‘No,’ Charles said. ‘They’re ashamed of me.’
Madame looked at him doubtfully, but she didn’t pursue the subject. ‘I see that all of you put Ms Hancock on your lists,’ she commented.
‘I didn’t,’ Jenna protested. ‘Who’s Ms Hancock?’
‘Serena, the student teacher,’ Sarah reminded her.
‘Oh, OK, I forgot her last name. If it is her real last name.’
‘You shouldn’t forget anything about that woman,’ Madame warned her. ‘She’s dangerous. She learned about your gifts when she was here. And she utilized that knowledge to get Ken involved in that seance scam.’
Jenna didn’t miss the way Ken shot a dark look at Amanda before responding to Madame’s comment.
‘There’s something I still don’t understand about that,’ he said. ‘I know she was the one who invited me to the seance. But what I can’t figure out is how she got the invitation into my locker. We’ve got pretty tight security here. It’s not like someone can just walk into the school and put notes in lockers.’
‘Maybe she got someone to do it for her,’ Emily suggested. ‘Someone who could get past security. Someone who actually belongs here.’
A silence fell over the room, and Jenna assumed her classmates had the same thought running through their minds as she had. The bell rang.
‘We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow,’ Madame said, and dismissed them.
Outside the classroom, Jenna paused at the water fountain. Emily and Tracey waited for her, and Ken joined them.
‘What do you think?’ Ken asked the girls. ‘Is there a spy at Meadowbrook?’
Emily considered this. ‘It seems to me that if one student knew about us, everyone would know about us. You know how rumours spread around here.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Jenna remarked. ‘Not if that student wanted to do something more important than just spread gossip about us. Like, pass information to our enemies.’
‘Exactly,’ Ken said. ‘If someone is working with them, she wouldn’t want other kids at school to know what she knows.’
Tracey frowned. ‘Why do you think it’s a “she”?’
Ken shrugged, and didn’t answer, but Jenna read his mind before he could block her. ‘You think Amanda’s the spy.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Tracey said. ‘Why would Amanda do something like that?’
‘Maybe because she’s a terrible person?’ Jenna suggested. ‘Maybe because she’s a snob who thinks she’s better than the rest of us?’
‘It’s gotta be someone in our class,’ Ken said. ‘No one else could know so much about us.’
Tracey shook her head. ‘You think we’re the only ones who know where your locker is, Ken? I’ve seen you hang around there with your pals. Maybe one of them is working with Serena and put her note in your locker.’
‘But does anyone else know that Jenna’s father disappeared before she was born?’ Ken asked.
Jenna shook her head. ‘So that guy who said he was my father had to learn about me from someone in our class.’
‘That still doesn’t mean the spy is Amanda,’ Tracey pointed out.
‘She knew Serena was posing as Cassandra-the-medium and she didn’t tell anyone,’ Ken offered.
‘Maybe she was afraid of Serena,’ Tracey murmured.
‘She’s working in the office,’ Emily pointed out.
‘So what?’ Tracey asked.
Jenna answered for Emily. ‘So she has access to all kinds of personal information about us. I’ll bet that’s why she took the job, so she could pass it on.’
Tracey groaned. ‘Come on, you guys, you’re just ganging up on Amanda because you don’t like her. OK, maybe someone in our class is a spy. Let’s think of who else it could be.’
Emily spoke. ‘Martin?’
Ken looked at her in disbelief. ‘That weasel? He wouldn’t have the guts.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Tracey said. ‘All that “scaredy-cat” stuff could be a big act. He’s totally self-centred. Remember when we were kidnapped? He was completely willing to go along with those guys. I think he’d sell us out to anyone who paid attention to him.’
‘I guess you’ve got a point,’ Jenna said grudgingly.
But Ken was more stubborn. ‘I still think it’s Amanda.’
‘Whoever it is, we need to know,’ Jenna declared. ‘So what are we going to do?’ She looked at Tracey. ‘You got any ideas?’
Tracey nodded. ‘I think I’m going to do a little spying myself.’ She grinned at the others briefly, and then scrunched her face, as if she was concentrating very hard.
And before their very eyes, she disappeared.
CHAPTER THREE
SOMETIMES IT WORKED, JUST like that. Would she ever figure out the logic of her gift? Tracey couldn’t take time to think about it now, she had to move. Fortunately, Martin was a slow walker, and she caught up with him just outside the school. Of course, he had no idea she was walking alongside him. Tracey was pretty sure Martin hardly ever had anyone visible walking beside him never mind invisible.
She’d never seen him hanging about with other kids at school. She supposed that wasn’t so weird — after all, until a couple of months ago, Tracey didn’t hang out with anyone at school either. She’d been as much of a loner as Martin seemed to be. But there’d been good reasons for Tracey’s isolation.
Maybe Martin had reasons too, but maybe they were bad ones. Maybe right this minute he was on his way to meet Serena, or Clare the kidnapper, or some other person who was interested in gifted students for all the wrong reasons.
If so, Martin wasn’t in any rush to get there. He walked slowly, head down, shoulders slumped, dragging his feet.
As they walked, Tracey took the time to give Martin a long, hard look. She’d never paid much attention to him in class — he was so irritating, everyone tried to ignore him. But now that he was silent, she was able to actually see him — and she was mildly surprised by what she saw. Physically, he really wasn’t that awful.
Whenever she envisioned Martin — which wasn’t often — she always thought of him as being a puny kid, sort of a less-than-lifesize scarecrow. But she realized now that he’d been growing, and he was several inches taller than she was. He was thin, but not totally scrawny. His hair was still fair, but he couldn’t have had a haircut recently. The straight blond strands fell down his forehead and almost into his eyes. Which were very green — funny how she’d never noticed that before. If she hadn’t known him, she’d almost think he was kind of cute.
But she did know him — he was Martin Cooper, whiny and fussy and annoying. And possibly a traitor to his class.
On a leafy, residential street, he turned and made his way up the drive of a house. A plump fair-haired woman was on the front steps, and she looked anxious. When she spotted Martin, she hurried forward.
‘There you are, honey! You’re late, I was getting worried.’ She enveloped Martin in a tight hug.
Well, he was loved, Tracey thought. Clearly, he didn’t have the kind of problems Tracey used to have. But what was all this business about being late? OK, Martin had walked slowly, but he’d come directly home.
Mrs Cooper ushered her son into the house and Tracey followed close behind.
‘You know how I worry when you’re late,’ the woman said to Martin.
‘I’m not late,’ Martin protested weakly.
‘You’re usually here at three thirty-five,’ his mother said. She looked at her watch. ‘It’s three forty-two!’
Seven minutes late, Tracey thought. This lady was kind of obsessive. She looked around the living room they were walking through. Everything looked very clean and neat. There was a sofa, easy chairs, the usual stuff — the only things in the room that seemed a little odd were the pictures on the walls. They were all photos of Martin, from birth to his most recent school picture.