Лиза Макманн - Fade

“Okay, you’re off the hook,” he says, smiling. “So, who’s your baby daddy?”

She grins, embarrassed. “That was a little joke,” she says, and wets her lips. “Thanks. Can you write me a note now?”

“Sure,” he says lazily. He reaches for his pen and scribbles on a square sheet of recycled paper. He holds the note out in front of him, so she has to approach to get it. “How’s that sound?” He’s grinning.

She takes the paper. “You want me to read this?” she says.

He nods and scribbles on a second square of paper now. “And this is for your next teacher.”

She reaches for it. “Oh, okay,” she says. “Uh…”

“The first one is some information about a little chemistry party I have every semester at my house, just for the Chem. 2 students. Any chance you can whip up a flyer for me to hand out to everybody?”

Janie looks at the paper. “Of course, I’d love to.”

“You look like the type who would be good with computer graphics,” he says. “You know what I mean.” He wiggles his fingers. “Savvy… with electronics.”

“It must be my geeky glasses that gives me away,” she says smoothly.

“The glasses are nice, Janie. Are they working out for you okay?”

“Yeah, great. Thanks for asking.” She smiles. “I should…probably get to my next class now. Don’t you have a class this period?”

“Nope. This is my free hour.”

“Oh, cool. I’ve been meaning to ask you—Is there a chemistry fair or a competition that you take students to?”

Mr. Durbin taps his chin thoughtfully. “I wasn’t planning to do it this year, because it’s all the way up in the UP at Michigan Tech, but you’re the third person to ask me about it. Are you interested in me getting a team together? We’d have to do it quickly. The fair’s next month.”

Janie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yes,” she says. “I’d love to go!”

“It’s a heck of a drive all the way up there. We’d have to book a hotel.

Is that…um…feasible? I don’t think there are any scholarships available.”

Janie smiles. “I could handle a couple hundred bucks, yeah.”

Mr. Durbin eyes her. “I think it could be a great experience,” he says, his voice low and slow.

She nods. “Well, cool! Let me know. And I’ll get that flyer to you soon. You want ten copies?”

“No hurry. The party’s not until the first week of March. Ten copies would be perfect. Actually, make it twelve, in case Finch loses his, like he loses everything else. Thanks, Janie.”

“Anything for you,” Janie says, and blushes. “I mean…you know.”

She laughs and shakes her head, like she’s embarrassed. “Never mind.”

He’s smiling at her chest. “See you tomorrow.”

2:05 p.m.

Janie sits at her table and sneaks her cell phone out of her backpack.

She fires it up. Sends Cabel a text message to his phone. “Can you get

Durbin’s past Chem. 2 class lists?”

A few moments later she gets the reply. “Sure. CU@4?”

Janie leans forward and sees him. He winks. She smiles and nods.

3:15 p.m.

Janie calls Captain.

“I may have talked Durbin into taking a group to the chemistry fair. It’s next month. Way the heck up in Houghton.”

“Excellent job, Janie. He’ll have to take a female chaperone with him.

You should be perfectly safe.”

“He’s hosting a party for the Chem. 2 students too. I guess he does it every year in March and in November.”

Captain pauses. Grabs her notes. “Bingo. Call number one was March

5. Call number two was early November. I think we’ve got something here, Janie. Good work.”

Janie hangs up to a rush of nervous excitement. This is too weird, she thinks.

4:00 p.m.

At Cabel’s house Janie recounts the conversation with Durbin from memory, even though she took notes once she got to her next class.

Cabel refrains from getting upset, like he promised.

He has the previous semester’s list, as well as the one from last spring.

“Smart thinking, Cabe.”

“Tomorrow I’ll track the girls from these previous classes to see what they’re taking now.”

“Great,” she says.

Janie whips up a flyer for the Chem. 2 party. It’s set for Saturday night, March 4. She prints out fifteen copies. Hands two to Cabel. “One for you, one for Captain.”

“You don’t know how much I wish I could be there.”

“You’ll be nearby, won’t you?”

“Hell yes.”

She stands and gives Cabel a hug. “I’ve gotta go.”

He looks at her longingly. “Should I be feeling badly about the fact that you haven’t stayed overnight in three weeks?”

“How’s tomorrow night sound?”

He smiles. “Saturday too?”

“Yeah. You don’t have any ‘things’ to go to?”

“Not this weekend.”

“It’s a date.”

“Sweet,” he says. “See you.” He pulls her toward him for a kiss, and then she’s gone, sprinting across the snow.

6:37 p.m.

Janie tackles the Stubin files. She knows Captain wants her to get through them. And Janie’s had them for nearly a month. But everything is so interesting, and she’s learning like crazy. How to get information from a dream. How to know what to look for in one. Miss

Stubin could occasionally pause and pan dreams, as if she were a camera, and see the things behind her as well as in front of her. A few times Miss Stubin mentioned rewinding to see something twice. Janie hasn’t been able to do any of that yet. She’s trying, every study hall.

Maybe she’ll try it with Cabel this weekend.

10:06 p.m.

Janie’s nearing the end of the last file. She rubs her temples as she reads. Her head aches. She grabs an Excedrin and a glass of water from the kitchen, and returns to her reading.

She’s fascinated. Enthralled. Building up a list of questions for Miss

Stubin and planning a dream visit soon.

Finally she closes the last file and sets it aside. All that’s left are a few stray papers and a thin, green spiral notebook.

Janie glances at the papers. They appear to be notes, scrawled in illegible handwriting that doesn’t stay between the lines. All the other files were typed. Janie’s glad she didn’t have to try to read them all like this. They must have been written late in Miss Stubin’s career, after she retired and lost her eyesight.

Janie sets the papers aside and opens the spiral notebook.

Reads the first line. It’s written in a controlled, sprawling hand—it’s infinitely more legible than the notes on the bed next to Janie. It looks like a book title.

A Journey Into the Light by Martha Stubin

There is a dedication below the title.

This journal is dedicated to dream catchers. It’s written expressly for those who follow in my footsteps once I am gone.

The information I have to share is made up of two things: delight and dread. If you do not want to know what waits for you, please close this journal now. Don’t turn the page.

But if you have the stomach for it and the desire to fight against the worst of it, you may be better off knowing. Then again, it may haunt you for the rest of your life. Please consider this in all seriousness.

What you are about to read contains much more dread than delight.

I’m sorry to say I can’t make the decision for you. Nor can anyone else. You must do it alone. Please don’t put the responsibility on others’ shoulders. It will ruin them.

Whatever you decide, you are in for a long, hard ride. I bid you no regrets. Think about it. Have confidence in your decision, whatever you choose.

Good luck, friend.

Martha Stubin, Dream Catcher

Janie feels her stomach churning.

She slides the notebook off her lap.