Outside Harmony House, she went to wait at the bus stop. Looking back at the building, she had the same thought she’d had when she arrived.
No, it didn’t look like a prison. But a place didn’t have to look like a prison to be a prison. A prison didn’t even have to be a place. A secret was like a prison — it could keep a person trapped in the same way. Jenna, Tracey, Emily. . all of Madame’s students were imprisoned by their secret gifts.
Somehow, Tracey was going to get Jenna out of Harmony House. She’d find the real spy, and the spy would lead her to the proof about Mr Jackson and the knife. Jenna would be released, she’d be free. But could any of them ever feel completely, really and truly free, free to do whatever they wanted, free to be themselves?
No one else came to wait at the bus stop, and the bus was approaching. Tracey could only hope that someone was getting off at this stop so she could get on. No, she wasn’t free to do whatever she wanted.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN TRACEY ARRIVED HOME, she could hear the Devon Seven and her mother in the kitchen.
‘Where’s Tracey, Mommy?’ one of them asked. Tracey was pretty sure it was Brandie. The others chimed in.
‘Where is she?’
‘I want Tracey to play with us!’
‘We can’t find her, Mommy!’
Mrs Devon looked frazzled. ‘She’s — she’s out, girls, she’s busy. Go outside and play, Tracey’s coming home soon.’
As soon as the kitchen was vacant, the woman sank down into a chair. ‘Tracey?’ she called out weakly. ‘Are you in here?’
Her mother looked really upset.
‘Tracey. . I’m sure you’re fine, you’re just being invisible, but. . I’m worried! What if you’re hurt? Maybe you’ve run away from home. .’ She gasped as another thought must have occurred to her. ‘Maybe you’ve been kidnapped! Oh Tracey, sweetheart, if you’re here. . I know I wouldn’t be able to hear you if you speak, and I know you can’t write me a message, but. . could you just give me a sign, so I know you’re all right? You’re not usually invisible for this long.’
Once again, Tracey marvelled at the irony of it all. Not so long ago she could have disappeared for a lot longer than a couple of days and her mother wouldn’t have even noticed. Now she was worried. . Tracey wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger, her pity for her mother or her satisfaction at the change in family relationships.
It was the pity that made her go back into the living room, pick up her mother’s handbag from the coffee table, and bring it into the kitchen. When the bag appeared in front of her mother, Tracey was rewarded with a sigh and smile of gratitude.
‘Thank you, dear,’ her mother said humbly. Tracey left and went up to her room. She had some thinking to do before she made her next move to fulfil her promise to Jenna.
OK, so Jackson was the major bad guy at Meadowbrook, the numero uno villain. But how was he getting his information about the gifted students? Someone was telling him what went on in class.
Tracey refused to even consider the notion that Madame would betray her students. The teacher was beyond any suspicion, and she was sure her classmates would agree with her. So it had to be one of them. From what she knew, and what she’d observed, she could eliminate herself, Jenna, Emily, Amanda, Sarah, Ken, Martin and Charles. Which only left Carter.
But how could Carter be a spy? The boy didn’t speak, he didn’t write, he couldn’t communicate at all. He was practically a zombie.
She searched her memory for what she knew about him. Supposedly, he was found wandering on Carter Street. He carried no identification and the police had no reports of any missing boy who fitted his description. Social Services had taken over his care and he’d been placed in a foster home. That was all she knew.
From her desk drawer, she retrieved the Meadowbrook Middle School Directory, and looked up his name. The foster family was called Granger, and they lived not too far from her own home.
The address turned out to be a medium-sized, very ordinary looking cottage-style house on a tree-lined street. The sun was setting and the lights were on inside. She waited on the front steps for a while, but no one came in or out. Fortunately, the curtains weren’t drawn, so she walked around the house and peeked in at each window.
She found Carter in what was clearly the dining room of the house. He was sitting at a table with two other young boys, a man and a woman. She assumed the adults were the Grangers. The two younger boys didn’t look at all alike, nor did they look like the adults, so she thought they might be foster children too.
The Grangers certainly fed their foster kids well. The table was laden with food — roast beef, bowls of vegetables, a big tossed salad. She couldn’t hear any conversation, but she could see lips moving as the family talked. It seemed to her that they were having a lively conversation. Of course, Carter wasn’t participating in it. He ate, slowly and rhythmically, but he stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone else at the table. It was the same way he behaved at school. She saw the woman bend over and speak to him, but Carter didn’t respond.
It dawned on her that she was hungry. Eating while invisible wasn’t easy. Even if she could get herself inside the house without anyone noticing a door opening, she couldn’t very well join them for their meal. There were too many people at the table and someone was bound to notice if food started to disappear.
So she stood there, suffering hunger pangs, and waited for the meal to end. Only, what did she expect to happen after that? The boys would probably watch a little television and go to bed. There wouldn’t be much to see through the windows. She had to find a way to get inside the house and into Carter’s room. Maybe there she’d find something interesting about Carter, some clue as to whether or not Carter had a secret life as a spy.
Fortunately, when dinner was over and the table was being cleared, she observed the woman saying something to Carter again. He got up and left the dining room. Skipping over to the next window, Tracey could see him scraping leftovers from the plates into the trash bin in the kitchen. Then he took out the garbage-packed liner and went to the back door.
Tracey hurried to position herself by the back door and as soon as Carter opened it she slipped inside. While Carter took the garbage to the outdoor bin, she did a quick survey of the kitchen. A platter of leftover roast beef slices hadn’t been put away yet.
A benefit of being invisible meant she didn’t have to think about manners. She snatched up a slice of meat and practically crammed the whole piece in her mouth. Then she took a second slice. Mrs Granger came in and picked up the platter. Looking at the remains of the meat, her brow furrowed for a minute, as if she’d realized there was less there than she thought there should be. Finally, she shrugged and wrapped the slices.
Carter returned.
‘Could you help me load the dishwasher, Carter?’ the woman asked.
Carter didn’t say yes or no, but he opened the door of the dishwasher and began loading items. He was just like he was at school, obeying without communicating.
Tracey left the kitchen and went down a hall which she presumed would lead to bedrooms. One bedroom held a big double bed, and she assumed that was the master bedroom. Another bedroom had bunk beds and toys strewn on the floor.
She decided that the third bedroom must be Carter’s. It held one single bed, a desk, a bureau and a bookshelf. Everything was impeccably neat and tidy.
With no one else in there, she had the freedom to open drawers. All she found there were clothes. Desk drawers contained pencils, a ruler, ordinary school stuff. She couldn’t find any notes or letters.