Nevermore

enough, she might be able to imagine he was right there next to her.

From somewhere downstairs, Isobel heard the phone ring, followed by Danny’s shout of, “I got it!” She opened her eyes and rolled onto her back, straining her ears to try to hear whether or not the call was for her, even though she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to take it. She heard her brother’s voice float up from the foyer, saying, “Hey, Trevor.”

She rolled over to stare out her darkened window. Her thoughts drifted back to Varen, and she tried to ignore her brother’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and his voice as he spoke loudly into the phone. “Yeah, it’s upstairs, let me get it and I’ll check.”

Now she could see Varen in her mind’s eye, just where he’d been in her dream. A far-off form, tall, windswept, framed by a forest of matchstick trees. She was just about to shut her eyes again when there came a quiet knock at her bedroom door. She sat up. “What?”

“Isobel.” It was Danny, whispering to her through the bottom crack of her door.

“What do you want?”

“Open up,” he said. “It’s for you.” He raised his voice again, and she heard him say, “Yeah, I got the whole list of codes right here. Which ones do you want first?”

Isobel stumbled out of bed and toward the door. She opened it to a slit and found her brother there, holding the portable out to her. Stunned, she took it.

“Make it quick!” he whispered, and leaning over the banister, he said, “Okay, the first one is for Blood Thirst Traitor Three, and it’s to stop the countdown clock on level seven. Ready?

Okay—two, two, nine, zero—”

Isobel retreated quickly into her room and cradled the receiver against her ear. “Hello?”

“Okay, so madness runs in the family, am I right?”

“Gwen!” Isobel breathed out in a rush, sinking to the carpet on her knees.

“What is it?” said Gwen. “What’s the matter?”

Outside her door, Isobel could hear Danny droning on, spouting off made-up codes. She knew there was bound to be a catch to Danny’s help, but for the moment she was grateful.

“Varen was here,” Isobel whispered, and then proceeded to give Gwen the abridged version of what had happened, all the way from the drive home to the atomic explosion with her dad.

“Are you serious?” Gwen exclaimed, cutting her off before she could finish. Then, as if she hadn’t heard a word about the fight, she said, “He tagged you to go to the Grim Facade? Oh my cheese and crackers. Do you even know how major this is?”

“Gwen, are you listening to me? Did you not hear me when I said my dad just finished grounding me for the rest of my natural life?”

“Are you kidding?” she squeaked. “Ohhh, you are sooo going. You gotta see it. ’Course, I’ve only ever been once myself, but it was awesome. I went the year before last ’cause that emo kid, Mikey, with the spiky hair? You know the one I’m talkin’ about? He tagged me. Hey! I bet I could get him to tag me again. If he isn’t already taking somebody.”

“Gwen, hello.” Isobel tapped a finger against the receiver. “You’re not hearing me. I can’t go. I already told him I couldn’t.”

“What are you gonna wear?”

Isobel shut her eyes. She rubbed her temple where a headache had begun to set in.

“Look,” she said, “it’s probably safe to say that I won’t be having much social interaction outside of school, at least until New Year’s. I’m not going, Gwen. End of story. I’m just trying to figure out a way to meet with Varen this week to get the project done. Can you help me figure that one out? Please? Besides, if I can manage not to get kicked off the squad again, I’ve got the rival game this Friday anyway.”

“Your parents gonna be there?” Gwen asked, a sly edge to her voice.

“At the game?”

“No, at your bat mitzvah—yes, the game!”

“After tonight? Are you kidding? My dad’ll probably pick a seat front and center and still have binoculars handy.”

“Can you . . . guarantee that?”

“Yes!” Isobel hissed, “I can!”

“Good!”

“Gwen—”

“Only do me a favor and try not to piss your dad off any more—well, any more than can be avoided.”

“But—”

“—is not a nice word, even though we all have one. Now go to bed before your dad finds out you’re on the phone and sends you into orbit for nine years. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

Click.

Isobel stared at the phone. Now she was completely convinced. Gwen was a mental case. Recent escapee from the Home of Our Lady of Loonies. There was no way she was going to be able to sneak out this Friday. Hello. It was Halloween. Her parents—at least her dad—would be taking notes for the record if she so much as sneezed.

Isobel jumped when Danny zoomed into her room, snatching the phone out of her grasp. “Abort, abort!” he rasped, rushing back out, practically dive-bombing into his own room, shouting into the receiver, “Yeah—oh, yeah. Detrodon is the best!”

Isobel heard footsteps on the stairs. Her first instinct was to rush forward and slam her door shut, but instead she rose quietly and went to stand in the doorway. She grasped the handle and peered out to see her mother on her way up. Isobel frowned and turned away but left her door ajar. Returning to her bed, she buried herself in covers.

“Isobel,” her mom said, her voice soft, coaxing, “I want you to know that your father and I are going to have a talk.”

Isobel felt one side of her bed sink down as her mom sat, and then the weight of one warm hand against her arm. “In the meantime, I want you to go ahead and make plans to finish this project, okay? Here, I brought you your book.” Isobel’s eyes widened as her mother laid The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe on the covers right next to her head. She shifted to sit up.

“Do you have somewhere else you two can meet this week?” her mom asked.

Isobel thought for a moment. In her mind, she pictured the ice cream shop. There was also Nobit’s Nook, and of course, there was the library if all else failed. She nodded, grateful to have an ally after all. More often than not, her parents stuck maddeningly together on most issues concerning her social life.

“I don’t understand,” Isobel murmured. “I don’t get what his problem is.” She traced a finger along the sleeve of her mom’s lavender top.

Her mother let her words out in a sigh. “I think he’s just afraid.”

“Of what? It’s not like I was out doing drugs or something. Mom, we were studying.”

“I know,” her mom said, patting her arm. “I think he’s afraid because he sees that you’re growing up.”

Isobel scowled and twisted around in her covers, huddling to one side. “Well, he’s just going to have to deal.”

That made her mom laugh. Isobel loved the sound of her mom’s laugh. It was light and airy, like something you might expect from a Disney princess. “Your friend is a bit different,”

she said. “I think part of it is that at first, he comes off as a little . . . stark and maybe a little . . . experienced. I think that, more than anything else, is what has your father spooked. He seems like a nice enough boy, though. Just a little eccentric.” Isobel felt her mother’s hand brush her forehead, fingertips stroking her hair. “It won’t take your dad long to see that. He’s just . . . I don’t know. I think he’s so used to Brad being around all the time.”

Isobel snorted into her pillow. “So then why don’t the two of them date?”

“Oh, Izzy.” Her mom sighed. “Don’t be like that. He’s just trying to look out for you. So cut him a little slack.”

“Cut him a little slack?” Isobel somehow doubted that her mom could be right about her dad getting over it, though she hoped he would. She hated fighting with either one of her parents, but for