* * *

  “So, I went up to Dad’s over Christmas,” Marti started, breathing deeply as if she’d been underwater for a few solid minutes. She and I were sitting in my bedroom after being driven home by one of Mabry’s few taxies. Her shaky hands gripped a fresh cup of coffee, her lips pale and dry. I sat opposite her, like a detective on interrogation. I’d been waiting for this since late last night.

  Marti had refused to tell me anything until we were safe at home. So we’d sat hunching in the old drain pipe until Flip-flops limped back to his jeep and drove off. We heard his heavy tread above us, and I’d felt like Frodo when the Black Riders were hunting him in the Shire. Marti was always good at playing Sam to my Frodo, and she’d kept me cool until we heard his engine fire. Then I lost it and the tears flowed free. After that we wandered around trying to get our bearings.  Those few minutes wondering if he was still somewhere watching us… I’d never been so freaked out in my whole life. Surprisingly, we found that we weren’t really too far from familiar territory. It took a while, but the two of us made it into a cab and home again safely.

I half expected to find a horror-movie-like scene in my house when we snuck in through the back door: you know, parents sprawled on the ground, blood everywhere, my poor kitty mewing helplessly. But all we found was my mother alive as I’d ever seen her (although looking slightly horror-movie-ish, she was so pale).

  “Oh thank God!” She’d smothered me in an angry-grateful hug. “Where did you go? Ellen said you left without a word Marti!” Without turning her back on us Mom had reached for the landline, her fingers dialing Aunt Ellen’s number mechanically. Pressing the ringing hand-held against her ear, she’d continued her lecture. “You two better have a good explanation. Now, Meg, what’s gotten into you? You’ve never done anything like this before. Dad and I have been pretty easy on you this year because of all your extra classes, but I can’t just let everything go. Hey, they’re here.” She had said into the phone. “Yeah, they got back a few minutes ago. Tried to sneak in.” Her eyes darted into mine like needles of parental guilt stabbing me in the heart. I was suddenly reminded of every nice thing my folks had ever done for me. Nothing like a guilt trip.

Aunt Ellen had raced over, towing Marti’s Uncle Ben behind her. He had the radiant look of a grizzly bear who had been woken up only half-way through hibernation season. My dad had come and the four of them had grilled us. I managed to escape without lying, but Marti had ended up telling some real whoppers. She told them that we’d gone out to the DQ and gotten some shakes. We never went to DQ, and I’d been afraid they’d be suspicious but I realized she’d chosen it since nobody we knew worked there, and therefore, no one could be called to contradict our story. She’d explained the mud, and our lateness by saying that we’d run out of gas and had to hitch it to the Shell for a can. I’d had no idea that Marti could lie like that, and it made me just a bit nervous. After our parents had gone up to bed I’d said goodnight to Marti, my eyes making her promise to be back at my door early. I’d fallen asleep in warm fuzzy socks, thinking how glorious it was to be in one’s own bed after an hour of sitting in a mucky drain pipe.

And here she was. “So I went up to Dad’s over Christmas,” She said nervously. “And that’s when things started.”