Finding Jade

Chapter 12

The door to the office opens, and a tall, thin woman enters, followed by two girls.

"I guess I'd better get to class," I say.

"Yes, you should," the secretary replies. "You have a huge amount to learn in a very short time, Jasmine."

"So I've been told," I mutter, taking the late slip and turning to leave. I walk toward the woman and her daughters. Surprise, surprise — they're identical twins.

"Good morning," the secretary says to them in a sing-song voice. "Welcome to Beaconsfield."

"Good morning," the woman replies. Her words are heavily accented. "We're so grateful to be here. We've just arrived from South Africa and were told that this school would accept us."

And we've seen so much. So much destruction. Blood shed. The bodies of those who died of dehydration piled along the roadside like firewood. The ravages of climate change are far worse than you in Canada can imagine.

I stare at the woman. Her lips haven't moved since she told the secretary about the school acceptance. I suddenly realize the voices I thought I'd been hearing the last few years since Jade's disappearance weren't imaginary voices at all: I've been picking up on people's thoughts.

One of the girls smiles shyly as I approach. She's much taller than me, with the straightest, whitest teeth I've ever seen; they're like pieces of Chiclets gum lined up in perfect rows.

I smile back as I walk past. They may have been through a lot, but these two have no idea what they're still in for. And, really, neither do I.

The class I'm late for is English with Mr. Khan. Great. I slink into the room like a dog with its tail between its legs. After all, the last time I saw Mr. Khan, I was running away, defiant, and totally sure I'd never return to the school.

"I was hoping you'd be back," he says with a smile.

I smile weakly and hand him my late slip. Even though I've only been gone a day, at least ten new faces turn to stare at me. The classroom is packed with students. There's barely room to move between all the desks.

I don't see Raphael anywhere, and my heart sinks with disappointment. I take a seat in the back row.

"So, to wrap up," Mr. Khan says, "I would like you to read the essay by the late Dr. Suzuki. Then you'll respond to the question, 'How might things be different today if the world had heeded his warnings?' I also need your persuasive piece on the issue of London using icebergs as a source of drinking water. Remember, you need to argue either for or against the sustainability of this practice and how fair it is to the rest of the planet."

There's a collective groan from the class. And, in a room of nearly forty, it's a loud groan. Since I have no idea what Mr. Khan is talking about, I just sit there, looking around and counting the number of identical twin girls in the class.

There are ten sets altogether. Twenty twin girls. That means half the kids in this class are twins. I suppose I count as a twin too ... at least sort of.

"Okay. That's enough," Mr. Khan says, clapping his hands to silence the class. "Get used to it. You're in secondary school now. And you'll be late for gym class if you continue because I can't tell you which group you're in when you're this loud."

The class quiets down. Mina raises her hand.

"What do you mean which group we're in? Don't we all go to the same gym class?"

Mr. Khan shakes his head. "Too many new students have enrolled in the past few days, so we have to split the classes. Sasha, Cyndy, Tanisha, Emily, and Menusha, you and the boys will head to the gym. The rest of the girls will be going to Ms. Samson's class in room 214."

Great. It's just my luck to be in the same group as Mina. We trudge down the hall to room 214.

Our teacher, Ms. Samson, is older than I expected. Her hair, which is pulled back in intricate cornrows, is completely grey. She's leaning against a wooden walking stick as we file in.

"Take a seat and make it fast," she says, clapping her hands together.

"Take a pill," Mina mutters, purposely scraping her chair across the floor before sitting down.

Ms. Samson's eyes narrow and she regards Mina with such coolness that I swear the air in the room drops at least ten degrees. This lady might be old, but she's intense.

"Your aggression is going to be a liability." She bangs her stick against the floor rapidly. The chestnut skin of her hands is pulled so tightly, each tendon and fragile bone becomes painfully visible as the stick makes con- tact with the tiled floor. The sound reverberates around the room like gunfire. A few of the girls jump in their seats, others laugh nervously.

"What does liability mean? Do any of you know?" One girl raises her hand timidly.

Ms. Samson uses her walking stick to point at the girl. "Yes, you. What is your name?"

"Lily," the girl replies, her voice quivering.

"Lily, what does it mean if you are a liability?" Ms. Samson asks, walking over to the girl's desk and stand- ing practically on top of her. I make a mental note not to raise my hand in this class. Ever.

"You're a disadvantage?" Lily says.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" This question is accompanied by more banging of the walking stick. I'm noticing there's a kind of rhythm to all this banging and clapping. It's almost hypnotic.

"If you're a liability, it means you're a weak point, a disadvantage to someone or something," Lily says. This time she speaks a little louder and more confidently.

"Lily, who is your sister?" Ms. Samson asks. She turns and surveys the room.

Confusion washes over Lily's face. "Um, she's right back there," she says, pointing. It's evident they're identical twins, so I can see why Lily's a bit confused by Ms. Samson's question. "Her name is Cassandra."

"And are you the eldest twin?" Ms. Samson asks, making her way back up to the front of the class.

"No," Lily replies. "Cassandra was born before me." "So you are the reflective and cautious one," Ms.

Samson says. "This is very important. You will be the one with more up here." She taps her head. A few of the girls let out muffled giggles.

"Hey!" Cassandra protests.

"Cassandra," Ms. Samson says, turning her gaze to the back of the class. "You will be the brave one, the one who will take the lead in a battle. But you need your sister because you will also have a tendency to take too many risks, to be too rash. You must balance each other at all times, for you are responsible for a shared soul."

Okay. This woman is a complete wacko. What the hell is wrong with this place? Do they hire from local mental health institutions? And what does any of this have to do with gym class?

Ms. Samson turns, walks over the computer, and types something. She whirls back around and, using her walking stick, points at the sentence projected across the whiteboard. My heart misses a beat as I read it:

YOU ARE THE SEERS.