Bonnie sucked in her breath. Something was opening in front of her like a silver thread, a silver tunnel of communication. She was rushing along it, with no way to stop herself or check her speed. Oh, God, she thought, when I reach the end and hit—
The flash in Stefan's head was soundless, lightless, and powerful as a thunderclap. At the same time he felt a violent, wrenching tug. An urge to follow—something. This was not like Katherine's sly subliminal nudging to go somewhere; this was a psychic shout. A command that could not be disobeyed.
Inside the flash he sensed a presence, but he could scarcely believe who it was.
Bonnie?
Stefan! It's you! It worked!
Bonnie, what have you done?
Elena told me to. Honestly, Stefan, she did. We're in trouble and we need—
And that was it. The communication collapsed, caving in on itself, dwindling to a pinpoint. It was gone, and in its aftermath the room vibrated with Power.
Stefan and his brother were left staring at each other.
Bonnie let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and opened her eyes, though she didn't remember closing them. She was lying on her back. Matt and Meredith were crouched over her, looking alarmed.
"What happened? Did it work?" Meredith demanded.
"It worked." She let them help her up. "I made contact with Stefan. I talked to him. Now all we can do is wait and see if he's coming or not."
"Did you mention Elena?" Matt asked.
"Yes."
"Then he's coming."
Monday, June 8, 11:15 p.m.
Dear Diary,
I don't seem to be sleeping very well tonight, so I might as well write you. All day today I've been waiting for something to happen. You don't do a spell like that and have it work like that and then have nothing happen.
But nothing has. I stayed home from school because Mom thought I should. She was upset about Matt and Meredith staying so late Sunday night, and she said I needed to get some rest. But every time I lie down I see Sue's face.
Sue's dad did the eulogy at Elena's funeral. I wonder who's going to do it for Sue on Wednesday?
I've got to stop thinking about things like this.
Maybe I'll try to go to sleep again. Maybe if I lie down with my headphones on, I won't see Sue.
Bonnie put the diary back in her nightstand drawer and took out her Walkman. She flipped through the channels as she stared at the ceiling with heavy eyes. Through the crackle and sputter of static a D.J.'s voice sounded in her ear.
"And here's a golden oldie for all you fabulous fifties fans. 'Goodnight Sweetheart' on the Vee Jay label by The Spaniels…"
Bonnie drifted away on the music.
The ice cream soda was strawberry, Bonnie's favorite. The jukebox was playing 'Goodnight Sweetheart' and the counter was squeaky clean. But Elena, Bonnie decided, would never have really worn a poodle skirt.
"No poodles," she said, gesturing at it. Elena looked up from her hot fudge sundae. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. "Who thinks of these things anyway?" Bonnie asked.
"You do, silly. I'm only visiting."
"Oh." Bonnie took a pull at the soda. Dreams. There was a reason to be afraid of dreams, but she couldn't think of it just now.
"I can't stay long," Elena said. "I think he already knows I'm here. I just came to tell you…" She frowned.
Bonnie looked at her sympathetically. "Can't you remember either?" She drank more soda. It tasted odd.
"I died too young, Bonnie. There was so much I was supposed to do, to accomplish. And now I have to help you."
"Thanks," Bonnie said.
"This isn't easy, you know. I don't have that much power. It's hard getting through, and it's hard keeping everything together."
"Gotta keep it together," Bonnie agreed, nodding. She was feeling strangely lightheaded. What was in this soda?
"I don't have much control, and things turn out strange somehow. He's doing it, I guess. He's always fighting me. He watches you. And every time we try to communicate, he comes."
"Okay." The room was floating.
"Bonnie, are you listening to me? He can use your fear against you. It's the way he gets in."
"Okay…"
"But don't let him in. Tell everyone that. And tell Stefan…" Elena stopped and put a hand to her mouth. Something fell onto the hot fudge sundae.
It was a tooth.
"He's here." Elena's voice was strange, indistinct. Bonnie stared at the tooth in mesmerized horror. It was lying in the middle of the whipped cream, among the slivered almonds. "Bonnie, tell Stefan…"
Another tooth plunked down, and another. Elena sobbed, both her hands at her mouth now. Her eyes were terrified, helpless. "Bonnie, don't go…"
But Bonnie was stumbling back. Everything was whirling around. The soda was bubbling out of the glass, but it wasn't soda; it was blood. Bright red and frothy, like something you coughed up when you died. Bonnie's stomach convulsed.
"Tell Stefan I love him!" It was the voice of a toothless old woman, and it ended in hysterical sobs. Bonnie was glad to fall into darkness and forget everything.
Bonnie nibbled at the end of her felt pen, her eyes on the clock, her mind on the calendar. Eight and a half more days of school to survive. And it looked as if every minute was going to be misery.
Some guy had said it outright, backing away from her on the stairs. "No offense, but your friends keep turning up dead." Bonnie had gone into the bathroom and cried.
But now all she wanted was to be out of school, away from the tragic faces and accusing eyes—or worse, the pitying eyes. The principal had given a speech over the P.A. about "this new misfortune" and "this terrible loss," and Bonnie had felt the eyes on her back as if they were boring holes there.
When the bell rang, she was the first person out the door. But instead of going to her next class she went to the bathroom again, where she waited for the next bell. Then, once the halls were empty, she hurried toward the foreign language wing. She passed bulletins and banners for end-of-the-year events without glancing at them. What did SATs matter, what did graduation matter, what did anything matter anymore? They might all be dead by the end of the month.