Power Play (14 page)

In this interim state, he managed to reach forward, move the mouse, and click the “back” button on his browser. The computer screen showed an Algebra 2 Web page he’d been using for homework.

The Evil Queen hologram sparkled and vanished. Finn sat back into his chair feeling…different.

The page-forward button on the browser flashed as if he’d clicked it with the mouse, which he had not.
Thekingdomkeepers.com
page reloaded. The Evil Queen hologram reappeared.

Someone was controlling his computer.

The Queen began reciting the verse again. Finn pulled the power plug on his computer, but the laptop, being battery-powered, continued to run. He shut the lid, and the computer went to sleep.

He focused at that space in front of his keyboard where the Evil Queen had stood. No matter how he fought against it, he could hear her.

“As soft as a whisper

No one will tell

The curse, reversed

Seen by the sister

When kissing Jezebel”

Kissing Jess? He spat on the floor before he knew what he was doing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Jess, of course he did. But not in
that
way.

Why Jess? Why would the Evil Queen want him to do that? Was it simply a matter of making Amanda jealous—dividing the “sisters”? What would that accomplish?

He would have to reboot his computer in safe mode and run a virus check. There was work to do before he could attempt a chat session or e-mail. He put the machine to work, searching for the backdoor or bug that had allowed it to be controlled remotely. He knew he should have probably allowed Philby to look at the machine first, should have given Philby a chance to trace the infection back to whoever had caused it, but he had no desire to share the stupid verse with anyone. Just the mention of it could have the desired effect: anger, jealousy, confusion. He had to think this through.

He relived the incident, convincing himself he’d been
all clear
at the time the verse had been recited. Nothing to worry about. If it was a spell, it had not reached him. It didn’t occur to him for even a split second that such denial might be part of the spell, that by not doing anything, he was already doing something.

* * *

Stone stair-steps
. At least they looked like stone stair-steps leading up to a box. Or possibly a door? Jess moved slowly, like she was trying to walk through Jell-O.

Finn was there. Practical Finn. Organized Finn. Amanda’s Finn. Jess preferred boys like Kaden Keller, more on the unpredictable side. More wild. But Amanda was crushing—no doubt about it. And Jess liked Finn a lot, so she was happy for Amanda.

So why, she wondered, was she just standing there as Finn walked up to her with that look in his eye—a look any girl knew. A look that said he was going to kiss her. And why, she wondered, was she going to allow it to happen when she knew how it would hurt Amanda? He took her by the shoulders, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers. And he stayed there like that. A real kiss that flooded through her like a sugar rush, lips to toes. By the time she awoke and began to sketch in her diary, she knew full well it had been only a dream. But with her dreams came a connection between now and then, between here and there, the present and the future. Only later could she ever make full sense of such a dream—a day, a week, a month. Adults had labeled it a power; Amanda called it a blessing; Jess often thought of it as a curse.

She knew some piece of the dream would happen, but not when, or why, or how it might change things. Upon seeing her sketches, the Keepers often looked for answers she didn’t have. She could see the future; she couldn’t interpret it.

But the kiss lingered on her lips. It had felt real—incredibly real.

She adjusted her pillow and continued to draw. She started with the background first—the five uneven steps seen in profile, rising to a landing. She loved the sound of the pencil lead scratching the paper; she felt no fatigue. She enjoyed these visions. They no longer came as often as they once had. As a child, she’d had several a week. She’d seen a flood, a car crash, a fire. She’d made the newspaper with the prediction of the fire. That was when the doctors had started hooking up wires to her, when the military men had begun asking questions. When she’d been taken from her original foster parents and moved in with the Fairlies.

Before she and Amanda ran away.

The visions came much less frequently now, a secret only Amanda knew. Sometimes in groups—three or four in a week and then none for months. Sometimes a piece of a dream, but not enough to stick with her, not enough to draw. Being in the Parks, hanging with the Keepers, seemed to increase their frequency and intensity.

She drew the scene of the kiss as best she could, her artistic abilities having improved over time. She not only caught the angle of their heads correctly, but the profile of the boy really looked like Finn, and though the girl was less obvious, she knew it was her.

It was one dream she would never allow to happen, would never do this to Amanda. Had no interest herself. If Finn wanted it, too bad. Not ever!

She heard Amanda stir in the overhead bunk, so she switched off the small light, and covered the drawing with her hand in case Amanda leaned over, curious. But Amanda only rolled over. Jess switched the light on and finished drawing the kiss.

She studied the girl’s face more carefully. She couldn’t be absolutely sure it was her. But she knew what she’d felt. She knew what was going to happen.

* * *

“Please,” Charlene said, appealing to her mother over the breakfast table. “It’s no big secret that I like him.” Her mother’s one soft spot was her daughter’s love life. There were times that Charlene felt as if her mother was trying to be her same age again, which was so random it pained her to even consider it. But the fact was, her mother had been a high school cheerleader, had been pretty, and, according to her, chased by all the boys, and she seemed to want all that for Charlene as well.

“You don’t want to be the one doing the pursuing,” her mother cautioned. She advised Charlene about her interest in certain boys as if she were coaching a chess match.

“I’d just be visiting Winter Park for a day.”

“That’s his school.”

“Ah…yeah.”

“Which will be seen as you pursuing him.”

“I have friends there, too, Mom. Do I want to hang with him at lunch? Yes. Of course. But it’s not like I’m going to follow him down the halls or something. It’s
one
day.” She and Amanda had plans, but she couldn’t go there. Her mother understood boys. Charlene knew which buttons to push. “I can spend time with my friends after school. I never get a chance to see them anymore.” With graduation from middle school, some kids had gone to different high schools because of redistricting. Her mother knew the situation; they’d talked about it often enough.

“I know, I know,” her mother said.

Charlene heard the change in tone; she’d won.

“All we have to do is have you sign me in at the office. It’ll take two seconds.”

“And you’ll call or text me when school’s out?”

“Promise.”

Her mother smiled. “You must like him a lot.”

“You have no idea,” Charlene said.

* * *

As the buzzer sounded leading into the lunch period, Charlene, wearing her visitor tag, waited by the water fountains in the west hall, as arranged in a hasty meeting with Amanda earlier. She peeled off the tag and stuck it inside her shirt so it would remain sticky but not be seen. She pulled out the section of panty hose from the pocket of her jean shorts and kept it scrunched in her hand. Her heart was beating the way it did before a gymnastics competition.

Amanda appeared among the mass of students crowding the hallway, wearing a look of fierce determination. Charlene knew what they were about to do went against everything Amanda held dear. Knew that for Amanda this was about friendship and loyalty and her dedication to Finn and the Keepers. Knew that she was, like Charlene, dying inside with anticipation.

“Follow me,” Amanda said, all business.

Charlene stepped into line behind her. Amanda made her way to the stairway. They held close to the banister and hurried down, passing other students. They reached the ground floor and continued down to the basement level.

“It’s all about timing,” Amanda said, over her shoulder. “You remember your assignment?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“You have the stockings?”

Charlene held up her balled fist.

The basement level was far less crowded. They walked together down a hallway and turned to the right.

“She’ll be coming by here any minute,” Amanda said, pulling open a door. “Band room. Empty this period.”

“Okay,” said Charlene.

“We’ll be expelled if we do this wrong.”

“I know. So let’s not do it wrong.”

“I’m in the hall. You’re inside, but out of sight,” instructed Amanda.

“I remember.”

“I’ll cough.”

“I know.”

Charlene turned into the darkened room and tucked around the corner, her chest ready to explode. There was a bass drum on a metal stand. Risers with chairs and music stands. An upright piano. She left the lights off, bracing herself for what was to come. She pulled the piece of panty hose down over her hair and head, obscuring her face.

* * *

Amanda wore the section of rolled panty hose on her head like a winter cap, kneeling with her face to the wall, her hands in her computer bag, digging around as if looking for something.

Sally Ringwald came down the hall with two girlfriends. Now came the tricky part.

Without turning, without showing her face, Amanda said, “Hey, Sally, got a minute?”

“I’ll catch up,” Sally told her friends.

As predicted, the two girls turned up the stairs. Amanda had chosen this spot for a reason.

“What’s up?” Sally said to Amanda’s back.

Amanda coughed and pulled the stocking down over her face and turned around, looking like something from a slasher movie.

“What the—”

But Sally didn’t have time to complete her exclamation.

Amanda lifted her hands and
pushed
. Sally lifted off her feet and flew backward through the doorway, skidding on her bottom across the floor. Amanda stepped through and Charlene pulled the door shut.

When Sally jumped off the floor, she wasn’t even human. She sprang like a mountain lion, crashing into Amanda, her green eyes flashing in the dim light. She and Amanda smacked into the wall by the piano.

Charlene came at her from the side, grabbing an arm. Sally tossed her off like she was a stuffed animal. Charlene landed hard.

Amanda
pushed
for a second time. Sally lifted off her feet and crashed into a music stand, taking it down as she knocked some folding metal chairs out of the way, landing in a heap. Amanda pushed again. Sally slid on her bottom and was pinned to the riser. Amanda held her there, still pushing, arms extended.

Charlene crossed the room and was slammed to the floor as if a ninety-mile-per-hour wind had struck her. Groaning, she rose, and with Amanda still pushing, Charlene wrestled Sally’s arms behind her back and tangled their legs together, keeping Sally down.

Amanda released her push.

The three girls were panting, out of breath.

Charlene said coarsely, “What do they want?”

Sally wrestled, but couldn’t get free of Charlene’s hold.

“Power,” Sally said through clenched teeth. “What’s anybody want?”

“From us?” Amanda said.

“You’re insignificant. Don’t flatter yourselves.”

“So insignificant that you’re spying on us,” Charlene said, pulling the girl’s arms back harder to make her point. “What’s that make you?”

“Busy,” she said, snickering.

“Who…are…you?” Amanda asked, for the girl’s eyes were wide and evil-looking.

Sally Ringwald laughed. But it wasn’t a girl’s laugh. It was a woman’s. “The future,” she said.

“Not my future,” Charlene said, gasping. It was taking all her considerable strength to restrain Sally’s arms. Both she and Amanda feared what Sally might be capable of if she could get free.

“There is no yours or mine where the future’s concerned. It’s
ours
. You can either be on the right side or the wrong side,” Sally said.

“There is no side to the future, only to the things we do with it, the choices we make,” Amanda said.

“What do you know? The future always arrives before you can stop it,” said Sally. “Talk to me Saturday morning.”

To Amanda it sounded like a recruiting line. She felt slightly light-headed. The pushing had drained her. Charlene looked as bad as she felt. They were out of time.

“How many of you are there?” This had been the question Philby most wanted asked.

“More each day,” Sally answered. “More than you can possibly imagine.”

“We have big imaginations,” Charlene said, increasing her hold, and winning a wince of pain on Sally’s face.

“Your kind think ‘dreams really do come true’? Then dream on.”

Charlene flashed Amanda a look—her signal she couldn’t hold on much longer. Amanda had been expecting it. She nodded.

“Now!” Amanda called out.

Charlene let go and rolled.

Amanda pushed, sending Sally into a back somersault and into another music stand and more chairs. She and Charlene ran for the door. They got into the hall, and both girls grabbed the door handle together and held on.

The door was struck from the other side by what sounded like a truck. The entire jamb dislocated in the masonry wall.

“On three,” Amanda said. “One…two…
three
!”

They let go of the door handle, stripped off the panty hose masks, and ran as fast as they’d ever run for the stairway. They heard an enormous crash behind them as they climbed the stairs out of breath.

Reaching the mob scene of students, they slowed, hooked elbows, and walked calmly into the surge of bodies. They heard footsteps flying up the stairs behind them, but never looked back. They were deep enough into the mob that their clothes could not be seen to be identified. They turned into the lunchroom packed with other students.