The group stumbles out of the van.

“See you in the morning, bright and early for school,” Mrs. Pancake calls out into the crisp night as the students wearily shove the snow from their windshields.

Janie calls Cabel.

“Hey. I’ve been waiting up for you,” he says, sounding worried. “Are you safe to drive?”

“I can’t imagine any people will have their windows open on a night like tonight,” she says.

“Come to me.”

“I’m five minutes away.”

Janie falls into Cabel’s arms, exhausted. Tells him about Mr. Durbin in the backseat of the van.

He leads her to the bedroom, helps her into one of his T-shirts, and whispers in her ear as she falls asleep, “You did great work.” Closes his bedroom door.

Makes his bed on the couch.

Lies awake, pounding his pillow in silence.

February 21, 2006, 3:35 p.m.

Janie, dark circles under her eyes, and Cabel, concerned look on his face, sit in Captain’s office. Janie snacks on almonds and milk as she relays the events of the chemistry fair adventure.

“It looked sort of like Durbin’s house,” she says. “His living room.”

“But you couldn’t see anyone’s face?” Captain presses her.

“No,” Janie says. “Just Lauren’s. She’s the one who was dreaming.” She wrings her hands.

“It’s okay, Janie. Really. You’ve given us a lot of information.”

“I just wish I had more.”

Cabel reaches over and squeezes her hand. A little too tightly.

Afterward, Janie heads home, checks on her mother, grabs dinner, and hits the sack. Sleeps twelve hours straight.

February 27, 2006

Cabel calls Janie on the way to school.

“I’m right behind you,” he says.

“I see you,” she says, and smiles into the rearview mirror.

“Hey Janie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a huge, terrible problem.”

“Oh no! Not that horrible toenail fungus that takes six months to cure?”

“No, no, no. Much worse. This is shocking news. Are you sure I should tell you while you’re driving?”

“I’ve got my headset on. Both hands on the wheel. Windows rolled up.

Go for it.”

“Okay, here goes…Principal Abernethy called me this morning to let me know I’m in the running for valedictorian.” There is silence.

A rather loudish snort.

And guffaws.

“Congratulations,” she finally says, laughing. “What ever are you going to do?”

“Fail every assignment from today onward.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“Watch me.”

“I am so looking forward to this. Oh, and also? You suck.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Janie hangs up and laughs all over again.

Second-hour psych is a sleeper. Janie stumps Mr. Wang with a question on dreams, just for the hell of it. Leaves him stuttering, so she isn’t late to Mr. Durbin’s.

For the week leading up to the party, Janie continues to play the woman scorned in front of Mr. Durbin, and he appears to eat it up. In fact, the more she avoids him, the more he comes up with excuses to call her to his desk after class or requests she stop by after school.

She remains aloof, and he goes out of his way to compliment her—on the test, her experiments, her sweater….

March 1, 2006, 10:50 a.m.

“You still coming an hour early on Saturday?” Mr. Durbin asks Janie after class.

“Of course. I promised I would. Stacey and I will be there at six.”

“Excellent. Hey, I couldn’t do this big party without you, you know.” Janie smiles frostily and walks to the door. “Of course you could.

You’re Dave Durbin.” She slips out and heads to English lit, with boring old Mr. Purcell. He is the epitome of moral character.

Study hall outright sucks. By the time it’s over, Janie has too much information about nothing important. And when she lifts her head, she sees the shadows of feet and legs next to the table.

“Are you okay, Janie?” It’s Stacey’s voice.

Janie clears her throat, and a crashing noise comes from the section of the library to the left. Stacey whirls around and gawks. Janie can’t see what’s happening, but once she can feel her lips, she smiles. Cabel’s up to something, she thinks.

She sits up as if she can see, and, indeed, her vision is returning somewhat now. She coughs and clears her throat again, and Stacey turns back to her.

“Sheesh. What a klutz. Anyway, I came over to make sure Saturday at six was right.”

“Yep,” Janie says. “That’s just you and me heading over to Durbin’s house to set up. Are you comfortable with that?” Stacey gives her a quizzical look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I have no idea, but you can’t be too careful these days, can you?” Stacey laughs. “I guess. Well, we’ve got the appetizers all figured out. I hope he has enough electrical outlets, ’cause there’s going to be a shitload of Crock-Pots. Of course, we could always use Bunsen burners.”

“Good one! Hey, I’ve got a list of desserts and snacks. Phil Klegg is bringing something called ‘dump cake,’ and I just don’t even want to know what’s in there.”