“Listen,” Xander interrupted. “Just after class starts, meet me in the bathroom.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it, okay?”
David thought about it. He shook his head. “I can’t get out of class. Mrs. Moreau . . . the other day she told one kid she didn’t care if his bladder burst, that he should have thought about it before class.”
“Then we won’t go to class,” Xander said. He grabbed David’s sleeve. “Come on.”
David pulled his arm away. “Wait. Why?”
Xander looked around. “We’re getting out of here. Can’t you hear it? The house is calling us.”
FRIDAY, 7:28 A.M.
“What do you mean, the house is calling us?” David said.
Xander didn’t answer. He just grabbed David’s sleeve again and pulled him toward the bathroom on the cafeteria side of the school.
David sighed and fell into step beside his brother.
They passed the middle school classrooms on the left. The right wall was mostly windows, looking out on the front courtyard and, beyond it, the drop-off and pickup lane. David craned his head around to see the west end of the courtyard, where the administration wing—and Dad’s office—was. As they walked, the outbuilding that contained the auto shop came into view. It was there that Taksidian had stood yesterday, watching for them. Instead, David, Xander, and Dad had waited for him to leave so they could follow him. He wasn’t there now.
They were approaching the end of the main hallway. The bathrooms were around the corner, in a shorter hall that housed lockers, but no classrooms. Then it dawned on him what Xander was planning. He said, “Xander, wait. You’re not thinking about—”
“Alexander King!” The voice came from behind them, bold and sharp as broken bones.
Xander turned. He said, “Uh-oh.”
A boy about seventeen years old strode toward them. He was scowling so severely, his entire brow make a ledge above his eyes. His arms swung like a marching soldier’s. He wore a tight T-shirt that showed off the hours he’d spent working out. His pecs bulged, his arms strained the shirt’s armholes.
“Who—?” David started.
“Dan Rainey,” Xander answered.
“The car guy? But I thought Taksidian . . .”
The guy marched right up to Xander, bumping his chest into Xander’s considerably less developed one. “What’d you do to my car, dawg?”
Xander had to tip his head way back to look Dan in the face. He said, “I . . . uh . . .”
David inched away from his brother. He would need the room to pivot around and bring his cast up into Dan’s cranium. There was still enough plaster under the Ace bandage that it should do some damage. Enough, anyway, to give them a fair head start for the door. Yeah, it would hurt—might even rebreak his arm—but not as much as Dan’s fists.
“I’ll tell you what you did,” Dan yelled, spraying spittle into Xander’s face. “You showed it to Jimbo.” His face lit up, suddenly sporting a toothy grin and happy eyes. “Dude!” He raised his palm high in the hair.
Xander, his face morphing into a comical blend of fear and puzzlement, slapped Dan’s hand. He backed away a step, wiped his face.
“I
knew
my little Buggy was a sweet ride,” Dan said, “but Jimbo flipped for it, man. Said he had one like it in college and had to have it.”
“Jimbo?” Xander said.
“Jim . . . Jim . . .” Dan said, scrunching his face, searching for a last name. “You know . . .”
“Taksidian?” David said.
“That’s it,” Dan said. “How ya doing, little dude?” He backhanded David’s shoulder.
David rubbed the spot. “Better,” he said, and thought,
Now that you’re not going to kill my brother.
“He’s one creepy dude, isn’t he?” Dan said. “That Jimbo.
Oops, sorry . . . what is he, your uncle or something?”
“Something,” Xander said.
“Hey, listen,” Dan said, becoming serious. “I know I should probably give you something. You know, a finder’s fee. But me and my dad are going car shopping this weekend, and I don’t know what I’m going to need. Those add-ons can get expensive, I hear. GPS, thousand-watt amps, stuff like that.”
“That’s okay,” Xander said. “I’m just glad you’re cool with the deal.”
“Cool? Ha! I’m ice cold.” He cocked his head, seeming to think about his words. “Ice cold in a
good
way,” he clarified.
“Hey, gotta run. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.” He sought another high five, and Xander gave it to him. Then he was off, marching down the long hall.
“That guy’s in your class?” David asked.
“I think he was held back.”
“Taksidian works fast.”
“Yeah,” Xander said, something on his mind. “He does.”
“Now I do have to go to the bathroom,” David said. He hurried around the corner, past the lockers, where some kids were still mingling, and into the bathroom.
A boy was washing his hands when they entered. David stepped up to a urinal. Xander pushed open each of the three stall doors. The kid left, and David went to the sink.
“David,” Xander whispered. “Get in.” He jerked his head toward a stall. “Hurry.”
“Xander—”
“Hurry. There are always last-minute potty-breakers. Get in before they see us.”
David shook his head and went into the stall.
“Lock the door,” Xander instructed. “Put your feet up.” He went into the next stall.
“You’re going through the locker portal, aren’t you?” David whispered.
“Shhh.”
Someone entered the bathroom. A urinal flushed. Footsteps echoed away.
Oh, wash your hands
, David thought.
“You can’t go through the locker,” he said. “We’re supposed to be in school. They’ll tell Dad.”
“This is our chance, Dae,” Xander said. “Do what we can, when we can, remember?”
“Yeah, but—”
“This is
when
. Old Jesse said to get back to see Young Jesse soon. It’s important. Keal’s not going to be home for a while. He’s gotta get the phones and visit Nana.”
“We can do it just as easily after school,” David said. “Why
now
?”
“Tick, tick, tick,” Xander said.
“That’s not fair. It doesn’t mean you can just—”
A urinal flushed.
David froze. He even stopped breathing.
A shadow stirred on the tiles under the stall door. Sneakered feet stepped into view. Knees touched the floor, a hand.
Anthony’s face peered under the door. He was one of three kids who had befriended David the first day of school.
“David!” Anthony said. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. You always snoop on people in the toilet?”
Anthony grinned. “Only when someone’s hiding. Who are you talking to?”
“My brother.”
Xander said, “Go away.”
“You going to skip?” Anthony said. “Your dad’s the
principal
.” The idea obviously amazed him.
“Don’t tell anybody,” David said. “Okay?”
“Tell who what?” he said and laughed.
The bell rang.
“Oh, crumb,” Anthony said and vanished, leaving only his echoing footsteps.
“Now what?” David said.
“Give the hall five minutes to clear,” Xander said. “Now be quiet.”
An order easy for David’s mouth to obey. Not so easy for his heart.
FRIDAY, 7:30 A.M.
Standing in front of the motel door, Keal scanned the parking lot. Only a few parked cars, none with anyone inside as far as he could tell. He watched the street in front of the complex. A van cruised past, then a car heading the other direction. Neither had slowed or revealed people inside who appeared interested in the place. Satisfied he hadn’t been followed and that the room wasn’t being watched, he knocked.
The curtain behind a window pushed back, and he waved.
Nana opened the door. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were red, as though she had been crying.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She touched her cheek, tried to smile. “I’ve been so worried.
What’s going on? How’s everyone? How’s
Jesse
?”
Keal gave her a big grin. “Everyone’s fine,” he said, stepping in. “The boys and I just saw Jesse at the hospital. He’s better.” He held up a cup and a plastic bag dangling from the same hand. “Coffee and bagels, courtesy of 7-11.”
She pressed her hand over her eyes, then took the coffee from him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just . . . I feel as though I should be there, back at the house, helping.”
Keal shook his head. “Can’t risk it. You haven’t felt the pull since you’ve been here, at the motel?”
Hours after Toria and David had found her in the Civil War world and brought her home—after thirty years of her wandering around through history—a portal had opened and tried to pull her back in. Jesse had said that spending too much time in the past made those long-ago places think she belonged to them. Time wanted her back.
Nana brushed the hair off her face and raised her eyebrows. “Nothing,” she said. “I don’t think it can reach this far.” She placed the cup on a night table and sat on the bed.
“And that’s the way we want it,” Keal said. “When Dad—”
He stopped himself and laughed. He’d been spending so much time with the kids, he had started thinking of Ed King, Nana’s son, as “Dad.”
“Ed went to see a friend who might help. When he gets home, he wants to talk to you about where you went when you were first taken and what you know about the way time shifts in the other world.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Keal set the bag of bagels beside the coffee cup. He looked around the room. It was a dingy place, small and gloomy. The poor woman must be going crazy shut up in here, wondering what was happening back at the house. He said, “You haven’t seen anyone? No problems?”
She smiled tightly. “No Taksidian, if that’s what you mean. I tried watching the news, but my head started spinning at how much the world has changed.” She picked up the cup, took off the lid, and blew on the steaming liquid. She took a sip and scrunched her face at the bitterness.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I kept thinking that I’d wake up and find myself in twelfth-century China or at the Alamo with Santa Anna beating at the gates or in some London street during the Black Plague . . .”
Keal sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You’re here, home, in your own time,” he assured her. “All you need to think about right now is how great it’s going to be to get to know your son again, and your grandkids. They’re sweet people.”
“Ah,” she said, sounding as though she was already with them, basking in their attention.
“It’s okay,” he said. “All better now.”
“No,” she said, turning to look at him. A tear broke away from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek. “It’s not okay, not as long as they’re in that house. Can’t you feel it? It’s not finished with us, not any of us.”
FRIDAY, 7:43 A.M.
When they stepped into the short corridor, it was empty.
“Let’s go,” Xander said, heading for locker 119. It was about twenty paces away from the bathroom, against the opposite wall.
David followed. Conflicting emotions left him not knowing how to feel. He was disappointed with himself for going along with Xander’s plan to skip school. At the same time, he was doing mental backflips over getting to seeing Young Jesse again. He couldn’t think of a better person to help them figure out the house and rescue Mom—even if the younger version of Jesse had not yet spent fifty years navigating through time. He was still one of the builders of the house.
Besides, he really liked the kid. In the short time they were together the day before, David felt the bond between them grow stronger, like a muscle being flexed. David and Old Jesse had hit it off immediately in a way that could only be explained as part of the mystery of kinship—family ties, blood, and all that. Where Old Jesse could have been his grandpa, Young Jesse felt like a brother.
A man stepped out of the cafeteria doors, where the main hallway intersected with this shorter one. He walked straight into the longer corridor without turning his head.
Xander and David continued to the locker. Xander’s padlock was on it from when Taksidian had tried to come through. Xander checked the locker next to it: also empty, so he shifted the lock to that one. He lifted the latch and opened the door.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you, so get out of the closet fast.”
“What am I going to do, count the towels?” David’s eyes scanned the empty locker. He remembered how frightened he’d been finding out what it did the first time. He had shut himself in the house’s second-floor linen closet, planning on scaring Xander. But when he had emerged, instead of being home, he was in the school.