Here Today, Gone Tomorrow Page 2

  "I have no intention of even trying," Emily assured her. She knew Jenna didn't mean to insult her, but Emily couldn't help feeling a twinge of irritation. She got up before her feelings could show on her face. "I'm going to get some water."

  Beside the water fountain was a row of trash cans where students emptied their trays. Emily saw Sarah Miller, another of her classmates, poking around the contents of one of them.

  "What are you doing?" Emily asked her.

  Sarah looked up. Her heart-shaped face was utterly woebegone.

  "I lost my ring," she wailed.

  Emily winced. Being someone who often lost or misplaced things, she could totally empathize. "Did you take it off?"

  "I don't think so. I leave it on all the time, even when I wash my hands. It must have fallen off, but I don't know where or when. I just noticed that it

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  wasn't on my finger." She touched the ring finger on her right hand as she spoke. Emily stared at it. If she concentrated very hard, she might get a vision. Sometimes this worked, sometimes it didn't.

  She was in luck--her vision began to blur and her eyes glazed over. An image began to emerge . . . "You'll find it."

  Since Sarah was in the gifted class, too, she knew about Emily's ability, but unlike Jenna, she actually had some respect for it. Her eyes lit up. "Really? Where?"

  "It's in your coat pocket."

  Sarah's brow furrowed. "You know, that's possible. I wore a coat today, and I forgot my gloves so I kept my hands in the pockets. It could have come off there."

  Emily nodded. "It was a pretty clear vision. It was in the bottom of a coat pocket."

  Sarah was getting excited. "So I could find it now if I go and look."

  Emily hesitated. This was the weakest area of her gift--the question of "when." She might see an event, like Terri Boyd falling off the balance beam,

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  but she might not be sure when it would happen. But in this particular case . . .

  "If that's where it fell off, it must be there now," she said decisively.

  Sarah looked at the clock on the wall. "The coat's in my locker. If I hurry, I have time to look before class. Thanks, Emily!"

  Emily beamed as she watched Sarah run out of the cafeteria. But her smile faded as she noticed the girls at a nearby table staring at her. She really had to learn to think before she spoke. Britney Teller and Sophie Greene were gaping at her, with open mouths and wide eyes. Amanda Beeson, Emily's gifted classmate, was with them, but her expression was very different. She was glaring at Emily, with "urge to kill" written all over her face.

  Britney spoke first. "Emily, can you see things? Like a psychic?"

  Emily didn't have to respond--Amanda took care of that for her.

  "Yeah, sure, Emily's a gypsy fortuneteller," she declared. "Show us your crystal ball, Emily." And just in case anyone didn't hear the sarcasm in her

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  voice, she started giggling in an especially mean way, something she could do very well, in keeping with her reputation as one of Meadowbrook's top mean girls.

  Immediately Britney and Sophie joined in, doing their best imitation of Amanda's laugh. Emily could feel her own face redden. She had about as much control of her complexion as she had over her predictions.

  She made her way back to her own table, where Jenna and Tracey gazed at her sympathetically. Obviously they'd heard everything.

  "In all fairness," Tracey said, "Amanda did the right thing, covering for you like that."

  "I know," Emily replied glumly. "But did she have to do it so loudly?"

  "You can't really blame her," Jenna said. " We know she's not really that nasty, but she has to work at maintaining her reputation if she wants to keep her status with those kids she hangs out with."

  This was all true, but Emily was still feeling embarrassed. She looked forward to the gifted class, where Sarah's gratitude might cheer her up.

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  But when she entered room 209, she could see at a glance that Sarah wasn't any happier than she'd been when Emily first saw her in the cafeteria. Her disconsolate classmate had her elbows on her desk and her chin in her hands, and there was no ring on her finger.

  She looked up as Emily approached. "I checked all my pockets. It wasn't there." Her tone wasn't accusing--Sarah was too nice for that--but Emily tried to defend herself.

  "Maybe it's in the pocket of another coat," she offered, but without much conviction.

  Sarah shook her head. "I haven't worn any other coat recently."

  "I'm sorry," Emily said.

  Sarah gave her a sad smile, as if to assure her she didn't blame Emily, but Emily felt guilty anyway. She took her seat and mentally checked her score for the day. She'd known that Jenna would forget her book (even though Jenna refused to consider it a prediction), so she gave herself a point for that. But Sarah's missing ring put her back at zero. What other premonitions had she had? There was her mother's

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  hair, but she wouldn't know the answer to that one till she got home.

  She'd predicted something else . . . Of course! Carter Street. According to her vision, he shouldn't be in class today. It was almost time for the bell, and she surveyed the room. Martin, Jenna, and Amanda were in their seats ... Charles rolled in, followed by Tracey, and at the last minute, Ken hurried into the room.

  The bell went off. As it rang, Madame entered and closed the door. Emily felt a rush of satisfaction--Carter was missing!

  Madame went to her desk and looked over the room. "Where's Carter? Has anyone seen him?"

  Nobody had. Madame's brow furrowed. "I can't remember Carter ever missing a class." She looked at a piece of paper on her desk. "He's not on the approved absentee list."

  "Maybe he's cutting class," Martin ventured.

  Madame wouldn't even consider that, and Emily understood why. Carter was like a robot--he did what he was supposed to do and what he was told to do. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't speak, his face showed no expressions, and according to Jenna,

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  he had no thoughts--yet somehow he functioned, physically at least, like a regular person.

  No one knew who he really was or where he came from--he'd been found a year earlier on Carter Street, and that was the name he'd been given. So far, he hadn't exhibited any particular gift, and Emily didn't know why he was in their gifted class. Maybe it was because he was just different, like the rest of them.

  She could tell that Madame was concerned, and her initial joy at being correct in her premonition evaporated. Carter's absence wasn't a good thing, and Emily was ashamed for taking pleasure from it.

  It was warm in the classroom, and Madame started to take off her suit jacket.

  "Oh, I almost forgot." She put a hand in her pocket. "Does this belong to anyone?"

  "My ring!" Sarah cried out. She went to the desk to take it. "Oh, thank you, Madame. Where did you find it?"

  "On the floor," the teacher replied. "It must have slipped off your finger and rolled away. You might

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  want to have it made smaller so it won't be loose, Sarah."

  "I will," Sarah said, and returned to her desk. She didn't look at Emily as she passed her, but Emily sank down in her seat anyway. So the ring had been found--she'd been right about that. But not in Sarah's pocket.

  But wait ... what had she envisioned, exactly? Had she actually seen Sarah put her hand in her pocket? All she'd seen in the vision was the ring in a pocket. And that was where it had been. It just wasn't in the pocket she'd assumed it would be in. So in a way, she'd been right. She just hadn't understood her own premonition.

  But that didn't make her feel much better. She had visions--so what? She didn't know what they meant. What was the good of having a gift if you couldn't even understand it?

  She didn't have any more visions at school that day, and her mood didn't improve. This wasn't helped by the fact that she went home with an unusually large amount of homework. />
  At least the homework required all her attention,

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  and she didn't think about her mother and her hair appointment. But when she heard the door open and her mother's call of "I'm home," the memory of her premonition came back. She hurried out to the living room.

  Her mother was just taking off her coat. "Hi, honey. How was your day?"

  When Emily didn't respond right away, her mother repeated her question. "Em? Did you have a nice day?"

  "Oh, yeah, it was okay. Sorry, I was looking at your hair."

  Her mother patted the nicely trimmed soft curls. "Do you like it?"

  Emily nodded. "Tony did a nice job."

  "Actually, Tony was called away on a family emergency, so I had Lauren this time. What shall we do about dinner?" She breezed past Emily and went into the kitchen.

  Emily couldn't think about dinner--she was too busy pondering the implications of another messed-up premonition. Was it just because Tony hadn't been there and another hairdresser had done the job?

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  Would her mother's next appointment with Tony be a disaster? Or was it just a false prediction?

  It was all too depressing. This talent she had--it could be so precious, so valuable. So many people would love to have her gift, and they could do wonderful things with it.

  But in her own clumsy hands--no, in her own clumsy brain--it was worthless.

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  Chapter Two

  EMILY COULD FEEL HER mother's worried eyes on her as they sat across from each other at the table.

  "Emily? Are you feeling all right? You're not eating."

  She was right. And on the plate in front of her was one of her absolute favorites--macaroni and cheese.

  "I'm not very hungry," she replied, but she stuck her fork into the cheesy pasta anyway.

  Her mother still looked concerned. She really cared, Emily knew that, and for a mother, she was usually pretty understanding. About most things, at least.

  "Mom," Emily began, and then she lost her nerve. Her mother sighed.

  "You are having those visions again, aren't you." It

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  was a statement, not a question, but Emily answered anyway. She wanted so desperately to talk about it. "Sort of."

  "Do you talk about this in your ... your class? Isn't your teacher supposed to help you .. . deal with your problem?"

  That was how her mother saw her gift--as a problem. When Emily was asked to join the class, Madame had told her mother that its purpose was to help the students channel and control their talents. But somehow her mother had convinced herself that the purpose of it was to help the students get rid of their delusions.

  "We talk about our gifts" Emily said, emphasizing the last word. "We talk about how to develop them and make the most of them."

  As usual, her mother didn't hear her. "Em, honey ... if you're not getting any help from that Madame person, maybe you should go back to see Dr. Mackle."

  Emily shuddered. Her mother had dragged her to the psychologist two years ago. He'd treated

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  her like a six-year-old with an imaginary friend and said her visions were simply the product of an overactive, creative imagination. No, Dr. Mackle couldn't help her.

  She gave up. "I'm fine, Mom. I've just got a lot of homework and I'm a little stressed out."

  That was something her mother could understand. "Well, you go ahead and get to work," she said briskly. "I'll take care of the dishes."

  "I'll clear the table," Emily offered. While she was collecting the dishes, the phone rang. Her mother got to it first.

  "Hello? Hi, Tracey. Yes, she's here, but she's got a lot of homework so don't talk too long. Oh really? Okay, here she is." She handed the cordless phone to Emily. "Tracey's having some problems with the homework and she wants to talk to you about it."

  This couldn't be true--Madame hadn't given them any homework, and she and Tracey didn't have any other classes together. Emily took the phone and played along.

  "Hi, I'm taking the phone to my room so I can

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  look at the assignment." That was for her mother's benefit. Once in her own room, she closed the door and fell down on her bed with the phone. "Hi, what's up?"

  "Not much. Wait a sec, I gotta yell at the clones. Hey, you guys, out of my room! Now!"

  Emily could picture Tracey's identical little sisters, the infamous Devon Seven, surrounding her and begging for stories. As an only child, Emily used to envy Tracey. But after spending some time in Tracey's house, she now understood one of the reasons why Tracey was so intent on learning to disappear at will--so she could really and truly hide from them sometimes.

  "Hi, I'm back. I just called to find out how you're doing. You seemed really down today."

  Emily wasn't surprised that Tracey had been so aware of her feelings. Tracey was practically an authority on being depressed, having spent around five years in that condition.

  "I'm confused," Emily confessed. "My visions are so--so messy. Sometimes I wonder if I really have a gift at all."

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  "Of course you do," Tracey assured her. "Think of all the times you've told me what's going to happen! Remember when you asked me if I'd ever had measles?"

  Emily recalled the strange premonition she'd had a few months earlier. She kept envisioning Tracey and thinking "measles." "Yeah, I remember."

  "Well, why did you ask me that? Because you knew the clones were going to come down with measles and you were worried that I might catch it."

  "But why didn't I just see your sisters with measles in my vision? It's like, every time I get a premonition, it's not clear--it's all twisted and mixed-up."

  "Maybe because the future is never all that clear. I mean, it can always change, can't it?"

  "I guess," Emily replied, but she wasn't so sure about that. If the future could change, then how could she see it before it happened? Like today . . . "I had a vision this morning that Carter wouldn't be in class today."

  "That must have been a clear vision," Tracey said. "And it was accurate."

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  There was a rap on her door. "Em, don't stay on the phone too long. You've got homework."

  "I gotta go," Emily told Tracey. "Thanks for calling."

  "Want to make a quick prediction before we hang up?" Tracey asked.

  "I can try," Emily said. "Ask me a question."

  "Um . . .Will Carter be back in class tomorrow?"

  Emily half-closed her eyes, so that her eyesight was blurred, and waited to see if any kind of image formed. She was pleased when a vision of the class began to form.

  "No ... he won't be there. Wait--someone else is missing, too."

  "Who?"

  Emily looked over the faces in the fuzzy image. "It's you! Are you feeling okay? Maybe you're going to be sick."

  "I feel fine," Tracey assured her. "Maybe I'll be invisible."

  "Are you going to try to disappear tomorrow?" "I don't know. Maybe. I practice every day, but usually at home in my room."

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  "Well, don't do it just so I'll think my prediction was accurate."

  Tracey laughed. "See you tomorrow."

  When she saw Tracey at their usual table in the cafeteria the next day, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Of course she was glad Tracey wasn't sick, and that she hadn't done a disappearing act just to make Emily feel better about herself (although that was the kind of thing Tracey would do). But her presence was more evidence that Emily's predictions were half-baked at best.

  Still, she forced a smile as she carried her lunch to the table. "I'm glad to see you," she assured Tracey.

  Tracey sighed. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry about what?" Jenna appeared at the table, carrying a lunch tray.

  "Oh, nothing," Tracey said quickly. "Hey, you bought your lunch!"

  Emily had noticed that, too. Jenna always brought a sandwich from home. With her mother's problems, the family had lived on p
ublic assistance, and Jenna was always short of cash.

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  Jenna set the tray on the table. "Yeah, how about that? My mother got a job!"

  "Wow, that's great!" Tracey exclaimed.

  "Doing what?" Emily asked.

  "She's going to be a secretary at the hospital! That's what she used to be, a secretary, and while she was in rehab, she told one of the nurses. And it turned out she remembers all her computer skills." She turned to Emily. "Guess you didn't see that coming, did you?"

  Emily's smile faded. "No. I haven't been having many successful premonitions lately."

  "Hey, it's okay," Jenna said, taking her seat. "I wouldn't have believed you if you'd predicted it." She looked beyond them and grimaced. "Oh damn. What do they want?"

  Emily turned to see three of Amanda's friends sauntering toward them. They were whispering and smirking, and she steeled herself for an insult.

  Nina, the nastiest one, spoke. "Emily, I'm trying out for cheerleading today. Could you tell me if I'm going to make the squad?"

  Emily sighed. "No."

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  "No, you can't tell me, or no, I'm not going to make the squad?"

  Britney and Sophie started giggling furiously.

  Emily considered a snappy retort, something like "I won't waste my gift on something stupid like cheerleading," but of course she couldn't let them know she really could see into the future.

  Tracey saved her. "She doesn't know and she doesn't care, so leave her alone."

  Nina faked a look of wide-eyed innocence. "But I thought Emily could tell the future."

  Jenna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Emily doesn't even know what day it will be tomorrow."

  To her horror, Emily felt her eyes well up. She knew Jenna was just trying to convince the girls it was all a joke, that the idea of Emily being able to predict the future was ridiculous. But in a way, what Jenna said was almost true, and that was what hurt. She managed to keep her expression frozen until the girls walked away, and then a tear escaped.

  Tracey saw it. "Oh, Emily, you can't care what those girls think."

  "I don't," Emily said fiercely, staring at Jenna.

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  "Hey, I was just trying to help out," Jenna protested.

  "I know," Tracey said. "But Emily's feeling pretty sensitive about her gift these days."