Out of Sight, Out of Mind

  Then they heard footsteps approaching the door.

  Jenna froze. "It's my mother."

  "Hide," Amanda hissed.

  Jenna ran into the stairwell. Amanda closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could. Help me, Tracey--help me. Help me disappear. She tried to imagine herself fading away.

  She heard the door open, and she knew someone was standing there, facing her. Reluctantly, slowly, she opened her eyes.

  Jenna's mother looked puzzled. She looked both ways down the hallway, and then she shrugged.

  I did it! Amanda thought gleefully She edged past Jenna's mother into the apartment, trying to avoid bumping into people. She had no idea how long she could hang on to this invisibility, so she moved fast, tearing into Jenna's bedroom. The teddy bear was on the bed.

  Back out in the hallway, she ran into the stairwell.

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  Jenna didn't look in her direction, so she knew she must still be invisible. She closed her eyes. I want to come hack, I want to come back. Tracey, let's be real. "You did it!"

  Amanda opened her eyes to see Jenna gaping at her in admiration. She thrust the teddy bear into Jenna's arms. "Let's get out of here."

  Once they were out of Brookside Towers, Amanda turned to Jenna. "You're going to have to do something about this, you know."

  "About what?"

  "Your mother, how you're living--all that."

  "You can't tell anyone, Amanda. This is even more important than the teddy bear. Do you know what would happen to me if people found out about my mother?"

  Amanda could guess. "They'd take you away from her and put you in some kind of foster care."

  Jenna nodded.

  "There must be someone who can help you," Amanda said. "What about Madame? I get the feeling she really cares about us--I mean, about you guys." She couldn't believe she'd said "us," as if she was

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  actually one of them.

  Jenna shook her head. "I can't take the chance. She might feel like she has to tell the authorities." She shook her head ruefully. "Isn't this weird? You, Amanda Beeson--you're the only one who knows about my life. And I actually trust you."

  "Yeah, it's pretty weird all right," Amanda replied. "You're the only one who knows my secrets, too. And I've got a favor to ask you. Could you please never try to read my mind without asking me first?"

  "Okay," Jenna said.

  "Thanks."

  After a moment, Jenna said, "Now, you tell me something. Are we friends?"

  "I wouldn't go that far," Amanda said. "But ... we're not enemies."

  Jenna nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

  Amanda was pleased that Jenna understood. She really couldn't picture herself-as-herself hanging out with Jenna Kelley.

  But on the other hand, she might be Tracey Devon for a long, long time. And considering Tracey's general unpopularity, she'd need all the friends she could get.

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  Chapter Fifteen

  IT SEEMED TO JENNA that Amanda had found herself in a pretty nice place in the Devon household. She corrected herself--- Amanda had made herself a nice place. From what Jenna had learned, life hadn't been like this for poor Tracey. According to Amanda, Tracey had been ignored in this family, virtually invisible even when she was visible.

  Looking around now, Jenna found it difficult to believe that this had ever been the case. At the big, round breakfast table, the septuplets argued about who would get to sit on either side of their big sister. Mrs. Devon hovered over her.

  "Tracey, you absolutely must have some more French toast. You need to eat; you're way too thin. Do you have your lunch money? Jenna, dear, please make sure Tracey eats her lunch at school."

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  "Yes, Mrs. Devon," Jenna said. Boy, was Tracey in for a shock when she got back inside her own body! she thought. Amanda had made Tracey's presence known.

  She mentioned this to Amanda as they set off for the bus stop.

  "It wasn't that hard," Amanda told her. "Tracey must be a complete wimp to put up with her parents behaving like that. She needs to stand up for herself and make demands. I just hope she can keep this up when she comes back and she doesn't fade away again."

  "You won't let her do that," Jenna assured her.

  Amanda frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? Once we're back inside our own bodies, I guarantee you I won't be involved with Tracey Devon."

  "You don't feel like you're kind of connected now?"

  "No!"

  Her violent response almost made Jenna jump. "Jeez, I'm not saying you guys have to be best friends or anything like that, but ..."

  The bus was coming. "Watch this," Amanda said.

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  "This bus driver never noticed her before. Sometimes he closed the door in her face." This time, when the doors opened, Amanda was the first to climb on, and the driver actually said "good morning" to her.

  They sat down. "Look," Amanda said, "I'm doing what I can to make Tracey's life better. And if I say so myself, she's less of a nerd than she was before I got my hands on her. But when this business is over, don't think I'm ever going to be hanging out with Tracey Devon. We live in completely different worlds. Could you even imagine Tracey with the real me and my friends?"

  "Wow, you really are a snob," Jenna commented.

  Amanda shrugged. "Like I care what you think of me."

  "I don't get it," Jenna said. "Sometimes I feel like you're really an okay person, and then you turn around and act like this."

  "I'm practicing so I'll be ready when I'm myself again," Amanda informed her.

  Jenna sighed and sank back into her seat. Popular girls had always been a mystery to her, and getting to

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  know Amanda hadn't helped her understand them any better. And even though she'd promised Amanda that she wouldn't read her mind without asking first, she couldn't resist. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

  I hope she finds a new mother's helper this week. I want her to take me shopping on Saturday. I don't really mind baby-sitting the kids. Sandie and Mandie are funny, and I feel especially close to Randie. I can't hate them--it's not their fault I don't get enough attention. It's my parents' fault, and my own fault, too.

  Jenna was puzzled. "She" was obviously Mrs. Devon. But who was "I"? Then she gasped.

  "What?" Amanda asked.

  "Look, don't get angry, but I just read some thoughts."

  Amanda was clearly annoyed. "Hey, you promised--"

  "Wait," Jenna interrupted."! don't think they were your thoughts. I think I was hearing Tracey!"

  Amanda's eyes widened. "Really? What was she thinking? Is she getting ready to come back out?"

  "It was something about how she wants her

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  mother to take her shopping on Saturday. And some stuff about the little sisters, and how she really likes Randie."

  Amanda's face fell. "Oh."

  "I thought you'd be pleased! If I can read Tracey's thoughts, she's got to be closer to the surface, right?"

  "They weren't Tracey's thoughts," Amanda told her glumly. "They were mine."

  Jenna drew in her breath sharply. "Ohmigod! Do you know what this could mean? You and Tracey ... maybe you're merging. You know, becoming one person together. Tracey-Amanda Devon-Beeson. Wow! What a name!"

  "Shut up!" Amanda hissed furiously. "Just shut your stupid mouth."

  Jenna wasn't offended by Amanda's sharp tongue. She thought she was beginning to understand now. Amanda was scared.

  When they arrived at school, the two girls parted, but Jenna didn't stop thinking about Amanda. In a way, she almost hoped her suspicions would turn out to be true--that Tracey was absorbing Amanda, or vice versa. Because she had to admit, she kind

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  of liked Amanda. She envied her confidence and she admired the way Amanda was turning Tracey's life around.

  And Amanda had ignited a tiny little hope in Jenna--that in the Amanda-style Tracey's he might ha
ve found a friend who could help her improve her own life.

  Amanda's mood seemed to have improved somewhat when they met again in the gifted class.

  "I think I'm going to volunteer to be Serena's subject today," she confided in Jenna.

  "You're kidding! I told you, she doesn't give a hoot about us--she just wants to use us."

  "I know," Amanda said. "She's definitely creepy. But I'm wondering if maybe hypnosis could be the answer. Like, if she went deep enough inside my unconscious, she'd have to find Tracey, right?"

  "I don't know," Jenna said. "I guess it's worth a try." But she had serious doubts that the student teacher would be able to do anything meaningful. Ken came in and took the seat next to her. Jenna turned to him.

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  "What happened when you had your meeting with Serena?" she asked.

  Amanda turned to listen, too.

  He grinned. "It was total bull. She was trying to get me to contact her great-grandmother to find out where she hid her jewelry before she died."

  Jenna gave Amanda a triumphant look. "See? She's only looking out for herself. She's not going to help you."

  "Help you with what?" Ken asked Amanda.

  "Nothing--nothing at all. Forget it and mind your own business," Amanda snapped while shooting a fierce look at Jenna. Jenna was more interested in watching Ken's reaction to Amanda's response. He was obviously startled, and Jenna couldn't blame him. That outburst was not a typical Tracey reaction.

  As it turned out, Amanda didn't have the opportunity to volunteer anyway The student teacher didn't come to class that day.

  "Where's Serena?" Jenna asked Madame.

  "I believe she called in sick," Madame said. She actually seemed a little concerned, which Jenna thought was odd. She tried to figure out what

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  Madame was really thinking, but as usual, she couldn't get inside her head.

  "Is she seriously sick?" Jenna asked.

  "No, just a cold. At least, that's what Principal Jackson told me." The bell rang, and now Madame looked even more worried. "Where is Emily?"

  Nobody knew. Madame frowned.

  "She's probably dawdling in the restroom," Amanda said. "You know how she daydreams. Do you want me to go get her?"

  "No, that's all right," Madame said. "I'm sure she'll be along in a minute. Now, I would like us to spend our time today sharing some personal experiences. Usually we talk about how we've tried to suppress our gifts. I know this isn't always possible, and there may be times when it's appropriate to use them. So this time, let's talk about the positive ways in which you've used your gifts this week. Who'd like to go first?"

  As usual, no hands shot up. Madame sighed.

  "All right, I'll decide who goes first. Martin?"

  Martin looked frightened. "I didn't do anything!"

  "I don't intend to punish you, Martin. I just want

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  to know if you did anything with your gift this week that you feel good about."

  Martin scrunched his little rat face as if he was thinking very hard. "Oh, yeah ... I was in the supermarket with my mother on Monday And I saw this woman with a little kid--I guess he was about five--and he knocked something off a shelf. And his mother slapped him!"

  "Oh dear," Madame murmured. "I don't approve of punishing children physically either. But what could you do about this, Martin? Did you say something to the woman?"

  "Nah. I kicked her."

  "Martin!"

  "Well, the little kid was too small to kick her himself. So I got even for him."

  Madame shook her head. "Martin, how can you think that was a positive action?"

  "Because I did it for the kid, not for myself! The woman wasn't hurt too badly--she just slid all the way down the aisle and looked really embarrassed. You should've seen the kid's face. He was really happy, so I felt good about myself."

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  "How did you get away with it?" Charles wanted to know.

  Martin beamed. "I moved really fast, when no one was looking. And who's going to think someone like me could kick a person that far?"

  Madame shook her head. "I'm sorry, Martin, but I don't think this is a very good example of a positive action. Who can offer a better example?"

  Sarah raised her hand, and Madame nodded in her direction.

  "I saw a woman about to cross a street. Then a car came from around the corner, going way too fast, and the driver was talking on his cell phone and not paying attention. He would have hit her if I hadn't made him step on the brakes." She looked at the teacher pleadingly. "I know I'm not supposed to interfere, Madame, but I couldn't let that poor woman get injured--maybe even killed!"

  "That's cool," Ken said. "You saved her life."

  Jenna saw it another way. "But maybe that woman was on her way to kill her husband. You would have saved his life if you'd let the car hit her."

  Sarah sighed and sank back in her chair.

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  Madame looked at Jenna reprovingly. "Do you have an interesting story, Jenna?"

  She didn't, but she managed to conjure up something. "Um, the other day I was at the mall, and I knew some kids were planning to go in a store and steal stuff. They had it all worked out--they even had a gadget to take the security thingy off the items they swiped. So I told a security guard, and they were arrested."

  It was only a little white lie, and she thought it would please Madame. Amanda turned around and raised her eyebrows, but Jenna ignored her.

  "But how did you get the security guard to believe you?" Ken asked.

  "That's a good question, Ken," Madame said. "We've talked about this before, Jenna. You all have to be very careful about revealing your abilities. What did you actually say to the guard?"

  Jenna thought rapidly. "I ... I didn't say anything about mind reading. I told him I'd overheard the kids talking."

  Did Madame buy her story? Before she could respond, the classroom door opened, and the

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  principal stuck in his head.

  "Excuse me, Madame. Sorry to disturb your class," he droned. "Just a message to relay. Emily Sanders is sick today."

  "Really?" Madame glanced at a sheet on her desk. "She's not on the absentee list."

  "Secretary's error," he said quickly and retreated, closing the door.

  Madame stared after him. Then she shook her head as if to shake out some disturbing thoughts. "Let's see, where were we? Who would like to share next? Charles?"

  Jenna was relieved that Madame seemed to have forgotten her story. When Amanda-Tracey turned around, Jenna thought she wanted to congratulate her on getting away with that rewritten tale. But the girl seemed to have something else on her mind.

  "Emily's not sick. I saw her in the cafeteria earlier."

  "Maybe she got sick just before class," Jenna suggested.

  "Then why would the principal say it was a mistake that she wasn't on the absentee list?"

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  ''Tracey? ''

  She had to turn back to face the teacher. "Did you have a positive experience with your gift this week?"

  "No."

  The teacher moved on to Ken, but Jenna had tuned out. Emily was still on her mind, and she couldn't shake her. It was as if she was stuck in Jenna's head, and Jenna didn't know why. So, Emily was sick--so what? It was probably nothing serious, just a cold or something. Maybe she had thrown up that day's disgusting lunch.

  Then why was she still in her head?

  Jenna jerked as the answer came to her in a flash. She was thinking about Emily because Emily was trying to contact her.

  But why would Emily want to communicate with Jenna? The answer was obvious: because Emily knew that Jenna could read minds. And she wanted Jenna to read hers, right that minute. But why?

  Jenna shut her eyes and concentrated. Emily ... I'm listening. I'm trying to hear you. What do you want? Emily?

  Nothing ... and then Emily began to fade from

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  her
mind. Another face replaced her--Serena, the student teacher.

  This was getting even weirder. Why would Serena want to communicate with Jenna? Was she having a problem getting Mr. Jones to ask her out? And what did this have to do with Emily? Because now Emily was coming back inside Jenna's head.

  Emily was trying to tell her something about Serena. But it was all blurry and fuzzy, because, because ... because Emily was under hypnosis.

  The bell rang, and Jenna leaned forward. "I have to tell you something," she whispered.

  "I don't understand," Amanda said when she heard what had been going on in Jenna's mind. "What does it mean?"

  "Emily's trying to tell me something. I think she's in trouble. And it's something to do with Serena."

  "But Emily's at home sick, isn't she?"

  Jenna wasn't so sure. "Do you have a cell phone?"

  Amanda shook her head. "That was the next thing I was going to tell Tracey's parents to give me."

  "Well, I don't have one." Jenna regarded the passing stream of students and stopped. "You've got

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  one, don't you?"

  "I just told you--"

  "I mean, the real you."

  Amanda looked practically offended by the question. "Of course I do. Everyone who's anyone has a phone."

  Ignoring the insult, Jenna dashed down the hall and cornered Other-Amanda, who was standing at her locker with a couple of her snotty friends. "I need to use your phone," Jenna declared.

  "What?"

  Jenna repeated her demand.

  "Are you serious'? Do you actually think that I would lend you my phone?" The two girls beside her looked horrified, as if Jenna were in the process of holding them up with a weapon. Which gave Jenna an idea.

  She moved in closer to Other-Amanda. "Give me your phone," she hissed, "or I'll have my crew take care of you."

  One of the girls clutched Other-Amanda's arm. "You'd better do it. She knows really bad people."

  But this Amanda was just as tough as the Amanda

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  that Jenna knew. "Forget it," she snapped.

  Fortunately, her friends weren't quite so gutsy. "Here, you can use mine," one said, and she thrust it into Jenna's hand.

  Jenna dialed the number for directory information. There were five Sanderses in the town, and Jenna told the operator to try the first one. There was no answer. No one answered the second one either, but on the second try she got someone.