Jenna was taken aback by Ken's reaction. Then she realized that he wasn't responding to her-his eyes had strayed back to the basketball court. A boy, one of the guys Ken knew, stood at one end of the court and held a ball. He was looking at the hoop at the other end of the court.
"I can't believe Mike's going to try that," Ken said. "Why doesn't he toss it to another player? There's no way he can make a basket from that distance."
Looking at Mike's position on the court, Jenna had to agree. She knew nothing about basketball, but she couldn't imagine any normal person being able to throw a ball that far and actually meet a target. Then she realized that something far from normal was going on.
"Ken, look!" She pointed at Charles, whose wheelchair was parked at the bottom of the opposite bleachers. He was staring at the basketball with an expression that was very familiar. And when the ball left the hands of the player, it flew the length of the court and fell right into the basket, so neatly that the net didn't even rustle.
A roar went up from the crowd. But even with all the noise, Jenna didn't miss the groan that came from Ken.
"I can't believe it!" He smacked the side of his head. "Charles is moving the ball for them!"
"Do you think the team knows he's doing it?" Jenna wondered.
"I doubt it," Ken said. "They don't know about his gift-nobody at school does, except for us. "Then he frowned. "But Mike was asking me about him earlier. He called Charles spooky."
Spooky. .The word ignited something deep in her memory. Back when she was hanging with the low-life types and staying out all night, they were always looking for shelters when the weather was bad.
She drew in her breath so sharply that Ken looked at her in alarm. "Are you okay?"
"I just remembered," she said. "I know where that house is."
Chapter Nine
EARLIER THAT SAME afternoon, Emily sat with Amanda-Sarah on a sofa facing the big flat-screen TV Amanda had chosen the DVD they were watching, a romantic comedy. It didn't matter to Emily, though, since she wasn't actually watching it. She was more interested in trying to drum up a vision.
More than ever before, she needed to see the future. She had to know what they were about to face so they could prepare themselves-to fight? To escape? How could she help them if she didn't know what was in store for them?
It was easy to zone out in front of the movie because she'd already seen it and hadn't really enjoyed the first time. Amanda was totally engrossed in it and wouldn't interrupt her. Martin was playing a video game-either saving or destroying the world-and the last time she'd looked, Tracey had been reading. She was in a decent environment for receiving visions.
And the visions came, one after another. The only problem was, they didn't make any sense to her. She saw Martin lifting the very sofa she was sitting on and leaning back to throw it across the room. She saw Tracey disappearing and reappearing, blinking on and off like a light on a Christmas tree. She saw Charles breaking down a door with his mind … Wait a minute. Charles? He wasn't even here! Maybe someday, somewhere, Charles might break down a door, but what did that have to do with their own immediate future? It wasn't like he'd break down this door to rescue them-Charles wouldn't lift a finger to help anyone but himself.
Frustrated, she shook her head violently in the hope that this might clear her mind. What was it Madame had said about her visions? She had to interpret, to look for clues that would give the visions meaning.
If Martin threw the sofa really hard, and if he threw it at the door, there was a good chance the sofa would break it down. Then they could get out. Even if only one of them made it through, that one person could get help for them all. But would Martin throw the sofa toward the door? She needed to conjure up the vision again and see exactly where the sofa would go. She could be standing by the door when Martin lifted the sofa, ready to escape and run for help. Or maybe Tracey should be there instead. She could disappear-and be much harder to catch if Clare and the others went after her as she ran away.
She looked over to where she'd last seen Tracey. They needed to talk about this and get a plan organized.
Tracey wasn't there.
Emily went over to Martin, who was still playing his Toxic Teen Avengers video game. "Where did Tracey go?"
Martin didn't take his eyes off the screen. "I don't know."
"Did you see her leave the room?" "No. Whoa, did you see that? We just destroyed France!"
"Congratulations," Emily murmured.
Martin turned to her. "Hey, you know what? It's not so bad here. My mother won't let me play violent games like this. The food's better here, too, and there's lots to do. And the people aren't mean."
"Not yet" Emily said. "I'm going to look for Tracey."
But Tracey wasn't in the bathroom or the bedroom. Had she gone invisible to do some snooping? Emily went back to the living room.
"Tracey?" she called softly.
To her relief, Tracey suddenly reappeared. "I was looking around," she began, and then stopped. From behind her, Emily could hear the sound of someone clapping. She turned to see Clare standing there.
At least, she thought it was Clare. This time, the woman had her hair in a short black bob, and she was wearing a sharp business suit. Only the pale blue eyes and the hard voice assured her that this was really the same woman. It was impossible to guess what she really looked like, Emily realized.
"Very good, Tracey," Clare said. "I'm pleased to see how well your gift works. I'd like to see demonstrations from all of you."
As soon as she left the room, Amanda-Sarah hurried over to Tracey and Jenna. "What am I going to do?" she asked in a panic.
A germ of a notion popped into Emily's head. "I've got an idea." She glanced at Martin to make sure he was still absorbed in his game. From the way he'd been talking earlier, she wasn't sure he should be included in any plans to foil the kidnappers.
They were called in for an afternoon snack a few minutes later and presented with a make-your-own-sandwich buffet.
"Wow, this is great," Martin enthused as he spread huge gobs of peanut butter on a slice of bread. "My mother never gives me peanut butter."
Emily wasn't very hungry, but she forced herself to eat. She knew she had to keep up her energy levels.
Clare and the two men ate with them, so the girls were on edge. Fortunately, the adults seemed most interested in talking with Martin, and Martin was happy to answer their questions.
"Does your gift cause you problems at school, Martin?" Clare asked.
"Oh sure," Martin said. "People don't believe how strong I am. But if they mess with me, they're in for a big surprise. Once the captain of the wrestling team picked on me. He ended up out cold."
Emily remembered that. An ambulance had to be called, and the big guy was carried out of school on a stretcher.
"You must have gotten into some serious trouble," Howard commented.
Martin grinned and shook his head. "Nope. When the guy accused me of attacking him, nobody believed him!"
"So people don't know about your gift?" George asked.
"Some people know about it because they've seen me in action," Martin said. "But then later, they look at me and they think, No way he did so much damage. Once I hit someone so hard, he went out a window on the second floor. Luckily for him, he landed in a bush, or he could have had serious injuries. A couple other kids were witnesses. But when the teacher asked them about it, they said the boy fell."
"Because they were afraid of you?" Clare wanted to know.
"Probably," Martin said proudly.
Emily doubted that. It was more likely that the kids didn't believe their own eyes. Who would believe someone as babyish and whiny as Martin could have that kind of power?