Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, the story has only been online for less than a day and already there are a few comments. I love it! It makes me want to write more. *hint hint (more reviews equals quicker updates) lol

This is just a short update, but I hope you like it nonetheless. It's very lighthearted and fun despite the actual events. If you have time check out my other story Phoenix which is kind of my baby.

Thanks again for reading. PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

Chapter Three: Stake Out

I bolted into Civic Responsibility class and waved my hands vigorously for Rosalie and Mike to come with me. I'm pretty sure that Mrs. Small didn't appreciate that, but it's not like she would say anything about it. She was a Christian missionary pacifist which suited me just find. Though they looked startled, both Rose and Mike quickly followed me into the empty hall way.

"What's the deal, Alice? It's only 8 o'clock and you've already been sent to the principal's. That must be a record," Rosalie said.

"It's not about that," I said hastily and then lowered my voice so that no one could hear me through any of the open doors. "I had a vision about this little girl getting abducted. I could really use a ride to the elementary school, Rose."

Both of their faces drained of all color and Rose quickly pulled her keys out of her Louis Vuitton backpack. "Come on." We were wicked stealthy about sneaking out of the school. The secretaries hardly notice us as we went barreling past them and hauled ass to Rosalie's car.

"So how do you know that this kidnapping will go down today?" Mike asked.

"Because I saw a billboard that told me the exact time and date," I replied tersely.

"Wow, that's convenient!" he exclaimed.

"I know. It's supposed to happen at 9:23, but I want to see if the pedophile is staking out the territory," I replied.

"Do you really think that he would spend that much time sitting in a van? I mean, that's so CSI," Rose pointed out.

"He seemed like the type, you know? Way too much time on his hands," I said in my defense.

"Shouldn't we call the cops or something? I don't know, this just seems sort of dangerous to me." Neither Mike nor Rosalie were thrilled by me premature plan to save the little kid and in the process skip the first day of school. Okay, I admit it. I had an ulterior motive.

"And what would I say to the popos, Mike? 'Hey, I just happened to have a psychic vision concerning a possible kidnapping in progress?' Yeah, that would sound really sane! Besides, I think we can handle this," I snapped back.

"About this whole thing, Ali? I thought those hardcore visions only work if you're in the proximity or thinking about the person that it's going to happen to. Do you think that your powers are getting stronger?" Mike asked seriously. He was voicing my own thoughts, exactly.

"Ohhh, you're right, Mi. Maybe it's a coming of age thing, like that movie The Covenant, where those wizard boys get their powers when they're eighteen. Maybe next year you'll be like Alice Cullen: Mind Freak, or something," Rosalie said in one of her less impressive conversation contributions. Still, how could I not love her after she totally ditched class to sit in a parking lot across from the elementary school waiting for some sexual predator that was probably fresh out of prison?

"Um…yeah, Rose that would be a pretty sweet name. I don't think Chris Angel has it copyrighted yet, so I might be able to get away with it," I said just so she wouldn't feel ridiculous.

"Wait, is that the van you saw?" Mike asked pointing to the wicked conspicuous white van that was straight out of my vision.

"Told ya he'd be here. Wait here while I go talk to him," I whispered even though there was no way he'd be able to hear me from across the street.

"What!!! Are you insane?? You're gonna get yourself killed!!" Mike screamed. It was apparent that I wasn't much of a trend setter seeing as though neither Mike nor Rosalie seemed to follow my lead with the whole whispering deal.

"What do you plan on telling him, Ali? You seriously aren't thinking this one through!" Rosalie screeched following it up with an exasperated bawl for effect.

"Do you think you're 007? 'Cause if you have a stun-ray pen or something that will send him into an artificial slumber then maybe you'll be able to pull this one off. Seriously, Alice, I'm calling the cops!" Mike continued as he whipped out his cell phone.

I acted solely on reaction and, quick like a puma, knocked his iPhone from his hands where it clattered to the ground and snapped in half. I can't say I'm proud about this or anything, but it did serve a useful purpose. "Sorry about that, Mi, I'll pay you back. But, you can't call the cops, okay? Just trust me."

Mike looked from the shattered remnants to my face and back, obviously horror struck. "My iPhone! You broke it! That cost $500!"

"Oh, I don't know what came over me. Truthfully, I'm probably not gonna pay you back…but I love you," I said the last part in this really innocent voice. How could anybody be mad at such a sweet person like me?

"You BROKE my phone!" I guess Mike could.

"If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, call Edward," I said as I open the passenger's side door.

"With what? You broke Mike's phone," Rosalie instigated; she was the proud owner of a LG Voyager. I shut the door, leaving Mike (still wearing a horrified expression) and Rosalie (silently chuckling) behind me.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was going to say to this guy. I was planning on winging it because I'm pretty sick at improv. I could hear my heart pounding as I rapped on the tinted glass window. A balding, middle-aged man stuck his head out the window to reveal a slight perturbed expression and a thin layer of perspiration.

"What do ya want? It's not illegal to paak a caah in a paakin' lot, ya know. That's what there foa'!" he snapped. I must say he had one of the worst Rhode Island accents in the world. Very rarely do you meet somebody who has such a heavy accent, especially when they're sporting Illinois license plates.

I decided to kick it old school. "Sorry to disturb you, sir. But we have had some suspicious sightings in this area and we were wondering if you have seen anything that may be helpful to our investigation?"

"What sort 'a sightins'?" The man asked. I could see his hands itching for the ignition. Or maybe a gun. How badass would that be if I got shot at?

"Well, sir, I would like you to keep an open mind about this. I'm talking about extraterrestrial life forms." Zingga. This had the desired effect that I had been planning. In the three seconds that it took for the man to comprehend how bogus my little spiel was, I got a quick glance at his van. And let me tell you, this guy was a totally creeper. There were binoculars, cameras with really long lenses, and a lot of candy. I mean, come on. Kids are so much greedier nowadays, didn't this guy know that? They won't climb in a strangers car for anything less than a twenty and candy definitely is no exception. But still, a bag of Sour Patch Kids is a total flashing light, and it was all the evidence I needed.

About a millisecond before Crazy-eyes realized what was going on, I pulled out my mace and aimed it right at his disgusting, squinty eyes (I am totally aware of that one rule that forbids minors from owning or using any type of pepper spray, but I get myself in quite a few binds, so I sort of ignore that one tiny law). Not to brag or anything, but it was perfect marksmanship!

As Mr. Fake-Rhode-Island-Accent withered in pain and clumsily fumbled for some unknown object, I grabbed his tear-ridden face and smashed it into the staring wheel. I know how this sounds. You're probably dialing the number to the loony bin right now, but I assure you, this guy deserved it. Trust me, I'm psychic!

I climbed over the limb body (don't worry, he wasn't dead) and navigated my way to the back of the van. Guess what wallpapered the metal walls of the cab? Kiddy porn! No joke! I told you this guy was a sicko! He was totally going to jail.

You might be wondering why I persisted in my investigation when I already had this guy unconscious, ready for police pick up. Well, I had to help those other kids who were currently chilling out in some dark room just waiting for some psychic to come along and rescue them, didn't I? The problem was that I didn't know exactly where they where and I had no idea what they looked like thanks to the masks.

The thing about my visions is that it is so much easier to see things in the near future as opposed to days or even hours in advanced. This is mainly due to the fact that the future isn't set in stone and is liable to change when some random person's makes an unexpected choice. Seeing as though Mr. Fake-Rhode-Island-Accent wasn't going to be seeing much besides jail bars in his future, I needed to see a picture of one of the kids so that I could look a few minutes into his or her future, try and find some clue as to their whereabouts, and come to the rescue. When I look into somebody else's future it's not like I see through their eyes or anything. I don't become them, I merely see what's going on the premises, but a picture is almost always necessary to look into a future in which I have no immediate part in.

The back of this conspicuously sketchy van was the jackpot and I held the winning lotto ticket. I quickly snatched up as many different pictures as I could, shoved into my Gucci backpack, and hastily scurried over the still-unconscious body of the pedophile. As I passed him, I gave him a swift kick in the head to make sure he stayed unconscious.

I casually strolled back to Rosalie's car and plopped myself onto the cushiony front seat. "Okay, you can call the cops now."

"You BROKE my phone," Mike stammered. I wasn't all too surprised that he was still in shock over his iPhone. That's just how Mike is; he does exactly have a fast recovery rate with these types of things.

"Get over it, Mi," Rosalie said while handing me her Voyager. I know it might sound pathetic (that's because it is), but I am not allowed to have as cell phone. My mother is sort of eccentric when it comes to new technology. She's a total philistine. Apparently she is afraid that cell phones will spell disaster for future generations caused by a lack of human contact and communication. Sometimes I feel like sending her to live in a log cabin at Walden Pond or something. So neither I nor Jacob are allowed to get a cell phone until we graduate. How lame!!

"Thanks, Rose," I said as I dialed 9-1-1. The operator's voice sounded at the other end. "Hello, I'm at the Bank of America across from East Narragansett Elementary School. I would like to report a suspicious man parked in the bank lot. He seems to be unconscious and it looks like he might have been spying on the elementary students. He's in a white van with Illinois license plate number XX-236. Could you please send a squad car over to check it out?" I asked politely.

The operator assured me that a police officer was nearby and would be on the scene in a few minutes. When she asked for my name, I pretended that the reception was bad and my phone was losing service. They wouldn't care enough to do an identity check. I made it sound like I was doing my civic duty without any hard evidence. I was practically a negligible witness.

"The dispatcher said that they're sending over a squad car now. Let's bounce. I need to go home and try to find the rest of these kids. Edward should be home until 10:00, maybe he can help." Rosalie silently obeyed my request to return home and pulled out of the parking lot.

I'll try to update this story soon, I have a bunch of ideas so I should be able to get them on paper fairly easily.

Thanks for reading!