Better Late Than Never

fortunately, he behaved just as he'd been behaving toward her lately. He didn't even see her.

He was watching the soccer practice. His back was to her as he stood on the edge of the slope and gazed out at the boys on the field. She couldn't see his face, but something about his posture made her think that he wasn't in a very good mood.

He'd been the captain of the soccer team, she remembered. Then he'd had some kind of bad accident, and he couldn't play anymore. He probably missed his sport.

She edged along the wall to get into a position where she could have a better look at him. She wasn't any good at reading faces, and she certainly couldn't read his mind, but maybe he'd notice her and be happy to have some company. Once she could see his face, she knew he was feeling something stronger than simple regret.

She'd never seen a boy look so sad before. He must have really loved playing soccer. She could almost swear she saw a tear in his eye, which was ridiculous, of course, because cool guys like Ken didn't cry.

Or did they? Because now she could see the tear trickling down his cheek. Stunned, it took her a moment to react before she scampered out of his line of sight. He'd be so humiliated if a girl saw him crying!

She gave up on her plan to follow him and started toward home. All the way there, that image of Ken kept flashing before her eyes. What was that all about? She'd heard that guys could be seriously devoted to their sports. Her own father loved golf, and if he couldn't play for some reason, he'd probably feel kind of sad. But he wouldn't ay. Soccer must have really meant a lot to Ken. He'd looked totally depressed.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get that image of him out of her mind. It was funny, in a way. Seeing a guy looking all demoralized like that certainly wasn't a turn-on. It didn't make Ken very appealing as a potential boyfriend. Some girls might like the sensitive type, but not Amanda. Public displays of emotion, particularly by boys, weren't her thing.

Lying in bed that night, she couldn't sleep. If she had to write off Ken as a possible way to get back her crown, what were her other options? She could make a huge fuss and demand that her parents get her out of that stupid gifted class, but that could also make things worse. It would be like admitting that the gifted class had been a bad place to be, and it would raise only more questions.

She tried to think of other actions she could take, but for some reason, she couldn't concentrate. This was truly bizarre, because she never had a hard time thinking about herself---she was her own favorite subject. But her mind kept going back to Ken and his expression while he watched the soccer practice.

This made no sense to her at all. She'd basically written him off as boyfriend material, so why couldn't she stop thinking about him? As she finally felt sleep begin to descend on her, she knew with despair that she'd end up dreaming about Ken Preston that night.

But as it turned out, she did more than that.

Chapter 8

ARE YOU NERVOUS?' Tracey asked. Sitting on the bed, Jenna pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

'No.'

Tracey grinned. 'Liar.'

Jenna relented. 'Okay, but you have to admit, this is all pretty weird. I'm just about to sit down to have dinner with some complete stranger who claims he's my father. Wouldn't you be nervous?'

'I'd be a wreck,' Tracey said. 'Something like this could make me disappear again.'

'Wish I could disappear,' Jenna grumbled. But since she couldn't, she went the opposite route. Hopping off the bed, she went back to Tracey's dressing table, sat down, and reapplied her makeup. She added more kohl to her eyes and a thick layer of purple stain to her lips.

'How do I look?' she asked Tracey.

'Like someone I wouldn't want to run into walking alone through a dark alley,' Tracey replied.

'Good.' That was precisely the image she wanted to convey. Whoever this man was, she wanted to make sure he could see she was a tough chick, not some wimpy little girl who was craving a father figure.

'How come you weren't in class today?' Tracey asked.

'Because I didn't want Madame asking me how I felt about this Stuart Kelley guy showing up. I'm sure Mr. Jackson told her about it.'

'How do you feel?'

'Tracey!'

'Okay! Sorry.'

'Did I miss anything thrilling?'

Tracey shook her head. 'Martin gave his career report. He said that with his special gift, he'd like to be a mercenary.'

'He wants to be a soldier?'

'Not exactly. He thinks people would pay him to beat up their enemies.'

'What about Ken? Maybe he could conduct seances to put people in contact with their dead relatives. That would make Emily happy.'

'Ken wasn't there either. Emily said she could be a TV weather reporter, and Charles said he could hire himself out to couch-potato types so they'd never have to get out of their comfy chairs for another bag of chips. Madame suggested that he could help people who were like him, who couldn't get around easily, but he said he thought couch potatoes would pay more.'

Jenna grinned. That was very Charles. She was enjoying this conversation--it kept her mind off the upcoming dinner. 'How about Amanda? What does she think she could do with her gift?'

'Madame didn't call on her today, which was probably a good thing. She was looking even blanker than usual.'

The sound of a doorbell made Jenna stiffen. 'Uh-oh! Here he is. Whoever he is.'

'You could always read his mind and find out.'

Jenna nodded. That was exactly what she planned to do when the right moment came around. She took a deep breath. 'Okay, let's go.'

The Devon Seven, already fed and bathed, had been banished to their room with their babysitter so that the others could have a real grown-up dinner. When Tracey and Jenna arrived in the living room, they found Mr. Devon fixing cocktails and Mrs. Devon holding a huge bouquet of roses.

'Jenna, look what your father brought us!'

Refusing to smile, Jenna nodded. 'They're very pretty.'

'Tracey, would you find a vase?'

Jenna gave her friend a fierce don't-leave-me look, but Tracey took the flowers from her mother and went off toward the kitchen.

'Hello, Jenna.' The stranger was smiling at her.

'Hi,' she murmured.

Now that she'd recovered from the shock she'd felt in Mr. Jackson's office, she could get a good look at this man. He was definitely what Emily had predicted--tall, dark, and handsome. He was dressed neatly in a suit and tie, and he looked perfectly at ease, as if dinner with a long-lost daughter was an ordinary everyday event.

Tracey returned with the vase of roses, which her mother placed in the center of the dining table. Then she passed around a tray of crackers with squiggles of something on them.

'What do you think of your daughter, Mr. Kelley?' she asked gaily.

'Please, call me Stuart.' He looked at Jenna. 'I think she's beautiful,' he said simply.

The squiggle on the cracker turned out to be cheese, but that wasn't what Jenna choked on. She stared at the man in disbelief.' What?'

Mr. Devon laughed jovially. 'I'm sure all fathers think their daughters are beautiful. I know I do--all eight of