On the next page, there were no pictures of Tracey at all.
Practically every picture in the rest of the album portrayed the septuplets-together, individually, sometimes with the parents. Occasionally there was a glimpse of Tracey, but her image was always half hidden or blurred.
From the kitchen came the sound of pots and pans clattering, and Amanda guessed that Mrs. Devon must have come home. A moment later, she heard the woman's voice.
"Lizzie! Could you help me with dinner?"
Lizzie left the room, and Amanda wondered if she should help, too. But Mrs. Devon hadn't called for her… Tracey?
This time Amanda was almost sure that the septuplet who had just spoken was the same one who had spoken to her that morning. "What?"
"Can you read us a story?"
Now seven little faces were looking at her expectantly. Amanda had to admit that they were pretty cute. But before she could respond to the request, she heard the front door open, and a man's voice called out, "I'm home!"
The Devon Seven jumped up and ran out of the room. Cries of "Daddy! Daddy!" filled the air. Slowly, Amanda got up and went into the hallway, where she could see what was happening in the living room.
"Here are my girls!" Mr. Devon sang out as he made silly efforts to gather all the children in his arms. "Hello, Sandie, Mandie, Randie, Kandie, Brandie, Tandie, and Vandie!" The septuplets were giggling like crazy as, one at a time, he lifted the girls up into the air. He didn't seem to see Tracey in the hallway, and he didn't ask for her either.
That was when Amanda knew whom Tracey sometimes hated. Her little sisters. Once they were born, Tracey was pushed aside and nobody paid any attention to her.
"Dinner's ready," Mrs. Devon called. Her husband and the Devon Seven took off in that direction.
Amanda followed, but she wondered as she went if there'd even be a place set for Tracey.
Chapter Seven
AMANDA WAS THE FIRST to arrive in the gifted class the next day, and she'd hurried there on purpose. This was probably the only
place at Meadowbrook where she would get any attention-positive attention, that is. In gym class, the girl with her face claimed to have seen a bug crawl out of Tracey's hair. Which hadn't been true, of course. But Amanda-Tracey hadn't been able to laugh or contradict her. It was strange-her other self was getting on her nerves! Why couldn't Amanda just ignore Tracey like everyone else?
But this was the least of her problems at the moment. She was still in the state of disbelief that she'd woken up to that morning. When she'd realized she was still Tracey Devon, a full 24 hours later, she'd been engulfed by panic. Was it possible that this was a permanent situation? She couldn't bear to even contemplate the notion. It just couldn't be--this couldn't happen to her. Somehow, she'd find a way out of this body.
Madame greeted her with a smile-the first smile that had been aimed in her direction all day. "Tracey, you're here two days in a row! That's great!"
Again, Amanda was puzzled by the enthusiastic response to her appearance. Was Tracey out that much? She remembered homeroom the day before, when roll had been taken. That teacher had acted surprised to find her there. None of her other teachers made a big deal about it-but then, none of the other teachers took attendance. Those teachers probably didn't even notice if Tracey was there or not.
Maybe Tracey was in the habit of just cutting this class, the gifted one. But why would she cut the one class where she got treated decently? Or, at least, noticed. Anyway, Amanda didn't think Tracey was the type to break rules. And where would she go?
Ken walked into the classroom, and Amanda gazed at him in a whole new light. He was still cute, he was still cool, but if she'd understood what he'd said in class the day before, Ken heard the voices of dead people. Or at least, he said he did. Whether dead people really talked to him or Ken just imagined he heard them, either way it gave Amanda the creeps.
The next to walk in-well, roll in, actually-was Charles. Charles, who seemed to be able to make things move just by looking at them. That could be a useful talent, Amanda thought. Sitting at the dinner table, you wouldn't have to ask anyone to pass the salt. All you'd have to do was look at the shaker. She wondered if he had to use the remote when he watched TV or if he could change the channels with his mind.
On the other hand, his "gift" was sort of scary. Yesterday, one of those flying books could have hit her right in the face. And what if she'd been sitting under a hanging lamp? Charles could have made it drop right down on her head. She made a mental note to avoid attracting his attention. She didn't really think it would be a problem-Tracey seemed to be very skilled at avoiding attention. Maybe that was her gift.
Emily and Sarah were the next to enter the room. Amanda hadn't quite figured out what kind of special talents they had. All she'd really noticed the day before was that Emily said strange things and Sarah was totally unreadable. Martin was right behind her. All Amanda knew about him was that he could hurt people, but she didn't know how.
The little round-faced boy entered. Amanda knew nothing about him, not even his name. And finally came Jenna, who knew what people were thinking.
As Amanda glanced at Jenna, she saw that Jenna was staring directly at her, and there was the oddest expression on her face. Ohmigod, she's trying to read my mind! Amanda realized. Frantically, she tried to imagine what Tracey might think about in class. She would probably be depressed, thinking about all the people who had ignored her so far that day-her parents, the bus driver, kids at school. Or maybe she'd be thinking about the person who hadn't ignored her-the girl everyone thought was Amanda Beeson. It dawned on Amanda that she really deserved the title Queen of Mean…
Oh no, she was thinking like Amanda! Quickly, she turned her thoughts to Tracey's seven little sisters and tried to remember their names. Sandie, Mandie, Kandie… Blandie? No, that couldn't be right.
"Good afternoon, class," Madame said. "As you recall, yesterday we were discussing Ken's current problem. A man who believes he was murdered by his wife wants Ken to inform the police. Ken does not want to get involved, and he's right to feel that way. Why is he right?"
Martin's hand flew up, and he waved it wildly.
"Yes, Martin?"
"He's right because the police wouldn't believe him. No one believes any of us. When I tell people what I can do, they just laugh at me, so then I have to prove it to them. And everyone gets really mad at me."
Ken spoke. "Martin, maybe it's better if you don't tell them. Then they won't laugh, and you won't have to prove anything, and no one will get mad at you."
Madame smiled at Ken. "Very good advice, Ken. But Martin, you did answer my question. Ken is doing the right thing by not telling the police because he wouldn't be believed. You have to remember that ordinary people-people who are not gifted-don't believe in the kind of talents you have. What could happen if any of you tell people what you can do? Emily?"
There was no response.
"Emily!"
"Huh? I mean, excuse me, Madame, what did you ask me?"
Madame spoke sternly. "Emily, you must keep your mind here, in class."
"I'm sorry, Madame. It's just that, well, I keep seeing an earthquake, and I think maybe it's going to happen tomorrow, but I don't know where"
Madame shook her head. "Emily, you're supposed to try to control your visions, not elaborate on them."
"But if I know where the earthquake's going to happen, I could warn the people there so no one would get hurt."
Charles offered a comment. "They wouldn't listen to you. It's like Martin just said-they wouldn't believe you. They'd just think you were nuts."