Now You See Me-Gifted 5 (12 page)

The whole house was silent – everyone must be asleep, she thought. The bedside clock told her it was midnight. Well, at least she could get out without anyone seeing a door open by itself. She just hoped there was no alarm system.

Suddenly, making barely a sound, Carter sat up in bed. For a second, Tracey thought he was looking straight at her and that maybe she’d become visible. A glance at the mirror over the bureau told her that this hadn’t happened.

Carter got out of bed and gathered up the clothes he’d been wearing earlier. Politely, Tracey averted her eyes while he dressed. He then walked out of the room.

Was he sleepwalking? Tracey wondered. She followed him down the hall and into the living room. Silently, he opened the front door.

On the street in front of the house, a black car was waiting. A man stepped out from the driver’s side, and without speaking, he opened the back door. Carter got in, with Tracey close behind.

The driver took off. He said nothing to Carter and he seemed to know where he was going. The ride took about twenty minutes and brought them to a residential area on the other side of town. The car pulled up in front of a house on a tree-lined street. Again, the driver got out and opened the door.

Carter walked to the front door. Tracey hung back for a moment, to get a good look at the house so she could identify it later. It was white, smaller than Charles’s home, but well kept and nice looking.

She’d expected Carter to knock or ring a bell but someone must have seen him approach from inside. The door opened and Carter went in. Tracey raced forward but she was too late – the door had closed by the time she reached it.

Furious at herself, she raced around the house, looking for another way to get inside. There was a back door, but it was locked.

So she was in the same position she’d been in back at Carter’s home, and she was forced to do what she’d done there – look for a window that would give her a view of what was going on inside. Again, the people were in the dining room and sitting around a dining room table. But they weren’t eating.

She could identify all of them. Clare, the woman who’d been in charge of the bank robbery. Serena, the fake student teacher and medium. The man who called himself Stuart Kelley and claimed to be Jenna’s father. And Mr Jackson.

Carter was offered the chair at the head of the table. Serena seemed to be talking to him – at least, she was looking at him and her lips were moving. And then Tracey saw something she’d never seen before.

Carter’s
lips were moving. With the window closed, Tracey couldn’t hear anything, but it was obvious that Carter was speaking. And whatever he was saying had the full attention of the others.

Clare was taking notes. Mr Jackson was nodding. Stuart Kelley appeared to interrupt at some point to ask a question. Carter responded.

At first, Tracey was stunned. Then, when she recovered from her surprise, she was furious. That weasel, that little fake – he was pretending to be a zombie and all the time he was perfectly capable of communicating. He must have an incredible memory too. She’d never seen him write anything down in class, but he was obviously able to remember everything he heard there so he could report to this evil gang. At least, that’s what Tracey assumed he was doing – telling the others what went on in the Gifted class. But what else could intrigue this band of conspirators?

If only she could read lips! What was Carter telling them? How were they going to use the information?

Oh, how she wished
she
could communicate right then and there. She’d call her classmates, she’d call Madame at home, she wouldn’t care if she woke them all up. She’d tell them where she was, they could join her, and together they could confront these people.

She couldn’t tell them, of course. She wasn’t physically capable of doing that. But maybe she could
show
them. From her bag, she drew out her mobile phone. In the menu, she clicked on the camera function.

The phone in her hand was invisible. Maybe any picture she took with an invisible camera wouldn’t be seen. But she couldn’t waste time pondering the logistics of invisibility. She manoeuvred the phone until she thought it was in the right position to catch the image of the table and the people around it, and clicked. In this darkness, it wouldn’t be a great picture, and it wouldn’t prove that Carter could talk.

But it would show that Mr Jackson was in league with those other villains. And that was a start.

A
T TEN O’CLOCK ON Saturday morning, Jenna found herself facing Dr Paley in his office. Behind the desk, the round-faced man gazed at her steadily. Jenna stared right back at him.

The doctor wasn’t smiling quite as broadly this time. ‘I don’t usually come in to Harmony House on Saturdays,’ he said. ‘But I thought it was important to see you as soon as possible.’

Jenna affected a look of wide-eyed innocence. ‘Why?’

‘I think you know,’ he said.

Of course she knew, but she wanted to hear it from him. She couldn’t defend herself until she knew exactly what that creep Peter had said. So she simply shrugged.

Dr Paley gave in. ‘When I checked my messages this morning, there was a new and urgent report about you. You’ve been observed talking to yourself.’

Jenna said nothing.

‘And your expression indicated that you were listening to another voice. As if someone else was with you.’

Jenna remained silent.

‘You don’t deny it?’ he asked.

Jenna chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t remember doing anything like that.’

Dr Paley looked at his notes. ‘You appeared to be carrying on a conversation in the dining hall, and you were alone.’

Jenna shrugged. ‘I was probably daydreaming.’

Dr Paley studied her thoughtfully. ‘Who were you talking to, Jenna?’

What would he say if she replied ‘my invisible friend’? The thought made her smile.

‘This isn’t a laughing matter,’ he said.

Jenna shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Sorry. I guess I was just daydreaming again.’

‘You don’t strike me as a daydreamer,’ he said. He looked at his notes again. ‘I see you’ve amassed a lot of demerits. Smoking, picking fights . . .’

She tried to stop the fury from rising inside but it was impossible and she knew it came out in her voice. ‘I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life,’ she declared hotly. ‘And I haven’t picked any fights. Not here, at least.’

‘Then why do you have all these demerits?’

‘It’s all made up, I shouldn’t have those demerits. Someone’s out to get me.’ And then she wanted to kick herself. Now he was going to think she was paranoid.

‘Who’s out to get you? Mrs Landers? Other kids?’

She shook her head.

He looked at the file. ‘I see all these demerits were reported by the same resident assistant.’

She couldn’t stop herself. ‘Peter Blake.’

‘Is that who’s out to get you?’ When she didn’t reply, he asked, ‘Why would he make up these things about you?’

‘Because he’s a slime bucket,’ she muttered.

A brief smile flickered across the doctor’s face. ‘That may well be – I don’t know the young man. But why would he pick on
you
?’

She was so sick of this, of beating around the bush, avoiding the questions. Of being Peter’s victim. ‘Because I wouldn’t tell my friends to bring me drugs so I could slip them to him. He’s punishing me by giving me demerits, thinking I’ll give in eventually. And it’s not just me.’ She hesitated.

‘Go on.’

‘I’m not paranoid. That’s what he does, you see. And if you do what he wants, he’ll even look the other way if you break the rules.’

Dr Paley’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ‘He’s doing this with other residents as well?’

She nodded.

‘You’ve seen him do it?’

She hesitated. ‘No, not exactly . . .’

‘So they’ve talked to you about it? What do they say about it? Are they angry?’

‘No one talks about it,’ she told him, then realized her mistake.

‘Then how do you know this is going on with people other than yourself?’

She had known all along that it would come down to this. She knew because she could read his mind, but there was no way she could explain that, and now she was just sounding paranoid. ‘I – I just know. That’s all.’

His voice became gentle. ‘Jenna, if there’s something you’re not admitting you mustn’t be afraid to tell me. You have to trust me. Have you ever heard of doctor patient confidentiality rules? Anything you say in this office to me, anything you don’t want revealed to anyone else, remains strictly between us.’

Jenna looked away. A full moment of silence passed. Then Dr Paley sighed deeply.

‘Jenna, if you can’t offer any explanation for your behaviour, then I have no alternative. You’re demonstrating feelings of paranoia. You’re talking to yourself. You’re hearing voices. These actions are evidence of serious mental problems, the kind of problems we aren’t capable of dealing with here at Harmony House.’

Jenna looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll have to consider recommending that you be sent to another facility.’

Jenna drew in her breath. ‘What kind of facility?’ she asked, but she had a sinking suspicion she already knew the answer to the question.

‘An institution that can provide the kind of therapy we’re not equipped to handle here.’

Jenna put it more bluntly. ‘A nuthouse. You want to commit me to an insane asylum.’

‘A mental hospital,’ he corrected her. ‘You’ve said you’re not a juvenile delinquent, and I believe you. But you’ve got serious issues that need to be addressed.’

‘I’m not crazy!’ Jenna cried out. ‘It’s just that I’m different!’

‘How?’

‘Because – it’s because – I can –’ she clenched her fists. She couldn’t say it. If he thought she was crazy now, what would he think if she told the truth?

‘Tell me, Jenna,’ he said urgently. ‘What makes you different? Jenna, I don’t want to send you to a mental hospital. But you have to give me an explanation, or I won’t have any alternative. Tell me! What can you do?’

‘I can read minds!’ Jenna cried out. Then she buried her face in her hands.

It was out. She’d said it. And now he’d pick up the phone and call for an ambulance. She’d seen movies, she knew what would happen next. Men in white jackets would put her in a straitjacket and carry her away . . .

When nothing happened right away, she took her hands from her eyes. He was looking at her seriously, but she didn’t see alarm in his eyes. It was more like interest . . .

‘I knew there was more to your case than meets the eye, Jenna,’ he said.

‘You did?’ she asked stupidly.

He nodded. ‘I didn’t know what, or why, but I could sense you had something extraordinary about you.’

Was he putting her on? Trying to make her dig a deeper hole to sink into?

‘Why did you think that about me?’ she asked.

‘It’s an instinct,’ he said simply. ‘Years of working with young people have given me a sense of what people are all about. You have a gift.’

‘Why did you call it that?’ she asked sharply.

He didn’t answer. ‘Tell me more about your gift.’

‘It’s just something I can do,’ she replied.

She wanted to look away again, but there was something about his gaze that held her.

‘What am I thinking about right now?’ he asked.

Still suspicious, Jenna eyed him warily. Then she began to concentrate.

It was almost too easy, like he was putting his thoughts out there in writing, in big black and white letters. ‘You’re thinking about food. Chinese food. You’re thinking about getting sweet and sour pork for lunch from a Chinese takeaway when you leave here.’ After a second, she added, ‘and cold sesame noodles.’

He nodded. ‘Very good. You’re absolutely right.’

‘I know,’ she said. But she thought his reaction was strangely calm. ‘Aren’t you shocked?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve done a lot of research into these kinds of extrasensory abilities. Some people have gifts that simply can’t be explained scientifically. There are people who can see into the future, people who can move things with their minds . . .’

‘I can’t do that,’ Jenna said quickly.

But her expression must have told him something. ‘Does this have anything to do with your special class, Jenna? The one called “Gifted”?’

Jenna didn’t know what to say. It was one thing to give away her own secret. How could she betray her classmates?

‘I can’t talk about that,’ she said.

He didn’t press her. ‘I understand.’ He closed her file. ‘I’m going to look into this resident assistant. His name is Peter Blake, right? He cannot be permitted to continue in his position. His contract must be terminated immediately.’

‘You said you’d keep my secret!’ Jenna exclaimed.

‘And I will,’ the doctor assured her. ‘I can investigate this without revealing my sources.’

‘But he’ll know it’s me who told on him,’ Jenna protested. ‘The other kids – they don’t mind what he’s doing to them. He’ll tell them it’s me who got him fired. I could be in danger here!’

‘I realize that,’ he said. ‘Which is why I’m going to recommend that you be given an early release from Harmony House.’

‘An early release?’ Jenna repeated in disbelief.

He nodded. ‘There will be some paperwork involved. But I can make some calls, pull some strings. And with any luck, you’ll be home tomorrow.’

Home. Tomorrow. Jenna gazed at him in wonderment. So Madame was wrong. There
were
people in this world who could be trusted with their secret gifts. Not many, of course.

But she’d just found one.

T
RACEY WAS WIPED OUT. Did invisibility drain her energy in some special, highly complicated cellular way? she wondered. No, she was pretty sure she was just normally exhausted. After all, other physical sensations remained behind when her physical self wasn’t present. She got hungry, she got thirsty, she had headaches . . . why wouldn’t she be tired? And even now, at ten o’clock in the morning, after spending the night in an unusually uncomfortable position, she had every right to be extremely beat.