She smiles a tired half smile. “I’ll be fine. Please. I don’t think I can stand up if I don’t get something to eat soon. That was much, much worse than I expected.”

He hesitates, and then removes his arm from behind her shoulders. “I’ll be back.” He sprints off the bus. She watches him out the window. He runs through the empty drive-through lane and taps on the microphone. Janie smiles. What a dork.

He returns with a bag full of breakfast sandwiches, several orders of hash browns, coffee, orange juice, milk, and a chocolate shake. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” he says. Janie struggles a little and sits up. She pours the juice down her throat and swallows until it’s gone. She does the same with the milk.

“Can you chug beer like that?”

She smiles, grateful he isn’t asking questions about her strange behavior. “I’ve never tried it with beer.”

“That’s probably wise.”

“Have you?” She takes a bite of a sandwich.

“I don’t really drink.”

“Not even a little, here and there?”

“Nope.”

She looks at him. “I thought you were a partier. Drugs?”

He hesitates a split second. “Nada.”

“Wow. Well, you sure looked like hell for a couple years.”

He is quiet. He smiles politely. “Thank you.” He nods at her sandwich.

“Sorry.”

He stares at the seat in front of them while she eats. She hands him a sandwich and he takes it, unwraps it, and eats it slowly. They sit in silence.

Janie belches loudly.

He looks at her. Grins. “Jesus, Hannagan. You should enter a contest.”

They share the chocolate shake.

8:35 a.m.

The other students board the bus in twos and threes. Some stand outside, sucking on cigarettes. 8:41 a.m.

The bus begins to move again.

“Now what?” asks Cabel. He has a look of concern around his eyes. He combs his hair with his fingers, and it feathers and falls again.

“If it happens again, don’t worry.” She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you—I promise I’ll explain this all when I can. Where are we, by the way?”

“We’re getting close.”

She rummages around in her pocket and produces a ten-dollar bill. “For breakfast,” she says. He shakes his head and pushes it away. “Let me think of this as our first date, will you?”

She looks at him for a long moment. Feels her stomach flip. “Okay,” she whispers.

He touches her cheek. “You look exhausted. Can you sleep?”

“Until somebody else does, I suppose.”

His eyes turn weary again. “What does that mean, Janie?” He puts his arm around her shoulders. She rests her head against him and doesn’t answer. In minutes, she is sleeping gently. He takes her hand with his free hand and strings his fingers in hers. Looks at her hands, and lays his cheek against her hair. After a while, he is asleep too.

9:16 a.m.

Janie is outside, in the dark. She looks behind her, and the shed is there. She walks around the shed this time, to see him coming.

He looks normal—not a monster—standing at the back door of a house, looking in. Then he slams the door and marches through the dry, yellow grass. The middle-aged man bursts out the door after him, yelling, standing on the step. He carries a rectangular can in one hand, a beer and a cigarette in the other. He screams at Cabel. Cabel turns to face him. The man charges, and Cabel stands there, frozen. Waiting for the man to approach him.

The man punches Cabel in the face and he goes down. He squirms on his back like a scared crab, trying to get away. The man points and squeezes the rectangular can, and liquid hits Cabel’s shorts and shirt. Then.

The man flicks his cigarette at Cabel.

Cabel ignites.

Flops around on the ground in flames.

Screaming, like a poor, tortured baby bunny.

And then Cabel transforms. He becomes a monster, and the fire is gone. His fingers grow knives. His body grows like the Hulk.

Janie watches all this from around the corner of the shed. She doesn’t want to see it. No more of it. Feeling so sick, so horrible for witnessing it. She turns around abruptly. Standing behind her, watching her in horror, is Cabel.

The second.

9:43 a.m.

Janie waits an eternity for her sight to clear. For the feeling to come back. She sits up, frantic. She reaches for him.

Cabel is leaning over, his head in his hands.

He is shaking.

He turns to her, his face enraged.

His voice is raspy. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Janie doesn’t know what to say.

His silent anger shakes the seats.

10:05 a.m.

Cabel doesn’t speak until they arrive in Stratford. And then all he says is a harsh “good luck.” He gets off the bus and heads for his hotel room.

Janie watches him go.

She closes her eyes, then opens them again, and follows the cheerleaders in the other direction to their room.

Once inside, they don’t acknowledge one another.

Janie’s quite good with that.

2:00 p.m.

The students meet in the lobby. Camelot starts in thirty minutes. Janie boards the bus, exhausted, and sits in the back row again.

Cabel doesn’t show up.

2:33 p.m.

The play begins. Janie excuses herself from her orchestra seat and finds a spot in the near-empty balcony. She sleeps soundly up there for three hours, awaking in the closing scene. She slips back down to the orchestra seats and follows the others back to the bus. 6:01 p.m.