He winced and rubbed the tender spot. “That a good thing?”
“Yeah.” I knuckled him on the other shoulder. “A very good thing.”
I pushed by Basil, a smile plastered on my face, and headed for the first stop on my list. Thirty teachers. Sixty major acts of contrition. I had been a middle school beast, but oh, the lightness of coming clean.
Basil followed like a poodle, and when at last I emerged from Mrs. Watson’s general music, it was finished. I ripped up my sheet and stuffed it in my pocket.
“Basil, you will never have the courage to do what I just did. You’ll always be smooth, and you’ll always be an ass.” I stepped nearer. “Here’s a suggestion. Open up to Crow, or stay away from her.”
“What about you? Do I need to stay away from you?”
“What is it about guys? So flavor-of-the-month.” I stepped back. “Forget you ever knew me.”
I turned and left the school. I needed to be home early tonight. The day had come.
• • •
“We have trouble.” Crow rocked on her bed. “Mom left for the night.”
“With Jude?”
Crow shook her head. “After you went to school, Mom flipped. She said she needed time to think. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
That’s not how it went down the first time. Mom was here on Mayday. Of all the nights, on this night, she needs to be here.
“I have a bad feeling.” Crow stared out her window. A late-afternoon thunderstorm boomed the sky, and the air hung heavy. Either Shane had asthma, or panic—thick and palpable—souped up my lungs.
Adele drew quietly in her sketchbook. “Crow, I think this is turning out pretty good. I’ll need a story for this one.”
Crow peeked at me. “I’m coming, Addy.” She hopped down and sat cross-legged by her sister. Addy rested her head on Crow’s shoulder, and I cried . . . tears that made no sense. I came back to help Addy, but as I watched the sisters, my heart broke for Crow. She gave up her life—her carefree childhood, her passion to write, her rightful place in this family—all she sacrificed for duty and love. She was more than a hero. I mean, I was. Once again, it was so clear.
I turned, as sappy emotion wouldn’t sit well with Crow. Behind me, Crow began.
“That’s an impressive boat. Okay, once upon a time there was a ship, sailing on the Endless Sea.”
“Who’s on it?” Addy jumped in. “I need the characters.”
“You’ll find out. The crew was a bunch of scoundrels. Pirate types. Years ago, in the darkness of night, they attacked the boat, set its rightful captain onto a deserted island, and sailed out into deep waters.
“It was a harsh crew, except for one maiden, beautiful and kind. Truth told, she wasn’t a pirate at all, but the child of the captain.”
Addy interrupted. “Make a happy ending, just this once.”
“Happy ending. So young was the maiden that she could not remember her father’s fate, and soon her gentleness won over the crew. Even the cruelest man treated her kindly. But of those on board, her closest friend was not one of the pirates, but a troll.
He lived belowdecks with the rats. Only the maiden visited him. Only the maiden spoke to him. Only the maiden loved him.”
Crow paused, and Addy spoke. “Did he love her back?”
“Oh, yes. He loved her back.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Crow looked up. “A storm, furious and violent, swept down from the East, catching the ship unawares. The boat experienced a lashing: the mast broke in two; the hull split; and the men scrambled for lifeboats.
“But not the maiden. She climbed into the hold, where the troll sat, half covered with water. ‘Come! Quickly! I won’t leave this ship without you.’
“Coaxed on, the troll rose, and together they climbed onto the deck. But the ship listed, and the two tumbled. They were alone. The lifeboats and crew were gone, and all they had was each other.”
“You said this was going to end up all right,” Addy said.
Crow nodded. “I did promise that. As they huddled together now near death as they had in life, a lightning bolt struck the ship, the hull broke into pieces. They dropped toward the sea, and bounced.”
“Bounced?”
“Bounced. Like we did on the trampoline. Bounced. But not high. They’d fallen into a raft.”
“It’s the dad, the captain, right?” Addy squeezed Crow’s arm. “The dad came back for them.”
“No, not the father.”
“Then who was it? Who saved them?”
Crow glanced up at me and smiled gently. “I’m not sure. That, perhaps, you’ll find out in part two.”
“I’m never . . .” Addy swatted Crow with the sketchbook. “I hate it when you do that.”
Crow rejoined me on the bed.
“A raft?” I asked.
“It fit the story.”
I took Crow’s hand as another crack of thunder shook the house. “We need to sleep in the tree house tonight.”
“Addy still gets freaked by storms. She’ll never go.” Crow’s jaw tightened. “No, the three of us will be okay in here. I’ve brought food. Nobody leaves the room until morning.” She raised her eyebrows. “Help me set it up.”
We shoved Crow’s bed in front of the door, lugged the dresser behind it.
“What are you doing?” Addy asked.
“Uh. Special rearranging for the night.” Crow forced a smile. “We’re all going to sleep in your bed.”
Addy eyed her mattress, and then quieted. “It’ll be cramped.” She peered toward the window. “But I’m not too excited about this storm.”
“This is why we’re going to stay close.” Crow glanced at me, and I tried my best to look confident. “It’ll pass. They always do.”
Eight o’clock turned to nine and then ten. Outside, the storm intensified. Rain clanked off the gutters, and peals of thunder rattled the window.
We huddled on Addy’s bed. She had long ago fallen asleep between us. Crow looked down at her, then over at me. She reached out her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me—”
The doorknob clicked and turned.
“This is no good,” I whispered. “There’s nobody to hear us.”
“Open the door, girls.” Jude’s rough voice pushed in. “The storm is bad. You’re welcome to sleep in my room if you’re afraid.”
Crow looked at me. “No!” she said. “Go away.”
“What have you placed in front of this door?” The bed and dresser shook as the door opened and closed an inch.
“He’s pushing,” I hissed. “He’s going to get in soon enough.”
Crow’s wide eyes scanned the room. “My knife.”
“No, that doesn’t stop him. Trust me. We need to get out.” I jumped off the bed, raised the blinds. Rain pounded on the outside sill. “We all race to the tree house. He can’t follow us up there. He doesn’t fit.”
Crow hopped off the bed and threw open the window. Rain splattered into the room, and more thunder shook the house. She scrambled beside Adele, shook her shoulders gently. “Sis, I need you to wake up.” Slowly, Addy sat and rubbed her eyes.
The dresser rocked and jiggled, inching farther into the room. Jude’s fingers reached in. “Open this door!”
“What’s happening?” Addy stared at the shaking furniture.
I pushed back against the dresser, but my weight was no match for Jude’s strength. “Follow me.” I bounded across the room and climbed out the window into the pouring rain. I turned and stuck my head back inside and reached out my hands.
“Addy.” Crow lugged her off the bed. “Do you see Shane? I need you to go to her. She’s going to take you to the tree house. It’s not safe here. We need to get to the tree house as fast as we can.”
She shook her
head and grabbed Crow around the neck. Thunder boomed. “I’m not going out there now.”
“You are.” Crow hauled her toward the window. “Trust me. You need to trust me that it will be all right. Shane in front of you; me behind you.”
“Give me your hand!” I screamed, and reached for Adele’s arm. “That’s good. I’ll be with you the whole way.”
Behind them, Jude’s head poked through the door. “Do not go out that window!”
Crow turned, saw him, and lifted Adele. I pulled and Crow pushed, and we squeezed Addy through the opening. She landed with a wet thud and ducked beneath the eaves. “I want to go inside! This is insane!”
Crow squeezed out the window, grabbed Adele around the shoulder, and the three of us scrambled across the lawn beneath the strobe-light sky.
“I hate this! What are we doing this for?” Adele wriggled and hit and pulled free as Crow slipped to her knees. Addy raced back toward the open window of the house.
“No, Adele!” I chased after her, watched in horror as she stuck her head back into the room. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her inside. Jude’s satisfied face slammed the window and pulled the shade.
Crow beat on the glass.
“Addy. I’m coming, Addy!”
I scanned the backyard, came up empty, and ran to the side of the house. I scooped up a paving stone, stumbled back, and yanked Crow aside. I flung the stone, and shards exploded into the night.
“Stop! No, that hurts!” Addy screamed from inside.
“He’s got the bookshelf in front of the window!” Crow’s eyes were frantic. “Bathroom!” I ran for another paving stone, sloshed back, and handed it to Crow.
She ripped off the screen and smashed the glass. She struck that window, again and again, until a large hole, jagged and dripping, appeared. Crow leaped up and disappeared. I struggled after her, tumbled to the bathroom floor, and raced into the hall.
And paused.
The sound was so foreign to the home, I hardly recognized it. A weeping, heavy and terrible. Jude’s sobs filled his room, forced their way through the closed door and into the hall, rising above the din of the storm.
The Monster wept.
I broke free and charged toward our bedroom. I squeezed into the room and froze.
The bookshelf by the window had been pulled away, and Crow’s torso stretched outside. In the distance, faint and thin, Addy was calling.
“Crow? Where are you, Crow?” Over and over in the storm. I heard her name, my name. Crow jumped back out, and I walked, stiff and gasping, to the sill. A numbness I knew so well returned, and I leaned out into the rain, let myself fall forward onto the ground. Droplets, once warm and firm on my skin, turned cold.
“It can’t have happened. It can’t—” I looked up, while the entire night wept. In the middle of the yard, Addy stumbled toward Crow, her pajamas ripped, her legs wobbly. Crow caught Addy in her arms, and the thunder stole Addy’s words.
But not the look on her face. Each flash of lightning showed the pain.
My sister in pain.
“What did he do to you?” Crow screamed.
Addy shook her head and squeezed Crow tighter.
“Get her into the tree house!” I called, staggering to my feet.
Crow stared at me.
“Go! Go!”
She led Addy to the ladder. Addy climbed up, and Crow glanced at me again . . . and collapsed, splashing face-first into a puddle. She did not move. I ran toward her, lifted her face out of the mud, and stroked her hair.
“Oh, Crow—”
“She slipped through my fingers. I had her safe in my hands. . . .” Her face darkened. “I need my knife.”
“No.” My head fell onto her chest. “Not tonight. Tonight, Addy needs us.”
Crow’s eyes opened wide, and she stumbled to her feet and climbed the ladder.
I followed without words or purpose. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say.
How could I have failed again?
I crawled out of the rain and into a lonely place and grabbed the top blanket off the folded pile.
I sat where I first had met Crow. My vision blurred, and I blinked and looked around the tree house. Mittens from Sadie balled up in a corner, while the two sisters huddled together.
“Please, Addy,” Crow choked through tears. “What did he do to you?”
“I don’t know.” Addy sobbed. “I don’t know. He held me on his lap. His hands, they were everywhere. On top . . .” Her shaking hand raised to her mouth, and she whispered, “Underneath.” She peeked down at her ripped pajamas. “Then glass broke, and he screamed and dropped me and ran out. I wish Mom was here.”
My head fell back with a thud. Had it not been for my theatrics this morning, Mom would have been.
Mayday came after all.
“Addy, I should have told you so much more.” Crow stroked her sister’s hair. “I should have been clear. I knew what he wanted, and I thought I could keep it away and didn’t want you to live worried. But maybe if you would’ve told Mom, she would have listened.”
Addy nestled in tighter. “You knew he would try this? The knife, it wasn’t for all those sandwiches you brought into the room?”
Crow squeezed tight her eyes.
“And the bed, you weren’t really afraid of sleepwalking. That’s not why you moved it.” Addy whispered, “And I bet you’re not afraid of the dark.”
Addy looked up, grabbed a blanket, and drew it close. She breathed deeply. “Crow, I love you.”
Fresh tears traced down Crow’s cheeks, and we sat, hurting and healing, beneath the storm.
“Finish the story,” Addy said. “The boat one. The maiden and the troll were in a raft. They’re safe.”
Crow glanced around the tree house, her gaze skipping over me. “Now? I don’t think I can—”
“Please.”
I scooted around the tree house next to Adele. My locket felt extraordinarily heavy, like a boulder in my pocket. I lifted it out and flipped it open.
Yellow. All hint of green was gone. Half done. Sadie said yellow meant half done. But there was nobody left to save. I reached my arm around Adele and felt nothing.
“It was Shane.” Crow sighed. “In the raft? That was supposed to be Shane.”
“No,” I whispered, and crawled directly in front of Addy. I tried to draw her near, tried to grasp Crow’s hand with my own, but all sense of touch had faded. I was drifting into shadow.
“Addy? Crow? I’m here. I’m still here.”
“Shane. Of course it was. Where did she go?” Adele dropped her gaze and pressed harder into Crow.
“She must still be in the yard. You know her. She’ll be up soon. She always comes at the right time. Unlike me.”
“I’m right here!” I yelled, and buried my face in my hands. When next I moved them, Sadie’s face leaned over mine.
“I know, child. I know.”
Sadie straightened and reached for her knitting. The back of the ambulance was as I left it—rain pounding down on the roof, Shane lying beside me. I propped myself up on an elbow. I was dry, and I was Crow.
Sadie stared over at Shane, her body wet, her arm sliced from shards of window glass and caked in blood. Sadie reached over and touched Shane’s face, frozen in a look of panic.
“You sure done put your loaner through it. Appreciate you bringing her back, though.”
“It wasn’t my choice. You pulled me!” My voice cracked. “One thing. All I had to do was one thing. And I did nothing. I failed Addy again.”
“You still missing the point. I told you before, you wasn’t making the trip for her. It’s a dicey proposition to alter events for others. You was introducin’ too many variables. I had no choice but to bring you back. I told you, best stick to your own affairs.” She looked
up from her scarf. “Though in that respect you done good.”
I swung to a sitting position, and the world spun.
“Take it on easy now. The process doesn’t come without a bit of dizziness.”
“What did I do for Crow? For me?”
“I saw a hardened girl start believing in someone again. She started believing in you, which means Crow started to believe in herself. I saw a girl full of guilt from her daddy leavin’, her whole life so sure she played the main role. I don’t see that anymore. She’s starting to feel the truth. That’s plantin’ seeds. That’s progress.” She bustled into the front. “Come up here.”
I climbed after Sadie, and together we stared at the display. Nothing had changed with Lifeless. Jude and the doctor stood at the bedside, lost in serious discussion. Adele was there, too.
“Watch.” Sadie whispered.
Dr. Ambrose handed Jude a clipboard, and Jude took a pen from his pocket. Adele screamed and flew toward them. She slapped Jude across the face, then slapped the doctor. While both men bent over, palms to cheeks, she snatched the paper and ran from the room.
“Okay, that’s not . . . Adele would never do that.”
“That’s the thing, child. You entered, set a chain of events in motion, and disappeared. Your main effect was on you, but I wouldn’t bet that you was as hopeless as you thought, even with Addy.” Sadie reached out her hand. “I need you to return the locket, Coraline. Wherever you end up, it can’t go with you.”
I stared down at it, flipped it open to be sure. “Yellow. Wait, you said that was halfway. In the dream, plenty happens after it turns yellow. I have more time.” I stared at her. “Send me back again.” I grabbed Sadie’s knitting, stuck the locket in her face. “Are you listening? It’s still yellow! I have time! You said that until the color fades to black, I can change.”
“Walkabouts is intended to be second chances, not thirds or fourths.” Sadie whispered. “They’re gifts, really. Besides, why should I give loaners to folk who will not follow direction, who focus on everyone else’s life but their own?”
“Okay, I get that, and this is about my life!” I lowered my voice. “Listen, please, that wasn’t the only Mayday disaster. I couldn’t stop the first one. I can still stop the second.”