“Yes. Just take my hand.”

She shifted her legs, rising slowly to grasp my fingers. Her hand felt so warm and small in mine that I felt strangely protective toward her.

But suddenly she jerked away, her hands flying to her chest.

“No!” she screamed at me. “Keep away!”

“What’s wrong?” I cried.

“Evil is here with us!” She turned chalk pale and stared at me with terrified eyes. “He’ll steal your soul and take you away!”

“Don’t be afraid. You’re completely safe,” I said in my calmest voice.

“But you’re not! You can’t trust him!” Mrs. Perfetti rose her arm like a sword with sharp accusation and aimed it directly at Zachary. “He’s the devil!”

11

Zachary may be a lot of things … but the devil?

This was so absurd, I almost laughed — until I saw Zachary’s scowl and realized that he was not amused. There was nothing else to do but end the date ASAP, so I told Zachary to leave. I expected him to argue, or at least ask if I needed a ride back to my car, but sadly, no. He’d had enough — too much, in fact — and I couldn’t blame him.

My first date as “Alyce” was a total failure.

Her mother wasn’t the same “Mrs. Perfetti” I knew and avoided. Her eyes had an unfocused glaze and she spoke all whispery, like a little girl. When I asked for her car keys, she obediently handed them over.

Then I turned to Edna. “I’ll take her home now. Thanks so much … you’ve been great to my mother. She’s lucky to have a loyal friend like you.”

“I am her friend, but … ” Edna’s wrinkles deepened as if she was struggling with her own emotions. “But it’s hard when she gets like this. Please convince her to see someone. To get help.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, although I wasn’t sure what kind of help she needed — a doctor, a shrink, or an exorcist?

I’d known Alyce more than half my life, yet had never seen her mother so out of control. I mean, Mrs. Perfetti was all about control — from the spare cleanliness of her house to the tight leash on her daughter — yet according to Edna, this wasn’t the first time she’d gone freaky. What was going on? Was it some sort of mental breakdown? Or was Zachary’s guess right and Mrs. Perfetti had a drug problem? That would explain the paranoia and devil hallucinations. I didn’t think she was an alcoholic, because she preferred tea to wine and I hadn’t smelled liquor on her breath. Then there was another possibility — darker and scary.

I led Mrs. Perfetti out to her car because no way could she drive — not when she kept murmuring about “the devil” and moving like a zombie. I hated to leave Junkmobile on a downtown street, but it was more important to get Alyce’s mother safely home. I could get the car later.

Mrs. Perfetti fell asleep on the drive, and I had to lead her by the hand into the house like I was the adult and she was the child. Seriously weird. After years avoiding any contact with Alyce’s mother, I was now her caretaker. I eased her onto the couch and handed her the remote control. I hoped she’d fall asleep watching CNN so I could go back to my room and consult the GEM.

“Alyce, what’s for dinner?”

I stopped mid-step, turning back toward the couch with a sinking feeling. “Um … dinner?”

“Can you heat up tomato soup and grill a tuna melt for me?”

Her request wasn’t issued in the commanding tone from last night; she was still using a whiny, little-girl voice — like she was literally someone else. I didn’t want to believe there were supernatural reasons, yet I found myself staring at her suspiciously, searching for telltale grayness around her hands or fingernails. But I couldn’t find any hint of a Dark resident lurking inside her, only a sadness that lingered around her like a gloomy fog.

As I smoothed mayonnaise on wheat bread and slapped on cheese, I kept sneaking peeks into the living room, puzzling over Alyce’s mother. She’d turned on the TV, but instead of flipping to CNN, she watched the cartoon channel. Not really watching, though, since her gaze was fixed on the closed window blinds.

Sighing, I flipped the sandwich over, worrying that I couldn’t handle this Temp Life assignment. Finding a boyfriend for Alyce seemed simple enough and while the gallery had been a little boring, I’d sensed a connection between Alyce and Zachary. I’d even started to imagine Eli and I double dating with Alyce and Zachary. But Alyce couldn’t exactly date someone her mother thought was the devil. Either Mrs. Perfetti was completely off her rocker with hallucinations or she could see something that no one else could … was Zachary a Dark Lifer, too?

But I’d touched his hand, and there wasn’t any gray glow or tingling heat. Maybe I was the one hallucinating, imagining that Dark Lifers were everywhere. Besides, from what Edna said, Mrs. Perfetti’s problems had been going on for a while, and this wasn’t the first time Alyce had had to come for her mother. It was just the first time I’d known about it.

Bending to turn off the stove, I caught my reflection in the glass oven door. “Who are you, Alyce?” I whispered sadly. “Did I ever really know you?”

There wasn’t an answer, although my stomach did grumble. But it would have to wait a little longer. I placed the tuna melt on a dish, the cheesy smell making my stomach growl louder.

The cartoons were still on, and Mrs. Perfetti seemed mesmerized by Bart Simpson mouthing off to his sister Lisa. When I set her plate on the coffee table, she smiled up at me in a vague way, gesturing that I should sit beside her.

I shook my head. “I have other things to do.”

“Don’t leave me … please.” She pointed to the windows. “They’re out there, waiting to take you away.”

“No one is going to take me away.”

“They already did.” She looked at me with a strange expression. “Who are you?”

Ohmygod, how could I handle this? She was completely crazy!

“You know who I am,” I said softly. “I’m your daughter.”

“No, no! My baby girl is … is gone.”

“I’m right here.”

She put her hands over her face as if she hadn’t heard me. “Don’t lie to me … why does everyone lie to me? Doesn’t anyone understand that I just want her back … where is she? Why can’t I find her?”

With an anguished cry she jumped off the couch, jarring the coffee table so some soup spilled. Her feet pounded down the hall, then stopped. A door slammed. I guessed she’d gone into her bedroom. Now what was I supposed to do? If I left her alone, she might hurt herself. Nervously I went down the hall, pausing at her door. It was slightly ajar and, through the crack, I saw her lying with her face buried in a pillow, her shoulders quaking with sobs.

“Are you okay?” I called out.

No answer.

“Can I get you anything?”

I heard a muffled, “Go away!”

Shutting the door, I gave myself a big fat red F for Failure.

I was totally in over my head as a Temp Lifer — and as Alyce’s best friend. I should stop now before I messed up everything. I owed it to Alyce, her mother, my family and the entire Temp Life program to quit my assignment. Grammy could replace me with someone experienced. Before I lost my nerve, I went into Alyce’s bedroom to call my grandmother.

The phone flashed with messages. A missed call from Grammy and texts from Eli, Dustin, and Jessica Bradley. Jessica? What did Ms. Popularity-Plus want with Alyce, anyway? Curious, I read the text:

Re: basket club mtg. Mon-lunch. c ya!

Huh? I was President of the Halsey Hospitality Club and hadn’t scheduled a meeting on Monday. But knowing Jessica, a new member of what she fondly called the “Basket Club,” I wasn’t surprised to see her taking over.

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