Part 25 (1/2)

”Omigosh, Chloe!” Julien squeals as she crosses the room, tugging me into a hug. ”I can't believe you're here.”

I catch Maggie's gob-smacked expression over Julien's shoulder, knowing mine has to match.

Julien pulls back from me, eager and happy. ”Can you believe this house? What do you think of San Diego? Was your flight good?”

”Great!” I say, not sure which question I'm answering, but figuring it's the best word to suit them all.

Behind Julien, Maggie is still staring. I can't blame her. I mean, where's the freaking crazy girl? I was expecting some hollow-eyed horror-movie extra, the kind of girl who rocks in the corner and avoids daylight. But this is just Julien.

”Oh,” Julien says, frowning and turning to Mags. ”I'm so sorry, Maggie, I didn't even say h.e.l.lo. It's great to see you too.”

”Uh, thanks.”

Julien slides a slim arm around my shoulders, and I tense like she's about to snap me in half. ”I'm so glad you two made up,” she says. ”You'd been friends for so long, and I hated seeing you fight.”

Maggie and I both offer parrotlike head bobs in response. The weird factor in this room is at an all-time high. I'm beginning to wonder if I imagined the whole schizophrenia conversation in the kitchen, and then, right in front of my nose, Julien kind of fades out.

I think of a television losing signal or maybe ink dissolving in water. Her face goes dull and flat, as if everything's kind of floating around her. And then she nods, as if someone asked her a question.

”You'll have to fill me in,” she says, and it's normal enough, but she's not. Something's just...off. Her voice is higher. Almost childlike.

”Of course,” I say anyway, moving to sit down on the couch.

Julien plays with the hem of her tank top, twisting it over and over, her fingers flicking in tiny, rapid movements that seem at complete odds with her vacant expression.

”Where should I start?” I ask, noticing Mrs. Miller for the first time. She's still hovering by the door. Watching.

Julien looks up with that brilliant grin. ”Start with the Wicked Witch because I haven't heard a thing since I've been here. I need to hear every single thing. I keep track, of course. In my diary.”

I look to Maggie for help, but her expression makes it pretty clear she's checking the h.e.l.l out of this adventure.

”Uh, well, I don't know much about that,” I say, ”but everyone's applying for colleges back home. And the winter dance is coming up after Christmas, so-”

Julien sits down beside me, slipping her arm through mine. ”Oh, don't be like that. I don't want boring stuff about boys. Tell me what you've learned about the Wicked Witch.”

”Julien,” her mother says. It's soft, but it's a warning.

Julien doesn't even look at her. But her eyes go round and big, and she squeezes my arm until I want to pull it loose. Now her voice is pip-squeak high, like she's morphed into an overgrown toddler. ”Oh no. Did she have a flying monkey go after you?”

”A what?”

”I knew she'd use them. I knew it. She did, and oh, that's terrible. I don't know what to do now. I just don't know.”

Mrs. Miller moves closer, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. ”Julien, sweetheart, let's not talk about that right now. Would you like to talk about the beach? You know how much you like the beach.”

Julien flips her hair and sucks her teeth in a way that brings me back to middle school in the worst possible way. ”I can't talk about the beach right now. Anyone could be listening, Mother. Anyone!”

I pull my arm free then because I have to. I just have to.

She really is crazy. Certifiable. I flew across the entire freaking country because I was positive this girl was kidnapped or hypnotized or some dire thing, but she's not. She's deeply mentally disturbed, and I'm here, obviously upsetting her, so I can dig into my own issues.

”Please tell me what you know about the witch,” Julien says, looking at both Maggie and me, and resisting her mother's touch on her shoulder.

”I'm sorry, Julien,” Maggie says, and her expression and voice are both tender. ”I d-don't think we know much about her.”

”I know you don't,” Julien says to her, and in that moment, she looks perfectly clear. Sharp and focused. The Julien I remember. She takes my hand and looks at me steadily. ”But you remember, don't you, Chloe? You know.”

I open my mouth, and she squeezes my hand and then I see it, clear as day.

Dr. Kirkpatrick at the front of a cla.s.sroom, that ultracalm smile on her face as she drones on about...I can't quite make it out. Relaxing.

She wants me to relax. Close my eyes and breathe deep. Let my mind open like a box.

I don't close my eyes. I narrow them and watch her through the slits. She's playing with her charm bracelet. It's pretty. I see a picnic basket and a little dog...and ruby red slippers.

I feel a hand touch my arm, and I open my eyes. I don't even remember closing them.

Maggie's standing by the couch now, watching me with worry in her face. ”You all right?”

”Yeah,” I say. ”I'm fine.” I turn to Julien, who's humming quietly beside me. She's still holding my hand, but she's not looking at me. She's not looking at anything. ”Hey, Julien?”

It takes her a long while to turn to me, like the words took a winding road to get into her brain. When she does, her neatly shaped brows are knitted together above her pert nose. ”Oh, Chloe! I've been waiting for you.”

”Perhaps she needs to rest,” her mother says. ”Come on, Julien. Let's go back to your room.”

”No, not yet,” she says, looking at me though her words are for her mom. ”Will you get me something to drink Mom?”

”Sure, sweetie,” Mrs. Miller says, but I don't miss her hesitation to leave us alone. Maggie and I both try to give her a rea.s.suring smile.

Once she's gone, I look at Julien. ”You were talking about the Wicked Witch. You mean the one at our school, don't you?”

Her mouth thins into an angry line. ”She tells me how to sit and how to breathe. In and out and one, two, three.”

”Right,” I say. I pause to give Maggie a meaningful look, but she doesn't seem convinced of anything other than Julien's heaping pile of absolutely crazy.

”I don't like her,” Julien says. She's petulant, bottom lip jutting out. ”Sometimes I think she's real, but maybe she's just in the movie.”

”The Wizard of Oz?” Maggie asks.

”No. This movie. The same one I'm in,” Julien says. Now she doesn't look crazy at all. She looks like a girl trapped in a gla.s.s jar. She sees exactly where she is and what's happening, and there's not a d.a.m.n thing she can do to change it.

Then Julien presses her hands to her face and shakes her head. ”It doesn't matter because I can't remember. I can't remember at all.”

My whole body goes tense. I lean away from Julien, heart pounding. Is this what's coming for me next? Is this what I'm going to turn into?