Better Late Than Never

Chapter 5

THE NEXT DAY, WHEN she arrived at school, Amanda went up to the principal's office. There was a student working at the reception desk--a girl named Heather who'd been in Amanda's geometry class last year. Heather wasn't a nerd, but she wasn't in the top clique either, and Amanda was pretty sure she could get Heather to do her a favor.

She was right, and after graciously accepting a compliment from Heather on her new yellow platform shoes, she left the office with a copy of Ken Preston's class schedule. Then she organized her day so that she would accidentally bump into him at various times between classes.

The first two times, he didn't even see her. The third time, he saw her, and when she greeted him, he said hi but didn't stop to talk. And the fourth time, when she tried to start a conversation, he claimed to be busy and hurried off.

It didn't make any sense. Was it possible--really, truly possible--that he wasn't attracted to her? It was hard to believe, but she decided she would have to explore all the possibilities of getting together with him.

For the first time since she'd started the class, she hurried to room 209. She knew Ken wouldn't be there--he always showed up at the last minute. There was someone else she wanted to see--someone who just might be able to help her connect with Ken.

Being the perfect student, Sarah was already in her seat when Amanda arrived. Whoever sat in front of her wasn't there yet, so Amanda took that seat. Sarah looked up in surprise.

"Hello, Amanda."

Amanda tried to remember if she'd ever spoken directly to Sarah. She didn't think so, but she smiled brightly and tried to act as if they talked every day.

"Hi, Sarah. How're you doing?"

Sarah recovered from her shock quickly. "Fine. How are you?"

Amanda put on a doleful face. "Not too good."

Sarah had a reputation for being sweet and understanding, and she demonstrated that now. She looked concerned. "What's the matter?"

"It's Ken," Amanda said sadly. "You know--Ken Preston, in our class."

"What's wrong with Ken?"

"Well, he's so timid . . ."

"Really? I never noticed that."

Amanda continued quickly. "Well, he is, and I know he wants to ask me out, but he's too shy. Maybe you could help him."

Sarah looked confused, "What could I do?"

"You've got that special ability to make people do things with your mind. And I was thinking, you could make him ask me out. Nothing major--just something like a movie or miniature golf."

Sarah just stared at her, speechless. Her eyes were very wide.

"It would just be this one time," Amanda assured her. "I'm sure once I got him alone, he'd recover from his shyness. Would you do this for me? I mean, for him?"

Sarah shook her head. "I can't, Amanda."

"Of course you can. You've got the gift!"

"I suppose I should say, 'I won't.' Amanda, my gift is dangerous. And the only way I can deal with it is to not use it at all."

"But that's silly!" Amanda exclaimed. "It's just a date. How is that dangerous?"

"That's not the point, Amanda."

Amanda frowned. She didn't care about the point. She just wanted a date.

Sarah explained, "I used to have a fantasy about going to the Winter Olympics so I could help the figure skaters not fall. But 1 know now that doing good deeds can be just as dangerous as doing bad deeds. Because one thing could lead to another. Do you see what I mean?"

"No. Look, Sarah, if you do this for me, we could be friends. You could sit with us at lunch." Amanda knew that her table, with Britney, Sophie, Nina, Katie, and the others, was considered the best girls' table in the cafeteria. Heather-in-the-office would kill for a chance to sit at that table.

But Sarah wasn't Heather-in-the-office. "I'm sorry, Amanda. I just can't."

She sounded as if she meant it, too. Amanda rearranged her features into an expression that she hoped looked menacing. "Sarah, do you remember what my gift is?"

"Of course I do--you talked about it yesterday."

"Well, what if I took over your body and made Ken ask me out? I mean, me-Amanda, not me-you."

Sarah didn't seem the least bit frightened. "You'd have to feel sorry for me first, Amanda. And you don't, do you?"

She was right. Sarah wasn't the coolest, prettiest, or most popular girl at Meadowbrook, but there was nothing pathetic about her either. Amanda gave up on the idea of using Sarah. She'd have to find another way to reach Ken.

The others were coming in now, so she went back to her own seat. As usual, Ken came in last, and he still had that distracted expression on his face. She didn't even bother trying to catch his attention. What was she going to do? There had to be a way.

The bell rang, class started, and Madame called on Tracey to give her report. Amanda didn't bother listening--having been Tracey, she knew Tracey's story by heart. Tracey had been a happy only child, then her mother had septuplets, Tracey was ignored, she started to disappear, blah-blah-blah. Amanda spent the time doodling, trying to come up with a way to get Ken's attention. What if she went to his house, knocked on his door, and asked him to--

"Amanda?"

She looked up. "Yes, Madame?"

"Don't you have something to say to Tracey?" The teacher gazed at her sternly. "Apparently you weren't listening. Tracey was thanking you for helping her learn to assert herself."

Sarah turned to look at her with a startled expression, as if she was surprised to learn that Amanda could do something nice for someone else. Jenna was looking at her, too, and grinning--she'd known when Amanda had been inside Tracey's body because of her mind-reading skills. And she knew perfectly well that Amanda hadn't been trying to improve Tracey's life--only her own for as long as she was stuck being Tracey. But there was only one reaction Amanda was really interested in.

She looked at Ken. He was staring out the window, daydreaming, maybe, or listening to dead people, but in any case, he obviously hadn't been paying attention to Tracey's story. What a relief.

Madame was still staring at her. "Amanda?"

"Oh, yeah. Uh, that's okay. I mean, you're welcome. Whatever."

Madame called on Martin next. The boy--who looked to be at least two years younger than anyone else--spoke in a very annoying, whiny voice, which made it hard to listen to his story.

"It was a couple of years ago. I was shooting baskets in my driveway."

The thought of undersized Martin playing basketball was almost too much for Amanda to deal with, but she knew better than to show it. But neither Jenna nor Charles had her self-control, and they started laughing. Martin clenched his fists.

Madame rapped on her desk. "Stop it at once! Martin, remember your exercise. Close your eyes and count backward from ten."

Amanda half hoped that the exercise wouldn't work. She'd never actually seen Martin demonstrate his gift. It would be interesting to see if he would attack a person in a wheelchair. As for Jenna, Amanda wouldn't mind seeing her get shaken up a little.

But Martin relaxed, and the animal or whatever was inside him calmed down.

"Anyway, a couple of guys came by and said they wanted to play with me. Only they kept the ball and wouldn't let me have it. I tried to get it back, but they were bigger than me. And they laughed."

He didn't have to say more. Everyone knew what happened when Martin thought people were making fun of him.

"Did you hurt them badly?" Madame asked.

"One of them got away. I broke the other one's arm, but that was all."

"So you were able to restrain yourself," Madame commented.

"Well, not exactly. It's just that he was screaming so hard that I lost the feeling."

Supposedly, it was this "feeling" that gave Martin the strength of a bear or some other type of strong animal. In any case, his power went beyond anything a normal human being could do--even a big bodybuilder.

"And that's the first time you remember getting the feeling?" Madame asked.

"Yeah, I think so. But my mother told me that when I was three, my father took a toy away from me and I pushed him across the room. My father says she dreamed this and it never happened." He grinned. "But he never tried to take anything away from me again, so I guess he learned his lesson. I must have done a pretty good job for a three-year-old."

"This is nothing to be proud of, Martin," Madame reprimanded. "You have to learn to channel your strength and direct it appropriately."

"Maybe you could go into demolition work someday," Jenna suggested. "I'll bet you'd be great at tearing down buildings."

Martin considered this. "I'd rather tear down people."

Sarah gasped. "Martin! That's not right!"

"It's their own fault," Martin complained. "People are always picking on me. I'm small, so they think they can push me around. If they didn't pick on me, I wouldn't get the feeling and I couldn't hurt them."

"Martin, you have to take responsibility for your gift," Madame said. "We'll hear from Jenna next."

Luckily, Jenna was saved by the bell--not the usual one, but the three special chimes that signified an announcement was about to be made over the intercom. This was followed by the disembodied voice of the principal's secretary.

"Would Jenna Kelley please come to the office?"

Everyone looked at Jenna, who immediately went all defensive. "I didn't do anything!"

"Just go to the office, Jenna," Madame said. "You can give your report another day."

Lucky dog, Amanda thought. It was very likely that Madame would forget that Jenna hadn't given her report and would never call on her again to do it. Jenna didn't deserve the good fortune.

On the other hand, Jenna was on her way to Mr. Jackson's office. Amanda brightened. Nobody ever got called to the principal's office for a good reason.