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“Grrr,” she says. But does it.
By memory.
All she can make out with her right eye is the E. She doesn’t say anything. Just says the letters she remembers from before.
And then he takes a second, different chart out.
“Do that eye again,” he says.
“What is the deal with you?” she almost yells. “Jeez, Cabel. I’m not your little kid or something.”
“Can you read it or not?”
“N,” she says.
“Is that as much as you can read?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He bites his lip. “Excuse me for a minute, will you?”
“Whatever,” she says. So she needs glasses—maybe. Big deal. Cabel disappears into her bedroom, and she hears him pacing over the creak in the floor and talking to himself.
Janie eats her sandwich and downs the glass of milk. Goes into the kitchen and makes another. Grabs a carrot and peels it over the garbage can. Pours another glass of milk.
Takes her feast to the living room again and sits down. Turns the TV back on. She’s feeling much better. Her hands have stopped shaking. She swallows the last drops of milk and feels it sloshing around in her belly. She smiles, contented. Thinks she ought to be the poster girl for the Got Milk? ads.
10:59 p.m.
Janie pulls herself out of her post-dinner stupor and wonders what Cabel’s doing in her room all this time. She gets up and heads down the short hallway, pushes the door open, and gets sucked into darkness immediately.
She staggers.
Drops to the floor.
Cabel’s frantic, trying to lock a door. Each time he locks it, another lock appears. As he secures each new one, the others spring open. He can’t keep up.
Janie reaches for the door, blindly.
Backs out of her room on her hands and knees, pulling the door shut with her.
And the connection is broken.
She blinks, seeing stars, and gets back to her feet. Pulls a ratty old blanket from the closet and settles on the couch, sighing. She can’t even sleep in her own bed these days.
January 7, 2006, 6:54 a.m.
Janie is startled awake. She looks around as a cold blast of air washes over the living room. She sits up and goes to the kitchen, looking out the window. Fresh footprints in the snow lead down the drive, across the street, and into the yard on the other side.
She checks her bedroom.
He’s gone.
She shakes her head. What a jerk, she thinks.
Then she finds his note.
J.,
Shit, I’m such a jerk. I’m sorry—you should have smacked me awake. I’ve got some things to do today, but will you call me? Please?
Love,
Cabe
There’s something about a guy who admits he’s a jerk that makes him forgivable.
Janie climbs into her bed. Her pillow smells like him. She smiles. Hugs it.
Talks to herself.
“I would like to dream about Center Street and I would like to talk to Miss Stubin again,” she says over and over as she drifts off to sleep.
7:20 a.m.
Janie rolls over and rouses herself. Looks at the clock. Sighs. She’s rusty at it. Repeats her mantra. Pictures the scene in her head.
8:04 a.m.
She’s standing on Center Street. It’s dark, cool, and rainy again.
Looks around.
No one is there.
Janie wanders up and down the street, looking for Miss Stubin, but the street is vacant. Janie sits on the bench where she sat before.
Waits.
Wonders.
Recalls the previous conversation.
“When you have questions about my notes, return here,” Miss Stubin had said.
Janie slaps her hand to her forehead and the dream fades.
When Janie wakes, she vows to practice directing and controlling her dreams every night. It will help. She knows it will.
She also vows to keep reading Miss Stubin’s notes, so she can come up with some questions.
10:36 a.m.
Janie munches on toast as she pulls out the box of files from Captain. She begins where she left off, and reads the reports, fascinated.
4:14 p.m.
She finishes the second file. Still sitting on her bed in her pajamas. Remains of snacks everywhere. The phone rings, and with a gasp she remembers Cabel’s note from this morning. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
?
??Shit.”
He laughs. “Can I come over?”
“I’m totally still sitting here in my pajamas. Give me thirty minutes.”
“You got it.”
“Hey, Cabe?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you mad at me?”
He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. I just . . . I worry about you. Can we talk about this when I come over?”
“Sure.”
“See you soon.”
4:59 p.m.
Janie hears a light knock and the door opening. She peeks her head around the corner, and to her great surprise, it’s Carrie.
“Hi, it’s me, your fair-weather friend!” Carrie grins sheepishly.
Shit, Janie thinks.
She grabs her coat and puts on a smile. “Hey, girl,” she says. “I was just going out to shovel. Care to join me?”
“Uh . . . I guess.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothin’. Just bored.”
“Where’s Stu?”
“Poker night.”
“Ahhh. Does he do that regularly?”
“Not really. Just whenever the guys call him.”
“Mmmm.” Janie grabs the shovel and starts clearing the steps first, then the sidewalk. She keeps her face turned toward the direction she thinks Cabel will come from. It’s growing dark, and she hopes he notices her.
“So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Me?” Janie laughs. “Homework, of course.”
“You want company?” Carrie’s looking wistful.
“Do you have homework to do?”
“Of course. Whether I do it or not is the real question.”
Janie sees him out of the corner of her eye. He’s stopped still in the side yard of the neighbors across the street. She laughs with Carrie and says, “Well, that’s enough of that.” She bangs the shovel and climbs the steps. “Go on in,” she says.
Carrie steps inside, and Janie gives Cabel a fleeting glance over her shoulder. He shrugs and flashes the okay sign. Janie follows Carrie in.
Carrie stays until midnight, when she’s good and drunk on Janie’s mother’s liquor.
Janie thinks about going to Cabel’s after Carrie leaves, but decides she’ll get a good night’s sleep here and see him in the morning.
January 8, 2006, 10:06 a.m.
Janie calls Cabel. Gets his voice mail.
