Gifted: Finders Keepers

by Marilyn Kaye

  ‘You didn’t deserve to die,’ Ken murmured.

  Whatever. Anyway, just thought you’d like to know, it wasn’t your fault.

  ‘OK. Thanks for telling me.’

  What a weird dream, Ken thought. I’ve never had one like this before. It feels so real.

  This isn’t a dream.

  ‘How’d you know what I was thinking?’

  I don’t know. I just did. I can’t explain. I’m not really talking either. I mean, dead people don’t talk, do we? I don’t know – it’s like you and I are communicating with our minds.

  ‘Oh. I don’t get it.’

  Look, I don’t understand it either. But it’s kind of cool, huh?

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  You must be tired.

  ‘Yeah, kind of.’

  Go back to sleep. We’ll talk later.

  ‘Right.’

  Jack’s voice faded away and another dream began. This one was a lot easier to deal with. He was a judge in a Miss California beauty pageant. Blondes in bikinis sauntered past him. They were all gorgeous, and he had no idea how he’d pick out the prettiest.

  When he opened his eyes again, that perky girl in the pink pinafore was in his room. ‘Have a nice nap?’ she chirped. ‘It’s lunchtime.’ Once again, she set up a tray on his bed.

  He watched as she left the room. Actually, she was kind of cute. Not like the Miss California beauties, of course.

  Yeah, I know what you mean. Those California girls – man, they were hot! There was this one on the beach – I know you’ll think I’m bragging, but I swear she was looking at me . . .

  That was when Ken had to accept the fact that his conversation with Jack wasn’t a dream.

  It was a nightmare, and it was just beginning.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AMANDA WAS USUALLY PRETTY good at hiding her feelings. She’d learned from several bad experiences not to let herself care too much about other people and their problems. And when she felt sorry for herself, or depressed, or angry, or anything like that, she didn’t let it show. She was Amanda Beeson, Queen Bee, the prettiest, best-dressed and most envied girl at Meadowbrook Middle School. She had a reputation to uphold. And feeling sorry for yourself was so not cool.

  So throughout the rest of the class, she kept her face fixed in what was a normal expression for her: mildly bored and generally uninterested in anything going on around her. She would not let anyone in this class see how annoyed she was. How they’d hurt her feelings.

  Maybe she shouldn’t think that ‘they’ had done anything – after all, it was only Jenna who had really insulted her. But the rest of them had laughed, so they were just as guilty.

  How dare Jenna suggest that her gift was worthless? Nothing about Amanda Beeson was worthless. As for her gift – she was a bodysnatcher, for crying out loud! Jenna could read minds – big deal. Emily could tell the future – so what? Amanda could become another person! And they all knew it.

  In this very class, she’d taken over three of them at different times. Tracey, Ken, Sarah – they’d all had personal experience of Amanda’s bodysnatching skills. They knew how talented she was, and they should respect her for it. They should have defended her against Jenna’s attack.

  In all honesty, she had to acknowledge (but only to herself) that she didn’t have complete control of her talent. In fact, circumstances often forced her to snatch bodies she didn’t want. Like the time when she felt sorry for Tracey Devon, who used to be so pathetic. Who would want to be in Tracey Devon’s body?

  But Amanda had ended up there, and that was not fun. She still had to feel sorry for someone to become that person, but it was getting easier. She could always find something to pity about a person. After all, they all had the misfortune of not being Amanda Beeson.

  But while she was very sure that most of the girls at Meadowbrook looked up to her, did any of her classmates in this class realize how superior she was? She suspected that they didn’t. They probably agreed with Jenna. None of them thought she’d be any help in a dangerous situation. And that was so not true. Had Emily forgotten how Amanda-as-Tracey had helped her escape from that insane student teacher? And didn’t Ken remember how she’d dealt with one of his voices?

  She remembered that experience all too well. The guy’s name was Rick, he was a teenager who’d died in the 1960s, and he was lonely. He bothered Ken incessantly. And when Amanda took over Ken’s body, Rick talked to her. It didn’t bother her so much though, mainly because she’d fallen in love with Rick.

  Ken didn’t know about that, of course. All he knew was that somehow Amanda had managed to persuade Rick to leave him alone. And he should be grateful to her for it. Not to mention how she’d transformed Tracey’s entire life. That was worth recalling, wasn’t it?

  As far as she was concerned, she’d done a lot of good for a lot of people with her gift. How could they treat her like this?

  Well, they were going to regret it, and soon. Because she was about to make an announcement that would stun them all and make them feel terrible guilt for teasing her.

  She’d planned to tell them earlier in the class, but Madame wouldn’t let her. The teacher had gone on and on about their enemies and the danger they were in and all that boring stuff. But there was one thing she knew for sure about Madame – she was courteous and she was fair. She’d give Amanda her opportunity.

  Sure enough, when Madame finally finished nagging them, she remembered that she had cut Amanda off earlier.

  ‘Amanda, you said you had something on your mind. Would you like to share it with us?’

  Amanda composed herself. She sat up straight and lowered her eyes. And she spoke quietly.

  ‘This is very hard for me to talk about.’

  Madame actually seemed concerned. ‘Go on, Amanda. You’re among friends here.’

  Ha! Amanda thought. But she took a deep breath and spoke solemnly.

  ‘I wanted to let you all know that I’m going to be out of class for a few days.’ She paused dramatically. ‘You see, I’m going into hospital.’

  She was rewarded with a satisfying gasp. Emily looked positively stricken. Tracey had her hand to her mouth, and even Jenna was taken aback.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Charles asked.

  Before she could answer, Madame spoke. ‘Yes, I’ve had a note from your mother. You’re having your tonsils out.’

  There was a moment of silence. Then Jenna spoke. ‘Is that all?’

  Amanda drew herself up stiffly. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Jenna shrugged. ‘Everyone gets their tonsils out. Well, maybe not everyone. But it’s no big deal. I mean, it’s common.’

  ‘It’s still an operation,’ Amanda stated hotly. ‘OK, maybe little kids have it all the time, but it’s more serious when you’re older.’

  At least, Madame backed her up. ‘Amanda’s right. And any stay in a hospital is distressing. We’ll miss you in class, Amanda, and we all wish you a speedy recovery. Martin, are you all right?’

  Martin was having one of his coughing fits. ‘Someone must have been eating peanut butter in the cafeteria,’ he managed to croak.

  Everyone knew that Martin was allergic to peanut butter. He couldn’t even smell it without getting sick. Madame hastened to his side. ‘Come along, Martin, I’m taking you to the infirmary.’

  Amanda couldn’t believe it. Martin’s stupid allergies were considered more important than her tonsils?

  Just as Madame was leaving the room with Martin, the bell rang. Ever since Meadowbrook’s reorganization of the class schedule a couple of weeks ago, this class had been moved from just after lunch to the last period of the day. Amanda was pleased with this. The Gifted class always put her in a weird mood, and it was a relief to know she could join her real friends immediately afterwards and get out of there.

  Normally Amanda would be up and out of there very quickly. But this time there was an odd, burning sensation in her eyes, and she stayed in her seat. There was n
o way she would let anyone see her cry.

  Her classmates ran out without a word to her. Except for one. Ken paused by her desk.

  ‘Hey, sorry to hear about that.’

  Her urge to cry vanished. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s no fun being in the hospital. I know all about that.’

  She knew he’d been in hospital for a while after an accident earlier in the school year. ‘You understand how I feel,’ she said softly.

  He nodded. ‘You must be scared.’

  ‘I am,’ she said, and she was actually being honest. She got up, gathered her things, and they left the room together.

  ‘There’s nothing to be scared about,’ he assured her as they walked downstairs. ‘The nurses and doctors, they’re really nice. The worst thing about it is being bored. Bring magazines and books. And make sure your parents arrange for you to have a TV in your room.’

  ‘OK.’ On the ground floor he turned in the opposite direction from her locker, but she didn’t care. She continued walking by his side.

  ‘But you probably won’t have to worry about being bored. You’ll get a lot of visitors.’

  She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘Really? Do you think so?’

  ‘Well, you’ve got lots of friends, haven’t you?’

  ‘Oh, sure. But not in our class.’

  She was disappointed when he didn’t pick up on the hint. She had a thing for Ken ever since he’d kissed her at her friend Sophie’s pool party the previous August. She knew that kiss didn’t mean anything serious – all the boys were daring each other to do stupid things, like throwing a particular person in the pool or outdoing each other in the number of somersaults they could perform while diving. Silly stuff like that.

  But she remembered the kiss. And when she’d been placed in the so-called ‘gifted’ class, the one thing that had lifted her spirits was the fact that Ken was there.

  She had to keep this conversation going. ‘Did you hear what Jenna said about me in class?’

  Ken looked apologetic. ‘I wasn’t really listening.’

  She knew what that meant – dead people had been talking to him. But she also knew that he didn’t like talking about his gift.

  ‘What did Jenna say?’ he asked.

  ‘She was talking about my gift. She said it was worthless. I know she thinks I couldn’t help anyone if we were in danger.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Ken exclaimed. ‘You could help.’ He considered it for a second. ‘For example, you could take over the body of an enemy and stop that person from doing bad things.’

  There was no way on earth that Amanda would want to do something like that, but she didn’t tell him that.

  Ken went on. ‘It’s my gift that’s worthless. At least, it’s useless in a crisis.’

  ‘I don’t believe that,’ Amanda said stoutly, before it occurred to her that she couldn’t think of one possible situation when talking to dead people could help anyone out of a dangerous predicament. ‘You have a wonderful gift,’ she said anyway, hoping he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate.

  ‘Oh, yeah? What good is it?’

  Thinking rapidly, she said, ‘Um, well, you could bring loved ones together. Maybe there’s someone who’s desperate to connect with a dead husband or something.’

  ‘Yeah, I get requests like that all the time,’ he admitted. ‘But I’ll tell you something . . .’ He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘This is really awful. But I really don’t want to get involved in their lives. Is that terrible of me?’

  She could have kissed him right there and then. ‘No, it’s not terrible! I understand completely. It’s not like we can solve everyone’s problems. I mean, we all have our own problems to deal with, right?’

  He gave her a half-smile, and her heart was full. They were bonding!

  They’d reached his locker. As he twisted the combination, she considered the possibilities. Would he walk with her to her locker now? Maybe he’d ask her to have a Coke with him at the mall across the street. If not, maybe she could invite him back to her place. But what could she use for an excuse? They didn’t have any other classes together – she couldn’t pretend to need homework help.

  Then she noticed he was frowning. In his hand, he held a piece of paper.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I just found it on the floor of my locker.’

  He showed it to her.

  It was an announcement. Or maybe invitation was a better word.

  SEANCE.

  That was the word all in capital letters on the top. Underneath, it read:

  Make contact with those who have passed on. Connect with your loved ones. Ask questions, get answers.

  There was an address, a date – today’s date – and a time, eight p.m. On the bottom, someone had scrawled the words: Ken, are you one of us? Would you like to meet others who have your gift?

  There was no signature, no name. Amanda looked at Ken. All the colour had drained from his face.

  ‘Where did this come from?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Someone must have slipped it through the locker slot,’ Amanda said. ‘Maybe it’s a joke from someone in our class.’

  Ken shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  She had to agree with him. Their classmates didn’t pull pranks.

  ‘Does anyone else know about your gift?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You don’t have any idea who could have put that in your locker?’

  ‘No.’ He stuffed the note in his pocket. ‘I gotta go. See ya.’

  And to her disappointment, he slammed the locker door closed and strode down the hall.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHAT KEN HAD SAID to Amanda wasn’t really true. He had a very good idea who could have left that note in his locker. Because there was someone outside of the gifted class who knew what he could do.

  Outside the building, the note still in his hand, he paused by a rubbish bin. A friend who lived in his neighbourhood waved to him. ‘Hey, Preston, my brother’s picking me up. Want a ride home?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Ken called back. ‘I’m not leaving yet. I’ve got a couple of things to do.’ He was about to toss the paper in the bin, but instead he stuck the crumpled note in his pocket and took off.

  Actually, he felt like thinking and he needed to be alone for that. He headed around to the back of the canteen, where there was a bench under a tree, and sat down. Much as he didn’t enjoy reliving the past, he was going to have to let his mind wander back to those days after the accident.

  He was allowed to go home three days after he regained consciousness. His parents came for him. Even though he had his crutches now, hospital regulations insisted he leave in a wheelchair. His parents followed as a nurse wheeled him out into the car park.

  ‘Happy to be going home, Ken?’ the nurse chirped cheerfully.

  ‘Yes,’ Ken replied. What a stupid question, he thought. Of course he was glad to be going back to his own bed, his mother’s cooking . . . and maybe an end to those disturbing conversations with his dead friend.

  It was just so – so strange, having Jack in his head. It didn’t feel right. But what could he do? His best friend was dead. The least he could do was listen to him.

  Grabbing his crutches, he got out of the wheelchair and hobbled into the car. As his parents got in, he noticed for the first time that they were very dressed up for a weekday afternoon. His mother wore heels and a black dress with a small strand of pearls at her neck. His father wore a dark suit with a white shirt and black tie.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked them.

  His parents exchanged meaningful looks. ‘It’s where we’ve been,’ his mother told him gently. ‘Jack’s funeral was this morning.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Later, we’re going to his home to pay a condolence call,’ she went on.

  ‘I guess I should go too,’ Ken said.

  ‘If you like, you can come wi
th us,’ his mother said.

  ‘But we’ll understand if you don’t feel up to it,’ his father added.

  He knew he should go. He’d known Jack’s family for a long time. But all he could think about right now was the way they’d probably look at him. He was alive and their son was dead. Maybe they would even hold him responsible for the collision.

  He could get out of it – he knew that. All he had to do was say he felt tired, or that his ribs hurt. And that was what he planned to do. Someday, maybe in a week or two, he would stop by and see them. Apologize. It was the least he could do.

  His father helped him out of the car while his mother adjusted his crutches. He winced as he limped into the house, keenly aware of the dull ache in his chest from the broken ribs. Slowly, he managed to get down the hall and into his bedroom. His mother fussed over him, adjusting his pillow, bringing magazines, asking if he was hungry.

  ‘I had your prescription filled, so tell me if you’re in pain,’ she said.

  At the same time, another voice spoke.

  Hey, Ken. Can you talk?

  His heart sank. But what could he say? ‘Sure.’

  He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until his mother came closer. ‘Here are the pills, and I’ll get you some water.’

  ‘I’m not in pain,’ Ken said.

  His mother looked confused.

  Ken? Are you there? I gotta ask you something.

  ‘Wait a second.’

  Now his mother was concerned. ‘Ken, are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ Ken said quickly. ‘I – I think I’m going to sleep a while.’

  His mother gave him one more worried look, and finally left the room.

  Ken sat up and listened. Was Jack still there?

  Yeah, I’m here.

  That was when he realized he didn’t have to speak out loud to communicate with Jack. He only had to direct his thoughts.

  I’ve got a favour to ask you.

  What?

  It’s about Lucy.

  What about her?

  I bought her this gift, from California. It’s a bracelet made out of seashells. I was going to give it to her the day I got back, but we had a fight.