother's hair came out okay.
"Looking back, I realize that in the vision, my mother was wearing her heavy quilted coat. The bad
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haircut will happen in the winter." She smiled. "Anyway, I know I still have to work on my gift. I need to practice examining and interpreting my visions. But at least now I know for sure that I have a gift. And it has value."
"Very good, Emily," Madame said with approval. "Now you can begin to use your gift realistically."
Emily was feeling pretty good when she left the classroom with Tracey. "I'll tell you the best thing that came out of this whole experience," she confided. "My mother's giving me a cell phone. Of course, she'll probably call me every ten minutes on it." She shivered and stopped. "I left my sweater in 209. I'd better go back and get it."
"See you at lunch," Tracey said.
Emily went back to the classroom, but she paused outside the door when she heard voices. She recognized them--Madame and Jenna were talking.
She knew it wasn't right to eavesdrop, but something about the intensity in Jenna's tone kept her there, listening.
"I read her mind, Madame. Clare--before she got away. It was just a glimpse, but I learned something.
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She didn't care about robbing that bank. This was a test--of us. Some of us, at least."
"I was afraid of that," Madame said. "What was she testing--the extent of their gifts?"
"Yes, but more than that. She wanted to see how much resistance the students would present--if they could be manipulated and coerced. I can understand why they didn't take me. I'd have read their minds and known what they were really up to. I don't know why they didn't take Charles or Ken. Or Amanda. Well, they did take Amanda, but it was an accident. But this whole thing, it had nothing to do with robbing a bank. It was an experiment, Madame."