Better Late Than Never

Chapter 4

JENNA HAD LEFT BROOKSIDE Towers only two days before, but already the buildings looked more grim and forbidding and not like home at all. She was very glad that Tracey and Emily had offered to come along with her after school.

Of course, she didn't tell them that she was grateful.

"You know, I could do this by myself," she informed them. "I don't know why you guys are tagging along."

To Emily, Tracey said, "That's Jenna's way of saying thank you."

Jenna ignored that. "And if the elevator is out of order, you'll be sorry. I'm on the fifth floor."

"You can't bring back everything by yourself," Tracey pointed out, turning to Emily. "She forgot her raincoat, her bathrobe--lots of things. Including all her school stuff."

"A Freudian slip," Emily commented.

"What's that?" Jenna asked, suspecting that it wasn't something you wore underneath your clothes.

"It's when you think you're doing something accidentally but you have a subconscious reason. Like, you forgot your school stuff because you don't like school."

That was one of the interesting things about Emily, Jenna thought. She might act all spacy and out of it, but then she'd come out with something really smart like that.

"And don't worry about the elevator," Emily added. "It's working."

And that was another weirdly interesting thing about Emily. "I can't believe you waste your gift predicting such stupid stuff," Jenna remarked.

"I know," Emily said mournfully. "Things like that just come to me. Then when I try to predict something, I get it wrong. I'm getting better, though. I got four out of seven weather forecasts right last week."

She was right about the elevator, too. But when they got off on the fifth floor, Jenna hesitated.

"What's the matter?" Tracey asked.

She couldn't tell them the truth--that she was afraid her mother had given up, had left rehab, and was now passed out on the living-room floor.

"Nothing," she said. Thank goodness they couldn't read her mind. "The apartment is at the end of the hall." Gritting her teeth, she strode forward, and the other two followed her. To her relief, the apartment was empty.

"Have you heard from your mother?" Emily asked.

Jenna shook her head as she led them into her bedroom. "People in rehab aren't allowed to be in contact with anyone on the outside. I guess she's doing all right." She heard something in Tracey's mind and turned to her. "Okay, maybe it's wishful thinking, but I can hope, can't I?"

"Hey, you promised!" Tracey exclaimed in outrage.

"Sorry, I forgot, "Jenna lied. She opened her dresser drawer and began throwing stuff onto the bed.

"What are you guys talking about?" Emily wanted to know.

"Jenna promised not to read my mind while she was staying with me," Tracey told her.

"You should do what I do," Emily said.

"What do you do?" Tracey asked.

"I don't know, but Jenna never reads my mind."

Jenna grinned. "That's because I don't believe you're ever thinking anything that's worth paying attention to."

"Ha-ha, very funny." Emily picked up Jenna's slippers. "What are we going to put all this stuff in?"

Tracey produced several empty bags from her backpack, and the girls began filling them. Emily picked up a notebook and stopped.

"Are these your notes from the gifted class?"

Jenna glanced at the notebook. "Yeah. Why?"

"Because I just got a vision of our next homework assignment."

Tracey looked at her with interest. "So if you can touch something, it helps with your predictions?"

"I don't know--this has never happened before." She sighed. "There's so much I don't understand about my gift."

"Same here," Tracey said. "Now that I don't feel like a nobody, how can I make myself disappear?"

"And why can't I read everyone's mind?" Jenna wondered. She turned to Emily. "What's the assignment? Not that I care," she added hastily. "I probably won't do it anyway."

"Madame is going to ask us to think about how we could use our gifts in a career."

"Great," Jenna groaned as she picked through her underwear in search of items without holes. "I guess I could be some kind of magician. Like, 'Think of a number and I'll tell you what it is.'"

"You could be a psychologist," Tracey suggested. "It would definitely help to know what people are thinking."

"Or a police officer," Emily said. "You'd always know when people were lying, and you could solve crimes that way."

"If I could become invisible whenever I wanted, I could be a detective," Tracey remarked. "Or a spy! That would be intense!"

"I'd like to do something that helps people," Emily mused. "If I could predict natural disasters, like earthquakes, I could warn people to move before they happen."

"No one would believe you," Jenna told her.

"You'd be like Chicken Little, running around yelling, 'The sky is falling.' Can you predict what's going to happen to me this week?"

"Let me think . . ." Emily scrunched her forehead and closed her eyes. After a moment, she said, "You're going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger."

Tracey started laughing. "You sound like one of those fake gypsy fortunetellers."

"No, really--I see that," Emily insisted. Then her expression changed.

"What?" Jenna asked.

"He's going to make you cry."

"Oh, puh-leeze!" Jenna snorted. "The day some stupid boy makes me cry . . .You know, Em, if I had your talent, I'd use it to become a professional gambler and make some money. Like, in horse races, I'd know who to bet on. Or I'd figure out the next winning lottery numbers."

Emily winced. "Like Serena."

"Oh, right." Jenna had almost forgotten about the awful student teacher who had tried to make Emily do exactly that. "Sorry." She turned to Tracey. "If I could be invisible, I'd follow around famous people and see how they really live. Wouldn't it be awesome to hang out with Britney Spears? Or Prince William?"

"That's not exactly a career," Tracey said, "unless you're writing a gossip column."

A sudden knock on the door made them all turn in that direction. "Are you expecting anyone?" Tracey asked Jenna.

"No." Jenna went out of the bedroom and headed to the door.

"Then don't answer it! "Tracey called.

Jenna looked through the door's peephole. Unfortunately, it hadn't been cleaned since--well, it had never been cleaned, probably. So she couldn't see much---just the fact that someone sort of tall with dark hair was standing on the other side of the door.

"Hello?" she called.

"Excuse me," replied a masculine voice. "I'm looking for Barbara Kelley."

"She's not here."

Tracey was at her shoulder. "If you don't know who it is, don't let him in," she hissed.

The man at the door must have heard her.

"Whoever said that is absolutely right. Never open the door to strangers. I'll come back another time."

The figure disappeared, and Jenna turned back to her curious friends. "Probably a bill collector," she said. "Or he's selling something. I've never seen him before."

"Did you get a good look at him?" Emily asked.

"Not really. He was tall, he had dark hair . . .Why are you grinning like that?"

"Because I was right with my prediction! You just met a tall, dark, handsome stranger."

"I couldn't tell if he was handsome," Jenna pointed out.

Emily sighed. "Well, he was tall and dark and he was a stranger. Three out of four isn't bad." Then, suddenly, her face changed and she shivered.

"Now what's the matter?" Jenna asked.

"I just got a bad feeling about him," Emily said. "Like maybe he's not a nice person."

"That doesn't make sense," Tracey said. "If he was a burglar or something like that, he wouldn't have told Jenna not to open the door."

"That's true," Emily admitted. "See? You can't rely on me. I get these visions, but a lot of the time I don't understand what they mean."

"It's too bad we can't blend our gifts and work together," Tracey commented. "Jenna could read your mind and make sense out of what you see in your head."

"She can't read my mind," Emily reminded her.

"I didn't say that," Jenna argued. "I never try."

"Try now," Emily urged. "What am I thinking?"

Jenna closed her eyes and concentrated. Then she frowned. "Nothing. You're as empty as Carter Street."

Emily grinned. "I just imagined a wall in front of my thoughts."

"Ooh, let me try that!" Tracey cried out excitedly. "Jenna, try to read my mind."

"You made me promise not to."

"Well, I release you from your promise, just for one minute. Starting now."

Feeling like a circus performer, Jenna groaned, but how could she say no to someone who was putting her up for two weeks? So she closed her eyes again.

It didn't take much concentration to read Tracey's thoughts. "You're thinking about dinner tonight and hoping for spaghetti and meatballs."

Tracey made a face. "But I put up a wall, just like Emily did. A brick wall! How come it didn't work for me?"

"How should I know? "Jenna retorted. "Why are some of Emily's predictions right and others not?"

"We're mysteries," Emily said. "We're not like other people. We've got weird gifts that we don't understand, so we can't expect them to work all the time until we learn more about them."

Once again, vague, scatterbrained Emily was making an intelligent observation. They really were mysteries, all of them, Jenna thought.

And personally, she liked being a mystery. It meant that life would be full of surprises.