Lauren to stop breathing so hard.
Her own sight to return.
And to feel something.
Anything.
It takes a very long time for all three things to happen.
Morning comes too quickly.
February 20, 2006, 8:30 a.m.
The chem team finalizes their display. It’s a DNA helix, with posters theorizing how cloning could safely be done with humans.
Janie doesn’t care much about it. She lets the real chem geeks do all the work.
Which they probably preferred anyway.
Mrs. Pancake arrives with doughnuts, and they sit and wait for the observers and judges to come by. Everyone looks exhausted, including
Mr. Durbin.
Janie excuses herself and goes into the restroom.
Calls Cabel.
Tells him everything about Lauren’s dream.
They hover together in grim silence over the phone.
“Be careful,” Cabel says for the hundredth time.
“I just can’t understand how no one seriously reported it or followed up on it, unless they were all too wasted to remember,” Janie murmurs.
“There must have been something in that punch. Captain told me to study up on date-rape drugs. I think she nailed it.”
“Sounds like it, J.”
The door to the restroom opens and Lupita walks in, waving cheerily at
Janie.
“I’ve got to go,” Janie says quietly as she returns Lupita’s wave, and hangs up.
4:59 p.m.
The team packs up the display. They walk away with white third-place ribbons. Not bad for a stupid theory and a hundred brazillion Popsicle sticks.
By nine p.m. everyone is dozing in the van. Everyone but Janie and
Mr. Durbin, that is. Janie struggles and pulls herself out of a variety of ridiculous dreams. Thankfully the silly ones are the easiest to pull out of.
She snacks and tries to sleep between dreams.
Finally Mr. Durbin pulls over along the highway. The sleeping troupe rouses to see what’s going on.
“My dear Rebekkah,” Mr. Durbin says to Mrs. Pancake, “can you drive for a bit? I’m falling asleep.”
Mrs. Pancake glances nervously at Mr. Durbin.
“Just for an hour or so,” he says. Pleads.
“Fine,” she says.
Mr. Durbin climbs out of the van and enters the rear sliding door.
“Somebody, go sit up there with Pancake, will you, please? I need to stretch out.”
He drops into the backseat with Janie. “Hey,” he says. His eyes travel up and down her cloaked body.
“Hey,” Janie says, trying to appear interested, but then gives it up and looks out the window into the night. Watches the snow beginning to fall lightly around them. Wonders if something terrible is about to happen. That she’ll be discovered shaking and blind because of Mr.
Durbin’s dreams, or that he’ll try something creepy in the dark nether regions of the van.
Neither one sounds especially good right now.
Mr. Durbin stretches and yawns. By the time they’ve gone ten miles, he’s snoring lightly next to Janie, his legs splayed out into the aisle, his upper body tilting and sliding an inch at a time toward Janie.
She’s trapped.
She wills herself to stay awake and keep her wits about her. Manages to last an hour, maybe.
11:48 p.m.
Janie startles awake.
The van is humming. Everyone else is asleep except Mrs. Pancake up front. Everyone too exhausted to dream.
Janie looks at Mr. Durbin.
His shoulder is against hers. His hand on her thigh.
Janie blanches. Shoves his hand away. Shrinks farther into her little corner and turns her back to him.
He doesn’t wake up.