The game began, and it was a nightmare. Amanda had been half hoping that her own personality might override Tracey's natural meekness and physical limitations, but no such luck. Even when she tried her hardest to reach the ball, someone lunged in front of her. Other players pushed her aside like she was an annoying fly that had invaded the gym. Like she didn't belong there at all. A thought hit her: Tracey didn't belong anywhere! She didn't even exist for most people.
Except for you, she told herself grimly. You cared. And look where it got you!
A ball hitting her on the head brought her back to the game. Not that it did the team any good. It was her turn to serve-and Tracey's best was like Amanda's worst.
The ball hit the net, the game was over, and the team on the other side was cheering.
"Tracey, are you nuts?" Britney shrieked. "You lost the game, you idiot!"
"Now, now, it's a team sport-we don't blame individuals," Ms. Barnes murmured, but even she was looking at Amanda in despair.
At least Amanda wasn't teased back in the locker room. Her classmates seemed to be satisfied with simply shooting dirty looks at her every time they caught her eye. Or at least, that was how it felt. The only person who didn't look angry was Sarah Miller, but that was no comfort. Sarah was the kind of smiley girl who was always nice to everyone, so as far as Amanda was concerned, she didn't count.
Lunch was next on the schedule-Tracey had the same lunch period as Amanda. But walking into the cafeteria today was a whole new experience for her. Yesterday it was her kingdom; now she felt like she was walking into a war zone, with enemies at every table. It was scary.
With her head down, she went to the end of the food line. Waiting there, she couldn't resist taking a look at her own table. How strange-to see herself sitting there with Katie and all her friends, laughing and talking…
"Hey, are you going to move or what?" the boy behind her demanded.
It was becoming automatic to mumble "sorry," and she caught up with the line. Normally she would have bought herself only a yogurt and a salad, but the special actually looked good, and the only happiness she was going to get that day would come from eating. But when she reached the cashier, she realized that she'd never checked to see how much money Tracey carried.
Not enough. And so she had to endure more annoyed looks as she backed up and returned the lunch. She ended up with a candy bar and a bag of chips from the vending machine. She found a seat at an unoccupied table and started to eat. She'd never eaten a lunch alone before. Next time, she'd remember to bring a book or a magazine. But there won't be a next time, she assured herself. Surely by this time tomorrow she'd be herself again.
With nothing to do but eat her candy and chips, she opened Tracey's binder to see what the rest of the day was going to be like. For the next class, there was no subject like history or English listed-just a room number: 209.
It dawned on her that this could be Tracey's so-called gifted class. And for the first time since that horrible day had begun, she actually felt a little spark of curiosity.
What was that class all about, anyway? People called it "gifted," but there were other classes for brains at Meadowbrook, and they all had names like Advanced Placement English or Advanced Placement Math.
Maybe it was some kind of special-ed class. But no, Tracey was just a nerd, a loser, not someone who needed extra help with learning. So maybe that's what it was-a class for social misfits. In the back of her mind, though, Amanda knew that wasn't possible. While the other students would easily classify Tracey as a loser, it wasn't a category that Meadowbrook Middle School would ever acknowledge. Amanda had a feeling that all middle schools were like that. Teachers, principals, guidance counselors-they never knew what was really going on.
Chapter Three
IT WAS AN ORDINARY classroom, no different from most of the others in the building. There was a large map on one wall, bookshelves on another, rows of desks, and a larger desk at the front of the room, behind which sat a woman.
"Tracey! How nice to see you." Amanda thought it was an odd greeting from a teacher, especially with the emphasis she had put on the word see. Did this have something to do with being "seen and not heard"? Was Tracey actually noisy in this class? That was hard to believe.
Since Amanda had no idea what the teacher's name was, she responded with, "Nice to see you, too," and then turned to see who else was there. The bell hadn't rung yet, and there were only two other students seated in the room. One was a small, round-faced boy with unfashionably short hair and a solemn expression. He looked very young-a sixth grader maybe? In any case, she'd never seen him before.
But the other face was definitely familiar. It was funny, in a way, because she'd been thinking about her the other day--Jenna Kelley. Ordinarily, Amanda wouldn't know the names of seventh graders, but Jenna was famous--or maybe infamous was the right word. And it wasn't just because she always wore black and rimmed her eyes with kohl.
There were stories about Jenna Kelley, and they weren't just rumors. She'd transferred to Meadowbrook just after the beginning of the school year, and not from another middle school, but from some sort of jail for juvenile delinquents. Amanda had no idea why Jenna had been in that place, but she had to believe that it had been for something bigger than shoplifting. Jenna was scary looking, like someone who carried a switchblade and wouldn't mind cutting the face of anyone who annoyed her. What was impossible to believe was the notion that Jenna might be gifted, unless gifted was a polite term for something else. Like criminally insane?
But that notion vanished with the next arrival.
"Ken!" Amanda exclaimed.
Ken Preston looked at her blankly. "Yeah?"
Then she remembered that Ken wasn't responding to Amanda Beeson, the girl he'd pecked under the water at Sophie's pool party last spring. He was addressing Tracey Devon, who would never have had the nerve to speak to a hot guy like him, and he was now looking quizzically at Amanda-Tracey, wondering what she wanted.
"Uh, nothing," Amanda mumbled. "Sorry." For once, she uttered that word intentionally. She had just decided that in this class she actually needed to behave like Tracey. The last thing in the world she wanted was for anyone here-meaning Ken-to find out who she really was. If Ken knew what was going on, she had an awful feeling that he would never be able to look at her again without seeing Tracey's face.
"Hello, Ken," the teacher said as he ambled to a seat.
"Hi, Madame," Ken replied.
Madame. That was interesting, Amanda thought. Maybe she was a French teacher at Meadowbrook.
That would explain why Amanda had never seen her before.
The next person to join the class was another surprise-Sarah Miller, the super-sweet girl who was in her gym class. Why was she here? Because she was too good to be true? Was that a gift?
But Amanda was more intrigued by the fact that Ken Preston, too cute and so not a criminal or a smiley type, was here. He was super popular, and he'd been the star of the school soccer team till he had that awful accident the previous month. And even though he wasn't on the team anymore, he was still considered one of the coolest guys at Meadowbrook. So why was he in this class? She didn't think being cool counted as being gifted. If that had been the case, she, the real Amanda, would have been there.