But this looked like something official. Jenna knew she was being nosy--it was none of her business--but so what? If she could read minds, she could look at envelopes. And it wasn't as if she was going to open it.
She picked it up and examined the address. State Medical Laboratories. Department of DNA Testing.
Was Tracey writing a paper about DNA? She hadn't mentioned it.
Jenna heard footsteps and dropped the envelope onto the desk. Tracey came in.
"I'm bringing the kitchen to you," she announced. In her hand was a plate of brownies. "I just made these. You're probably not hungry, though, if you just had something to eat with Stuart."
"I'm starving," Jenna said, taking a brownie. Sitting on her bed, she hoped Tracey wouldn't notice that an envelope that had been in her drawer was now on top of her desk.
Tracey did notice, but she must have thought she'd left it there herself, because she just picked it up and opened her drawer to slide it back in. That was when Jenna read her mind. She couldn't resist it. There was something furtive about Tracey's movements, something that made Jenna think she didn't want her to know about this envelope.
And for a good reason. As she was handling the envelope, Tracey thought about it, and her mind revealed what was contained inside.
Hairs. Some of Jenna's that Tracey had gathered from her hairbrush. And some that belonged to Stuart.
Tracey had plucked them from his head when she had been invisible the day before. That was why she'd been out of breath when she became visible again, just more than a minute later. During that time, she had run downstairs, pulled the hairs from an unsuspecting Stuart while he sipped his cocktail with the Devons, and hurried back to her room.
Jenna wondered if he'd felt it and what he'd thought it could have been. A mosquito?
Of course, that wasn't really relevant or important. What was important was the fact that Tracey was so convinced that Stuart wasn't Jenna's father that she was willing to take the extreme measure of having their DNA compared to see if they were actually related.
Automatically, Jenna reached for another brownie. She had to keep in motion, keep busy, so she wouldn't reveal what she knew to Tracey. At least, not until she'd figured out what she was going to do about it. "They're good, aren't they?" Jenna looked at Tracey blankly. "Huh?" "The brownies. I've got another batch in the oven. In fact, I'd better go check on them." Tracey left the room. As soon as she was gone, Jenna went to the drawer. Opening it, she retrieved the envelope and went into the bathroom. There, she tore the letter up, again and again, into little tiny pieces that wouldn't clog the plumbing. Then she dropped them into the toilet and flushed it.
She'd have to find some way to tell her father that he should let her know if he ever felt anything unusual, like a mosquito bite out of season--without telling him why.
Chapter 15
OKAY, THAT'S IT," MRS. Preston said. "I'm calling the doctor." Amanda looked up. "Why?"
"Because you haven't said a word since we sat down to dinner. Not to mention the fact that it's your favorite, lasagna, and you've barely touched it." The woman got up from the table and went to the phone.
Hastily, Amanda dug her fork into the lasagna. "I'm eating!" she yelled.
"Too late," Ken's mother called back. "Something's wrong with you, and I'm going to find out what it is." A moment later, she reappeared. "The doctor's office is closed. But I'm calling again first thing in the morning."
Amanda couldn't worry about that now. She had bigger things on her mind. Like raising the dead.
Not like in the movies, when zombies came up from the ground and vampires emerged from coffins.
Just making someone dead be alive again, as he was before.
She wasn't stupid, and she didn't believe in magic or reincarnation, or anything like that. But look at her--she could take over bodies. That wasn't scientific--nobody could explain it. The same was true of every student in her gifted class. They could all do inexplicable things. Reading minds, seeing the future, making things move on their own--none of these skills made any sense in a logical world. So maybe one of them could bring the dead back to life but just didn't know it yet. Why not? It wasn't any freakier than anything else they did. The question was--who would be a likely candidate? Whose gifts might extend to something like that?
During her "date" with Rick that evening, she didn't mention her plan. She let the conversation go on in its usual lovely way. Rick talked about his dreams, goals, and ambitions--things that could never come true now that he was dead. He didn't sound depressed, though, and she soon found out why.
She asked a question that had been in the back of her mind since they'd met.
What's it like, where you are?
Beautiful.
Can you tell me about it?
It's hard to describe. It's just this incredibly happy place, full of love.
I'd like to see it.
You will, someday. Not for a long time, though, I think. You're not the type to get into a stupid motorcycle accident. And you have to wait till it's your time or you won't come here.
She understood. Not that she was thinking of trying to get there on her own, to be with him. No, she wanted him here, in her world. As beautiful as his world might be, she preferred to stay alive for the time being.
So they talked about other things. She confessed that she hadn't given much thought to her own future. He talked about college. He'd never been, of course, but his older brother had loved it. He told her he thought she'd make a wonderful teacher because she expressed herself so well. Nobody had ever told her that before, mostly because it hadn't been true.
She told him about her family, about being an only child, and how spoiled she was as the center of attention in her real home. She described her other experiences as a body snatcher.
She left out a lot of stuff about her life, too. She didn't talk about her clique--how they always sat together at lunch and criticized other girls. She didn't tell him how frequently she went shopping for clothes and makeup, shoes, and hair products.
He talked about books he'd read when he was alive. He'd been a big reader. A couple of titles were familiar, but only because they'd been required reading for a class, and even then, she'd used only the Cliffs Notes so that she wouldn't have to waste valuable television time reading. She didn't know most of the books he mentioned, but she filed the titles away in her memory for future reading. This dead guy was going to change the way she lived. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to stay dead.
In her gifted class the next day, Other-Amanda was giving her report on how her gift could influence her career choice. Real Amanda had lucked out--she wouldn't have to do it. Of course, sooner or later Ken would have to give his report.
Other-Amanda didn't surprise her. Amanda knew herself too well.
"I don't think there's anything positive about my gift at all, and it can't do me any good in the future. I want to have a fabulous life, and I can't have that if I can transfer only into bodies I feel sorry for. So my goal is to lose my gift, and that will help me achieve my goals."
"Which are?" Madame inquired.
"If I grow a few more inches, I could be a model. If I don't grow, I suppose I could be a movie star."
"Do you enjoy acting?" the teacher asked.
"I don't know--I've never tried it."
"You're not in the drama club here at school?"
Other-Amanda rolled her eyes. "No. They're not my kind of people."