Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

  "What does it look like?"

  "Old-fashioned---there are these tacky little pearls all around the face. It's bad enough having

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  Sarah's bitten fingernails--I don't have to wear her icky jewelry . . . Oh, here it is."

  Emily watched her in amazement. "How can you act so--so casual? Aren't you upset about all this?"

  Amanda-Sarah shrugged. "Oh, I'm sure I'll get back into my own body pretty soon. I won't be stuck with these people forever."

  "But what about the rest of us?" Emily asked.

  "Don't worry," Amanda-Sarah said. "When we're all together at the bank, I'll stop them. I didn't want to do it while we were practicing because I wasn't sure I could freeze all three of them at the same time. But once we're at the bank, I'll freeze Clare while she's in the car with you. She'll let me get close enough because she likes me. Then, once we're in the bank, I'll freeze George and Howard. See? It'll be easy."

  Emily sighed. "You think you can stop Clare and George and Howard from moving?"

  "I stopped you, didn't I?"

  "I was faking it."

  The other girl's face fell. "Oh. Well, there's a chance I'll have more of Sarah's gift by the time

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  we get to the bank. I wouldn't count on it though. When I was Tracey, I never could stay invisible very long."

  Emily dropped into a chair. In the back of her mind, she must have been clinging to the tiny hope that there was still a chance to get out of this. But it wasn't to be.

  "Cheer up," Amanda-Sarah said. "Maybe we can get away at the bank. You never know what will happen."

  "But I do know what's going to happen," Emily reminded her. "That's why I'm so depressed."

  Amanda-Sarah looked thoughtful. "I don't get it. I mean, how can you ever really know exactly what's going to happen in the future? You can see what might happen, but you can't know for sure, can you? There's always that butterfly thing."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Haven't you ever heard about the butterfly effect? I saw a movie about it. A butterfly can flap its wings in Brazil and cause an earthquake in Japan. Or something else. A typhoon, maybe."

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  Emily was in no mood for nonsense. "Don't be stupid."

  "No, really. It's like, something really small can happen, and it has an effect that builds and builds. Like the way my parents met."

  Emily sank deeper into the chair. "I really don't want to hear how your parents met, Amanda."

  "No, listen, it's cool. My father was on his way to a job interview. He was early, so he took a walk through a park, and when he passed too closely by some bushes, a button on his jacket was pulled off. He didn't want to look like a slob, so he ran into the first dry cleaners he saw to see if someone could sew it back on right away, before his interview. And my mother was in there picking up some clothes. That's how they met!"

  Emily wasn't impressed. "So? It's what's called a coincidence."

  "But, wait, think about it. If that button hadn't fallen off, they might never have met. I wouldn't have been born. So I wouldn't have taken over Tracey's body, and she'd still be that nerdy girl she

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  used to be. You see? Tracey's okay today because my father walked through a park. Get it?"

  "Not really," Emily said. Amanda-Sarah gave up and went back into the dining room.

  But even as Emily returned to her private sadness, she had to admit there might be something to what she'd just heard. Like, why hadn't her vision of Martin breaking the door down happened? Because a stupid mouse ran across the floor, and Martin turned out to be afraid of mice. If it wasn't for that mouse, the police might be here right now, freeing the kids and arresting Clare and her gang.

  Then she sat up straight. That wasn't exactly right. Now that she thought about it, she remembered that her vision only included Martin throwing the sofa. She'd hoped it would break down the door, but that wasn't part of the vision.

  Okay, maybe Amanda's story was kind of interesting. Still, it didn't make her feel any better about what they were about to do. In just over an hour, they'd be robbing a bank. And she didn't see how any butterfly was going to be able to stop it from happening.

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  CHAPTER TWELVE

  KEN KNEW WHERE THE basketball team would be hanging out. Gino's Pizza at the mall across the street from Meadow-

  brook was the popular place for athletes. As they approached, he pointed, and Jenna saw half a dozen players squeezed into a booth by the window.

  "The big question is, how are we going to get him away from his new buddies?" Jenna wondered.

  Ken rolled his eyes. "Who aren't his buddies at all. Mike's superstitious--he's always been like that. He thinks Charles is some sort of good luck charm, and he's persuaded the other guys to go along with it. I mean, how else could he explain their sudden winning streak?"

  "So they're totally using him," Jenna said.

  "Yeah. And as soon as the season's over, they'll dump him."

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  "You're sure of that, huh?"

  "I know these guys. I bet they make fun of Charles when he's not around."

  Jenna thought about that. "Charles is proud. If he knew that they don't really like him, he'd leave."

  Ken agreed. "I guess we could tell him. But he wouldn't believe us."

  Jenna nodded. "But if he heard it from them . . ."

  "What do you mean?"

  An idea was forming in her head. "Do you have a cell phone?" Sure. "Can I see it?"

  He handed it over. Jenna had a quick look at it, grinned, and then told Ken her idea.

  "It's worth a shot," he said. "Let's go." They went to the door of the restaurant.

  "Wait a second," Jenna said. "How do I look?" She rearranged her features into what she hoped was a convincing expression.

  "Seriously depressed," Ken said.

  "On the verge of crying?"

  He cocked his head to one side and scrutinized

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  her. "Well ... it would be better if you could actually work up a few tears."

  Jenna tried, but it was impossible. Seriously depressed would have to do.

  They entered and ambled over to the table where the basketball players and Charles were sitting. "Can we squeeze in?" Ken asked. Without waiting for a reply, he pushed his friend Mike to one side and sat down next to Charles.

  Charles looked at him with something that resembled interest. "I thought you were going off to save those kids from class," he muttered, too quietly for the others around the table to hear him.

  "Nah," Ken replied softly. "Too much trouble. Hey, can I have a slice?"

  Jenna wasn't insulted when none of the boys made room for her. She wasn't the kind of girl the jocks went for. In fact, she had a feeling she scared half of them. That made it even harder to look pathetic and win their sympathy. But she did her best.

  "I'm not staying," she said in a quavering voice. She sniffed loudly and rubbed her eyes.

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  "What's her problem?" Mike asked.

  "Her ring came off her finger and fell into a storm drain outside," Ken said.

  "I dropped my wallet in a storm drain once," another player said. "But I got it back. I chewed some gum, put it on the end of a stick, and fished around for it. The wallet stuck to it and I pulled it out."

  "We tried that," Ken said quickly. "But we couldn't find the ring."

  "Tough luck," one boy said.

  "Yes," Jenna said and gave a few more sniffs. "It was a very special ring. My father gave it to me before he died."

  She thought that adding a sentimental touch like that might mean something to them.

  One of the boys spoke. "Did you see the look on the face of that St. Mark's guy when he tried to make that shot and his ball went into the bleachers? I still can't figure that one out. I thought it would be an easy basket for him."

  "Yeah, how did that happen?" another boy wondered.

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  "Who knows, who cares?" Mike sang out. He tossed an arm around Charles. "We've got our good luck charm. He not only helps us win, he makes the other team lose, big time!"

  Jenna had to get the conversation back to her nonexistent ring. Clearly sentiment wasn't going to work. She tried another tactic.

  "It had diamonds and rubies on it," she said.

  The team members looked at her blankly.

  "My ring," she reminded them. "The one that fell in the sewer. Diamonds and rubies. And a great big sapphire."

  That impressed them.

  "Real jewels?" Mike asked. "Wow, that sucks."

  Ken snapped his fingers, as if a brilliant idea had suddenly occurred to him. "I know how you can get it back! Charles, could you come outside with us?"

  "Why?" Charles asked.

  Ken looked at him meaningfully. "You know why, Charles. We could, uh, try the stick thing again and . . . and you'd bring us luck." To the others, he added, "He's just that kind of guy, isn't he? Lucky, I mean?"

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  Charles glared at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to bring you any luck."

  "Aw, c'mon Charles," Mike said. "Ken's a pal. Why don't you see if you can help his friend?"

  "Yeah, maybe there's a reward in it for you," another boy said.

  Jenna thought rapidly. Charles was in her math class. "I'll do your math homework for a month," she offered.

  "Hey, that's a pretty good deal," one of the boys said.

  Charles seemed to think so, too. "Yeah, okay." He backed his wheelchair into the aisle, and Jenna followed him out of the restaurant. Ken stayed behind at the table.

  Thank goodness there really was a drain at the edge of the road just in front of the restaurant. Charles peered down into it.

  "I don't see anything," he said.

  "It's in there," Jenna assured him. She glanced back at the restaurant, where she could see Ken

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  talking to the others. C'mon, Ken, do it fast! I don't know how long I can keep him out here.

  "If it's got diamonds, I should see a sparkle," Charles said.

  "The diamonds are dirty," Jenna said hurriedly. "I have to get the ring cleaned. Can't you just imagine it in your head and bring it up without seeing it?"

  "I don't know. I never tried that."

  "It's gold, and there's a big diamond, and a ruby on each side of the diamond, and lots of little diamonds on the band."

  "I thought you said there was a sapphire."

  "Oh, right. Absolutely. A humongous sapphire."

  "I never saw you wear a ring like that," Charles said.

  "Well, um, I'm not allowed to wear it to school. Look, just concentrate on that image, and I'll bet you can make it come out. You're so gifted, Charles--you've got the most amazing gift. You're so lucky. All I can do is read minds, but you can move things. That's so much cooler." She was jabbering now, but she'd do anything to keep

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  Charles out here until Ken accomplished what he had to do.

  "Shut up, I'm concentrating," Charles said. A minute passed. "Nah, this isn't working. I'm going back inside."

  "Just try one more time, please!" Jenna pleaded. "Think about all that homework you won't have to do!"

  "Wait a minute," Charles said. "What kind of grades do you get in math, anyway? I don't want you doing my homework if you're going to do a bad job."

  Fortunately, she didn't have to answer that. Ken came out of the restaurant.

  "Did it work?" she asked excitedly.

  He held up his cell phone. "I've got it right here."

  "What are you guys talking about?" Charles demanded.

  "Your so-called friends," Ken said. "We just thought you might like to know what they really think of you."

  He turned on the phone's recording device and pressed Play. The first voice they heard was Ken's.

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  "So, Charles is hanging out with you now. He's really a pretty good guy when you get to know him."

  A boy spoke. "Are you kidding? He's a total dweeb! That kid is too pathetic. He doesn't do anything at school--he just rolls around and complains about everything."

  "He can't help being in a wheelchair." That was Ken's voice again.

  "That's got nothing to do with it," another voice said. "If he wasn't in the wheelchair, he'd be a walking dweeb."

  Mike spoke next. "Look, if he can get us into the finals, he can hang out with us. At least till the season's over."

  "But he's really getting on my nerves," another boy said. "And we've still got a month left before the finals."

  "But just think how great we'll feel when we win the state championship," a boy declared.

  Mike spoke. "Not to mention how great we'll feel when we can dump Charles."

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  Ken turned off the phone. "I'm sorry about this, Charles. But you should know what kind of creeps you're hanging out with."

  Jenna was watching Charles's face. What little color he had was gone, and it wasn't hard to see that he was really on the verge of tears. In fact, one tear was already making its way down his cheek.

  "You know, Charles, we would be your friends," she said, "if you'd let us. I know Emily and Tracey would be, too." She didn't include Amanda. Charles wasn't that gullible. "Too bad Tracey and Emily have been kidnapped. Who knows, we may never see them again."

  Fiercely, Charles brushed the tear away, but he didn't say anything. Jenna did a quick scan of his thoughts. He was on the edge.

  "I mean it, Charles. I don't lie. All you've got to do is be a nice guy, and you can have all the friends you want."

  There was a long moment of silence. Finally Charles spoke.

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  "Okay."

  At that moment, a car pulled up alongside them. The driver's window came down, and a familiar voice spoke.

  "Get in."

  "Madame!" Jenna exclaimed. "How did you know we were here?"

  Ken answered for her. "Cell phones have other functions besides recording gossip, Jenna."

  The trunk of the car opened. Ken helped Charles into the front seat while Jenna folded the chair and put it in the trunk. She got into the back with Ken, and they took off.

  Jenna told Madame about the house and how she sensed Emily and the others were inside. "But I could only feel her mood. I couldn't read her thoughts and find out anything specific, like why they've been taken there."

  "We'll find out soon enough," Madame said grimly. She followed Jenna's directions to the old abandoned house behind the industrial park.

  "Think you can get the door open, Charles?" Ken asked.

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  "Piece of cake," Charles replied. As they approached the house, Jenna frowned. "Something's different." "What?" Madame asked.

  "I don't know. But I'm not feeling Emily's mood."

  Madame parked the car, and they all got out. Charles rolled himself to the front of the house. He stared at the red door. Nothing happened.

  "It's got chains on it," he said.

  "Is that a problem?" Madame asked.

  "Nah. I just have to concentrate a little harder."

  His brow furrowed, and seconds later the big red door flew open--Charles had unscrewed the hinges. Ken ran toward it.

  "Wait," Madame cried out. "Don't go inside. Wait for the police!"

  But Ken was already inside the house. Jenna wasn't sure whether to follow him or not. It looked so dark in there.

  There was something else, too. She couldn't hear any thoughts at all. With the door open, she should

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  have been able to pick up something. It was as if there were no working brains in there at all.

  Ken emerged, shaking his head. "They're gone."

  "Where?" Jenna cried helplessly. But she knew no one could answer that.

  Suddenly Ken put his hands to his head. "Not now!" he cried out. "Leave me alone!"

  Again Jenna could hear the nagging woman's voice. Please, talk to my son, he's going to g
et into trouble. You have to tell him I'm very upset with him. That will make him stop.

  "I want you to stop!" Ken yelled. "I don't care about your stupid son!"

  He's not stupid. His name is Howard. He's really a good boy--he just got involved with bad people. I've been watching him. They've kidnapped some very strange young people and now they're about to rob a bank.

  Ken and Jenna looked at each other. "Young people with special gifts?" Ken asked.

  Yes, there's one girl who predicts the future and another one who disappears--

  "Do you know where they are?" Ken asked.

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  Of course I know where they are. I'm in heaven. I can see my son whenever I want--

  Maybe it wasn't very nice to interrupt the deceased, but this woman could have gone on forever. "Where are they?" Ken and Jenna demanded in unison.

  She told them.

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  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THERE DIDN'T SEEM TO be anything unusual going on at Northwest National Savings and Loan. From the parking lot,

  Jenna could make out the shadows of figures inside the bank, not running or moving in any suspicious manner. She couldn't tell if any of them were her classmates. The four of them left Madame's car and started across the street.

  Jenna's senses were on high alert, and she knew she'd pick up the thoughts of her classmates as soon as she was close enough. But she didn't expect to hear Emily while she was still in the parking lot.

  I wish I could be inside with the rest of them. I can't even see what's going on.

  "I hear Emily!" she told the others.

  "Is she in the bank?" Madame asked.

  "No. The others are inside, and she's thinking

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  about how she wishes she could be with them. I'm sure she's in one of these cars." But there were at least twenty cars in the parking lot, and she couldn't tell where the thoughts were coming from.

  I'm scared. Clare looks so calm and confident, like nothing can possibly go wrong. I'll bet she'd use that gun on me, too, if the others tried to get away. And they might try. They've only got Howard and George in the bank with them, and they're not the sharpest crayons in the box. I don't think they're even armed. Clare's the brains.

  "Howard . . . isn't that the name of the dead woman's son?" Jenna asked Ken. "He's in the bank with the others. Emily's in a car with someone called Clare, and Clare's got a gun."