by Marilyn Kaye
But even as they went through the motions of the exercises, Tracey’s mind continued to race.
She knew all about Jenna’s past, how she used to practically live on the streets. Anything was better than staying at home with an alcoholic mother who used the apartment as ‘party central’ for her drinking buddies. Jenna hung out in train stations and bus stations, with people who wouldn’t be considered good citizens. Pickpockets, druggies, people with actual criminal records . . . they weren’t exactly Jenna’s friends, but they accepted her as another troubled soul with nothing to do and no place to go.
Tracey knew Jenna herself had never been violent, and she never took drugs or did anything illegal. But she liked to act tough, she hung around with tough people, and she had got into trouble because of them.
But that was then, and this was now. Jenna’s life had changed dramatically. She had a home with a sober mother, she had friends, she no longer saw her old street gang. She wasn’t looking to get into trouble, and there was absolutely no reason for her to bring a knife to school.
So why did Mr Jackson find a knife in Jenna’s locker?
Ken thought he knew. The second they were dismissed, he motioned for Emily and Tracey to join him in the hallway.
‘It’s a set-up,’ he declared. ‘Jenna didn’t bring a knife to school. Someone put a knife in Jenna’s locker.’
‘But why would anyone do something like that?’ Emily asked in bewilderment.
‘To get rid of her,’ Ken said. ‘And I know who that someone is.’ He looked past the girls. They both turned to see Amanda sweep by them.
Ken waited until Amanda was beyond hearing before he spoke again. ‘I’ve got it all figured out. Amanda knows Jenna thinks she’s the class spy.’
Tracey broke in. ‘How could Amanda know that? Jenna never accused her.’
‘She didn’t have to, not out loud,’ Ken said. ‘Haven’t you seen the dirty looks Jenna’s been giving Amanda?’
Jenna gives lots of people dirty looks, Tracey thought. But maybe Ken had noticed something she hadn’t.
‘Besides, maybe Jenna did say something to Amanda,’ Ken continued. ‘Anyway, Amanda had to get Jenna out of her way. So she plants the knife, she sends Mr Jackson an anonymous note telling him that Jenna’s got weapons, and Jenna’s suspended.’
Emily gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘Ken, have you been reading a lot of detective novels lately?’
Ken ignored that. ‘Think about it – it all makes sense. Working in the office, Amanda could get her hands on Jenna’s locker combination. And it would be easy for her to slip a note under Jackson’s door when no one was looking.’
Tracey had to admit there was logic in what he said. But . . .
‘You can’t prove this, Ken, can you?’ she asked.
‘Maybe I won’t have to,’ he said. ‘If we can get her to confess.’
‘How can we get her to do that?’ Emily wanted to know.
Ken smiled grimly. ‘I’ve got a plan. What means more to Amanda than anything else?’
Tracey blanched. Surely Ken wasn’t suggesting that they threaten to destroy the contents of Amanda’s closet.
But Emily understood. ‘Her reputation. Being cool.’
Now Tracey got it. ‘Right, she has to be the queen bee, everyone’s supposed to look up to her.’
‘Especially her pals,’ Emily added. ‘What did Jenna call them? The Evilettes.’
‘Exactly,’ Ken said. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll bet she’s still at her locker – that’s where she meets her friends after school. C’mon, let’s go.’
On the way there, he explained his plan. Personally, Tracey thought it sounded a little cruel, and it certainly wasn’t going to be easy for them to pull it off. But if it could bring Jenna back, she supposed it was worth a try.
As Ken suspected, Amanda was still at her locker, with two of her friends, Nina and Katie. Amanda was tapping her foot impatiently.
‘Where’s Britney?’ Tracey heard her say as they approached. ‘We’re going to be late for our manicures.’
‘Hey, Amanda,’ Ken called out. Emily and Tracey said nothing, but it didn’t matter. The three girls only had eyes for the boy. Even though Ken was no longer a top athlete at Meadowbrook, his good looks and general popularity still made him a catch.
‘Hi, Ken,’ they chorused with identical flirty smiles on their faces.
He focused on Amanda. ‘Listen, Amanda, I have to tell you something.’
She cocked her head coyly. ‘What?’
‘Martin’s got a thing for you.’
Her forehead puckered. ‘Who?’
‘Martin Cooper, from our class. Jenna read his mind yesterday, and she told me it came through loud and clear. He likes you. She meant to tell you today, but like, you know, she didn’t get a chance. Anyway, I thought I’d pass it on.’
Nina giggled. ‘Martin Cooper? That little wimp?’
And Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘What makes you think that I would care if Martin Cooper likes me?’
Now Ken’s face reflected confusion. ‘But – but you told me, remember? You said you kind of liked him. So I thought you’d want to know that the feeling is mutual.’
Amanda’s mouth dropped. ‘I never said anything like that!’
‘Oh, was it supposed to be a secret?’ Ken asked. ‘Sorry.’ With that, he turned away and started towards the door. Tracey and Emily followed. But Tracey couldn’t resist turning round to get a glimpse of Amanda’s reaction.
The girl looked positively shocked. But what was even more interesting were the faces of her friends. They were both staring at Amanda as if they’d just learned she had a contagious disease.
CHAPTER SIX
THE LOBBY OF HARMONY House hadn’t changed since the last time that Jenna had seen it. The same puke-green walls, the same row of orange plastic chairs, the same stupid poster that proclaimed: ‘Today is the first day of the rest of your life.’ The other people in the lobby might not have been the same ones who were waiting the last time she was here, but they fell into the same categories. Angry boys, sullen girls, unhappy parents, bored social workers . . .
Jenna sat on one of the orange chairs and stared at the poster. If the rest of her life was going to be like today . . .
The policeman sitting next to her interrupted her thoughts.
‘Looks like it’s going to be a while.’
Jenna said nothing.
‘By the way,’ the officer said, ‘my name is Jack. Jack Fisher.’
What was she supposed to say now? He already knew her name. And ‘pleased to meet you’ didn’t seem exactly appropriate, under the circumstances.
‘You’ve been here before,’ he said.
Jenna didn’t look at him as she responded. ‘How did you know?’
‘I’ve read your file,’ he said. ‘I was kind of surprised . . .’
This time she actually glanced at him. ‘About what?’
‘You didn’t seem like a repeat offender. Actually, it didn’t seem like you committed much of an offence to begin with. They didn’t find any drugs on you, did they?’
Because I wasn’t doing any drugs, Jenna answered silently. But her response to the cop was simply a shrug.
‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘it sounded to me like your biggest crime was being at the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong people. Am I right?’
Again, she only shrugged.
‘I talked to your counsellor at school, that Mr Gonzalez,’ the cop remarked. ‘He said you’ve been doing pretty well at Meadowbrook since you started there.’
This time she didn’t even bother to shrug.
‘So what happened?’ he asked. ‘Why did you have that knife?’
Jenna couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘What do you want me to say, that I was framed?’ she asked. ‘That someone set me up? Isn’t that what all the criminals say?’
Jack Fisher didn’t blink. ‘Sometimes it’s true.’
It wasn’t w
hat she’d expected to hear from him, and for a moment, she was tempted to say more. But what if she came right out and accused Amanda Beeson? What good would that do? Amanda, who came from a ‘good’ family, who was one of the most popular girls at school, versus Jenna Kelley, who lived in a public housing estate, with no father, a recovering-alcoholic mother – a girl with a ‘file’. Who’d come out on top?
But even though Amanda was superficial and selfish and full of herself, it was hard to believe that she could be this downright evil. Then again, if she was spying on their class and working with serious bad guys, it made sense.
Still, it had come as a complete shock, that scene in Jackson’s office. Her mother . . . she’d been so upset. Would this incident make her start drinking again?
She could feel tears forming in her eyes. She needed to brush them away, but she didn’t want to call attention to herself.
But Jack Fisher was watching her. ‘Are you feeling sorry about something?’ he asked softly.
Jenna turned to him and spoke fiercely. ‘I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.’ She clenched her fists. If there was anything worse than a regular cop, it was a cop who pretended to care.
A voice from the other end of the lobby called out, ‘Jenna Kelley?’ Jenna rose.
‘Would you like me to come with you?’ the cop asked.
Jenna shook her head. ‘I know the routine.’ She turned her back on Jack Fisher, but he touched her shoulder.
‘I’m the police liaison for Harmony House,’ he told her. ‘So I’ll be seeing you.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to reply, ‘Not if I see you first,’ but all she managed was, ‘Whatever.’ And she took off for the registration ordeal.
Entering the office, she saw that prissy white-haired Ms Landers was still the so-called director, sitting behind a desk. The woman gave her a sad smile.
‘I wish I could say it’s nice to see you again, Jenna.’
Jenna slumped into the seat facing her. She knew what was coming next – the ‘welcome to Harmony House’ speech, which was supposed to assure you that this wasn’t a prison; to consider your stay here as an opportunity to search your heart and soul; to come to an understanding of why you’re here; to exorcise bad habits; to explore other ways of expressing yourself; blah, blah, blah. It was all crap, of course. The prisoners were called ‘residents,’ not inmates, and there were ‘resident assistants’ instead of wardens, but there were bars on the windows and guards stationed at the doors. They called Harmony House a rehabilitation centre, but it was no better than a prison.
After the speech came the rules, and those hadn’t changed either. The demerit system – any infraction of the rules would result in demerits, issued by the resident assistants. The accumulation of demerits would result in the loss of privileges.
Girls were confined to one side of the building, boys to the other, and the only interaction would talk place at mealtimes or in the TV lounge or at scheduled ‘activities’. Jenna recalled a compulsory ‘disco night’ and shuddered. No phone calls or visitors the first forty-eight hours, which was fine with Jenna – she wasn’t feeling very sociable.
When the director finally finished her speech, Jenna thought she’d be released to go to her room, but she’d forgotten another Harmony House ritual.
‘Now, you’ll see Doctor Paley for your intake interview,’ Landers informed her.
There hadn’t been a ‘Dr Paley’ the last time she was here. It had been a Dr Colby then. But now that she’d been reminded of it, Jenna knew what was coming.
Dr Paley was a smiling, plump, bald man in a white coat.
‘Hello, Jenna,’ he said jovially. Jenna grunted in return. Dr Paley didn’t seem dismayed – she figured he probably never got much more than a grunt from the young people he dealt with here.
With a nurse by his side, he listened to Jenna’s heart, took her pulse and blood pressure, looked in her ears and down her throat – all the usual stuff. Everything must have checked out OK, because he kept smiling.
When he finished, he told the nurse that she could leave, and invited Jenna to take a seat across from him at his desk.
‘Let’s have a little chat,’ he said, opening a folder, which Jenna presumed was her file. Jenna didn’t bother to stifle her groan. The last time she’d been here the doctor had only been interested in her physical state. This was something new.
‘You’re a shrink,’ she muttered.
His perpetual smile broadened. ‘Well, I’m a medical doctor who specializes in mental as well as physical health. I provide therapy for the residents here.’
‘There’s nothing mentally wrong with me,’ Jenna declared. ‘I’m not crazy.’
‘You don’t have to be crazy to benefit from therapy,’ the doctor said. ‘You’ve been sent here, to Harmony House, which indicates that you have some problems that need to be examined and resolved. I believe the best way to deal with problems like yours is to talk about them.’
Yeah, like you have any idea what my real problems are, Jenna thought bitterly.
The questions started.
‘How’s life at home, Jenna?’
‘Fine.’
‘I see that your mother’s been through a rehabilitation programme. How do you feel about that?’
‘Fine.’
‘And I see you started a new school recently. How is that going for you?’
‘Fine.’
‘Have you made friends there?’
‘Fine . . . I mean, yes.’
He turned a page in her file. ‘I see you’re taking geometry, English, geography . . .’ he paused. ‘What’s this “gifted” class?’
Jenna sat up straighter. ‘It’s just this little special class for kids who are . . . gifted.’
‘Gifted in what way?’
Jenna tried not to squirm. ‘Different ways.’
‘What’s your gift? Are you a computer genius? Do you play a musical instrument?’
‘No. It’s not that kind of a gift.’ She knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with that, so she tried to remember what she’d once heard Tracey tell someone. ‘Actually, I don’t know why they call it “gifted”. Each student has something – something sort of unusual going on. Like one guy, he’s in a wheelchair. And there’s another guy who used to be a big athlete, but he had an accident and he can’t play sports any more.’
The doctor nodded. ‘And what’s unusual about you?’
‘I’m a juvenile delinquent.’
‘I see . . .’ He eyed Jenna keenly. He wasn’t smiling now. ‘I’d like to hear more about this class.’
Jenna shifted in her chair. ‘I’m kind of tired.’
The smile returned. ‘Of course – you should go to your room and get settled. We’ll talk another time.’
Finally, she was released. When she left the doctor’s office, a woman with a tag identifying her as a ‘resident assistant’ escorted her to her room on the second floor.
‘You’re lucky,’ the woman told her. ‘We’re not completely booked right now so you don’t have a roommate.’
That was a major relief. The last time Jenna had been here, she’d been stuck in a room with a twelve-year-old shoplifter who cried incessantly. Jenna thought she was incredibly stupid – what good would crying do in a place like this? If you were stuck here, you just had to grit your teeth and get through it. She’d tried to be a good role model for the girl, acting tough and invulnerable, but the girl never seemed to pick up on Jenna’s example. At least this time she wouldn’t have to put up with anyone’s tears.
The room looked just like the room she’d had the last time. Twin beds, a white dresser, two desks. The only difference was the picture on the wall. In the last room, she’d had a cutesy picture of puppies. This time, she had kittens.
She threw herself on one of the beds and stared up at the ceiling. Now what? She had no computer, no TV, no music . . . She remembered that there was a little library downstairs, by the dining hall. She could go and
check out a book.
But there was no time for that now. A bell rang, signalling dinner time. Jenna had no appetite, but she knew she had to show up for the meal. It was one of the rules. She still didn’t know how long she’d have to stay here, but she had no intention of extending the time by breaking any of the rules.
In the dining hall, she picked up her tray and went to an empty table. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay empty. A girl who looked a little younger than she was joined her.
‘Can I sit here?’
Jenna shrugged. Her shoulders were definitely getting a workout today.
The girl sat down. ‘I haven’t seen you around before,’ she said. ‘Is this your first day here?’
Jenna nodded.
‘It’s not so bad,’ the girl said. ‘I mean, I was really scared at first. Some of the kids are mean, you know? Like, they’ve done violent things. All I did was break into a car with some friends and take it for a ride. We didn’t hurt anyone.’
Jenna gritted her teeth. Oh no, this one was a talker. She had to get rid of her.
‘What did you do?’ the girl asked.
‘They found a knife in my locker at school,’ Jenna said.
‘A penknife?’
Jenna shook her head. ‘No, a great big butcher’s knife.’
‘What were you going to do with it?’
Jenna met her eyes. ‘Cut up some people who were getting on my nerves.’ While she spoke, she fingered the cutlery on the table. The ‘knife’ was a plastic thing, and couldn’t do any damage, but the girl got the hint.
Alone again, Jenna pushed the food around the plate and kept an eye on the clock. In twenty minutes she’d be allowed to leave. She set her expression in a scowl that she hoped would keep all potential tablemates away.
A guy ambled towards her. With his zits and his sandy hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looked young, but not young enough to be one of the inmates. When he got closer, she saw that he had on one of those ‘resident assistant’ tags.
‘You Jenna Kelley?’ he asked.
She deepened her scowl. ‘Who wants to know?’
He smirked. ‘Peter Blake, resident assistant.’ He indicated his badge. ‘Can’t you read?’
