6.

"Matt?" Julie said, stepping into the darkness of the small room. It was little more than a walk-in closet- just enough room for a cot and a bit of crawls.p.a.ce around that.

At first, Matt didn't stir. Then, after a minute or so, his eyes opened. "Julie?"

She noticed that his Sony camcorder was pressed against his back, almost as if it were a comforting stuffed toy. "Right here, Matty."

"I had a bad dream."

"Oh. Well, it was just a dream. Everything's fine."

"No," Matt said, turning over to face the wall. "No. It was real."

"Do you want me to call Dr. Swanson?"

Matt glared at her. "Eleanor? No. I don't like her."

"How about...well, Mr. Maitland?"

He lip-farted at this.

"Did you mean to cut yourself?"

He didn't respond. She bit her lower lip. Shouldn't have asked that. He doesn't need to be grilled right now. Shouldn't have asked that. He doesn't need to be grilled right now. She wanted to go lift him up and hug him, but she resisted what Hut would've called her "smother mother instinct." She wanted to go lift him up and hug him, but she resisted what Hut would've called her "smother mother instinct."

"Matt?" she asked. "We can go home now. It's all right."

Still facing the wall, he said, "She's in a box. I heard her." Then, his voice seemed to change. It sounded... girlish. Like he was imitating someone. "Dear G.o.d. Dear G.o.d. Somebody help me. That's what she said. She said it until she couldn't breathe anymore." That's what she said. She said it until she couldn't breathe anymore."

7.

When they got out to the Camry, it had begun raining again. Julie drew Matt closer so that he could keep under her raincoat a bit. His body felt too warm.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shivering as she unlocked the door to let him into the front seat. He was a funny kid in too many ways-violent at times, in a rage, sweet at other times, and somewhere in between he reminded her of a little kid who was smart beyond his years, yet had learning disabilities that she couldn't figure out. Maybe it was his mother. Maybe it was whatever had driven her to alcohol and then drugs and then...the accident. Maybe whatever brain chemistry was there had gotten a little into Matt. Maybe it was his mother. Maybe it was whatever had driven her to alcohol and then drugs and then...the accident. Maybe whatever brain chemistry was there had gotten a little into Matt.

Julie leaned forward and hugged him, kissing him on the top of the head. "Nothing to be sorry about, honey. Want to go grab a bite at McDonald's?"

"What about Livy?"

"She's at Laura's. We'll bring her something back. Okay?"

He brightened, slightly. "Okay."

8.

After making sure his camera case was secure between his feet on the floor of the car, Matt poked around the bun of his Quarter Pounder. He lifted it up, and picked out the pickle. He dropped it back in the bag.

They were at the McDonald's off the main road through town. She'd parked in front. Her cup of coffee was on the dashboard. She'd leaned the driver's seat back, and took a bite of a Chicken McNugget.

"I know it's crazy," Matt said, chewing.

"What?" she asked, trying to hide her interest. He swallowed the bit of burger. And then reached for his soda, took a sip, slurping. "It was like I was in a movie."

"We can talk about something else if you want." She glanced through the windshield. Cars went too fast on the road. Across the street at the strip mall, a little red car was nearly backing up into an SUV that wanted to quickly take a parking s.p.a.ce.

"It's okay," he said. "I just was somewhere else. In my head."

She tried not to glance at his arms, to give him that privacy. The nurse from school had done a messy bandaging and gauzing of his elbow and forearm. She saw what looked like the drawing of a spider, a little too deep in his skin-a faint image, the ink of his ballpoint pen washed away, a lightly raised line of skin.

"Does it hurt?"

He gave a brief peripheral glance to his arm, and shook his head. "Not much."

"You were stung by a hornet."

"Bitten," he corrected her. "And I think it was a yellow jacket."

"Oh. I didn't know there was a difference." She smiled. "I'm not too smart about insects."

"Maybe not," he said, closing his eyes briefly as if a headache had suddenly come on. When he opened them, seconds later, he got a wicked grin on his face. "It hurt like h.e.l.l when it bit me."

She reached forward for her coffee, and lifted the plastic lid up. She mixed in two small cups of creamer, and then a packet of sugar, but couldn't find the plastic stirrer. She took a sip. Better than she had expected.

"What about what you saw? In your mind? Did it frighten you?"

He nodded. She offered him a McNugget, and he glanced at it, then at her, then reached his thumb and forefinger into the little box and plucked it out.

"Not anymore," he said.

She touched the edge of his arm. Next to the raised skin.

He looked away, jerking his arm. Glanced out the side window. Sparrows and starlings were over by the round tables outside, and an old man tossed French fries to them.

"Is there anyone else you want to talk to? It's all right."

"No."

"I just want to help."

"I'm not mad at you," he said, gently.

"I know."

"I just got scared."

"I know you did. But it's over."

"No it's not," Matt said. "It's just starting."

She tried to crack a grin, hoping that somewhere behind his eyes he was teasing her a little. "What is?"

"Julie," he said, seeming wise beyond his years with a voice that was utterly serious. "It's a test. She told me. In my dream. Her name is Gina. They gave it to her. That's all it is. But you only get three days to pa.s.s."

Chapter Three.

1.

After picking Livy up over at Laura Reynen's, Julie drove them both home, listening to Livy describe her afternoon with the babysitter and her family. Now and then Julie glanced over at Matt, but he'd already gotten his camcorder out and was taping the blur of woods and strip malls and suburban houses.

As she turned the corner onto their street, which would take them first up and then down a hill to the house, Livy began singing a funny song about "After you gone, and left me cryin'. After you gone there's no denyin'."

Matt howled with laughter and told his little sister she was certifiable. "You made that stupid song up."

"That's an old song," Julie said. "Gramma might even be too old for it. Was Laura playing it on the piano?"

Livy shook her head. "I heard it in my brain radio," she said. Then, she continued singing, "You feel blue, you feel sad, you miss the bestest pal you ever had."

"It's called After You're Gone, After You're Gone," Julie said. "I bet your father taught it to you."

2.

By eleven that night, he still hadn't called, and she didn't want to call him because sometimes he went into a tirade when she did it. And she didn't need that-not tonight.

Sometimes he had to stay in the city late. It wasn't that unusual, but she expected at least a call or a message.

Julie tried paging him, but got no response. She thought she heard him come in, and went down to the front door, opened it. Just a car turning around in the driveway. It seemed misty outside-not quite rain. She stood on the front porch, feeling the chill and enjoying it a bit.

She heard some noises from downstairs, and went to the finished bas.e.m.e.nt.

Matt, watching television.

"Matt? It's a school night. Let's. .h.i.t the sack."

He ignored her.

"What are you watching?"

"Some guy," Matt finally said.

On the TV, it was Jerry Springer. A man with a ponytail who looked a little too old for a ponytail shouted at another man, who was fat, had his shirt off, and was covered with tattoos of naked women. A middle-aged woman with short blond-red hair wiped tears from her eyes. The audience screamed.

"Let's turn it off, okay?"

"I can't sleep," Matt said.

She watched the back of his head. "All right. But get to bed soon. Okay?"

No response.

"Matt?"

"Okay," he said.

"Don't forget. You promised you'd walk Livy to the bus stop tomorrow."

"I do it every Thursday, don't I?" Then, he turned around to look at her. In his hand, his camcorder. "Smile for the camera, Julie."

"Aw, you're catching me at my best," she laughed. "Are you videoing the Springer show?"

"Nope. Just doc.u.menting my life," he said.

"To bed," she said. "Another half-hour, okay?"

"Watch the birdie," he said, following her movements with the camera as she left the room and went back upstairs.