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  Mr. Durbin scratches his chin. “I like that idea. Class, what do you think? You guys good with that?”

  The class wants to know who those people would be. Mr. Durbin flips through the eight names by memory, and the consensus is affirmative.

  “Cool,” Janie says. “I’ll make some more flyers. We should get a head count on how many are planning on coming.”

  “Good idea. Sheesh, eighteen kids. You guys are gonna break my bank account,” Mr. Durbin jokes.

  Several girls offer to bring appetizers, and Mr. Durbin gratefully accepts the offer. Janie’s puzzled now. She thought he might balk at the idea. But he’s giving no indication of this being anything other than a cool party for science geeks.

  “Don’t let me see you bringing any alcohol,” Mr. Durbin says lightly, and grins like he’s young enough to be hip with the thoughts of seniors and wants to nip it in the bud. But the mere acknowledgment sets several students exchanging mischievous glances.

  He said that on purpose, Janie thinks. To get the students thinking about it.

  After class Mr. Durbin stops Janie. “Good idea for the party, Janie.

  Maybe a few of you girls could come early to help set it up?” He’s giving her a helpless bachelor look.

  The back of Janie’s neck is prickling, but she smiles excitedly.

  “Awesome. This is going to be a blast! You are such a cool teacher.

  You’re just like one of us, you know?”

  Mr. Durbin grins. “I try. It’s only been eight years since I was a senior in high school. I’m not some old geezer, you know.” He’s languid, leaning against the side of his desk, arms crossed in front of him.

  And then he’s reaching out his hand. “Hold still,” he says. “You’ve got an eyelash.” He brushes lightly across Janie’s cheek with his thumb, and his fingers linger at her hairline just a second longer than necessary.

  Janie lowers her eyes demurely, then looks back up into his. “Thanks,” she says softly.

  He gives her a smoldering look that is unmistakable. Janie hesitates a moment, then waves her fingers lightly as she turns and hurries out the door to her next class.

  In study hall, Janie finds Stacey and slides into the chair across from her. Janie wants to be the first to announce the invitation to the party at

  Mr. Durbin’s, so she can gauge Stacey’s reaction. “Hi,” she says with a grin.

  Stacey looks up from her book with surprise. “Oh, hey, Janie. What’s up?” Janie notes with a creepy shudder that she’s reading Margaret

  Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale.

  “You were in Durbin’s Chem. 2 class last term, right?”

  “Yesss…” Stacey looks suspicious.

  “And you’re going to the chemistry fair, right?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah—you are too?”

  “Yep. Sounds like fun. I’ll be at the meeting next week to create our display.”

  “Cool. It should be easy enough.”

  “Anyway, I’m actually here to ask you about Durbin.”

  Stacey’s eyes narrow. “What about him?”

  “Well, he’s having his Chem. 2 party at his house, and our class decided to invite your class to come too.”

  Stacey gets a goofy smile on her lips. “Oh cool! He didn’t, by chance, tell you guys what happened last semester, did he?”

  Janie cocks her head. “No, not really. Just said everybody had a great time.”

  Stacey’s grin grows wider. She leans forward across the table, and whispers, “Everybody got completely plastered. Even Durbin and

  Wang.”

  Janie’s heart jumps. She controls her surprise, and speaks softly.

  “Wang was there too?”

  “Yeah. Durbin and Wang are buddies. I think they play a lot of rec basketball together or something. Durbin said something about Wang being there for entertainment and crowd control.” She laughs, and then grows serious. “Don’t tell anybody about the alcohol, ’kay? Durbin and Wang could both get canned for it. But we chem geeks are a loyal bunch. And we know how to keep our mouths closed,” she adds.

  She’s chuckling to herself.

  “Of course,” Janie says seriously. “I’d never rat on him—He’s the best.”

  “Yeah.” Stacey sighs. “He’s sooo hot. Wang’s not bad either, for a snooty guy who lives up on the Hill.” The girls giggle softly, and Janie pulls out an extra copy of the party flyer. “Here’s the info. Do you think you can make it? We’re getting a head count so we know how much food to make.”

  “Hell yes, I’ll be there. I could use a break from this crazy pace. You want me to spread the word? Most of the others are in my physics class.”

  “Sure. I’ll get you some more flyers tomorrow.”

  “Sweet. And that was real cool of your class to invite us,” she adds with a grin.

  Janie grins back. “So, you think most of them will want to be there?”

  Stacey thinks a moment. “I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t jump at the chance.”

  7:02 p.m.

  Janie wraps up her notes at Cabel’s house, and muses, “This is getting curiouser and curiouser.”

  Cabel reads over her shoulder. He growls lightly. “He did that lame eyelash trick on you? God, what a loser.” He begins pacing.

  “Easy, big fella,” murmurs Janie distractedly as she types in the info she got from Stacey that day. When she finishes, she flips screens to the party flyer and prints out ten copies.

  Cabel’s on the phone.

  “It’s Cabe,” he says. “I think we need to watch Durbin’s house in the evenings up until—” He pauses. “Oh. Well, that’s why you’re in charge.” He grins sheepishly into the phone. “Thank you, sir.”

  He hangs up. “Did you know Captain’s been surveilling Durbin’s house for two weeks already?”

  “Nope. But it’s a good idea. How’s your progress going, Cabe? I think it’s strange that I can’t find a single student who doesn’t like Durbin.

  Have you been able to approach that question yet with your new contacts?”

  “Some. He seems to be gunning for teacher of the year, though, the way things are going.”

  “If a student was the one who made the call, what would make them not follow through and get their reward? I don’t understand that. Not everybody drinks. And if they showed up there last year not knowing it was that kind of a party, wouldn’t they back out slowly, or at least talk to somebody about it? I’ve never heard of this happening before.

  You’d think Carrie’d know.”

  Cabe begins pacing again. After a while he says, “Carrie wouldn’t know. She and Melinda and Shay and people into high-end Hill parties aren’t science geeks. There’s not one person on the list who I’ve ever seen at a Hill party. It’s two different worlds.”

  “So, what is Durbin’s hold over the geeks that makes them want to protect him?”

  Cabel’s in the zone. Janie can almost see the wheels turning in his head. She glances at the flyers, and on a whim, goes to her Gmail account and types up an e-mail to the address Mr. Durbin gave her.

  Hey Mr. Durbin, I talked to Stacey O’Grady today, and she’s stoked about being invited to your party. She told me you guys had a terrific party last semester. If it’s okay with you, she’s going to distribute the flyers to the other kids from that class. Would it be cool if she and I came about an hour early to help you set it up?

  And I know you said no alcohol, but I’ve got this great dessert recipe I wanted to bring…It has crème de menthe in it. Just a little. Not enough to get anybody even a buzz from eating a huge piece. Would that be okay with you? If not, I could always bring Rice Krispies treats instead.

  Janie Hannagan

  P.S. I’m a little worried about Friday’s big test—trying to study and get ready for the chem fair is taking up a lot of time. Can I set up a meeting to talk over some formulas with you?

  Thanks. J.

  She presses Send and keeps the computer boote
d, turning up the volume a notch, just in case he’s online and gets back to her quickly.

  “What are you doing?” Cabel says suddenly.

  “Flirting with Durbin.”

  “Oh.” He turns back to his pacing, and then stops again. “You know, I think I finally understand how it felt for you. Remember when you stopped by my house and Shay was over?”

  “Ah…yeah. It’s burned like a cross into my brain.”

  “I didn’t want you to see that. Not because I wanted to hide it from you. But because it would hurt.”

  Janie smiles at him. “I know. Sucks, doesn’t it.”

  “It’s driving me nuts,” Cabel admits. “If that bastard hurts you, I’ll kill him. I’m still not sure about you putting yourself in a position like that.”

  “Good thing I don’t work for you, then.” She knows it’s harsh.

  He stops pacing. Looks at her. “Damn. You’re right.” Starts pacing again. “So, do you think Durbin is hot?”

  “I can see why girls are attracted to him.”

  “Are you attracted to him?”

  Janie sighs. “Oh Cabe. Shay is hot, rich, sexy, popular. A cheerleader.

  Were you attracted to her?”

  “No. She was a facet of my job.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Janie hesitates, wanting to be truthful. “Durbin is attractive. I can’t deny that. But when he did the eyelash thing, it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. He creeps me out, Cabe.”

  Cabel nods absentmindedly as he walks. “Okay. That makes me feel better.”

  She smiles. Gets it—it was the same with Cabel and Shay. And is proud of him for the new way he’s approaching it now. “I love you, you know,” she says. It’s getting easier to say.

  He comes over to where she’s sitting and massages her shoulders lightly. But his voice is grim. “I love you too, Janie.”

  “And I’m getting really good at protecting myself,” she adds. “My selfdefense class kicks ass.”

  He tugs her hair. “I’m glad you’re taking that class. You’re really getting buff, you know that? It’s very sexy. As long as you’re not beating me up.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” she murmurs. “Hey, can I stay tonight?”

  “Wow, I don’t know, jeez, I’m, like, really busy and shit….”

  She grins.

  And then she hears the binking sound of an e-mail arriving.

  Janie, LOL! Bring the dessert. And the bottle.

  And a resounding yes to everything else you asked me, and more.

  I could do tomorrow (Tues.) after school, for us to go over the formulas in question. The rest of my afternoons are tied up until around 7 p.m., but if you don’t need much equipment, you could always stop by my house after 7 either tomorrow or Wednesday.

  Dave Durbin

  “He is so freaking smooth,” remarks Cabel. “He knows tomorrow is

  Valentine’s Day, and there’s not only a big basketball game, but also the pep rally after school and the Valentine’s dance from seven to ten.

  He’s not expecting you to make it then.” Cabel thinks for a moment.

  “When you write him back, call him Dave. He’s begging for it.”

  With that, Cabel walks away.

  Janie purses her lips, and hits Reply.

  Dave, How’s Wednesday around 8? I know right where you live. Thanks!

  J.

  She hits Send, and waits less than a minute before she has a reply.

  Looking forward to it.

  Dave

  Janie shuts down the computer and finds Cabel in the living room, watching some old western on the movie channel. She slides in next to him.

  “I’m going to his house Wednesday at eight,” she says. “Will you spot me?”

  He snakes his arm around her neck and tugs gently. “Of course,” he says. “I’m going to alert Captain to it, too.”

  “’Kay,” Janie says, snuggling close.

  After a while of watching TV, the volume on too low to actually hear the story line, Cabe says, “I wish we could go out tomorrow night. I’m so tired of this routine, hiding out all the time. Our biggest excitement is lifting weights or deciding between green beans and broccoli.”

  Janie sighs. “Me too. Do you think we’ll ever be able to go out on a date?”

  “Yeah. Maybe this summer. For sure in the fall. Once we rid ourselves of the web of lies we leave behind at Fieldridge High.”

  It’s a sober moment.

  Janie nods.

  Rests her head on his shoulder.

  He tousles her hair.

  “Hey Cabe?” she asks as they climb into bed.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Do you mind if I practice on your dreams tonight?”

  “Of course not. You don’t have to ask me.”

  “I feel weird about not asking you if I’m planning it in advance,” she says.

  “It’s cool. You working on something in particular?”

  “Yeah…I’m trying to TiVo.”

  He laughs. “What, you mean pause, rewind—that sort of thing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’ll be interesting. I hope you pull it off. You don’t want to take me with you, do you?”

  “Not this time. I need all the concentration I can muster. Once I get it, I’ll gladly show you, though.”

  He turns off the light and lets his arm rest around her midsection. He strokes her belly with his thumb, like he’s strumming guitar. “You know,” he says, “you could really have fun with a good dream once you learn how to do that.”

  “Guess why I want to practice on you,” she says with a smile in the darkness.

  “Be careful or you might go to school tomorrow flushed with sex.”

  She chuckles softly. “All part of the plan, babycakes.”

  “Well, that oughta turn Durbin on.” Cabel’s voice turns bitter.

  Janie turns toward Cabel. “Have you figured out yet why nobody narcs on Durbin?”

  “I think so,” Cabel says. “It’s because he’s only a few years older and good-looking and athletic, and he really acts as if he likes the sciencetype kids. He accepts their geek minds and praises them for it. He’s the epitome of a cool, popular kid, whose groupies have never been popular in their lives. They lap it up.”

  Janie clears her throat.

  Waits.

  Clears it again.

  “I—I mean,” stutters Cabel, “ah, I mean, some of them are like that, and some, you know, some others, like you, for example, see right through the facade and…uh…shit like that.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Janie says.

  “And…I love you so much? And now I’m going to shut up and go to sleep, so you can manipulate my mind in a dozen ways and more?”

  “Weak,” she says. “But it’ll do.”

  Cabel dreams.

  Janie slides into the darkness, and then into the computer room.

  It’s a dream that’s loosely based on the night they made love there.

  She’s watching him, she’s watching herself, curiously, surprised to see how quickly they find their rhythm together for the first time.

  She concentrates with all her might. Stares at Cabel. Pause, she thinks, over and over again.

  A minute goes by, but nothing changes.

  Another minute.

  And then the scene slows.

  Ten seconds later it’s paused. In a very interesting spot, Janie notes.

  Janie looks around the room, trying to notice everything. The office items on the desk; the clock on the wall stopped as well; the color of everything. It’s incredibly difficult to hold the scene there. And then she begins to lose it. She can feel her body shaking, weakening, and the dream slips into regular speed again.

  Her head pounds. Her fingers are numb. She bumps Cabel with her behind, trying to wake him just enough so she doesn’t have to use her waning energy to pull out of the dream too. Sh
e knows she can’t do it after that. She can barely feel her arms and legs as it is, already.

  Cabel takes in a sharp breath, and she can feel him against her backside, aroused in his sleep. He begins to stroke her numbing body while he’s still in the dream. She can feel his touch, fading in and out on her skin, as she’s seeing it in his mind. And she’s stuck. And falling.

  And very aroused and blind and numb and watching it in her mind while feeling it on her body, all at the same time, and she wants it.

  Wants to make love right now. But she is completely paralyzed.

  She can’t move.

  She can’t feel anything.

  She can’t speak.

  It can’t happen. Not like this.

  She needs to wake him up, before something happens. So they can do it right.

  She takes all her strength, all her concentration, all her will. She bites blindly. Feels hair in her teeth. Pulls back with her neck.

  And everything goes black.

  She’s shuddering.

  Shaking.

  Trying to catch a breath as she aches to see something. Anything. His face. She wants to see his face.

  He’s talking to her.

  His hand is on her cheek, sliding through tears.

  And she realizes it now.

  Realizes that there will scarcely be a time when they roll together, unawares, and make love sleepily in the dead of a winter night, lingering on their dreams.

  She’s broken.

  Her muscles are like water.

  And he’s there, lifting her shoulders, holding a glass to her lips, telling her to drink and swallow.

  She can feel his fingers pushing the hair out of her eyes. Hear his voice in her ear. Smell his skin nearby. Taste the milk on her tongue, in her throat. And then slowly she sees shadows. Black and white, at first, and then his face, looking wild. His hair, flipping every which way.

  His cheeks flushed.

  And she speaks roughly. “It’s okay,” she says.

  But it’s not okay.

  Because she wants him, and now he’s afraid to touch her like that.

  He makes her eat.