No Working Title

Chapter 1

I held a piece of bread in my hands, watching it toast.  The butter melted on my fingers.  Staring out the window, I gripped the slice for a little too long.  It started to burn.  I dropped it on a plate.  The rain outside tapped on the window, like someone wanted in.  It seemed almost dark, storm clouds choking the sky.  Somebody might have thrown a gray sheet over the sun.
         I groggily tore a bite out of the toast and started on a glass of orange juice, wondering what shade the rings under my eyes were today.  The house was silent but for the drone of the countertop TV in the corner – Dad had already left for work.  I leaned back in my chair, thinking.  I had always wondered why he had to leave so early.  The engine of the Cadillac would roar to life as early as 3:30 in the morning.  These days, I just slept through it.  Many times I had asked him what his job was, and many times he had told me “it’s complicated, Jena.” 
         Usually I would drop it then, try to formulate my own guesses.  Maybe it was something for the government.  I would try to picture him in a suit and tie and fail.  Fondly, I thought of the ragged jeans, the old Steelers T-shirts, and the ever-present leather jacket, which may have been nice once, but now it was worn to the point of no return.  The thought of him dressing up almost made me laugh aloud.
         Wondering when he would get home tonight, I swallowed the rest of my juice.  It would probably be around eleven, I guessed.  I had never really delved deeper to find out why his day was so long, and I wasn’t curious enough to start.  The chair scraped loudly on the kitchen tile as I stood up and took my plate and glass to the sink.  Thunder growled outside.  I imagined a hungry animal on the front doorstep.  The digital clock on the microwave said seven oh five; I sat back down and turned my attention to the little kitchen TV. 
         President Conrad Bainbridge was delivering yet another early-morning speech, complete with waving hand gestures and long, timely pauses for effect.  In those pauses, his creased but young face hardened, and his eyes, which were of no definite color, glared unblinkingly at the viewers.  Not at the camera, but through to every single person watching.  He stare was commanding – no, I would even dare to say it was threatening.  I wasn’t watching him; he was watching me.  And his face was accusing me of something.
         He continued, rambling on about national unity and homeland security and the like.  It could have been inspirational.  It could have been moving.  But it wasn’t, because the harshness in his face gave away the falsity of what he said.  You could tell it wasn’t true.
         At least, I could.  I had known this guy was bad news from the start.  From the first day he stood up in front of the whole country and gave one of these speeches; to the months when he miraculously pulled together masses of both Patriot and Unionist party leaders for his support; to when President Sullivan slowly lost the backing of the people; and then when Bainbridge had quietly wrested control of Sully’s administration.  No, he wasn’t picked for the job.  No, he didn’t have the popular vote.  And no, he definitely wasn’t elected.  There hadn’t been elections for ages – not since my dad was a kid.
         I might only have been sixteen, but I could understand that something was wrong with this picture.  Hands scanning the basket in the middle of the table, I found the remote and clicked the TV off.  Bainbridge disappeared.
         Everything was quiet for a while, me listening to the rain and the animal out front, but then the phone rang shrilly, making me jump.  I stood up and crossed the room, swiping it up from the counter.  The caller ID said CALLAGHAN.  I took a breath and answered it.
         “Hey, Guy,” I said, clearing my throat casually and crossing my arms.
         “Hi Jena.  I’m out front.”  His voice sounded tired too on the other end.
         “Be right out.  Thanks.”
         “No problem.  See you in a second.”  He hung up.  So did I.  Realizing I had gotten butter all over the phone, I clumsily wiped it off.  Suddenly it felt like someone was tap dancing in the pit of my stomach.  I breathed, recovering.
         Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I went to the front hall and peered at myself in the mirror.  I brushed the dark red hair out of my eyes and blinked, eyes wide – well, at least as wide as I could open them this early in the morning.  I saw the sheen of the long hair around my face and over my shoulders, the dark eyes, all the features that I didn’t take notice of very often anymore – but what I saw most, what I always saw most, were the imperfections.  The pale skin, the big ears, the acne.  And believe me, the list went on.  Frowning, I threw my hood up, turned around, and pulled the front door open sharply.
         For March, it was cold.  Freezing.  But it didn’t bother me.  Not when I could warm or cool myself at will, which was just the beginning of my…talents.  I pulled at my shirt and started walking towards the car in the driveway, ignoring the rain.  The familiarity of the Taurus washed over me, and I didn’t notice the cracked windows or the crumpled bumpers.  It just made me smile again.  For all I knew, Guy’s car had always been in this crappy shape.  I clambered into the passenger seat and slammed the door.
         “Rainy, huh?”
         I looked over at Guy, who sat casually at the wheel, his head bent down a little so it would fit.  My stomach flipped.
         “Yeah.  What’s up?” I asked.
         “The usual.  Monday.”  He stifled a yawn.
         “No kidding.”  I turned around.  “How goes it, Lila?”
         She huddled quietly in the backseat, but smiled.  “Fine.  It’s just the rain.”  I nodded.  Lila was paranoid about nearly everything, convinced that some random bolt of lightning from the sky above was going to strike Guy’s car and fry us all like KFC.  Or the street was going to flash-flood and we would all drown horribly.  Something of that nature.  She never sat in the front seat, for fear of the airbag.  I wondered how you could fear an airbag.  Then again, there was a lot I wondered about Lila.  Even though we had known each other since the third grade, there was a lot I would never understand.  I shook my head. 
         Apparently the world was out to get us specially today.  Lila seemed extra nervous.  Guy clicked the wipers and put it in reverse.  I turned back around.  By the darting of her eyes to the sky and the way she wrung her hands, I could tell it was no time to have a conversation.  Guy looked at me.
         “How’s your morning been?”  The usual question that I never tired of.  I met his intense gaze – it felt like he had opened up my soul, everything revealed, like it was a refrigerator or something.  That was the thing about his stare.  Even more distracting were his eyes themselves – they were the color of Caribbean bays.
         “You know, worrying about that test again.”
         Sympathy crossed his face.  He wasn’t browsing for a soda in my soul anymore.  “Oh yeah?  Maybe I’ll help you study third period.”  We pulled onto the street.  I smothered a grin before it reached my lips.
         “That would be good.  Thanks,” I said.  “How about you?  Your morning, I mean.”
         He scowled, eyes rolling.  “My mom’s been flipping out at me since five a.m. because of a B on my English exam.  A B, honestly.”  He shook his head.
         “She really needs to find something better to chew your ass for,” I said.  “Though it’s probably a little difficult with a perfect child.  She only has so many options.”
         He smiled deprecatingly.  “Ha.  Funny.”
         “Seriously.  You should slack off more.” 
         We swung onto Reading Boulevard, spraying puddles in tsunami waves, and swooped down to the light.  However fast Guy drove in this thing, somehow it was always mildly in control.  The rain was picking up, falling in sheets around us and smacking the asphalt.  I realized I was playing dumbly with my hair, so I dropped my hand abruptly and looked out the window.
         Rupert, Pennsylvania was not an exciting town.  In fact, it was downright boring.  The long lines of white brick buildings downtown were all the same, gray stone walls wherever you looked; even the houses were arranged in suburb-like neatness.  Every time I even thought about it, I wanted to pull my hair out and scream, What ever happened to being unique?  I guess dull sameness had always bothered me.  After all, I was very, very different from everybody else, with the heat of burning rocket fuel and the cold of liquid nitrogen at my fingertips.
         “Want me to warm up your coffee?” I asked Guy.  Another usual question.  The blue mug sat, as always, in the holder between us.
         He nodded.  “Yeah, sure.  Do your thing.”
         I picked it up and cupped my hands around it for a while.  I supposed I was just supporting his coffee addiction, but what else was he going to drink?  The way he seemed to inhale it, mug after mug, I basically considered coffee vital to Guy’s survival.  I almost giggled as I watched his hands twitch on the wheel, but swallowed it with a snort.  Guy looked at me accusingly.
         “What?”
         “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head.  Guy’s face softened.
         “Oh, the hands?  Yep,” he sighed, “that’s what it does to you.  Just say no to coffee, Jena.”
         But then he grinned at me, braces gleaming.  I blinked myself out of a subtle trance.  We were pulling into the Fredrick High School parking lot now.  My mood started to go sour at the sight of the bland two-story building.  I had always hated school – especially this one.  I had a feeling it hated me back.
         Guy whipped up and down the rows in the small lot and soon slid into a spot.  He shut the engine down and reached into the back for his bag.  I suddenly remembered Lila and felt a guilty twang rise up in my throat.  She had always been easy to forget about.  I justified my slip-up with the fact that it was early.
         “You have your umbrella?”
         “Naturally.”  Lila nodded feebly, the corners of her mouth curling.  She gripped a purple umbrella tightly, white-knuckled, like it was a sword.  Well, it basically was a sword, defense from her worst enemy – the weather.  Aside from electricity, tight necklaces, and large pieces of food.
         “Alright.  Ready to make a run for it?”  Guy raised his eyebrows at us and lifted his coffee.
         We dashed for the doors, Lila’s umbrella bobbing along a little ways behind.  Guy the Track Star outpaced us both with ease, like this was a little jog.  He hardly ever told anybody, but I knew for a fact he could cover a mile in a little under five and a half minutes.
         That was how he and I became friends, you know.  Rupert Popsicle Fun Run.  The summer I was seven.  One of those mile runs for the little kids, and as hinted by the name, everybody got a popsicle afterward. 
         It was simple – they blew the starting horn. 
         It was a mad dash down the street. 
         I tripped. 
         I skinned my knee. 
         Guy stuck out his little seven-year-old hand. 
         I took it, and he helped me up. 
         He got me a Band-Aid.
         And then we were friends.
         After the race (which he won easily), he found me and we ate popsicles on a bench in the sun.  Mine was red, his was purple.  I remember how hot it was that day, perspiration sticking his clothes to his back, and how grape flavored syrup ran down his wrist, and he tried to lick it off but was too slow.  But mine didn’t melt, and I didn’t have a drop of sweat on me.  I just cooled everything down to my liking.  And I like my popsicles frozen.
         Seven year-old Guy watching me carefully, I knew the wheels were turning meticulously in his head.  After a moment or two, he asked me about the popsicle.  Something told me I could trust him.  So I told him everything.
         Thinking about it makes me laugh.  How we just met randomly as second graders.  How I let him in on the secret – just as randomly.  I had never even told my dad, but I told Guy.
         It was only a short dash in the pouring rain to the front doors of Fredrick High.  The pale beige-colored walls rose up menacingly as we approached, ready to swallow me up.  We slipped inside.
         The front hall was packed.  Suddenly a hundred loud voices assaulted my ears.  It froze my brain for a second, like it seemed to do every morning.  Lila had never gotten used to this – she looked like a small, helpless animal.  I didn’t try to yell over the din, just grabbed Lila’s hand and motioned for Guy to follow.  After a lot of pushing and shoving, some detours, and some major frustration, we escaped to the C hall.  Lila’s palm was extremely sweaty.  I released it.  Guy twisted the dial on his locker and dropped his bag on the floor with a smack.
         “You know, I’ve never understood why everybody gravitates to the front,” he said thoughtfully, opening the locker.  This hall was nearly deserted.
         I shook my head.  “Me neither.”  Lila shook her umbrella off.  I checked the clock on the wall above us.  We had a good ten minutes.  Brushing the hair out of my eyes, I opened my locker too.  Lila followed suit, stepping clear once she pulled the door open.  Just in case something fell out.  Suddenly I was glad we had all traded to be within five lockers of each other.
         I only took out a couple of books and a binder.  Lila looked like she was transporting the entire library in her bag.  Of course, she was taking a considerable amount of AP classes, the rest Honors.  Her paranoia had never impaired her crazy intelligence.  The way Lila mastered every subject she tried had never failed to dumbfound me.  And, I thought, there was that other factor to overflowing bag – her fear of being late.  I wasn’t lucky enough to possess such diligence.
         We all had out first classes upstairs, so we navigated around the crowds to the stairs.  With time to spare, we took our stroll along the upper walkways, the ones that traveled all along the outer walls of the building with windows that overlooked downtown Rupert.  I guess you could say it was our little routine.  Also true to our long list of customs, Lila left five minutes later so she wouldn’t be late for her first class.  I doubted if she had ever been late for anything in her life.  Guy and I went around a corner, and I almost collided with someone coming the other way.  We both dropped our stuff.
         “Watch it!” the voice said angrily.  My face stiffened.  Marilyn Baldwin sneered back at me.  Suddenly her face brightened when she saw who I was with.
         “Hey, Guy!”  She flipped a strand of her perfect blonde hair.  “What are you doing here?”
         I knelt down and grabbed my books to hide my rolling eyes.  Lately she had taken an insatiable interest in Guy, and I couldn’t quite see how it could be any more obvious.  “Just taking a walk before class,” Guy said offhandedly.  “This is Jena, by the way.”  He must have introduced us about fifteen times this year, but he couldn’t control his automatic politeness.
         “We’ve met.”  Marilyn raised her bag on her shoulder, her voice flat and her flawless face expressionless.  Yes, we’d met.  Sadly, our paths had crossed far more than once.  My mouth twitched, eager to release a torrent of nasty remarks.
         Guy said quickly, “Here, let me,” and bent down to pick up her things.  I looked down at the contents of her spilled purse – various makeup items, a pink digital camera, two pink phones, and more makeup.  I had the urge to roll my eyes again, but Marilyn was watching me with her sparkling gray eyes.  The blood started to boil in my veins as her heart-shaped face twisted into a smirk, but then it transformed into a well-mannered smile.  Guy stood back up and offered her things. 
         She thanked him sweetly.  “So, anyway,” she said, flipping her hair again, “I guess I’ll see you later, Guy!”  With one last smile, she walked past.  Guy’s gaze followed her until she was behind us.  I began to imagine me burning her purse to a crisp when a voice crept in through my ear.
         Now, Jena, you wouldn’t do something like that, would you?  I seized up.  It was Marilyn’s voice, and it was whisper-close, almost inside my head…
         Of course you wouldn’t.  I mean, what have I ever done to deserve that?
         What had she done?  I suddenly thought of Guy, amidst the churning wheels in my brain.  What was happening here?
         Oh, Guy?  Your little…friend?  She laughed at that.  Drop it.  He’s mine… The voice faded suddenly.  I twisted around and narrowed my eyes.  Marilyn was walking lightly away down the walkway. 
         We went to English.
         
“Miss Rawles!”  I heard someone say my name.  Who was it again?  Oh – Mr. Finnigan.  This was second period science.  Right.
         “Please pay attention.”  He gave me a look of scorn before continuing.  “Solve the equation.”  Solve the equation?  What equation?  It seemed I could never focus in this class.  Anyway, I had been puzzling over Marilyn’s mysterious – and startling – mind-invading moment on the upper walkway all period.  Had she suddenly discovered this talent?  Or had I never noticed it before?  I made a mental note-to-self to ask her the next time she decided to waltz in on my mind.  Most importantly, I was going to make a point of telling Guy at lunch what had happened.  Leaving out what she had actually said, of course – I would make something up.
         I stared dumbly back at my teacher, suddenly distracted by his hideous mustache.  It was unkempt, a shaggy thing perched over his mouth like a worm or something.  No.  Focus. 
         No one else paid my confusion any mind except Guy, who was turned around in his chair pretending to wave his hand in front of my face.  I could imagine him whispering slowly, Earth to Jena.  Hello?
         Mr. Finnigan spread his hands expectantly.  I shook my head.
         “I’m sorry…I don’t know.”
         “You don’t know?”
         “I…no.”  All the writing strewn across the whiteboard looked like a foreign language.  This was science, right?
         Guy feigned disappointment.  I could almost hear him tsk-tsk-ing in my head – and that just reminded me of Marilyn again.  Mr. Finnigan scowled fiercely and turned briskly around.
         Even all the classes in Rupert were boring.  I really knew what Guy meant when he always said he wanted out of this place.  I usually spent a lot of time thinking about that – how he hated our town so much.  The…normality of it all, I guess.  But whatever happened – or didn’t happen – to me here, I could always get over it.  I was special, I guess.  Unique.  Me and Lila.  But Guy…my boredom was probably nothing compared to his.  He didn’t have anything like we did to break up the monotony of Pennsylvania.  I had already accepted that he never would, but what I didn’t know was if he would feel the same way.
         At least I had Lila.  Even though there was that distance, there was also an irreplaceable, mutual closeness that came from being different.  Her paranoia was nothing compared to the acute senses (sight in the dark, smelling rain fifty miles away, all that jazz) that brought her up to this new level.  I didn’t know what I would do without her now.  Before I had known Lila, I had really felt alone.  Sometimes I still felt that isolation creeping into the back of my mind.
         Blinking myself into consciousness again, I realized I had been watching Guy again.  His night-black hair was getting long, normally close-cropped.  It looked…distinctly soft.
         I rubbed my eyes with vigor, determined to snap out of it.  His hair looked soft?  What the hell?  And so progressed science – though I was still a little unsure it was actually science.
         The old bell twanged, its echoes seeping under the closed door to the hall.  I slid out of my seat, drowsy.  Guy and I met up in the doorway and fought our way through the oceans of people.  As exhausted as I felt suddenly, eyelids sagging down, muscles numb and weak, I accepted that this was the beginning of another long day.


I unfolded the scrap of paper Todd handed me.  For a second, his goofy grin had hovered over my shoulder, but now it sulked away and faded.  There was a scribble inside the note:

  Monday night movies tonight?

It was from Guy.  On Monday nights we all went to this little theater downtown – he, Lila, and I.  I had almost forgotten.  All of study hall last period had been spent feverishly devouring my math textbook with Guy.  Or at least pretending to devour.  But it had left me with a good feeling about my test after lunch.  Now I scrawled back:         

  Yeah.  When?  8?

I tapped Todd on the shoulder in the seat in front of me.  He spun around, brightening.  In response, I offered him the note.  His face clearly fell, but he took it anyway and handed it on to Guy.
         I shook my head.  This kid was like a pathetic lost puppy.  Ever since the fifth grade, he had become blatantly obsessed with me.  I typically ignored it, but today it was getting on my nerves.
         Guy opened the sheet and nodded back at me a few desks away.  I made a confirming face.  All of a sudden, I was really looking forward to tonight.  Even if it was just another thing on our list of habits, another thing that stayed the same around here.
         Ms. Welles was lecturing for what seemed like the hundredth time on the mountain ranges of Russia.  World Geography – just another subject I absolutely detested in a string of revolting things.  I put a pencil on the front of the desk and touched my finger to the graphite; it started to go soft, spread apart, and drooped for a second on the desk top.  I cooled it rapidly back down, but it was now melted like candle wax.  Amused, I tried writing with it.  The letters were all curved, hopelessly skewed, now illegible.  I broke the tip off.
         I noted yet again how boring the classroom really was.  The plain white walls, the neutral-colored supposed-to-be-inspirational posters, the cold, unfriendly desks, and those tiny windows…
         The window.  I jumped in my seat.  There was a man at the window.
         Rain was still dumping down, creating a deep, thick, gray haze just beyond the walls of the school.  But someone was standing a short distance away, a dark silhouette in a dark suit, and he was staring at me.  My mind flashed to thinking about my dad in a jacket and tie this morning.  I didn’t laugh.  It was his face.  Even in the cover of the downpour, the man’s face was chalky white.  My eyes widened.  But as soon as I had shifted my gaze to him, he disappeared.
         The bell rang again.  I tore my gaze away, getting up.  My heart was pounding, like somebody was smacking a bass drum in my chest.  I looked out the window again, but the man was really gone.  Shaking my head again, my pulse started to slow back down.  Feeling ridiculous, I looked away from the window started walking out the door.  So what?  I didn’t even know who this guy was – it didn’t matter who he was.  What was so strange about somebody standing outside staring at a window, anyway?
         As my head cleared, I started to feel hunger clawing at my insides.  Of course – I had only had that single piece of toast earlier that morning.  The guy in the suit probably wasn’t even looking at me.  What had me so freaked out?  I went to lunch.





Chapter 2

I looked around, the orange lights from the ticket booth glowing faintly.  There were only a few people in line.  That’s what we liked about Mondays – it was never crowded at the movies.
         The slosh of cars racing through puddles collected on the street was almost drowned out by the raucous pounding of the rain on the metal roof over our heads.  The guy on the other side of the counter had to shout at the people in front of us, and they would scream back, and so on.  My ears started to ring – Lila must have been in serious pain.  Her face was contorted.  We didn’t try to say anything over the racket.
         Guy bought the tickets, shouting himself hoarse through the small speaker box, and we retreated farther indoors to the concession stand – there was a sudden and appreciated quiet as a door closed behind us – and got in line.  I took a deep breath.  It smelled thick, like popcorn aroma, with the sticky sweet smell of soda mixed in somehow.  This place might have been familiar, but it was one thing I had never tired of.  Lila looked more relaxed than this morning, now that we were indoors, and wasn’t twisting her hands anymore, probably appreciating the dim light.  That’s how she liked it best – dark and quiet.
         “You never told me how you did on that test,” Guy said, hands deep in his pockets.  He looked at me expectantly, blue eyes flashing.
         “Oh,” I said, frowning.  Although I had decided that the appearance of the man in the rain had been meaningless, a product of my imagination, it had stuck in my head all through math.  Still kind of spooked, I had spaced half of the class – thus completing only half of my test.  “We’ll see, I guess.”  I may not have told him about it, but Guy looked like he knew the truth.  He gave me his skeptical look.  I busied myself fishing a twenty out of my pocket, glancing away, embarrassed, ashamed.  The typical result of him looking at me like that.  His opinion had always mattered the most, even more than my father’s.  I knew Dad was going to kill me over this test, but he would have to be home to kill me; I supposed I had until Saturday afternoon to live.
         The prospect didn’t make me feel any better.  My mood sunk even lower when I saw that Todd was working the counter tonight.  I suspected he had been the one to suggest working Monday nights.  His goofy bow tie (not to mention the rest of his movie theater uniform) and the gap-toothed grin made me sigh.
         “Hey, Jena!”  He always acted surprised when we walked up.  Every Monday night, too.  Shocker.
         “Hi, Todd,” I sighed again, sliding the money across the counter.  “You know the drill.  Make mine a large.”  Almost immediately, he pushed three colas and a bag of popcorn towards us, like he had had it ready before we showed up.  Oh, jeez.  I grabbed my behemoth drink, weighing it in my hand.  I was going to need the caffeine, having nearly dozed off on the way here.  Todd gave me the change, and I dumped the coins in the tip jar noisily.  Lila, Guy, and I made for the theater.  Todd bit his lip.
         “Jena…wait!”  Now what?  I was starting to lose it.  Guy shot me a knowing glance, but looked away and chewed his popcorn.  I turned around again.  At first there was an awkward pause while Todd was struggling over what to say; I waited, none too patiently.  Then he lifted his hand weakly.  He held a fistful of straws in the air.  “Um…you forgot these.”  I retrieved the straws and then we finally found refuge in the dark theater.  Once we had sat down and I had time to relax, I began to regret being so cold back at the concessions.  He was just trying to be nice.  I wanted to groan, but then Guy would confront me about it.  I settled for squeezing my eyes shut painfully for a second.
         But I let it go.  Whatever.  Tonight the film was some new slasher flick; I settled in for the ride – undoubtedly complete with heart-stopping, gut-wrenching scenes where things jump out.  For once, I wasn’t worrying about Lila.  In fact, she would be the one worrying about me for the next two hours.  She was the one who liked these horror movies best.  Lila hadn’t yet discovered anything threatening about these nearly-empty theaters, although she had many times inspected the ceiling for any heavy objects that might spontaneously fall.  But she was more than ready for the film tonight, perched on the front half of her seat, sipping anxiously at her soda.
         Right on time, the opening credits started rolling, ominous, orchestral music establishing an aura of fear, and I leaned back in my seat, Guy comfortably next to me.
         
All in all, it was iffy.  I started thinking about the points I would give Beast in the car.  Definite points for the fact that I had lost count of the victims of this beast.  Minus points for the corny romance in the midst of the killing rampage – kind of untimely.  I stood up, shaking the almost-empty popcorn bag.  My hands were still buttery.  Guy leaned down and grabbed up the last handful.  We started up the isle when the bag slipped out of my hand.
         “Nice one, butterfingers…” Guy said, grinning.  I smiled and stooped to pick it up, at the feet of some guy.  I rose to apologize –
         Oh my God.  It was the man at the window.  It was him.  His pale face stared up at me, hollow and full of veins, with thin, greasy black hair slicked over his head.  His eyes were suspicious.
         “S-sorry.”  I heard myself speak, words sliding out almost drunkenly.  All fatigue gone, every nerve in my body was electrified, like I had jammed a fork in an outlet.  It was him.  He was following me.  I had to get out of here. 
         I spun on my heel and walked quickly, my breath ragged and thin.  Get out.  Guy and Lila followed right alongside, apparently not noticing anything weird yet.  My knees and arms were shaking uncontrollably, and I realized I was freezing.  The chill was spreading down to my fingers and toes and down my spine.  I threw away the bag of popcorn as calmly as I could, but my senses were on fire, screaming to get out of here.  To get away from this guy.  Get out get out get out.
         What was he doing here?  Stalking me, I thought nervously, shooting a glance back the way we had come.  He wasn’t behind us.  One single question filled my mind, expanding like a massive balloon that was going to explode – Why?  Why was I being followed?  My stomach was twisting itself into knots.  I wanted to puke, but I checked behind us again.
         Guy looked at me funny, but didn’t say anything, and I looked away, my face as cold as stone.  Maybe I would tell him the truth – if I was sure about this.  Maybe it was a coincidence.  What if he had just happened to show up?  Maybe he was just some guy.
         “What?”  Guy was giving me that look again.  His eyes were as sharp as knives.  Don’t think about knives.          
         I jerked my head side to side.  “Nothing.”  Tendrils of ice were crawling up my neck.  Get outoutoutout.  Fighting the urge to look backwards, I walked faster, heart racing, desperate to break into a run –
         “Jena.”  Guy seized my arm with an iron grip and pulled me aside.  “What is it?”  Lila was frowning.  Guy’s hard clench on my arm was bringing things into focus.  He wanted answers.  I hesitated, my eyes wandering to the exit.  I heard him say, “Jena, stop it, you’re freaking me out…”  Suddenly I knew this was no joke – the guy from the window didn’t just show up here by accident.
         “Somebody’s stalking me, Guy,” I hissed.  “It’s the guy, it’s him, I dropped the bag, and-” A dark silhouette slipped out into the hallway from our theater.  Time to go.
         “Jesus, he’s over there!”  I strained to keep my voice down – I wanted to scream bloody murder and get out of here.  Guy and Lila turned their heads.  Guy squinted, but Lila could see him effortlessly; he was in the corner now, probably watching.
         Guy said sharply, quietly, “Let’s go.”
         He casually led us out the door, not showing a single sign of fear.  Not even minor panic.  My flipping-out-level dropped a notch.  Out.  I was out.  Guy didn’t let Lila bother with the umbrella.  We walked right out into the rain; I hoped its gray shroud shielded us from view.  I started to speed up, but then he grabbed my shoulder.
         “Don’t run.”  I obeyed.  We neared the car.  Guy reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, looking through them one by one.  It was agony.  The rain was slow, just a drizzle.  Now Lila was fidgeting.  I willed him to hurry up.  The water sliding over my head was turning me into ice.
         Finally, Guy stuck the key in – it took all my strength not to wrench the door open and leap inside.  Guy had taken charge, and I wasn’t about to freak out when he had told me not to.  He was almost scary when he was serious.
         We slid in slowly, calmly.  Yeah, if only.  Letting the rain come in for just a second, Guy shut the door behind him and turned to me, starting the ignition.
         “Okay, what’s going on?” he demanded, yanking the stick into reverse.
         I shivered.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know – it’s like somebody’s watching me-”
         “Drive,” Lila interrupted suddenly.  She was looking out the rain-streaked back window.  “He just came outside.”





Chapter 3

Guy swore softly and swung around to see out the back.  Against the comparative brightness of the theater door, it wasn’t hard to see the black figure.  Guy eased on the gas, and we started to edge out of the parking space.  Nerves tingling, the lazy pace was maddening. 
         Lila squinted outside.  “He just pulled something out of his pocket.”
         “What?”
         “He took something out.  It’s a phone – wait, a radio.  He’s talking into a radio.”  Bad sign.  Somebody else was involved.
         “Shit, drive,” I said. 
         Guy shook his head.  “I can’t go any faster.  He can’t think we’re getting out in a hurry.”
         “Guy, he already knows – he’s talking into a radio!  Come on, let’s lose him before company shows up,” I insisted.
         “It could mean anything.  You don’t know for sure.”  I groaned loudly but didn’t protest.  The Taurus crawled to the edge of the street like a bug missing two legs.  A bug that was liable to get smashed.  The avenue was basically deserted – we cruised up to the red light unimpeded.  The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t go away. 
         Lila pressed her face to the back window.  “Wait – wait.  There’s a cop car pulling up next to him.”  The police?  That was good, right?  Surely they would arrest –
         “He’s getting in the passenger side door.  He’s getting in the car.”  Lila turned around, her face draining.  My jaw visibly dropped.  This guy was working with the police?  There was a long pause.
         “So, hold on,” Guy said incredulously, “You’re being stalked by the cops?” 
         Now I was gaping out the back.  “Apparently.  But that doesn’t make any sense-”
         “Green light,” Lila said quickly.  Guy leaned softly on the pedal.  My heart sped up – the Rupert Police Department car was moving.
         “Why would the cops be following me?”  I shook my head, trying to clear it.
         Guy said, “A crime investigation?  I don’t know.”
         “Wait.  We don’t know that they’re really cops,” Lila pointed out.  “They could have stolen the car.”  There was an awkward pause while everyone absorbed this. 
         I nodded slowly.  “You’re right.”  She turned back around and watched the cruiser turn out of the parking lot.  Guy gradually accelerated.
         “Are they still following us?” I asked Lila.
         She frowned.  “Quiet.  I can’t hear them.”  I understood.  She could hear all the way through one side of a building to the other – we had experimented on a Saturday at Fredrick High.  Listening to what the two in the cop car were saying was going to be simple.  Except for the drizzle on the roof of the car, there wasn’t any other noise anywhere in the vicinity.
         We sat in utter silence – me trying to breathe more quietly, Guy easing down the street (it must have been torture to drive so slowly,) and Lila with her eyes closed, just listening.  The freezing cold that was crawling up and down my spine was starting to recede, even though I was as unnerved as ever. 
         “They’re talking about the chief of police.  Something about an assignment.”  Lila sighed.  “I bet it really is the police.”
         Guy swore under his breath again and gripped the wheel a little tighter.  We sat in silence again – but then he suddenly stabbed the gas and whipped around a corner onto a back street.
         “What are you doing?” I said, stunned.
         “Testing them.  Lila, what are they saying?” Guy said.
         “The guy from the theater took out his radio again.  He said, ‘They’re going off course, Chief’ and then the radio said, ‘Don’t pursue.  We know where they’re going.’”  Lila opened her eyes.  “Guy, they’re slowing down.”  I breathed, starting to calm down a little.  Except for one thing.
         “They know where we’re going?” I said nervously, glancing behind at the cop car growing smaller as we drove away.  “So what does that mean?  They know where we live?”  Suddenly this wasn’t about me anymore.  They probably knew who Lila and Guy were already.
         “Obviously – they’re the police.  They have access to that kind of stuff,” Guy said, hand on his forehead.
         Lila’s eyes widened.  She blurted, “Jena…what if this is about you and me?  I mean, who else do we know that can start fires with their hands or hear someone a mile away?”  My mind went to Marilyn, but I didn’t say anything.  Guy looked like he was thinking the same thing.  I had told him about the incident on the walkway at lunch, with some replacements in what she had said – well, a lot of replacements, to make it seem like she was just saying something nice.  I wondered now why I had portrayed her as sweet and polite – even more perfect than Guy already thought she was.  A white-hot flash of anger erupted in my head, but then it faded as I snapped back to the present.
         “Maybe.  But why would they bother with us?  How would they even know we can do this stuff?”  I was skeptical.  If the police were watching Lila and me, then they would have an eye on Marilyn too – right?  Somehow I doubted we were on the same end, in the same situation.  Polar opposites don’t just join together.
         “I don’t know.  They could have been watching us all along.  It might have been that obvious,” Lila speculated. 
         I felt a shudder pass through me.  “I still don’t understand why they would be watching for odd stuff to begin with.”  Guy sped into the suburbs, squinting through the rain.
         “It just doesn’t connect.  We live in the most boring town on the face of the planet.  How would they have known about you?” Guy said after a while.
         I groaned quietly.  All I really knew was that the RPD car was behind us, and we had just pulled into my driveway.  The rest was tangled like the inevitable knot that MP3 earphones always become.
         Sighing, I looked at Guy.  It was hard to see his face, but he still didn’t seem uneasy.  Maybe we could figure this out later.  These guys might have known where I lived, but being holed up in my room with the blinds down still seemed like a safe haven. 
         “See you tomorrow,” I muttered, opening the door.  Guy and Lila said goodbye quietly.  I stepped out into the cold, waved woodenly, and shut the door. 
         It was dangerous out here.  I imagined dark figures lurking behind the evergreens, cloaked by the darkness.  And I was standing in the open, exposed.  I walked as fast as I could to the porch as Guy’s Taurus pulled away, its headlights diminishing into the night.  The rain was no longer falling on my head.  I chanced one more look into the open expanse that was my front yard and shivered again.  It felt like someone was watching.
         I stepped inside and locked the door thoroughly.  But I realized it wouldn’t do much good.  This was the police we were talking about.  They would knock the door down if it was made of steel.  I left it locked anyway for the small comfort it provided.  Then I pulled all the shades and turned off all the lights on the main floor.
         Getting to the second floor involved several stubbed toes on the curved wooden staircase from the foyer, but I didn’t want to turn on the lights any more than I wanted to go back into open space – where anyone could see me.  Besides, they might spot my shadow with light on the inside.  And I was suddenly sure they were watching.  Somehow.
         I walked softly down the carpeted hall and slipped into my room, closing the door silently behind me.  Immediately, hastily, as I went around the room, the blinds went down and the light went off.  I stood for a second near the doorway, cold in the rain-dotted clothes, and listened.  My ears were nowhere near as sharp as Lila’s, but I trusted I could hear a door opening downstairs.  Everything was quiet.  Exhaling, I kicked off my shoes into a corner and tossed my jacket over the bedpost.  I didn’t bother with pajamas – just crawled under the covers and started to heat them up.  Soon the chill from outside wasn’t an issue.
         But my head was spinning.  I took a second and really absorbed it – I’m being watched.  The police are stalking me because I’m abnormal.  I said it a few times in my head, and the thought sent a tingle down my spine.  This wasn’t right.  Of course it wasn’t right – I could set things on fire and freeze them solid with a single touch, Lila’s senses were all pushed to extreme intensity, and Marilyn could apparently read minds – we had freaking superpowers.  This was definitely not normal.
         Of course, I could only assume this was a factor.  The possibilities were endless.  Still, it was hard to think that it might be involved with crime and investigations.  Rupert had, like, a zero percent crime rate.  The biggest thing that ever happened here was shoplifting, and even that was rare.  And if there was any kind of drug bust or shooting or something, the whole town would know almost instantly.
         My head reeling in circles, I stumbled back to my original questions and thought tiredly, Why the police?  Why me?  But suddenly I didn’t want to think about it anymore.  A switch had flipped on my numbed brain, and now all I wanted to do was sleep.  Thinking this hard was giving me a headache.  I wrapped the comforter around me and let my face be consumed by blackness.  For a moment, I listened hard for any movement downstairs, but there was nothing.  Dad wasn’t even home yet.  I had the place to myself.  The thought, usually a relief, was now kind of creepy.  I sighed slowly.  At least it was warm.
         I accepted the warm embrace of mindlessness and fell asleep, safe for the moment from the cops.