'Go on,' Will urged softly.
'It's covered with a blanket. And there's an angel looking down on it.
The angel is crying.'
'What's under the blanket?' Ivy whispered.
'I can't see,' Beth whispered back. 'I can't see!'
Then her hand started scribbling: 'I can see only what Beth sees. The blanket can't be lifted.'
'Is the angel you, Tristan?' Ivy asked.
'No,' Beth wrote. Then she grabbed Ivy's hand. 'Something terrible is there. Don't go! I'm begging you, Ivy.'
'Listen to her, Ivy!' Tristan said, but Beth's hand was shaking too hard to write it.
Ivy looked at Will.
'Beth has been right twice before,' he said.
Ivy nodded, then sighed. 'But what if Eric really has something important to tell me?'
'He'll find another way,' Will reasoned. 'If he really wants to tell you something, he'll figure out a way.'
'I guess so,' Ivy said, and Tristan sank down in relief.
Soon after that, he left the three of them. He heard Ivy ask mentally, 'Where are you going?' But knowing she was in safe hands, he kept on. He had recovered from the exhaustion of time-traveling but wasn't sure how long his second wind would last. He wanted time to search Gregory's room while everyone was out of the house. If he could find Gregory's latest purchase of drugs, Ivy would have evidence for at least a drug charge.
Still, what she really needed was the jacket and cap, Tristan thought as he passed through the school door. The clothes might convince the police to reconsider Philip's story. A single piece of hair could establish the important link to Gregory.
Somebody must have found the clothes after they rolled off the motorcycle. Did that person know how important they were? Philip's story hadn't been released to the public, but it could have leaked out. Was there, Tristan wondered, an unidentified player in Gregory's game?
'But Ivy,' Suzanne wailed, 'we had plans to find the crystal slippers-the ruby shoes-the only pair of heels in all New England that are exactly right for my birthday party. And I've got only a week left to hunt!'
'I'm sorry,' Ivy replied, reaching into her locker for another book. 'I know I promised.' She shifted the stack in her arms, clutching a note beneath the books. Three minutes before Suzanne had arrived, Ivy had opened her locker and found Tristan's picture gone. The note she grasped had been taped in its place.
'How about Wednesday?' Ivy proposed. 'I have to work after school tomorrow, but we can shop till we drop on Wednesday and find you an incredible pair of shoes.'
'By that time Gregory and I will have made up and be doing something again.'
'Made up?' Ivy repeated. 'What do you mean?'
Suzanne smiled. 'It worked, Ivy, worked like a charm.' With her back against the wall of lockers, Suzanne bent her knees and slowly slid down till her bottom touched the floor-no easy feat in tight jeans, Ivy thought. A group of guys down the hall admired her athletic ability.
'Since you wouldn't mention Jeff to him,' Suzanne went on, 'I did. I called Gregory Jeff.'
'You called him Jeff? Did he notice?'
'Both times,' Suzanne replied.
'Whew.'
'Once when things were pretty hot and heavy.'
'Suzanne!'
Suzanne threw back her head and laughed. It was a wild and infectious laugh, and people grinned as they passed her in the hall.
'So what did Gregory say? What did he do?' Ivy asked.
'He was unbelievably jealous,' Suzanne said, her eyes flashing with excitement. 'It's a wonder he didn't kill us both!'
'What do you mean?'
Suzanne slid closer to Ivy and bent her head, her long, dark hair falling forward, like a curtain for telling secrets behind.
'The second time, we were in the back seat.' Suzanne closed her eyes a moment, remembering. 'His face went white, then the red started creeping up his neck. I swear I could feel a hundred and five degrees rushing through him. He pulled away from me and raised his hand. I thought he was going to hit me, and for a moment I was terrified.'
She gazed into Ivy's eyes, her pupils large with excitement. Ivy could see that Suzanne might have been terrified then, but now found it thrilling and fun to talk about. Her friend was enjoying the memory the way someone delighted in a good scare at a spook house-but Gregory was no papiermache monster.
'Then he dropped his hand, called me a couple of names, got out of the back seat and into the front, and started driving like crazy. He opened all the windows and kept yelling back at me that' I could get out. But of course he was driving so fast and weaving left and right, and I was trying to straighten myself up and kept slamming from one side of the car to the other. He'd watch me in the rearview mirror; sometimes he turned all the way around. It's a wonder he didn't kill us both.'
Ivy stared at her friend in horror.
'Oh, come on, Ivy. In the end, when I had my right arm in the left arm of my vest and my hair flopped over my face, he slowed down, and both of us started laughing.'
Ivy dropped her head in her hands.
'But when he took me home that night,' Suzanne continued, 'he said he didn't want to see me anymore.
He said I make him lose control and do crazy things.' She sounded pleased with herself, as if she had been given a huge compliment. 'But he'll come around by next Saturday. He'll be at my party, you can bet on that.'
'Suzanne, you're playing with fire,' Ivy said.
Suzanne smiled.
'You and Gregory aren't good for each other,' Ivy told her. 'Look at you.
You're both acting crazy.'
Suzanne shrugged and laughed.
'You're acting like a fool!'
Suzanne blinked, stung by Ivy's criticism.
'Gregory has a terrible temper,' Ivy went on. 'Anything can happen. You don't know him the way I do.'
'Oh, really?' Suzanne raised her eyebrows. 'I think I know him pretty well.'
'Suzanne-' 'And I can handle him-better than you can,' she added, glancing sideways, her eyes gleaming. 'So don't get your hopes up.'
'What?'
'That's what this is all about, isn't it? Ever since you lost Tristan, you've been interested in Gregory. But he's mine, not yours, Ivy, and you're not going to get him away from me!'
Suzanne stood up quickly, brushed off the back of her jeans, and stalked down the hall.
Ivy leaned back against her locker. She knew it was pointless to call after Suzanne and thought about summoning Tristan, asking him to watch over her friend. Maybe Lacey could help them out. But that request would have to wait. Ivy had changed her plans for the afternoon, and if Tristan read her mind, he might try to stop her.
She unfolded the square of paper that had been taped in place of Tristan's picture. The note, signed with Eric's initials, was short and convincing: 'Come alone. Five o'clock. I know why you're dreaming what you're dreaming.'
Ivy parked her car close to the train bridges. She was in the same clearing where Gregory had stopped months ago, the night Eric wanted to play chicken. She got out and walked the short distance to the double bridges. In the late-afternoon sun, the rails of the new bridge gleamed.
Next to it stood the old bridge, a rusted orange fretwork reaching halfway across the river. Jagged fingers of
