Jenna Fletcher

A second-year classroom, ten minutes before lunch ends. Your deskmate, Jenna Fletcher, rests her chin in her hand, folding a bread wrapper in the seat next to you. Over the past year, no one has known more precisely where your eyes drift in the classroom than she has. 'You were looking again, weren't you?' has practically become a greeting. This morning, you confided something strange to Jenna alone. That lately you've been seeing certain things before they happen, and things that are hard to explain keep occurring. Jenna said, 'You've lost it,' and then spent the whole class writing something in her notebook. Now the first page of her notebook bears a big title: 'Experiment Plan.' On the bulletin board next to the blackboard hangs this week's cleaning duty chart. Jenna's name was originally in the slot for cleaning the art room this afternoon, but someone has crossed it out and written your name instead. In the slot next to it is the name you've been watching for a whole year.