through his own body. Ivy turned the cat over gently. Along her right flank was a stripe where fur had been roughly stripped away. Her pink skin was scraped bloody and raw.
'Ella, how did this-' But Ivy didn't finish the question. She realized the answer the same moment Tristan did. 'Gregory,' she said.
All night Ivy had dreams about Ella, long, winding dreams in which Gregory chased the cat and Ivy chased Gregory. Then just as she got close, he turned on her. Ivy's sleep did not grow peaceful until after the sky was light. Now, with eyes closed against the brightness, she counted the muted gongs from the clock in the dining room. They sounded a million miles away-five million, six million, seven million, eight million-'Eight!' She sat up quickly in bed.
Ella, who had been snuggled close, pressed her body hard against Ivy's, burying her face in Ivy's side. As gently as possible, Ivy lifted the cat onto her lap. When she saw the wound again, tears came to her eyes.
'Okay, girl, let's clean you up.'
She carefully lifted Ella off the bed and carried her toward the bathroom.
'Ivy, Ivy, aren't you ready yet?' her mother called from downstairs.
Ivy turned and walked out to the hall, staying close enough to the wall to remain hidden from Maggie.
'Almost,' she called down.
'Everyone else is gone,' Maggie shouted back at her. 'I'm leaving now, too.'
'See you,' Ivy said with relief.
She heard the click-click of her mother's heels on the hardwood floors and the sound of the back door closing. Then she lifted Ella up to her face to look at the wound again. The cut was straight, as if made by a sharp razor.
The previous night Tristan had had to use all of his powers of persuasion to restrain her from charging into Gregory's room. This morning she knew Tristan had been right to hold her back. She'd confront Gregory, but when she was cool and calm. Gregory wanted to see her upset, and her anger would just encourage him.
'Okay, baby, everything's going to be all right,' Ivy soothed Ella as she reentered her room.
The morning sun was high enough now to flood the room and stream across the top of her bureau, brightening every speck of dust and picking up flecks of gold paint in the frame around Tristan's picture.
Ivy gazed at the picture for a moment, then pulled back. In front of it were shavings of black hair-Ella's fur. Ivy held Ella against her with one arm and reached out to touch the soft fur. Then she picked up a lock of curling gold hair.
Her hair! Someone had cut a piece of her own hair.
Gregory, of course. Ivy sank down into a chair next to the bureau and rocked back and forth, hugging Ella.
When had he done it? How?
Every night since the day Tristan had told her what he knew about Gregory, Ivy had locked the bedroom door that led to the hall. There was another entrance, however, through the bathroom that connected her room and Philip's. Ivy had rigged the latch on that door so that Philip could push it open in an emergency, but not without a lot of effort and noise.
Somehow Gregory had worked it silently. Her skin prickled all over, thinking of him holding a pair of scissors, bending over her while she was asleep.
Ivy took a deep breath and stood up again. She cleaned up Ella, then wiped off the top of the bureau, her hands still trembling. Then on a sudden impulse she rushed into Gregory's room, wanting to see for herself the scissors, the razor, the proof of what he had done.
She started picking up and throwing papers and clothes and magazines.
From between the pages of_ Rolling Stoneo_ a piece of art paper slipped out. It was folded in half and had dark printing inside. When Ivy opened it, her heart stopped. She recognized the handwriting instantly: the strong, slanting style was identical to that of the captions on Will's cartoons.
She read through the note quickly, then read it again very slowly, word by word, like a first grader surprised by each set of printed letters and what they meant. As she read Will's note she kept telling herself that these weren't his words-they couldn't be. But he had signed it.
'Gregory,' he had written, 'I want more. If you're serious about it, you'll bring twice the amount. I'm taking a chance, I'm an accomplice now-you've got to make it worth it. Bring twice the money if you want the cap and jacket.'
Ivy closed her eyes and leaned against Gregory's desk. She felt as if her heart were being squeezed, transformed into a small stone. When all was done, there would be nothing soft left inside her, nothing left that could bleed… or cry.
She opened her eyes again. Tristan had been right all along about Gregory and Will. But Tristan hadn't guessed how Will would betray her-how he'd cover for Gregory and leave her vulnerable if paid the right price.
Ivy felt beaten, not by Gregory's hatred and dark threats, but by the pale heartlessness of Will. What was the point of trying? she thought There was too much going against her. She slipped the letter back in the magazine. Then she saw a tattered book about Babe Ruth, one of Philip's paperbacks, on top of Gregory's pile.
She had to keep going. Philip was in this with her.
Opening the magazine again, she snatched up the letter, then hurried back across the hall to dress for school. Before leaving the house that morning, Ivy brought Ella's water bowl and dry food up to her room.
She left Ella there, locking both the bath-room and hall doors.
Ivy had missed homeroom. When she entered English class with a late slip, Beth lifted her head. She looked tired and worried. Ivy winked, and Beth smiled a little.
After class they walked together, trying to get away from the crowd of kids surging through the hall.
Nothing could be heard over the talk and banging locker doors unless it was shouted. Ivy linked arms with her friend and opened the palm of her hand. Immediately Beth slipped the key into it.
When they finally reached an empty room at the end of the corridor, Beth said, 'Ivy, we have to talk. I had a dream last night. I don't know what it means, but I think-' The school bell rang.
'Oh, no, I've got a test next period.'
'Lunchtime,' Ivy said. 'Try for the table back in the corner,' she added as they parted.
Two hours later Ivy got lucky. Ms. Bryce, the school counselor, let her out early for lunch, saying how pleased she was by Ivy's progress, her fresh hope and positive attitude toward life. I guess drama club pays off, Ivy thought as she staked out the small table in the corner of the cafeteria. Beth joined her a few minutes later.
'Will's in line. Should I wave him over here?' Beth asked.
Ivy chewed her sandwich quickly and swallowed hard. Will was the last person in the world she wanted to see. But Beth still trusted him. She was already signaling to him.
'Did you mention anything to Will about the key or our search?' Ivy asked.
'No.'
'Good,' Ivy said. 'Don't. I don't want him to know about it-not yet,' she added, softening her tone when she saw the surprised look on Beth's face.
'But Will might have some good ideas,' Beth said, opening her lunch bag, pulling out her usual first course- dessert 'I'm sure he'd want to help you search.'
No doubt, thought Ivy. Who knows what he'd find that might be worth some money.
'You know how he feels about you,' Beth added.
Ivy couldn't squelch her sarcasm. 'Oh, yeah, I know, all right.'
Beth blinked at her. 'Ivy, he'd do anything for you.' And make some bucks while doing it, Ivy thought, but this time she spoke more carefully. 'Maybe you're right, Beth, but still, don't tell him, okay?'
Beth's eyebrows drew together. She wouldn't argue further, but she clearly thought Ivy was making a mistake.
'Tell me what you dreamed last night,' Ivy said.
Her friend shook her head slowly. 'It was weird, Ivy, so simple but so weird. I dreamed the same thing over
