Griffin was.

I put the phone down on my comforter, still unable to take my eyes from it. “Just remember, darling, all the while …”

Oh, no. Though I don’t know the song, I anticipate the words before they’re out.

“You belong to me.”

All I want to do is stop the music. I don’t want to speak to Bret, but I don’t want to be alone, either. I flip open the phone. “Bret,” I say, breathless.

“What were you doing, running a marathon?”

“No, I …” My mind is wandering so far from this place that I forget to speak at an audible volume.

“Listen,” he says, oblivious. “I think I know who could have broken into my locker, if it wasn’t you. Which I’m still not convinced of, by the way.”

He proceeds into a long explanation about some guy on the track team who was pissed at Bret for beating his time in the last meet and whose uncle is a janitor. But all I’m thinking about is my possessed cell phone. I got a call from Bret last night, and the “You can ring my be-e-ell” made my skin crawl. Since then, I’ve had my phone in my backpack, which hasn’t left my side, so …

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Um, I guess,” I mutter. It certainly sounds better than a dead boyfriend haunting us. Though that explanation is sounding more and more reasonable by the minute.

After all, that song. That’s the kind of music only Griffin liked. And he was the one constantly programming my phone with new ring tones. I think back to my dream, in which he was standing outside, in his tuxedo, fists balled. His lips were closed in a snarl, but the rage on his face spoke very clearly.

Don’t forget me, he seemed to say. You belong to me.

CHAPTER 14

Eron

The next day, I spend my morning on the curb outside Julia’s house, rather than in her tree. I can’t risk turning human there and being caught “peeping” by the neighbors again; this time I am sure they would call the police, and with good reason. Out of the shade, the sun is blinding and hot. I wonder if people who don’t actually exist can get sunburned.

Late in the morning, at about the same time I became human yesterday, a little girl races by on her scooter and waves at me. That’s it. Showtime.

I proceed out of Julia’s neighborhood. Turning to the right, I head away from the bus stop, toward the center of town. I hope that is where I will find the school.

Where I will find Julia.

I wonder how much time I will have today before I start to fade. If Chimere could see, she would not be pleased, as I’m supposed to use the minimal time I have bouncing between worlds to situate myself in my new life. Not doing this. Not clinging to charges who will no longer be my concern once I make the transition. But despite my being so far from situated in this world that I might as well be residing on the moon, I can’t stop thinking about what Mr. Colburn said. He’ll hurt her.

Today I see more of the town Julia calls home, and though the buildings are further apart, it’s just as busy as the city of Newark was when I was growing up. I come to a wide, wide street, as vast as the Hudson River I remember. Across it, I see an enormous sprawling brick building. Julia’s school, I presume, since she has dreamt of it once or twice. Though it is only across the street, it might as well be in another land. Standing here, I feel as small and defenseless as an insect. Motorcars are zooming by at breakneck speeds. I step from the curb several times but always scurry back to safety. A horn blares.

This is madness.

Finally, the vehicles slow to a stop. A girl in an obscene outfit that shows her middle section takes a quick look right and left and steps out into the street as if she is not taking her life in her hands. I watch to make sure she isn’t killed, then scamper at her heels, her faithful shadow. Heaving a sigh, I step onto the opposite curb. Safe.

Mr. Colburn mentioned something about how Julia used to lunch on the green with him, outside. He said that they always sat at the last picnic table on the right with an enormous plate of french-fried potatoes and a Coca-Cola. It was “their” place. Now, he said, she would probably be eating alone, reading. I walk along the chain-link fence until I come to the edge of the building. On the other side of the fence, not ten feet from me, is the table he was referring to. But there are four girls sitting there.

It takes me a moment to realize that one of them is Julia; her hair looks more mussed than usual, though it is down in its normal style, forward over her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes are heavier, her skin paler than I usually see in the darkness, in the confines of her bedroom.

She seems anxious. Last night, we had quite the struggle getting her to sleep. My student trembled and cursed under his breath once or twice, but he kept at it, silently, steadily. There was something on her mind, but her sleep was dreamless, so it gave us no indication of what the trouble was. Colburn hadn’t told me exactly what in the human world he’d touched, but her anxiety made me certain that it was something of Julia’s, and that she’d noticed it. She is not a stupid girl, after all.

I stand there, watching for a moment, as they chat and giggle. In the sunlight, Julia glows, unlike I’ve ever seen. I’m used to taking in her delicate form by moonlight, so I had no idea her skin was so luminous, so pale, so fragile. She is the most reserved of all the girls, and it pleases me somewhat to see how uncomfortable she is among the group; it’s just another thing we have in common. When she offers her plate of fries to the table, her voice is nearly drowned out in the breeze.

She is safe. This should be enough for me. I am but a stranger to her, and I know I shouldn’t stare or else risk looking like a lunatic. But as a Sleepbringer, I had the luxury of gazing at her for as long as I wanted, and perhaps that is why I can’t seem to look away.

One by one, the girls turn to me. The combination of amusement and shock on their faces is palpable. My first instinct is to run away, but before I can, Julia turns. Her eyes narrow and then widen as she takes me in. I’ve never before felt the weight of her eyes on mine. It’s so dizzying I have to lace my fingers through the fence to steady myself. I wonder if she always has that effect on people.

I realize I am still wearing my hat—what a boor I am—and quickly remove it. “Good day,” I say, and my voice quavers awfully; how disgraceful. But it has been years since I’ve spoken to any human female, much less four of them. I feel a trickle of sweat slide down my temple; for the first time in a hundred years, I am perspiring.

One of them, a girl with dark skin and even darker hair, straightens to get a better look at me. “Are you going to get naked?”

I turn my ear toward her, certain I’m mistaken. “Beg pardon?”

She shrugs. “Damn. I thought someone had sent us a strip-o-gram. You’re fine.”

A strip-o-…? I hope they’re not implying what I think they are. Julia is too young and upstanding to dabble in such things; it is a disappointment to discover that she is again choosing to surround herself with individuals who are beneath her. “Yes, I am fine, thank you very much,” I answer. “How do you do?”

A moment of silence passes before they all break into laughter. I’m doing frightfully well, if my intention was to be a comic act.

I know I should just say farewell and be on my way, but something about this moment is so thrilling I can’t resist. The opportunity to talk to the girl I’ve guided her entire life, to have her regard me as well. I remember with a stab of pain in my heart those countless decades I spent regretting never asking Gertie to the church social, the many nights I spent knowing I would do things differently, had I only the chance. I realize I’m clutching my hat to my chest so tightly I’m digging holes into the silk with my fingernails. Her name escapes my mouth naturally, since it has been on the tip of my tongue for years. “Julia.”