Now You See Me-Gifted 5 (3 page)

‘Why?’ Ken wanted to know.

Jenna half-expected Madame to snap something like ‘because I told you to’ – but that was how other teachers would respond to a question like that. Madame wasn’t like other teachers.

She seemed to be taking her time, and considering her answer carefully. Finally, she spoke.

‘It’s important for all of us to be aware of who knows about the gifts. You all know by now that there are people out there who want to use you, to utilize your gifts for their own purposes. We have to keep track of all potential . . . potential problems.’

‘But you said we have to include our parents,’ Sarah said. ‘You don’t think
they’d
want to use us, do you?’

‘Not intentionally,’ Madame said quickly. ‘But they might slip and reveal something to someone who – who shouldn’t know about you. They may already have done so.’

‘Why do you think that?’ Tracey asked.

‘Because you’ve all had experiences which lead me to believe that you’ve been observed. That you’re being watched.’

Martin went completely white. ‘You mean, someone’s spying on us?’ He looked around nervously. ‘Right now?’

At that moment, the door opened and Amanda walked in. Actually, sauntered in would be a better way of describing her entrance, Jenna thought. Most students entering a classroom late would shuffle in with head down. Amanda was practically strutting.

Madame looked at her, and raised her eyebrows. Amanda smiled brightly, and didn’t even bother to apologize for her tardiness.

‘I have an excuse,’ she proclaimed, and handed a folded piece of paper to the teacher.

Madame opened the note, and looked at it.

‘I can’t read this signature,’ she said.

‘It’s from Mr Jackson,’ Amanda said. ‘I’ve been working in the office. You see, I’m his new student assistant.’

Jenna couldn’t blame the cool, calm and collected teacher for becoming momentarily speechless. This was pretty shocking news, considering who it was coming from. Jenna knew of other students who worked as assistants – in the cafeteria, the gymnasium, and the library. But Amanda Beeson was the last person in the world who would be expected to take a job like that. Students did jobs like this to get extra-curricular credits, or build up experiences that would make it easier to get part-time paying jobs when they were in high school. Amanda was only interested in social extra-curricular activities, and it was unlikely that she’d be thinking about working for money when she got into high school. Her parents were either rich or very generous. In any case, Amanda certainly didn’t need to work for spending money.

She assumed Madame was thinking the same thing. ‘Why have you suddenly decided to become a student assistant, Amanda?’

Clearly, Amanda hadn’t anticipated the question. ‘I . . . I just think it’s good to learn office skills,’ she finally replied. ‘I mean, you never know when you might, um, need them.’

Madame eyed her curiously, but she didn’t press the issue. ‘Take a seat, Amanda,’ Madame said. ‘And please make it clear to Mr Jackson that I expect my students to be here on time.’

Jenna and Emily exchanged looks. They knew why Madame sounded a little huffy about Mr Jackson. She hadn’t been too thrilled when the principal foisted a student teacher on the class. Especially when that student teacher turned out to have aspirations other than teaching . . .

Madame repeated the day’s assignment to Amanda, and everyone went to work on their lists. Jenna’s was pretty short. There was her mother. She was pretty sure her mother wouldn’t have told anyone else, even if she was drunk. And then there was that man who called himself Stuart Kelley and claimed to be the father she’d never known. He could have told other people, she supposed. But how many people would believe someone who claimed he knew a mind-reader? That was the benefit of having the kind of weird talents they all had – people didn’t believe their gifts were possible.

She added names she was pretty sure were on everyone’s list – the people who had tried to force some of her classmates to rob banks for them. Clare, and those two men who’d been with her. Serena, the student teacher, of course. But that was about it. She’d never told any of the cops, or social workers, or judges she’d encountered in her brief career as a juvenile delinquent. Or any of the foster families she’d been forced to live with back when her mother went on one of her binges.

Madame collected the lists, and they spent the rest of the class time discussing the names on them.

‘Charles, you have two brothers in high school,’ Madame noted. ‘Do you think that they might talk about you with their friends?’

‘No,’ Charles said. ‘They’re ashamed of me.’

Madame looked at him doubtfully, but she didn’t pursue the subject. ‘I see that all of you put Ms Hancock on your lists,’ she commented.

‘I didn’t,’ Jenna protested. ‘Who’s Ms Hancock?’

‘Serena, the student teacher,’ Sarah reminded her.

‘Oh, OK, I forgot her last name. If it
is
her real last name.’

‘You shouldn’t forget anything about that woman,’ Madame warned her. ‘She’s dangerous. She learned about your gifts when she was here. And she utilized that knowledge to get Ken involved in that seance scam.’

Jenna didn’t miss the way Ken shot a dark look at Amanda before responding to Madame’s comment.

‘There’s something I still don’t understand about that,’ he said. ‘I know she was the one who invited me to the seance. But what I can’t figure out is how she got the invitation into my locker. We’ve got pretty tight security here. It’s not like someone can just walk into the school and put notes in lockers.’

‘Maybe she got someone to do it for her,’ Emily suggested. ‘Someone who could get past security. Someone who actually belongs here.’

A silence fell over the room, and Jenna assumed her classmates had the same thought running through their minds as she had. The bell rang.

‘We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow,’ Madame said, and dismissed them.

Outside the classroom, Jenna paused at the water fountain. Emily and Tracey waited for her, and Ken joined them.

‘What do you think?’ Ken asked the girls. ‘Is there a spy at Meadowbrook?’

Emily considered this. ‘It seems to me that if one student knew about us, everyone would know about us. You know how rumours spread around here.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Jenna remarked. ‘Not if that student wanted to do something more important than just spread gossip about us. Like, pass information to our enemies.’

‘Exactly,’ Ken said. ‘If someone is working with
them
, she wouldn’t want other kids at school to know what she knows.’

Tracey frowned. ‘Why do you think it’s a “she”?’

Ken shrugged, and didn’t answer, but Jenna read his mind before he could block her. ‘You think Amanda’s the spy.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Tracey said. ‘Why would Amanda do something like that?’

‘Maybe because she’s a terrible person?’ Jenna suggested. ‘Maybe because she’s a snob who thinks she’s better than the rest of us?’

‘It’s gotta be someone in our class,’ Ken said. ‘No one else could know so much about us.’

Tracey shook her head. ‘You think we’re the only ones who know where your locker is, Ken? I’ve seen you hang around there with your pals. Maybe one of them is working with Serena and put her note in your locker.’

‘But does anyone else know that Jenna’s father disappeared before she was born?’ Ken asked.

Jenna shook her head. ‘So that guy who said he was my father had to learn about me from someone in our class.’

‘That still doesn’t mean the spy is Amanda,’ Tracey pointed out.

‘She knew Serena was posing as Cassandra-the-medium and she didn’t tell anyone,’ Ken offered.

‘Maybe she was afraid of Serena,’ Tracey murmured.

‘She’s working in the office,’ Emily pointed out.

‘So what?’ Tracey asked.

Jenna answered for Emily. ‘So she has access to all kinds of personal information about us. I’ll bet that’s why she took the job, so she could pass it on.’

Tracey groaned. ‘Come on, you guys, you’re just ganging up on Amanda because you don’t like her. OK, maybe someone in our class is a spy. Let’s think of who else it could be.’

Emily spoke. ‘Martin?’

Ken looked at her in disbelief. ‘That weasel? He wouldn’t have the guts.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Tracey said. ‘All that “scaredy-cat” stuff could be a big act. He’s totally self-centred. Remember when we were kidnapped? He was completely willing to go along with those guys. I think he’d sell us out to anyone who paid attention to him.’

‘I guess you’ve got a point,’ Jenna said grudgingly.

But Ken was more stubborn. ‘I still think it’s Amanda.’

‘Whoever it is, we need to know,’ Jenna declared. ‘So what are we going to do?’ She looked at Tracey. ‘You got any ideas?’

Tracey nodded. ‘I think I’m going to do a little spying myself.’ She grinned at the others briefly, and then scrunched her face, as if she was concentrating very hard.

And before their very eyes, she disappeared.

S
OMETIMES IT WORKED, JUST like
that
. Would she ever figure out the logic of her gift? Tracey couldn’t take time to think about it now, she had to move. Fortunately, Martin was a slow walker, and she caught up with him just outside the school. Of course, he had no idea she was walking alongside him. Tracey was pretty sure Martin hardly ever had anyone
visible
walking beside him never mind
invisible
.

She’d never seen him hanging about with other kids at school. She supposed that wasn’t so weird – after all, until a couple of months ago, Tracey didn’t hang out with anyone at school either. She’d been as much of a loner as Martin seemed to be. But there’d been good reasons for Tracey’s isolation.

Maybe Martin had reasons too, but maybe they were bad ones. Maybe right this minute he was on his way to meet Serena, or Clare the kidnapper, or some other person who was interested in gifted students for all the wrong reasons.

If so, Martin wasn’t in any rush to get there. He walked slowly, head down, shoulders slumped, dragging his feet.

As they walked, Tracey took the time to give Martin a long, hard look. She’d never paid much attention to him in class – he was so irritating, everyone tried to ignore him. But now that he was silent, she was able to actually see him – and she was mildly surprised by what she saw. Physically, he really wasn’t that awful.

Whenever she envisioned Martin – which wasn’t often – she always thought of him as being a puny kid, sort of a less-than-lifesize scarecrow. But she realized now that he’d been growing, and he was several inches taller than she was. He was thin, but not totally scrawny. His hair was still fair, but he couldn’t have had a haircut recently. The straight blond strands fell down his forehead and almost into his eyes. Which were very green – funny how she’d never noticed that before. If she hadn’t known him, she’d almost think he was kind of cute.

But she
did
know him – he was Martin Cooper, whiny and fussy and annoying. And possibly a traitor to his class.

On a leafy, residential street, he turned and made his way up the drive of a house. A plump fair-haired woman was on the front steps, and she looked anxious. When she spotted Martin, she hurried forward.

‘There you are, honey! You’re late, I was getting worried.’ She enveloped Martin in a tight hug.

Well, he was loved, Tracey thought. Clearly, he didn’t have the kind of problems Tracey used to have. But what was all this business about being late? OK, Martin had walked slowly, but he’d come directly home.

Mrs Cooper ushered her son into the house and Tracey followed close behind.

‘You know how I worry when you’re late,’ the woman said to Martin.

‘I’m not late,’ Martin protested weakly.

‘You’re usually here at three thirty-five,’ his mother said. She looked at her watch. ‘It’s three forty-two!’

Seven minutes late, Tracey thought. This lady was kind of obsessive. She looked around the living room they were walking through. Everything looked very clean and neat. There was a sofa, easy chairs, the usual stuff – the only things in the room that seemed a little odd were the pictures on the walls. They were all photos of Martin, from birth to his most recent school picture.

He was an only child, that much was obvious. In a few of the pictures, Martin was posing with his mother, but there was no sign of a father. Was Mrs Cooper a widow or divorced? Divorced, Tracey decided. Otherwise, there’d be some indication of the other person who’d helped to produce Martin.

Pleased with the conclusions she’d come to by way of observation, Tracey was beginning to think she might make a pretty good spy. She followed Martin and his mother into a large, country-style kitchen.

‘Wait till you see the snack I have for you today!’ Mrs Cooper announced. She lifted the lid off a cake tin. ‘Chocolate with butterscotch icing! What do you say to that?’

‘Thank you, Mom,’ Martin said automatically, but there wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm in his tone. He allowed his mother to lead him to a chair at the kitchen table and practically place him on it. Then she stepped back and gazed at him worriedly.

‘You’re looking a little pale, darling. Have you got a fever?’ She placed a hand on his forehead. Martin flinched, but he didn’t push the hand away. Finally, his mother removed it. ‘No, I don’t think so. But I want you to take it easy today, dear. No running around, all right? You know how sport tires you out. You’re just not suited to it.’

Good grief, Tracey thought. This woman wasn’t just a little obsessive, she was a nervous wreck.

Martin picked up the knife that lay next to the cake tin and started to cut a slice of cake. His mother squealed.

‘Honey, be careful! That’s a very sharp knife. Here, let me cut the cake for you. There’s milk in the refrigerator.’

Martin relinquished the knife to his mother, got up and went to the refrigerator. Back at the table, he looked at the unopened carton of milk for a few seconds, and then touched the cap.