Fade

Hard.

The chemistry students pack their project and their overnight bags into the fifteen-passenger van in the school parking lot while Mr. Durbin paces outside, his gloved hand holding a cell phone loosely to his ear.

His hair is thick with snow. He talks in spurts, his words dying in the blustery wind.

Everybody tumbles inside the van, excited and nervous. The students congregate on the front three bench seats.

Except Janie.

Janie takes the fourth bench seat.

Alone.

Shivering.

Mrs. Pancake, shrouded in a full-length, lilac, puffball, goose-down winter coat, peers anxiously out the front passenger window at Mr.

Durbin and the blowing, drifting snow.

“We should cancel,” she mutters to no one in particular. “It’s only going to get worse the farther north and west we go. Lake effect.” The students speak in hushed voices.

Janie pleads with the weather to lighten up. As much as she hates these class trips, she knows she needs this one.

Finally Mr. Durbin blows into the driver’s seat with a gust of snow and freezing cold wind. He starts up the van.

“The fair’s secretary says it’s clear and sunny up north,” he says. “And the latest weather reports show this band of snow is isolated to the bottom half of lower Michigan. Once we get past Grayling we should have clear skies.”

“So we’re going?” Mrs. Pancake asks nervously.

Mr. Durbin winks at her. “Oh yes, my dear. We’re going. Put on your seat belt.” He puts the van into drive and plows through the snowy parking lot. “Here we go!”

The students cheer. Janie smiles and checks her backpack for supplies.

She has everything she needs to get her through the next thirty-six hours. She pulls out Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, along with her book light, and dives in.

5:38 p.m.

It takes more than five hours to get to Grayling when it should have taken three. But at least the snow has stopped. The school van limps into a Wendy’s parking lot.

“Eat quickly and get back in here,” Mr. Durbin hollers. “We have six hours to go. We’ll have to set up early in the morning—they’re closing the gymnasium at midnight, reopening at six a.m. I suggest you try to get some sleep in, people.”

Janie perks up.

Stays far away from Mr. Durbin. She’s still pissed about the other night at his house, although she knows she has to get past her contempt.

Funnily enough, Mr. Durbin seems to hover around Janie even more when she tries to avoid him.

He slips in step with her as they enter the restaurant, but she ignores him and heads for the bathroom.

Everyone else heads for the bathroom too.

Janie calls Cabel.

“Hi, uh, Mom,” she says.

Cabel snorts. “Hello, dear. Did you make it through the blizzard?”

“Yeah. Barely.” Janie grins into the phone.

“Anything yet?”

“Nope, not yet. We still have six hours to drive. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Hang in there, sweets. I miss you.”

“I—I love you, Mom.”

“Call me when you get a chance. If anything happens.”

“I will.”

“Love you, Janie. Be safe.”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

Fifteen minutes later they are back on the road.

Nobody sleeps.

Figures, Janie thinks.

She takes a nap while she can.

12:10 a.m.

In the hotel room with Janie are three other girls. Stacey O’Grady, Lauren Bastille, and Lupita Hernandez. The four of them chat and giggle softly for a few minutes, but growing tired, they fall into bed, the alarm set for 5:30 a.m.

1:55 a.m.

Janie is sucked into the first dream. It’s Lupita, her bed mate. Janie can feel Lupita, twitching in the bed next to her.

They are in a classroom. Papers fly around everywhere. Lupita frantically scoops them up, but for each paper she picks up, fifty more fall from the ceiling.

Lupita is frantic.

She looks at Janie. Janie stares back, concentrating.

“Help me!” Lupita cries.

Janie smiles encouragingly. “Change it, Lupita,” she says. “Order the papers to come to a rest in a pile. It’s your dream. You can change it.” Janie concentrates on delivering the message to Lupita. Slowly, Lupita’s eyes grow wide. She reaches out her hands to the papers, and they float gently down into a neat stack on Lupita’s desk. Lupita sighs, relieved.

Janie pulls herself out of the dream.

Lupita is no longer twitching. She is breathing steadily, deep, calm breaths.

Janie grins and rolls over.

Waits patiently for the one she needs.

2:47 a.m.

It’s Lauren Bastille this time.

They are in a room of a house that looks vaguely familiar to Janie.

Folding chairs are set up in a circle. People are sitting and standing all around. Some are laughing and falling over. Everyone is drinking some sort of pink punch; some dip their hands into the punch bowl and slurp.

All the people, except Lauren, look fuzzy. Janie can’t see any faces, no matter how hard she tries to focus.

Lauren dances in the center of a circle. Her shirt is off and she twirls it as she stumbles around, laughing, wearing just a black bra and jeans.

Someone joins her.

He strips his shirt off and grabs Lauren.

Everyone claps and cheers as the guy pulls Lauren to him. They kiss and grind as the music pounds in the background.

Hip-hop music.