And even if she wanted to make trouble, Beth could hardly have anything up her sleeve that would really make things worse.
There hadn’t been any more eclipses—or timequakes, or whatevers of the prime whatever—since lunchtime a week ago. But as far as Melissa could tell, the darklings were expecting another one soon. After the last eclipse the rip in Jenks had grown to roughly the size of an oval-shaped tennis court. One of them checked it every midnight now, just to make sure that no more normal people had fallen through. Along with the usual blue glow everything inside it was tinged with red and nothing was frozen—autumn leaves fell, earthworms crawled, mosquitoes buzzed and bit. Too weird for words.
According to Dess, every eclipse would make the rip larger, like a tear traveling down a set of old stockings. Finally on Halloween the fabric of the secret hour would fall apart, and everyone for miles in all directions would find themselves engulfed in a world of red-blue.
As Jessica scanned her physics textbook, trying to focus on a chapter called “Waves and You,” images of last Wednesday night kept popping into her mind—the way Rex had looked as he stumbled back across the desert, as pale as a prisoner released after years in a tiny, lightless cell. The way he had transformed into something inhuman in his anger.
Rex said he still couldn’t remember what had happened to him out in the desert, and even Melissa hadn’t gotten far enough down into his mind to dredge up anything. He said he was having weird dreams, though, like ancient darkling memories running through his head in high definition. All from one conversation with the old ones in the desert.
It had been more of a brainwashing session than a conversation, as far as Jessica could tell. Or maybe a whole bodywashing—his freaky transformation seemed to make Angie’s accusations come true, as if Rex really was a monster now.
Jessica shivered at the image and gave up trying to concentrate on toroidal and sinusoidal waves. Instead she closed her eyes and drew in the smell of tomato sauce filtering under her door. If everything was about to change, Jessica wanted to relish these few last slices of normality.
Only two more Wednesdays before Samhain. She might as well enjoy Beth Spaghetti Night while it lasted.
“Dinnertime!” Beth shouted from right outside the door.
Jessica jerked out of her reverie, blinking. “Thanks for scaring me.”
“No problem.” Footsteps scampered down the hall.
Jessica smiled. Spastically enthusiastic Beth she could deal with. Rolling off the bed and to her feet, she paused to stretch away the muscle kinks of too much studying, then opened her door.
The mouthwatering scent of Beth’s tomato sauce rolled toward her from the kitchen, and the house echoed with the sounds of her whole family in animated conversation. Just for tonight, she could pretend that everything was normal here in Bixby.
But as Jessica made her way down the hall, a stranger’s voice spoke up, gentle but certain of itself—and somehow vaguely familiar.
“No way,” she said softly. Beth was talking again now; she must have misheard.
But dread grew in Jessica as she reached the kitchen doorway and looked down at the empty table—for the first time since they’d arrived in Bixby, the dining table had been set.
Which meant that company was here.
She went through the kitchen and into the dining room until she found herself facing the four of them: Beth, Mom, Dad…
And Cassie Flinders.
“Hey, Jess!” Mom said. “Beth brought a friend home from school today.”
Jessica managed only a zombified, “Oh, yeah?”
“Cassie’s in marching band with me,” Beth said, an amused smile playing on her lips. She turned to the girl. “I told you about my sister, Jessica.”
Cassie Flinders looked her up and down, as if comparing her with some mental checklist.
“Hi,” Jessica squeaked, her voice gone all tinny and her mind racing.
Hadn’t Rex and Melissa gone back out to Jenks and dealt with Cassie’s memories? Wasn’t this kid supposed to have only the vaguest recollections of her moments in the blue time?
“I think we’ve met,” Cassie finally said.
“Really?” Mom said, all smiles. “Where was that?”
“Yeah, where?” Jessica said, taking her seat in front of the empty plate, trying to keep her voice normal and her expression only mildly puzzled instead of totally flabbergasted. “I don’t think I remember.”
“I don’t remember either, exactly.” Cassie’s eyes were still scanning Jessica’s face, as if recording her features in great detail. “But I drew a picture of you.”
“You did what?”
Cassie shrugged. “Drew a picture, with a pencil. The other day when I was sick.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. “And it’s a really good one. She brought it in to show around. You can really tell it’s you, Jess. Cassie draws all the time.”
“But you two don’t remember meeting?” Mom asked.
“No, not at all,” Jessica said. “I mean, I’ve never even been to Jenks.”
“Jenks?” Beth said, smiling radiantly. “How did you know Cassie lived out there?”
“I don’t know… how I knew that,” Jessica said slowly. Now even Mom and Dad were looking at her funny. She realized that it would be better if the conversation moved along. “So, um, are you a majorette too?”
“No. I play clarinet.”
“And she’s a really good artist,” Beth repeated.
“Yes,” Jessica said. “I got that.”
“She also has this other drawing of this guy,” Beth said. “What was the name you wrote on it? Jonath—”
“Oh, hang on!” Jessica said, playing the only card she could be certain would change the subject. “Aren’t you, like, Cassie Flinders?”
No one answered for a second, then Cassie nodded slowly.
“Now, Jess,” her mother said. “I’m sure Cassie doesn’t want to talk about that stuff last week, okay?”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “But I mean, it was on the news and everything.”
“Jessica.”
She didn’t say anything more, just let Beth serve the pasta, slithering spaghetti onto their plates and glopping sauce on top of it as the awkwardness stretched out.
Uncomfortable silences were fine with Jessica, definitely better than the uncomfortable noises coming out of Beth’s mouth. The pause in the conversation gave her a few minutes to figure out what had happened.
According to Rex, Melissa had checked Cassie’s brain to make sure she hadn’t spilled the beans. But maybe instead of blabbing about what she’d seen, she’d drawn it.
Jessica wondered what other pictures Cassie had made before her memory had been erased. One of Jonathan, apparently, and probably she’d sketched the other midnighters as well. And she might have written their names down too.
Had she drawn the black cat slither or the darkling she’d seen?
Everyone started eating, and soon Beth and Cassie were telling stories about how geeky the rest of the marching band was, acting like nothing weird or unexplained had been mentioned at the table.
Jessica wondered if the drawings would jog Cassie’s memories, pulling them out of whatever corner of her mind Melissa had stuffed them into. Or if seeing Jessica in person would make her recall more of what had happened that night.
Still, Cassie didn’t have much to go on—just a few names and half-remembered faces and maybe a black cat or monstrous spider straight out of a nightmare. She had no way to connect Jessica and Jonathan to the other midnighters, no more clues about what had really happened that day.
Cassie Flinders wasn’t really the problem.
As usual, Beth was.
She had already recognized Jonathan’s face and probably remembered from taking phone messages that Jessica had friends named Rex and Dess and Melissa. Worst of all, Beth knew that Jessica liked to sneak out at midnight—the time when the growing rip in Jenks was at its most dangerous.