"Well, at least it's an upscale one," Tracey said. "There are DVDs, an Xbox, games. ." She was still extolling the virtues of their jail as Emily followed her out of the bedroom.
Emily wasn't fooled by Tracey's cheery tone. This was a Tracey thing to do-take charge and try to keep their spirits up. Clearly this wasn't working for Martin. Entering what appeared to be a dining room, they found him slumped in his seat, eyeing his plate of food mournfully.
"I like my eggs sunny-side up," he whined.
"Shut up and eat," Tracey ordered him. "Scrambled eggs are just as good. And look at that nice crispy bacon."
Carter ate steadily, but the expression on his face-or lack of expression-gave no indication of whether or not he was enjoying the food. Sarah looked exactly like Tracey had described her-just plain scared.
Remembering the drink in the car, Emily eyed the food warily. But Tracey had said it was okay, and there was Carter, not showing any side effects from eating it. Along with the eggs and bacon, there was toast and orange juice that looked freshly squeezed. Emily didn't think she'd be able to eat, but she surprised herself.
Maybe it was because the place just didn't seem scary at all. Except for the lack of windows, they could have been in any normal, ordinary house. They sat around a big table on comfortable, matching chairs. The plates were decorated with a floral pattern, similar to the dinnerware Emily knew at home. There were real forks, knives, and spoons, not plastic ones.
Surreptitiously Emily touched the edge of the knife lightly. No, it wasn't sharp enough to cut anything tougher than eggs. Not that she'd ever have the guts to stab a human being.
From what Emily remembered from the night before, they hadn't behaved like serious bad guys. The woman wasn't friendly, but she hadn't been nasty, and the man was almost nice.
She was pretty sure it was the same man who entered the dining room at that moment. He was thin, slightly balding, with a neatly trimmed short beard and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. As he approached the table, everyone froze and looked at him.
He placed a stack of napkins on the table. "Do you need anything?" he asked the group in general. "I suppose you're too young for coffee."
He wasn't frightening at all. In fact, as he gazed around the table, he looked a little uncomfortable, almost nervous.
No one said anything. "I can make more toast if you want it," he offered. When none of them asked for any, he left the room looking relieved.
As she continued eating, Emily noticed a tear trickling down Sarah's face. Tracey must have noticed it, too. Sitting next to Sarah, she leaned over and put an arm around her shoulders.
"It's going to be okay," she said soothingly.
Sarah flinched and shrugged off Tracey's arm. "Get off."
Emily eyed her curiously. She didn't know Sarah well at all, but she was always nice in class, never rude. Clearly the situation was affecting her. She just hoped that meant Sarah would use her gift if it became absolutely necessary.
They were all finishing their breakfast now. Again Tracey took charge.
"Who wants to go into the living room and play Grand Theft Auto?" she asked brightly.
No one jumped at the opportunity, and it didn't matter anyway, because at that moment the hostage-takers or kidnappers or whatever they were all entered the dining room. There was the balding guy and another guy with a lot of curly brown hair who was shorter and fat. While the skinny guy still looked nervous, the shorter one was grinning. They weren't young but they weren't old. Emily guessed they were around her mother's age.
It was the woman who really grabbed her attention. For one thing, she was very pretty, sort of glamorous looking. Emily estimated her age at around thirty, but she wore a lot of makeup so it was hard to tell. She wore fashionable tight jeans with boots and a polka-dot shirt. Her long black hair gleamed with midnight-blue highlights, and she wore hoop earrings that looked like real gold.
Her eyes were blue, but a very different shade of blue than the streaks in her hair. They were so pale they were practically transparent.
What was really amazing was her expression-or, more accurately, her lack of expression. Her perfectly sculpted features were completely blank. For a second, her lips stretched and turned up slightly at the ends, but never in a million years would Emily have called that a smile. If anything, it made her shiver.
"Welcome," she said, although there was nothing welcoming about her flat voice. "I hope you're all comfortable. My name is Clare." She indicated the chubby guy. "This is Howard, and the man on my other side is George."
George looked at the ground and murmured, "Hello." Howard beamed at them. "Hi, guys!"
Now she was positive George was the man who'd been in the back seat with her. But she wasn't sure about the woman. The voice sounded familiar, and she could be wearing a wig. Or last night's blond hair was a wig. Or the red hair Tracey had seen. . Oh, why was she thinking about hair at a time like this?
Clare continued. "I know this must be strange to you, and you have to be wondering what's going on. Well, now that you're all here, we can explain."
Emily looked at Tracey and knew she had to be thinking the same thing. If the point had been to kidnap all the gifted students, then they weren't all here.
The woman might have been a mind reader. "We're not bringing in all your classmates, by the way. You're the ones we need now."
Tracey spoke up. "Why?"
"For your gifts, of course." The odd lip twitch which must have been her version of a smile appeared briefly again. "You're all exceptional young people with very special talents. Tracey, you can become invisible. Martin, you're capable of great strength. Emily, you have the ability to see the future, and Sarah. . Sarah, you have the greatest gift of all. You can control people."
Emily shuddered. She sounded so matter-of-fact, she could have been talking about who excelled at math and who could play the piano. Maybe this was why she seemed scarier than the men. There was something unreal about her.
As scared as she was, Emily had to say something, and she said the first thing that came to mind.
"What about Carter? He doesn't have a gift."
Clare didn't seem surprised, and she only glanced at Carter, almost as if he was insignificant. "That doesn't matter. We've got the people we need."
Again, Emily was amazed at her own daring. "The people you need for what?"
The pale blue eyes rested on her. "You're going to help us rob a bank."
Chapter Seven
THIS TURNED OUT TO be all the information they were going to get for the moment. The group was dismissed, with Clare's promise that they'd learn more at lunchtime. Emily followed the others into what they called the living room.
Tracey hadn't been exaggerating when she described the amusements available in their prison. The room was like a massive media center, with a large flat-screen TV, video game equipment, computers, and iPods with headsets for anyone who wanted to listen to music. A bookcase held books (all the latest teen series), DVDs, video games, board games. . everything and anything remotely entertaining to meet everyone's taste.
Sarah immediately curled up on a plush pillow chair with an iPod and earphones, which she clamped to her head, shutting everyone else out. Martin went over to the bookcase and studied the video game titles.
Emily was vaguely disappointed. Robbing a bank--it seemed so … so ordinary. It was a felony, of course, but she'd been expecting something bigger.
People didn't normally try to use her gift, which was a good thing. She hated the thought of someone trying to manipulate her. Tracey had asked her for a weather prediction once, when her family was planning a beach vacation. That wasn't a big deal. But once a crazy student teacher had demanded that she predict the week's winning lottery number. That had been seriously creepy. She'd refused to do it, but the teacher had hypnotized her and tried to force the prediction out of her.