"I'm outta here," I said to Ruth as I started gathering up my things.
"What do you mean, you're outta here?" Ruth demanded, looking alarmed. "You can't leave. It's an assembly."
"Watch me," I said.
"They've got student council members posted at all the exits," Ruth whispered.
"That's not all they got posted by the exits," I said, and pointed at Special Agents Johnson and Smith, who were talking to Principal Feeney off to one side of the gym.
"Oh, God," Ruth breathed, when she saw them. "Not again."
"Oh, yes," I said. "And if you think I'm sticking around here to get the third degree about Courtney Hwang, which is for sure why they're here, you got another think coming, sister. See you around."
Without another word, I inched my way over to the far end of the bleacher—past a number of people who gave me dirty looks as I went by, though because I'd stepped on their toes, not because they were mad at me about Amber—until I'd reached the gap between the bleachers and the wall. This I slithered through without any major difficulty—although my landing, in my platform espadrilles, was no ten-pointer, let me tell you. After that, it was an easy stroll beneath the bleachers to the nearest door, where I planned to fake an illness and be given leave to make my way to the nurse's office....
Except of course when I emerged from beneath the bleachers and saw the student council member guarding that particular exit, I knew I wouldn't have to fake an illness.
No, I felt pretty genuinely sick.
"Jessica," Karen Sue Hankey said, clutching the pile of Remember Amber booklets she'd handed out to each of us as we filed in. The booklet, four pages long, had color copies of photos of Amber in various cheerleader poses, interposed with the printed lyrics to "My Heart Will Go On." Most people, I'd noticed as I'd made my way beneath the bleachers, had dropped theirs.
"What are you doing?" Karen Sue hissed. "Get back to your seat. It's not over yet."
I clutched my stomach. Not enough to draw attention to myself. The last thing I wanted was for Special Agents Johnson and Smith to notice me. But enough to get the point across.
"Karen Sue," I hiccuped. "I think I'm going to—"
I stumbled past her and dove through the doors. They let out into the music wing. Free. I was free! Now all I had to do was make my way to the student parking lot, and wait for Ruth to get to her car when they let everybody out. I might even get a chance to stretch out on her hood and work on my tan.
Except that Karen Sue followed me into the hallway, throwing a definite crimp in my plans.
"You are not sick, Jessica Mastriani," she said firmly. "You are faking it. You do the exact same thing in PE every time Mrs. Tidd announces the Presidential Fitness tests."
I couldn't believe this. It's not enough she has to go around outing me as a psychic to everyone. No, Karen Sue has to bar my escape from the Feds who are after me, too.
But I was not about to let my anger get the best of me. No way. I'd turned over a new leaf. It was already day two of the new school year, and guess what? I did not have detention.
And I was not going to ruin this excellent record by letting Karen Sue Hankey get under my skin.
"Karen Sue," I said, straightening up. "You're right. I'm not sick. But there are some people out there I don't want to see, if it's all the same to you. So could you please be a human being"—I barely restrained myself from adding, for once in your life—"and let me go?"
"Who do you not want to see?" Karen Sue wanted to know.
"Some Feds, if you must know. You see, I've had a lot of problems with people thinking I still have psychic powers, when in fact"—I added this last part with all the emphasis I could muster—"I do not."
"You are such a liar, Jess," Karen Sue said, shaking her head so that her honey-blonde hair, the ends of which curled into perfect flips just above her shoulders, swung. "You know you found that Shane kid at camp this summer, when he got lost inside that cave."
"Yeah, I found him," I said. "But not because I'd had a psychic vision he was there or anything. Just because I had a hunch he'd been in there. That's all."
"Is that so?" Karen Sue looked prim. "Well, what you call a hunch, I call ESP. You have a gift from God, Jessica Mastriani, and that makes it a sin for you to try to deny it."
The problem, of course, is that Karen Sue goes to my church. She's been in my Sunday school class since forever.
The other problem is that Karen Sue is a goody-two-shoes suck-up we used to lock in the janitor's closet whenever the Sunday school teacher didn't show up on time. Which happened quite often, actually.
"Look, Karen Sue," I said. It was getting harder to repress my urge to knock those booklets out of her arms and grind her face into them. "I appreciate everything you've tried to do for me, in the name of the Lord and all, but could you just once try that whole turning-the-other-cheek thing—turn it toward the wall so you don't see me while I get the hell out of here? That way, if anyone asks, you won't be lying when you say you didn't see where I went."
Karen Sue looked at me sadly. "No," she said, and started for the door, clearly to seek the aid of someone larger than she was in detaining me.
I grabbed her wrist. But I wasn't going to hurt her. I swear I wasn't. I'd turned over a new leaf. I was in a brand new crocheted sweater set and espadrilles. I had on cherry Chap Stick. Girls dressed like me do not get into fights. Girls dressed like me reason with one another, in a friendly manner.
"Karen Sue," I said. "The thing is, the whole thing with the psychic power and all, it really upsets my brother Douglas, you know? I mean, the reporters coming around the house and calling and all of that. So you can see why I want to kind of keep it a secret, right? I mean, because of my brother."
Karen Sue's gaze never left mine as she wrenched her wrist from my hand.
"Your brother Douglas," she said, "is sick. His sickness is obviously a judgment from God. If Douglas went to church more often, and prayed harder, he would get better. And your denying your God-given gifts isn't helping. In fact, you are probably making him worse."
Well. What could I say to that?
Nothing, really. I mean, something like that, there's no appropriate response.
No appropriate verbal response, that is.
Karen Sue's screams brought Principal Feeney, Coach Albright, Mrs. Tidd, most of the student council, and Special Agents Johnson and Smith running. When she saw Karen Sue, Special Agent Smith got on her cell phone and called an ambulance.
But I guarantee her nose isn't even broken. She probably only burst a blood vessel or two.
As Principal Feeney and Special Agent Johnson led me away, I called out, "Hey, Karen Sue, maybe if you pray hard enough, God'll make the bleeding stop."
Taken out of context, I could see how this might sound callous. But none of them had heard what Karen Sue had said to me. And no amount of me going, "But she said—" seemed to impress upon them the fact that I was completely justified in my behavior.
"And I thought you'd been making some real progress," Mr. Goodhart said sadly when I was dragged into the guidance office.
"I was making progress." I threw myself onto one of the orange couches. "I'd like to see how long you could put up with Karen Sue's stuff before hauling off and slugging her."
Only I didn't say "stuff."
"I'll tell you one thing," Mr. Goodhart said. "I wouldn't let a girl like that push my buttons."
"She said it's my fault Douglas is sick," I said. "She said his sickness is a punishment from God for me not using my gift!"
Special Agent Johnson, who'd been sequestered away with Principal Feeney—consulting about me, I was sure—chose this moment to emerge from the principal's office.
"Really, Jessica," he said, sounding surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be susceptible to that sort of nonsense."