He looked at the food without interest. ‘I’m really not hungry.’
‘Try to eat a little,’ she urged him.
Without any enthusiasm, and mainly just to get rid of this perky girl, he picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. The girl smiled with approval and left. He took another bite, and to his surprise, he managed to get both slices down. Moments later, an orderly came in with a basin. Ken suffered through a sponge bath, but at least he was allowed to brush his own teeth. A nurse appeared with some pills for him to take. The pain went away, but he stayed awake. And he actually began to feel almost human.
He must have looked almost human too, because when his parents arrived they seemed very relieved to see him. His mother began to prattle about the doctor’s report, how Ken could probably come home tomorrow or the next day, as soon as he learned how to manoeuvre some crutches, but his father was oddly silent. And even as his mother continued to prattle, Ken sensed something behind her determinedly cheerful expression.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
His parents looked at each other.
‘Is Jack in worse shape than me? Is he going to play tonight?’
His father took his hand. ‘Son. you have to be strong. We have something difficult to tell you.’
Ken had a terrible feeling he knew what they were about to say. That he’d never play soccer again. He steeled himself to deal with it.
‘What is it, Dad?’
‘Jack didn’t make it, Ken. He died.’
Ken hadn’t prepared himself for that.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried in front of his parents. Probably not since he was five or six. But he felt absolutely no shame in crying now. Jack was his best friend, they’d been buddies since they were little kids. And now he was gone.
His parents stayed with him and tried to comfort him. Then a nurse came in to give him another shot.
‘This will help you sleep,’ she said.
He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to think about Jack. He wanted to stay awake and ask questions. Why had Jack died and he’d survived? Was he to blame for the collision? But the medication was stronger than he was.
Much later, he opened his eyes to a room that was still dark. He could just make out the flowers and balloons that friends and family had sent. He was alone, and he was glad to be alone, because now he had a chance to think.
What happened? How did it happen? Had Jack suffered? And where was Jack now.
He hadn’t spoken out loud and he didn’t expect an answer, but he got one.
I’m here.
He didn’t see anyone, but he’d know that voice anywhere. ‘Jack?’
Yeah, it’s me.
Relief flooded over him. ‘So you’re not dead.’
Oh, I’m dead, all right. Bummer, huh?
So this was a dream. It had to be a dream. Ken didn’t believe in ghosts.
In case you’re wondering, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. You know how I never learned to fall right. I broke my neck. I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles.
‘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.