"OK." I glanced back nervously towards the shed; Julie was still inside, but I knew she'd be out soon. "OK, but listen, I think we should go somewhere else. Julie's kind of upset that Penny skipped work today."

"f.u.c.k Julie. Get in the car."

I got in. Rather than drive away immediately, Maledicta took the time to light a cigarette. I noticed she was still holding her neck a bit stiffly. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"f.u.c.king peachy," Maledicta replied. "But Mouse is being a f.u.c.king basket case. We decided she needed some time off."

"Oh. OK. Listen, can we please --"

"So did you make the appointment with the doctor yet?"

"No," I said. "I couldn't."

"Why the f.u.c.k not?"

"I'll tell you as soon as you start driving."

"Fine," Maledicta spat. She yanked the Buick out of neutral and stepped on the gas. But it was too late; as we pa.s.sed through the Factory gates, I looked back and saw Julie standing out on the lot, her hands on her hips.

Tuesday was in many ways a repeat of Monday: I came in early, and Penny didn't come in at all.

But Julie wasn't interested in hearing more explanations. "Whatever you two need to do, Andrew, you go ahead and do it. When Penny decides to come back to work, if she decides to come back to work, you just let me know."

"Julie. . . I did warn you that something like this might happen."

"That's right, you did. So there's no foul, no blame on you. Now can we drop it?"

That day after work, I again came out of the Factory to find a vehicle idling by the gates. But it wasn't Penny's Buick this time. It was a tow truck: the same tow truck that had honked its horn at Julie and me on Sat.u.r.day morning. A man got out of the cab as I approached, and I recognized him too: he was the same Triple A mechanic that Julie had been dating over a year ago.

Julie came running past me, laughing, and jumped up on the mechanic, slinging her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. I turned away as they kissed.

"Hey Andrew," Julie called, her feet back on the ground. "This is Reggie Beauchamps. I don't know if you two have ever actually met."

"No," said Adam from the pulpit, "but we sure have heard of him. . ."

"Be quiet," I muttered under my breath, at the same time raising my hand in a halfhearted wave.

"Well, we've got to go," said Julie. "Say hi to Penny for me if you see her, OK?"

It was then that Adam shared his insight that Julie was jealous of Penny.

"How can she be jealous?" I protested. "Penny and I aren't a couple! And Julie. . . Julie is part of a couple again, it looks like."

"Yeah," said Adam, "and even if she weren't part of a couple, she still wouldn't want to f.u.c.k you."

"Adam!"

"But even though she doesn't want to f.u.c.k you, she still thinks of you as a special friend. And now she sees you developing this friendship with Penny that seems like it's even more special, and she's cut out of it."

"But that's not what's happening!"

"Doesn't matter. It's what she sees: you spending a lot of time with Penny, both of you acting mysterious about it. . ."

"But we're not trying to be mysterious! And besides, all I'm doing is what Julie wanted me to do!"

"Yeah," said Adam. "I told you that was a bad idea."

Thinking that the sooner Penny started getting professional help, the sooner my relationship with Julie could return to normal, I gave Dr. Grey another call that evening. "h.e.l.lo," I said, when Meredith picked up, "I know you said try back on Thursday, but I was hoping. . ."

"Andrew," Meredith said, in a flat tone I couldn't read. "Hi. Listen, Danny is still --"

I heard Dr. Grey's voice in the background. Then Meredith must have put her hand over the phone's mouthpiece, because everything got m.u.f.fled. It sounded like she and Dr. Grey were yelling at each other.

Eventually Dr. Grey came on the line: "Andrew?"

"Dr. Grey," I said. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything is fine." The connection got m.u.f.fled again for a moment, and Dr. Grey shouted something that I couldn't make out. Then she came back on: "Andrew?"

"I'm still here."

"I a.s.sume you're calling about your friend?"

"Yes. She's ready to meet with you, if you're feeling --"

"Excellent. How does tomorrow sound?"

"It sounds great! I'll have to double-check with Penny, but I think --"

"Good. I'm looking forward to it."

But Penny, as it turned out, wasn't looking forward to it. When I first got her on the phone she seemed very disoriented; I had to explain twice why I was calling before I was sure she understood.

"Tomorrow?" she finally said, sounding dismayed.

"Yes -- tomorrow morning. I'm sorry it's such short notice, but you'll be glad you went. I promise."

"I don't know," Penny said. "I'm very sorry if you went out of your way to arrange this, but I've been thinking it over, and I --"

There was a loud clatter, as if Penny had dropped the phone. Then Maledicta came on the line: "Don't pay any f.u.c.king attention to her. Just say what time you want us to pick you up."

The Buick was out front of Mrs. Winslow's at 8:00 A.M. the next morning. My relief at discovering that Penny herself was driving faded as I realized how miserable she was. She looked like she hadn't slept much, and her neck was still troubling her; and though she didn't say so, it was obvious that she didn't really want to be doing this. I considered offering to cancel the appointment with Dr. Grey, but held off for what was, I admit, a very selfish reason: I didn't think Penny would be allowed to cancel, and I didn't want to have to spend the entire trip to Poulsbo in Maledicta's company.

At Dr. Grey's house, Meredith was in a bad mood too. I couldn't tell if she was mad at me specifically, but when Dr. Grey asked to be left alone with Penny, I decided to go for a walk outside rather than hang out in the kitchen.

I came back an hour later, curious to see how Penny was faring. My father warned me not to expect any miracles; it would take a lot longer than sixty minutes to put Penny's life in order. I knew that, but even so I was surprised to find Penny looking more miserable than when we'd first arrived. What had gone wrong?

During the drive back to the ferry, Maledicta popped out, furious, and blurted a profanity-laced explanation: with Dr. Grey's help, Penny had met some of her other souls in person for the first time.

Evidently they hadn't hit it off too well. Maledicta seemed personally insulted, and she was revving up for a lengthy tirade against Penny when Penny forcefully retook control of the body, nearly wrecking the car in the process.

Penny stayed in control until we reached the ferry landing; then another soul took over. At first I thought Maledicta had come back, but when she didn't start cursing right away, I realized it was her twin.

Malefica reached across to the glove compartment and pulled out a fifth of vodka. "Hey!" I objected. "Hey, what are you doing?"

Ignoring my protest, Malefica spun the cap off the vodka flask and started guzzling the contents.

"Get out of this car right now," Adam said -- a completely unnecessary piece of advice. I was already reaching down to unbuckle my seat belt.

But just then Malefica gasped, as if she'd been stabbed through the back of the driver's seat. She stiffened, and a new soul took charge of Penny's body.

The new soul was male -- and sober, in all senses of the word. Glancing at the vodka bottle in his hand, he let out an irritated sigh and shook his head. He recapped the bottle, and instead of putting it back in the glove compartment slid it temporarily under his seat. Then he turned to me and apologized: "Sorry about that. Sometimes when they're very upset they get self-destructive -- or just plain destructive. I try to keep things from getting out of hand."

His name was Duncan; he introduced himself as Penny's designated driver.

"Is Penny all right?" I asked.

"She's asleep right now," Duncan said. "I don't know how she'll be when she wakes up."

"What about Maledicta and Malefica?"

"They're awake. But" -- and here he was speaking to a larger audience than just me -- "they aren't getting out again until they settle down."

The ferry arrived and opened for boarding. After we were safely parked on the car deck, Duncan got out of the Centurion, taking the vodka bottle with him; when he came back a moment later he was empty-handed.

"I'm sorry about all the turmoil you're going through," I told him, after he'd settled back into the driver's seat. "I wish I could make it easier, but I'm not really sure what to do."

"You've been through this yourself, haven't you?"

"Not me personally. I have an idea what Penny's experiencing right now, but I don't really know, firsthand."

"Well then," said Duncan, "do you suppose you could let her talk to someone who does know?"

It was such an obvious suggestion that I was amazed I hadn't thought of it myself -- and I knew just who Penny should talk to, too.

"I don't want to get involved in this," my father said.

"It wouldn't have to be a long conversation," I suggested. "You could just, I don't know, give her a sort of pep talk."

"A pep talk. . ."

"Yes! Just let her know, you know, that however frightened she is now, it all works out in the end. Like it did for you."

"You don't know what you're asking, Andrew."

He was right, I didn't know -- but ultimately, my enthusiastic ignorance won out over his reluctant wisdom, and he agreed.

When we got back to Mrs. Winslow's, Duncan woke Penny up. As soon as she realized she'd blacked out most of the trip home, she got very upset, and it was a while before I could calm her down enough to suggest that she have a talk with my father. In the end, though, she also agreed. I called out my father, and while he and Penny talked, I went inside and took a long stroll around the lake, which was very misty that day.

When I came back out, nearly three hours had pa.s.sed -- so much for a quick conversation. My father was wiped out.

"Did it go all right?" I asked him. Penny had already gone home.

"She's better," my father said. "For now." Then: "I'm very unhappy that you put this on me, Andrew."

"Well," I said, "it's all over now anyway, right?"

"No," my father said. "I don't think it is."

The next morning, Penny returned to her job at the Reality Factory as if she'd never left. At first Dennis tried to tease her about her week-long "vacation," but she was so matter-of-fact about it that he soon gave up. And by midafternoon, having observed how easily Penny picked up the thread of her work, Julie seemed to have forgiven her her unexcused absence. "Say what you want about her," Julie remarked to me at one point, "but she sure can write code. . . So I take it things are better?"

"Better," I conceded.

"Good," said Julie, and patted me on the shoulder.

After work that day, Penny came up to me and asked, somewhat hesitantly, if she could "talk to Aaron some more." The request caught me by surprise, but my father seemed to be expecting it; he was already waiting in the pulpit. "Tell her yes," he said. So I took another stroll around the lake, and my father and Penny had another lengthy "pep talk."

. . . and the next day, another. Each succeeding conversation left my father more drained, but by Friday night he reported what sounded like real progress. "She's going to make an appointment with Dr.

Eddington next week," he told me. "She's going to start regular therapy."

"That's great!" I said. "So the worst is over, then --"

"No, Andrew, it's just starting."

"I'm sorry. . . I know she's still got a lot to go through, but --"

"You don't have the first inkling!" my father snapped. "This is. . . I know this situation isn't entirely of your own making, Andrew, but I still really resent being made a part of it. Certain things I just don't care to relive."

I apologized, of course, but secretly I was still gladdened by the thought that, whatever hurdles lay ahead for Penny, my own life was starting to return to normal.

On Sat.u.r.day around noon I ran into Julie on Bridge Street, and after some initial awkwardness, she invited me to lunch. While we ate I filled her in on what had been happening -- it was much easier now that I actually had something to tell her -- and when I finished, she told me she was sorry for the way she'd been acting.

"I can see where this must have been a hard week for you," she said.

"It's all right, Julie," I told her. "I know it was hard for you too, feeling left out. . ."

"Well. . ."

"Adam told me you were jealous."

Julie blinked. "Jealous," she said.

"In a special-friends kind of way," I added.

"Jealous. Huh." Julie tossed her head, in what might have been a sideways nod. "Oh- kay."

"So how are things with your mechanic?" I asked, trying to sound positive. "Reggie."