Now You See Me-Gifted 5

  Sarah . . .? Maybe all that niceness was just a mask. No, Jenna couldn’t suspect Sarah. She might make fun of Sarah, calling her Miss Perfect or something like that, but deep down she instinctively knew that Sarah was a genuinely good person. There was a bit of mystery to her, that was true, but it seemed to be something personal and private. She wouldn’t do anything that would hurt anyone else.

  They could forget about Carter – he couldn’t even communicate. For a brief time, when she first entered the class, she’d toyed with the notion that Carter’s oblivious attitude was an act. But once, when Charles had one of his tantrums and sent books flying off shelves, everyone else in the class had covered their heads. Carter hadn’t even flinched until Madame had instructed him to duck. No, the guy was truly out of it.

  What about Charles? He could be pretty nasty . . . but she remembered how he’d helped her and Ken rescue the kidnapped students. Someone in cahoots with the bad guys wouldn’t have done that.

  No, it had to be Amanda. Before she came to the Gifted class, none of them had been threatened by outside forces. Amanda had no real friends in the class so she had no sense of loyalty to anyone. Tracey had said she thought there was some sort of romantic connection between Amanda and Ken, but from the way Ken talked about Amanda now, any friendship they might have had was finished.

  And now Amanda had chosen to work in Mr Jackson’s office.

  Jenna had always harboured uncomfortable feelings about Mr Jackson, and not just because he was the school principal. There was something about him that gave her the creeps.

  Madame had assured the class that no one else at Meadowbrook knew about them. The administration thought the students in Madame’s class had some unusual aspects to their personalities or learning skills, and that was why they’d been brought together for a class under her supervision. None of them, not even the principal, was aware of what they could do. Jackson knew they had ‘gifts’, but he thought they were little personality quirks and talents. Not weird supernatural stuff.

  And yet, the way Mr Jackson looked at them . . . Surely he suspected something. It was Jackson who brought Serena to their class as a student teacher. It was Jackson who had accepted the man who called himself Stuart Kelley as Jenna’s father. Jenna had no difficulty picturing the principal and Amanda working together to exploit the gifted students.

  The Gifted class met right after this class. That meant Amanda should be working in the office right now.

  The one good thing about substitute teachers was the fact that they were more gullible than real teachers. Jenna got up and went to the desk.

  Mr Roth looked up from his newspaper with annoyance at being interrupted. ‘Yes?’ he asked testily.

  ‘I need to go to the clinic,’ Jenna said.

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion. Jenna elaborated.

  ‘I think I’m going to throw up.’

  That comment set Roth in motion. Frantically, he grabbed an excuse pass from the top drawer and practically threw it at her.

  Once out in the hall, Jenna knew she needed to work out another story right away. It wasn’t like she could walk into the office and just hang out. She needed a reason for being there. But what possible excuse could she have for going to the office? She could claim that Mr Roth sent her for some classroom supplies . . . but then she’d be handed the supplies and sent back to class. She needed to stay in the office for a while so she could observe Amanda and figure out what she was up to. This was not going to be easy . . .

  But she was in luck. There was a lot going on in the office when she arrived, and she didn’t have to provide an excuse, at least not right away. A counsellor with a red face was demanding to see Mr Jackson immediately. The custodian was complaining about something nasty in a bathroom, while two teachers were arguing over the use of some video equipment. And a couple of boys who’d obviously been in some sort of fight (and who wanted very much to continue fighting) were being held apart by another teacher.

  Ms Simmons, the head secretary, was yelling at them all, telling them to sit and wait until Mr Jackson could see them. Amanda was behind the desk, in front of a computer screen, and not paying any attention to what was going on.

  Jenna approached cautiously and tried to get a better look at what Amanda was doing without letting Amanda get a glimpse of her. She couldn’t see what was on the screen but she could get into Amanda’s mind, which was even better. There, Jenna could not only get a vague image of the screen, but she could also get a sense of how Amanda was responding to what she saw.

  Amanda was looking at an email inbox. Her own? No, not unless Amanda normally received emails with subjects like ‘Budget request for physical education equipment’ and ‘Board of Education Meeting Schedule’. It had to be Jackson’s email. And if Amanda had access to the email account of the principal, wasn’t that an indication that they were pretty chummy?

  Now she needed to know what Amanda was thinking about the emails she was reading . . .

  ‘Hello, Jenna, what are you up to?’ Mr Gonzalez, the counsellor she saw regularly, was standing there. ‘Not in any trouble, I hope!’ He said this with a broad smile, showing that he was just teasing her.

  Jenna forced a smile, but it wasn’t easy, because Mr Gonzalez had a booming voice and she knew Amanda must have heard him. She didn’t even have to look at her classmate to confirm this. Her connection to Amanda’s mind had been severed.

  At that moment, Mr Jackson came out of his office. ‘Who’s next?’ he called out. Several of the office occupants clamoured for his attention, and Jenna decided to take advantage of the moment to explore the principal’s thoughts.

  But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t penetrate his mind. Then she was aware of Mr Jackson staring straight at her and there was a flash of something in his expression that she couldn’t interpret.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded to know.

  Jenna looked around for an excuse. ‘Uh, Mr Roth needs a stapler.’

  Jackson took one off the desk. ‘Here.’

  Jenna took the stapler from him. ‘Thank you,’ she said, hoping she sounded polite and casual, but her stomach was suddenly in knots. There was something about the way Jackson was looking at her . . .

  Hurrying out, she tried to dismiss this sudden sense of apprehension that had come over her. Why hadn’t she been able to get even a glimpse of the principal’s thoughts? And why had he glared at her like that? It wasn’t like he could know she’d been trying to read his mind.

  Unless . . . unless he knew what Jenna was capable of doing, and he’d blocked her. He’d know because Amanda had told him. Which was precisely the kind of thing a spy would do.

  Back in the English class, Mr Roth was still reading his newspaper and the students were still doing whatever they’d been doing when she left. Jenna took her seat, stuck the stapler in her backpack, and opened Jane Eyre.

  Much as she liked the story, it was hard to concentrate. Her thoughts kept going back to the scene in the office. Now she was more convinced than ever about Amanda. She couldn’t wait to get into the Gifted class and share her news with Emily, Tracey and Ken.

  But there was nothing she could do right now, and there were still thirty minutes of this class left to go. She plunged back into Jane Eyre.

  The story grabbed her this time, and soon she was completely absorbed in it. The next time she glanced at the clock, she was surprised and pleased to see there were only about five minutes left before the bell would ring. But as it turned out, she didn’t even have to wait that long to leave the room.

  The door opened, and Amanda walked in. With an air of importance, she strode briskly up to Mr Roth and murmured something to him. The teacher looked at the class.

  ‘Jenna Kelley?’

  Jenna looked up. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re wanted in the office.’

  Jenna frowned, and looked at Amanda, but Amanda’s expression didn’t give her any hint as to why she was being summoned. She pic
ked up her backpack, stopped at the desk and retrieved another hall pass, and left the room. Amanda was right behind her.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jenna asked her.

  ‘Not a clue,’ Amanda replied. ‘Ms Simmons told me to come and get you. I just follow orders.’

  I’ll bet you do, Jenna thought sourly. They walked along in silence for a moment. At the end of the corridor, however, Amanda turned right instead of left, which was the direction to the office.

  ‘I don’t have to go back to the office,’ she offered by way of explanation. ‘Mr Jackson said I could go on to my next class.’

  Jenna doubted that Amanda was actually going to appear early for the Gifted class. She’d undoubtedly use this time to go into a bathroom where she could fuss with her hair and her make-up and admire her own reflection for as long as possible. Jenna had once read a biography of a famous female spy named Mata Hari. She paid a lot of attention to her appearance too. Maybe it was a female spy thing.

  As she approached the office, the reason for her summons dawned on her. The stapler she’d borrowed – Ms Simmons wanted it back. She took it out of her backpack, and when she entered the office she held it out to the secretary.

  But Ms Simmons barely glanced at the stapler. Her disapproving eyes were on Jenna herself, and Jenna thought the secretary looked just a little too harsh considering the situation. So she’d kept the stapler for half an hour – big deal.

  Ms Simmons nodded towards Mr Jackson’s closed door. ‘You’re wanted in there,’ she told Jenna.

  Jenna’s forehead creased in puzzlement. Now what? But Ms Simmons offered no further explanation. Jenna crossed the reception area and rapped on the principal’s door.

  ‘Come in,’ the principal called.

  Jenna opened the door. And then she just stood there, her hand still on the doorknob. It was an unexpected and unsettling scene that greeted her.

  Mr Jackson sat at his usual place, behind his massive desk. On the chair facing him sat Jenna’s mother. By his side stood a uniformed police officer. Jenna wasn’t sure who looked more frightening – the cop with his stern expression, or her mother, who had tears in her eyes.

  ‘Oh Jenna,’ her mother moaned. ‘Why did you do this?’ She couldn’t seem to bring herself to even look at Jenna as she spoke.

  Jenna stared at her in utter bewilderment. ‘Why did I do what?’

  Mr Jackson had no problem looking at Jenna. ‘You know our policy about weapons,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ Jenna replied honestly.

  ‘It’s in the student guide,’ the principal snapped.

  Yeah, like anyone ever reads that, Jenna thought, but she decided it would be wiser not to say it out loud.

  ‘We have a “no-tolerance” policy,’ the principal continued. ‘Do you understand what that means?’

  Jenna nodded slowly. ‘I guess it means nobody should bring any kind of weapon to school, right?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Mr Jackson said. ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s an assault rifle or a sling-shot.’ He opened his drawer. ‘Or a knife.’

  It was a big, sharp knife, the kind that Jenna imagined would be used for carving meat. Jenna stared at it blankly.

  ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Your locker.’ He placed the knife down on the centre of his desk. ‘Unfortunately for you, we held a random locker search today.’

  An odd, shivery sensation went up her spine. ‘I – I’ve never seen that knife before in my life.’

  ‘Of course you haven’t,’ Mr Jackson said with a sneer. ‘It just sprouted legs and walked into your locker. It even knew your combination.’

  Jenna turned to her mother. ‘Mom, I swear, it’s not mine! I didn’t bring a knife to school.’

  ‘I want to believe you, Jenna . . .’ her mother began, and her voice broke.

  Mr Jackson finished the sentence for her. ‘But she can’t, because we have the evidence. I’m sorry, young lady, but you’re in serious trouble.’

  ‘Are you suspending me?’ Jenna asked.

  ‘Given your history, I don’t feel suspension is an adequate punishment,’ the principal declared. ‘You are being sent back to Harmony House, for an indefinite period.’

  Jenna froze. She opened her mouth to protest but no words came out.

  And she wasn’t only mute. She had difficulty hearing too. Vaguely, she was aware of being told that the police officer would escort her to Harmony House, but the sound seemed to be coming from very far away. Her mother was saying something too, but the words made no sense at all. Maybe because she was crying as she spoke.

  Then she was in the hallway, with the policeman’s hand on her shoulder. The bell must have just rung, because there were people in the hall, and she knew they were looking at her. Strangely enough, she wasn’t upset, she wasn’t humiliated. She didn’t care. How could she?

  She’d gone completely numb. She was too shocked to feel anything at all.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TRACEY WAS IN THE bathroom when three girls she didn’t know made a noisy entrance. They were talking loudly and excitedly.

  ‘I saw it all!’ one of them told the others. ‘Police officers took her away! Five or six of them! And she was in handcuffs!’

  ‘No way!’ another one exclaimed.

  ‘Really, I swear!’

  ‘What did she do?’ the third girl asked.

  ‘I don’t know but it’s serious. They don’t call the police for cutting a class.’

  Uneasily, Tracey turned to the group. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘You’ve seen her around,’ the girl told her. ‘She’s that goth girl. I think her name’s Jeannie or Janie, something like that.’

  ‘Jenna,’ Tracey said. ‘Jenna Kelley.’ She slung her backpack over her shoulder and left the bathroom.

  In shock, she managed to get up the stairs without tripping. This had to be a mistake. Maybe the girl in the restroom hadn’t understood what she saw. Or maybe there was another goth girl at Meadowbrook. She told herself that when she walked into Room 209, Jenna would be there, just as she always was. She even concocted a story that would account for what the girl in the bathroom had seen: a police officer had been invited to speak in Jenna’s last class and Jenna was simply escorting him to the door. There had to be a reasonable explanation . . .

  But when she walked into class, her heart sank. Emily’s woebegone expression said it all.

  ‘Do you know about Jenna?’ Emily asked her.

  Tracey sank into her seat. ‘I heard people talking. They said she was arrested. Is it true?’

  ‘It’s something like that,’ Emily acknowledged. ‘I know a policeman took her away. I don’t know what she did, Tracey, but it has to have been something really bad.’

  ‘But maybe, maybe it wasn’t because of something she did,’ Tracey said. She thought frantically. ‘Maybe . . . maybe her mother was in an accident, and the police came to take her to the hospital.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Jenna’s mother.’

  Tracey and Emily turned to see Amanda sauntering into the room. ‘How do you know?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Because she was in Mr Jackson’s office. First she came, then the policeman came, and then Ms Simmons sent me to get Jenna out of class.’ Amanda sat down and whipped out her make-up bag.

  ‘But why?’ Tracey wanted to know. ‘What happened?’

  Amanda examined her own reflection in a little compact mirror. ‘Well, Mr Jackson did a locker check today. He might have found something in Tracey’s locker.’

  ‘Like what?’ Charles asked. ‘Drugs? Guns?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Amanda replied as she applied lip-gloss.

  Ken’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  Amanda snapped the compact shut. ‘Just because work in the office doesn’t mean I know everything that goes on in there. All I know is that Mr Jackson suddenly decided to do some random locker searches and when he came back, he wanted to see Jenna.??
?

  ‘It was a knife,’ Sarah said softly.

  Everyone turned in her direction. ‘How do you know?’ Tracey asked her.

  ‘I saw it,’ Sarah said. ‘I’d just been excused from class to get some water. Mr Jackson and a policeman were in the hallway. Mr Jackson opened a locker and took out a big knife. I didn’t know whose locker it was.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I can’t believe Jenna would bring a weapon to school.’

  ‘Why not?’Amanda asked. ‘I mean, she was a juvenile delinquent, right?’

  Emily looked stricken. ‘That’s not true!’ She amended that. ‘OK, maybe it was a little bit true, but she’s not like that now. You don’t know anything about her, Amanda.’

  ‘I know all I want to know,’ Amanda murmured. She took her mobile phone out of her bag and began composing a text message.

  ‘You reporting on this to someone?’ Ken asked her.

  Amanda looked at him. ‘What?’

  But then Madame walked in. Everyone turned to her expectantly.

  ‘Madame, did you hear about Jenna?’ Emily asked.

  The teacher nodded. ‘I don’t have all the facts. I’ve been told that something unacceptable was found in her locker during a routine security search.’

  ‘Was she suspended?’ Tracey asked.

  ‘I believe so,’ Madame replied. ‘As I said, I don’t have all the facts yet.’ Tracey knew Madame had to be upset about this. But being Madame, her tone was calm and unemotional.

  ‘I know we’re all upset, but we can’t jump to conclusions. Try not to listen to any gossip you might hear. And I don’t think we should discuss this in class until we know more about the situation. Today, I suggest we spend the class time practising our relaxation techniques.’

  As usual, Martin and Charles groaned, but Tracey could see the point of this. The exercises – in breathing and meditation – were supposed to help them control their gifts. Today, the soft music and Madame’s soothing voice would help calm their feelings.