The Quillan Games

SECOND EARTH

Courtney Chetwynde was coming home.

Spending nearly two months in a hospital had been torture for her. In more ways than one. But she knew she couldn’t rush things. Broken bones took time to heal. So did a broken spirit. She would never be able to shake the memories of what happened to her the night of the accident. That was good. She didn’t want to shake them. She wanted to remember every last detail. She had been riding her bike on a lonely country road when a car ran her off the side of a steep embankment. The fall was brutal. It broke four ribs, and her left arm in two places. Her left leg was broken so badly that they had to put four pins in to help it set properly. She even got a concussion. But as horrible as those injuries were, they weren’t life threatening. The real problem came with the internal injuries. She needed surgery to repair tears in so many places that Courtney would stop listening whenever a doctor discussed how bad off she was. She didn’t want to hear it. In the two months since the accident, not a day went by without some doctor saying, “You’re lucky to be alive.”

Courtney didn’t feel very lucky. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t have been nearly killed. If she were lucky, she never would have gone to summer school and met a guy named Whitney Wilcox. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t have thought he was cute and developed a major crush on him. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t have been riding her bike to meet him when she got run off the road. If she were lucky, she would have realized there really was no such person as Whitney Wilcox. He was an illusion. A lie. As she lay crumbled in the woods on the side of the road that horrible night, just before she lost consciousness, she saw that the person driving the car that hit her was none other than Whitney Wilcox. The guy she was growing to like. The guy she thought might become the boyfriend that Bobby Pendragon wasn’t able to be.

The guy who turned out to be Saint Dane.

The demon had tried to kill her. He had looked down on her broken body from the road above and. said, “I give, and I take away. You people of Second Earth are so easily controlled. I was hoping this would be more of a challenge, but alas. It was not meant to be.” The demon had then transformed himself from the image of Whitney Wilcox into a huge black bird that flew away into the night, leaving her to die.

But Courtney didn’t cooperate. Thanks to Mark Dimond. Good old Mark. She managed to get a call out to him on her cell phone. All she was able to say before passing out was, “He’s here.” It was all she needed to say. Mark knew what she meant. He knew she was in trouble. Mark came screaming up to Massachusetts, where Courtney was going to summer school, and found her near death on the side of the road. Mark saved her life. It was the one thing that didn’t surprise Courtney about the whole nasty experience. She knew that if there was anyone she could always count on, it was Mark.

What did surprise her was that Mark was helped by a guy who had been his archenemy since they were little kids. Andy Mitchell. Mitchell gave Mark a ride from their home in Connecticut up to the Berkshires on a moment’s notice. (Mark didn’t have his driver’s license.) If not for Andy, Mark wouldn’t have made it in time. That was a strange and somewhat unsettling thought. Courtney knew that if not for Andy Mitchell’s help, she’d be dead.

As grateful as she was, it was an odd feeling, because Andy Mitchell had been nothing more than an obnoxious bully for as long as she could remember. He took particular pains to harass Mark. Poor nerdy Mark. Bully bait. But it had recently come out that as idiotic as Andy Mitchell was, he was very gifted at math. So gifted that he was asked to join Mark’s elite science club at school. Sci-Clops. Courtney knew that Mark hated the idea of his beloved club being invaded by the un-beloved Andy Mitchell. But even Mark had to admit that Mitchell was special. Better still, after he joined Sci-Clops, Mitchell stopped harassing Mark. The two seemed to have found common ground and made peace.

But that didn’t make it any less strange for Courtney to see the two of them standing, together, at the foot of her bed in the intensive care unit after she came out of surgery. After that horrible day, Courtney often asked Mark how they could suddenly be so tight.

“You know he’s a turd,” Courtney would say.

Mark would always laugh and say something like, “He used to be, but I’m really getting to know the guy and he’s okay. And he’s, like, a genius, too!”

“Andy Mitchell? Genius?” Courtney would reply. “That’s like saying you found a cockroach that can do algebra.”

But Mark didn’t back down. If there was anyone who deserved to hate Andy Mitchell, it was Mark. Bullies always went after the insecure, brainy types. Mark was the perfect target. Andy had harassed him for years. So Courtney figured that if Mark could forgive him, who was she to hold a grudge?

Especially since he helped save her life. Courtney decided to be less judgmental, no matter how big a slug Mitchell was. Or used to be.

After the accident Mark would often take the train from their home in Connecticut up to Massachusetts to visit Courtney in the hospital and keep her company while she went through therapy. Courtney looked forward to those visits. Being stuck in a hospital three hours from home was not a fun way to pass the time. The doctors didn’t want her to travel until she had completely healed, so she spent week after boring week sitting in her room watching daytime TV. She started getting hooked on soap operas, which embarrassed her. Courtney didn’t think of herself as someone who would be interested in such goofy TV. But it wasn’t like she had a whole lot of choices. Talk shows were boring and she was too old for cartoons. So she got wrapped up in the make-believe lives of some fakey TV characters. When it got to the point where the nurses would come in and ask her, “What happened to so and so?” or “Who’s cheating on who?” and Courtney actually knew the answers, she decided it was time to stop watching. She didn’t want to be working so hard to heal her body, while letting her brain turn to pudding.

Eventually they moved her out of the regular hospital and into a wing that was all about rehabilitation. It was a welcome relief, but a grueling experience. When the cast came off her leg, Courtney had to learn how to walk again. The pain was incredible, but the physical therapists didn’t cut her any slack. She didn’t want them to either. She told them to push her. She’d remind them, “If I complain, push harder.”

That was Courtney. She had always been driven, but the recent turn of events in her life had given her new purpose. It was hard for her to think back on the chain of circumstances that led to her being in the hospital, but she forced herself to. She wanted to remember it all, if only to learn from the ordeal. It was a difficult journey that had begun long before the accident.

Months before, she discovered that she and Mark had made the ultimate mistake by traveling through the flume to Eelong. As much as they had done an amazing job and helped Bobby save a territory, she later learned that by using the flumes, she and Mark had caused the death of a Traveler. Only Travelers were supposed to use the flumes, and by using it themselves they had weakened the tunnels through time and space so badly that the flume on Eelong had collapsed. When it crumbled, it trapped Spader and Gunny, and killed Kasha. The horrible truth was that by trying to help Bobby, they actually had helped Saint Dane in his quest to control Halla. What she thought was her greatest victory turned out to be a tragic failure.

The realization crushed Courtney, who was already going through a tough time at home and at school. Growing up, Courtney had always been the best at everything. Especially at sports. But when she hit high school, she found that others were as good as she was. Some better. Courtney was not used to losing. She wasn’t even used to trying that hard. She didn’t handle the pressure well, which felt like yet another failure. She always defined herself by her abilities on the field. Losing that made her feel worthless and depressed. She barely spoke with her parents. It was becoming unbearable to be Courtney, or to be around her. The many weeks lying in a hospital bed gave her time to think back on that difficult period and try to figure out why things had gone so wrong. She was disappointed in her inability to compete, of course, but she realized that what bothered her even more was the fact that she handled it so badly. Being good at sports was one thing. Having the strength to deal with life challenges was a whole nother ballgame, so to speak. A more important one. Courtney realized she didn’t have the strength to deal with either, and it depressed her.

The months of healing and introspection finally allowed her to admit that the reason she was so quick to jump to Eelong was because she wanted to prove something to herself. Of course she wanted to help Bobby, but she also desperately needed to restore her self-confidence. She wanted to win at something in the worst way. It almost worked, too. That is, until she realized how much damage she and Mark had done by traveling. When the truth came out, she fell into a total depression. It was so bad she couldn’t get out of bed. Her schoolwork was sent home or she would have flunked tenth grade. As it was, she was barely able to concentrate long enough to do the absolute minimum, and she barely squeaked into the eleventh grade.

It was a difficult time, but beneath it all Courtney was still a fighter, and committed herself to a new challenge. She wanted to put her life back together. She knew that to face the world again, she was first going to have to face herself. To that end she convinced her parents to send her away to summer school. She figured that six weeks on her own, with people who didn’t know her and who had no expectations, would be the perfect way to get back on her feet. She was right. Courtney slowly began to feel like herself again.

It bothered her that she left Mark alone to deal with Bobby’s journals, but she wisely realized that if she was going to have any hope of being useful to Bobby as an acolyte, she was going to have to get her life back together. Mark understood and supported her decision. It was all working out beautifully.

Until she met Whitney Wilcox.

Saint Dane had come to Second Earth and set her up for a fall. Literally. He took great trouble in getting her to trust him, and to like him, only to pull the rug out and try to kill her. Courtney spent hours trying to figure out why he’d done this. Was something to Bobby? Worst of all, was this somehow part of his overall plan to target Second Earth in his quest to control Halla?

Courtney and Mark began discussing these questions on his very first visit to the hospital after the accident. Courtney’s parents would pay for Mark to take the train, and stay in a motel so he wouldn’t have to make the trip up and back in one day. They couldn’t be there all the time because of their jobs and knew that having visitors helped Courtney. They had no idea that Mark was there not only to be a supportive friend, but to discuss the future of all existence.

On one visit in early autumn, Mark brought all of Bobby’s journals that detailed his adventure on Zadaa. Courtney read them in one straight shot. Mark wanted Courtney to know all that was happening with Bobby, but he dreaded her finding out that Bobby had fallen in love with Loor. It was Bobby and Courtney who were supposed to be together. That was the way it was meant to be. They had kissed, and not just a dumb make out kind of kiss. It was real. They truly loved each other. Mark could barely breathe as he waited for Courtney to read the part where Bobby admitted he had such strong feelings for Loor.

But when Courtney reached that section in the journal, she looked to Mark calmly and said, “I saw that coming.”

“You did?” Mark said, surprised.

“You didn’t?” was Courtney’s response. “C’mon, Mark. Things have changed a little, don’t you think? I mean, we aren’t the same people we were in junior high.”

“Well, I suppose,” Mark said sadly. “We’re getting older.”

“Yeah,” Courtney said quickly. “And we’re dealing with a powerful demon who’s trying to throw all time and space into chaos. Let’s not forget that little detail.”

“Right,” Mark said. “That too.”

“I love Bobby,” Courtney said. “And I know he loves me, too. But it’s not right for us now. Who knows? Maybe someday…”

Courtney’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to speculate on anything. There was too much to deal with in the present. “I’m okay with it, Mark,” she said sincerely. “Really” Mark nodded.

“Besides,” she added. “Loor doesn’t want to be with him for the same reason. Things are too weird right now. But they won’t be forever.” She gave Mark a sly smile and said, “This isn’t over.”

Mark smiled too. Courtney was starting to sound more like Courtney every day. After reading the journals the two of them walked slowly around the grounds of the hospital. The leaves were starting to turn and the sky was the kind of deep blue that only comes with autumn. Courtney used a walker to keep weight off her leg. It was difficult for her to move. Her left arm was still mending, and she was incredibly stiff. Mark let her set the pace, which was odd for him, because usually he was the one who had to work to keep up with Courtney. Courtney was strong. She had the body of an athlete. The doctors told her she would heal and be back to her old self before she knew it. Her goal was to dump the walker before she got back to school, and be ready for spring soccer. She was right on schedule, though she was going to miss the beginning of their junior year at Davis Gregory High. The plan was for her to get assignments sent to her so she could keep up, then if all went well, she would be back in regular classes by Thanksgiving. Everyone felt confident that she could meet that timetable. Courtney wasn’t just confident. To her, it was a lock.

Both Courtney and Mark knew that as bad a time as Courtney was having on Second Earth, Bobby was still out there chasing Saint Dane and they were still acolytes. They had to get back with the program. Bobby had written some disturbing things in his last journals that had to be faced.

“I’ll just say it,” Mark announced boldly. “Are you as freaked as I am that Bobby brought Loor back from the dead?”

“I don’t know,” Courtney said with a smile. “How freaked are you?”

Mark didn’t laugh.

Courtney said, “I don’t think Bobby brought her back from the dead.” “But-“

“Let me finish,” Courtney said quickly. “Yeah, maybe he had something to do with it, but I don’t think it was all about him. I think it has to do with the Travelers in general.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s stop kidding ourselves, Mark,” Courtney continued. “I know we grew up with Bobby and played with him when we were kids and pretty much had the same life he did until he took off with his uncle Press, but after all that’s happened, I think it’s pretty obvious that the Travelers aren’t normal. This fast-healing thing is only part of it. Why is it that they’re able to go through the flumes and everything is fine, but when we go through, they tear apart?”

Mark didn’t answer. He kept looking at the ground, weighing Courtney’s words.

She continued, “And how is it that when Bobby left home, every trace that he ever existed disappeared right along with him, including his family? And the house he grew up in? And every record, document, and photograph? Even his dog disappeared! I know we’ve been living with that for a couple of years now, but we’ve got to face it, there’s some force at work here that we know nothing about. Things don’t just disappear. At least not if you go by the rules of how things work here on good old Second Earth. You know that better than anybody. You’re the scientist. Whatever Bobby Pendragon is all about, I don’t think it has anything to do with the reality we know. He said it himself in his journal, he’s not so sure he even belongs on Second Earth.” Courtney took a breath and then said, “I’m not so sure he belongs here either.”

Mark shot Courtney a look. “You really have been thinking.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I have a whole lot to do,” she fired back. “I’m not really sure how to say this, but I don’t think the Travelers are human.”

“Are you serious?” Mark asked.

“What other explanation is there?” Courtney said. “None of them know who their real parents are. Sure, they were raised by people from their home territories, but then they were all told that their parents weren’t their biological parents. So who were their biological parents? I think if we ever find that out, we’ll know why they’re able to heal like they do.”

“And come back from the dead,” Mark said.

“Exactly. That’s not something humans can do, last time I checked.”

“What about Press and Osa and the others who died?”

“I don’t know,” Courtney said. “But Press said Bobby and the others were the last generation of Travelers. Maybe they had to die to give way to Bobby’s generation.”

“Okay,” Mark said. “So Bobby and the Travelers are operating under a different set of rules than the rest of us. Any idea who made up those rules?”

“That’s the big question,” Courtney said firmly. “When we find that out, we’ll unravel this whole thing.”

Mark let that sink in, then said softly, “Do you really think Bobby isn’t human?”

“C’mon!” Courtney snapped. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking the same thing!”

Mark nodded reluctantly.

“Of course you have,” she said. “I didn’t say I’m not weirded out by the idea, but what else can we think?”

Mark said, “So how does Saint Dane fit in?”

Courtney frowned and said softly, “I don’t know. But his powers are greater than all of them. He’s definitely part of the equation, but I can’t figure out how. All I’ve got are a bunch of theories. I’m short on real answers.”

They walked a bit more in silence, then Courtney said, “Do you remember what I said to you at the hospital right after the accident?”

“Every word,” Mark answered. “You said you were done hiding and feeling sorry for yourself. The exact thing you said was: Mark, I want that bastard.”

“He’s here, Mark,” Courtney said. “Saint Dane is on Second Earth. I don’t know why he came after me, but I think he’s starting to work whatever evil he’s got planned for our home. We’ve been worried about this from the beginning, and now it’s happening.”

“I was kind of hoping that by saving First Earth, the Travelers had saved Second and Third Earths, too,” Mark said.

“You’re dreaming,” Courtney said, scoffing. “We always knew the battle would come here. There are only ten territories. The turning point for six of them has already passed. Saint Dane is running out of options.”

Courtney saw that Mark was rubbing his palms on the legs of his pants. She knew why. Her palms were sweating too.

“So what do we do?” Mark asked. “Tell Bobby?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Courtney said. “And I want you to know something. What I said before, I meant. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I want to hurt Saint Dane the way he hurt me.”

“Be careful,” Mark said. “Don’t let your emotions get you. Look what it did to Spader.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Courtney said. “I’m mad, but I’m using it. With every exercise I do, every time I feel the burn, I focus on him. He doesn’t know it, but he’s helping me get better. Mentally and physically. He may have wanted to kill me to get me out of the way, but he only made me more focused. I’m coming back, Mark. And when Bobby comes home, we’re going to beat him… together.”

Mark nodded, though Courtney thought he looked a little green.

Seven weeks to the day after the accident, Courtney was released from the hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynde were there for the occasion, of course. Mark drove up with them. He told Courtney he wanted to see her leave the hospital in person. He said he hoped that Saint Dane would be there too, somewhere, just so he could see how badly he had failed and how strong they were. There was a little party thrown by the nurses. They brought in a cake, and they all kidded Courtney by saying how they were going to lose touch with their favorite soap operas because they wouldn’t have Courtney to fill them in anymore. Courtney laughed. She didn’t think it was funny, but she laughed to be polite.

Many of the doctors who treated her were there too. They all told Courtney how proud they were of her, and how she deserved all the credit for her recovery. Courtney appreciated their kind words. She was going to miss the doctors. They had saved her life. But as tearful as the occasion was, she wanted out of there. She wanted to go home.

When the party was over, everyone stood outside the front entrance of the small hospital. A long walkway led from the door to the street. Mr. Chetwynde pulled their Volvo station wagon to the bottom of the walkway, ready to bring his daughter home. He and Mrs. Chetwynde stood by the car and looked up at the two rows of nurses, doctors, and hospital staff that lined either side of the walk, waiting for her. The glass doors opened. Mark pushed Courtney outside in a wheelchair. Immediately the two rows of people applauded and cheered. But they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Courtney smiled and stood up. Mark handed her the metal walker that she had relied on for the past few weeks of therapy. He had attached a small horn with a black bulb on the end that blared out “Aooooga!” when Courtney squeezed it. He told her she needed it so she wouldn’t run anybody over. Courtney grasped the walker, moved it around in front of her, looked up at the cheering crowd, smiled… and tossed the walker away. The doctors and nurses went nuts. Mrs. Chetwynde let out a small worried gasp and moved toward Courtney, but Mr. Chetwynde stopped her. “Let her do it,” he said.

Courtney was tentative, and stiff, but for the first time in seven weeks, she walked on her own. She walked stiffly past the cheering nurses, most of whom were crying happy tears for her. Even some of the doctors sniffled. Mark walked behind her, ready to jump in if she faltered.

She didn’t. Not even a little. Courtney Chetwynde had her wheels back.

Mark whispered, “You okay?”

Courtney gritted her teeth in a smile and whispered back, “I’m dyin’, but it feels great.” “You look great,” Mark said.

Courtney made it all the way to the car, where her father helped her into the front seat. Mark and Mrs. Chetwynde hopped in back. With a final wave to the hospital staff, Courtney left Derby Falls, headed for home.

The ride was a very long three hours. Courtney wasn’t used to sitting up for so long, let alone on the hard seat of a car. Their Volvo was many years old, and to Courtney the seat felt like it was carved out of rock. She didn’t complain though. She was too happy to be going home. They arrived back in Stony Brook before dinnertime. Mrs. Chetwynde asked Mark if he’d like to stay and eat.

“C’mon,” Courtney said. “Let’s keep the party going.”

Mark called his mom to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner, and helped bring Courtney’s luggage into the house. The first thing Courtney did when she got inside was call out, “Winston! C’mon, Winnie.”

Instantly Courtney’s cat came running. Winston was a short-haired tortoiseshell, and in Courtney’s opinion, more dog than cat. Winston jumped into Courtney’s arms, purring like a lawn mower. Courtney buried her face in the kitty’s belly.

“Hmmm, I missed you, purr-face!” Courtney said.

She walked slowly through the house, looking around like she hadn’t been there in months. Which she hadn’t.

“Hasn’t changed a bit” she declared. “Same furniture, same smells, same crummy old computer that we all have to fight over.” She said this last while pointing to an old monitor that was on a table in the living room. Mark noted that it looked to be about five years old, which in computer years is ten lifetimes.

“You know, Dad,” Courtney said. “If I’m going to be home-schooled for a couple of months, I’m not going to be able to sit on that hard chair down here, in front of that archaic old bucket of bolts you call a computer. I think we’re going to have to-“

Courtney stopped short when she saw that her father had lifted up a cardboard box from behind the couch that, by the look of the markings on it, contained a brand-new laptop.

“Wow,” Mark said. “That just came out!”

Mr. Chetwynde said, “And if Mark is impressed, I think you better be too, young lady.”

Courtney broke out in a smile and hugged her dad.

“I love you, Daddy,” she said.

“Welcome home, baby,” Mr. Chetwynde said.

It was at that exact moment, the moment when everything felt right again… that Mark’s ring began to twitch. He quickly clasped his hand over it and ran around behind Mr. Chetwynde so Courtney could see him.

“Uhh,” Mark said. “C–Courtney? Wh-Where’s the bathroom?”

Courtney said, “Same place it’s always been. Over by the-” She stopped short held up his ring so Courtney could see that the gray stone had gone crystal and was starting to fire out light.

“Use mine upstairs,” she said quickly. “Bring my bags up with you, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, no problem,” Mark stammered. He ran for the entryway to the house, nearly tripping over Courtney’s bags. He grabbed one and stumbled for the stairs. He was about to turn up, when Mrs. Chetwynde appeared from around the other side of the stairs. Mark instantly turned his back to her, shielding the glowing ring.

“Need some help?” she asked sweetly.

“N-No, I got it!” Mark said quickly as he tripped up the stairs.

Mrs. Chetwynde shrugged and turned back toward the kitchen to start dinner. Mark made it up the stairs, hurried down the hallway to the last door on the left, which he knew was Courtney’s room, and dove inside. He had long ago gotten over the rush of actually stepping into a girl’s bedroom. Life had gone way beyond that. He dropped Courtney’s bag on the floor, closed the door, took off the ring, and put it on the floor. The ring had already begun to expand. It quickly grew to the size of a Frisbee, with flashing light spewing from the center and the familiar jumble of musical notes that Mark knew meant he was about to receive a delivery from another territory.

He had long ago gotten over the rush of seeing this, too.

It took only a few moments for the event to be over. The lights disappeared, the music ended, and the ring returned to normal. Sitting on the rug next to it was a journal. Like the journal before it, the rolled-up pages were bright yellow and tied with a purple ribbon. Mark stared at it on the floor. He may have gotten used to the ring opening up a pathway to the territories and depositing Bobby’s journals, but there was no way to be prepared for the news a journal would bring.

“Mail’s in,” Courtney said. She had made it to her room and poked her head inside the door. “Just like old times.”

Mark picked up the yellow pages. “Looks like it’s from Quillan,” he announced.

“The circus clown territory,” Courtney added. “I have no idea what’s up with that twisted place.”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Mark said. “Should we read it here? Now?”

Courtney entered the room, closed the door behind her, limped over to Mark, and grabbed the roll of pages. “I’ve been out of the loop for too long,” she said while pulling off the ribbon and unrolling the pages. “No way I’m going to wait.”

Mark smiled. They were together again. They had always read Bobby’s journals out loud to each other, except for when Courtney was hurting so bad. This felt good, for all sorts of reasons.

“You want me to start?” Courtney asked.

“Absolutely,” Mark said with a smile as he sat down on the bed.

Courtney hobbled over to the cushy easy chair that her father had moved up to her room, and settled in. She looked at the pages, ready to read.

“Courtney?” Mark said.

“Yeah?”

“Welcome back.”

Courtney smiled and began to read, “‘Journal number twenty-four. Quillan. I like to play games. Always have-’”

(CONTINUED)

“Dinner’s ready!” called Mrs. Chetwynde from downstairs.

Courtney had already finished reading Bobby’s journal aloud. She and Mark were busy sitting there, not moving, staring at each other, trying to digest the news from Bobby’s latest entry. Courtney broke the silence first. “He sounds bad,” she said.

“Can you blame him?” Mark asked. “He’s only got the biggest responsibility in the history of all time on his shoulders.”

“I wish there was something we could do to let him know he’s not alone,” Courtney lamented.

“But he is alone,” Mark said soberly.

Courtney looked out the window. She wanted to cry. Bobby was doing an incredible job battling Saint Dane. It hurt to hear that in spite of all his success, he was feeling so sad and lonely. It wasn’t fair. It almost made her wish that when Bobby and Loor were together, that Loor had kissed him.

Almost.

Mark added, “And now he’s even more alone, because the Traveler from Quillan is dead.”

“It’s a weird feeling,” Courtney added glumly. “It’s like hearing a relative died that you never met.”

“Really,” Mark said soberly. “I–I can’t believe another Traveler is gone.”

“And Bobby’s just getting started on Quillan!” Courtney shouted out. “He’s being set up for something, I know it.”

“I think so too,” Mark said. He jumped up and started pacing nervously. “Why else would Saint Dane have sent him that invitation? And what about the loop and the challenger clothes at the flume? Saint Dane must have put them there.”

“Really,” Courtney said. “And those two weird people, Veego and LaBerge. They had something to do with putting on that fight. Bobby’s being lured into that Toto competition.”

“Tato,” Mark corrected.

“Whatever,” Courtney snapped. “Bobby walked into a trap.”

“What else can he do?” Mark argued. “If he wants to find out what’s happening on Quillan, he’s got to be right where he is. Where Saint Dane asked him to be.”

Courtney took a deep breath. She knew Mark was right. But it didn’t make her any less anxious about it. “I guess,” she said, pouting. “I hate getting the story in short doses, and I hate even worse not being able to help him.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the deal,” Mark said.

Courtney tapped her foot on the floor. Her good foot. She was full of nervous energy. “There’s something I don’t understand,” she finally said. “Why doesn’t Saint Dane just kill him?”

“What?” Mark shouted in surprise.

“Don’t get all squishy,” Courtney countered. “It’s a legitimate question. With all of Saint Dane’s powers, you’d think he’d just swat Bobby down and be done with him. The same with the other Travelers. He’s had plenty of chances. I mean, if he spent all that time trying to get rid of me, you’d think he’d at least give it a shot.”

Mark stopped pacing and sat back in the chair. “I have to admit, I’ve wondered that myself.”

Courtney said, “You think maybe it’s because they can’t be killed? Like with Loor.”

“But they can be killed!” Mark shot back. “There’s a whole roster of dead Travelers as proof, and it’s getting longer.”

“Then what about Loor?” Courtney asked. “She was dead and then she wasn’t.”

“I don’t know,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s like Bobby said. It might have something to do with the power they have when they’re together. Bobby was there for Loor, and she survived. The Traveler from Quillan was alone, and now he’s gone.”

“So… could that be it?” Courtney asked nervously. “Is it finally happening? Is Saint Dane luring the Travelers to Quillan, separately, to kill them off one by one?”

The two shared a nervous look. The thought of a systematic Traveler execution was a grim one.

“Is this the Travelers’ last stand?” Courtney asked, surprised by her own conclusion.

Mark jumped up and paced again. “No!” He shouted. “N-No way. It can’t be that simple.” He was forming the ideas as he spoke. “I’ve studied every word of Bobby’s journals. I know everything that’s happened to him since he left home, and I see a pattern.”

“Which is…?”

“Saint Dane likes to play,” Mark answered. “He lures Bobby to a territory and gives him just enough information to get him thinking.”

“But the clues usually send him in the wrong direction,” Courtney pointed out.

“I think that’s part of it,” Mark said. “Saint Dane challenges Bobby. He forces him to make tough choices. Bobby never has a clear path.”

“So what’s the point?” Courtney asked impatiently. “Why does Saint Dane give Bobby any shot at all?”

Mark answered, “Because I think for Saint Dane, it’s more than just trying to tip a territory toward chaos. I think he wants to beat Bobby. No, I think he needs to beat Bobby. If he didn’t, why would he bother dealing with Bobby at all?”

“Because Bobby forces him to deal,” Courtney said. “He’s all over Saint Dane.”

“Yeah, Bobby and the Travelers keep messing up his plans, but Saint Dane keeps giving him opportunities. I don’t think anything that happens is by coincidence. I think Saint Dane has orchestrated everything, and part of it is to go head-to-head with Bobby whenever he can.”

“Even when he lost his cool and beat Bobby up on Zadaa?” Courtney asked. “And tried to kill Loor?”

“Especially then,” Mark answered. “Did he really lose his cool? Or was it just one more strand in the web he’s weaving to mess with Bobby and keep him off balance?”

“You’re making my head hurt,” Courtney said. “And thanks for nothing because it’s the only body part I’ve got left that doesn’t ache.”

“Sorry,” Mark said.

Courtney asked, “So you think Saint Dane cares more about messing with Bobby than about ruling Halla?”

“No,” Mark said. “Just the opposite. I believe that for Saint Dane, the road to Halla goes through Bobby. Until Bobby is defeated, he can never truly win. Just killing off the Travelers won’t be good enough for him. Everything he does has a bigger purpose.”

“Including setting up the Traveler from Quillan to die?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, it’s sick, but that’s what I think,” Mark said with confidence.

Courtney glanced at the yellow pages of Bobby’s journal from Quillan. “You make it sound like it’s all one big game,” she said.

“It kind of feels that way,” Mark said. “With very big stakes.”

Courtney looked out the window again and said, “The more we learn, the less sense it makes.”

“I’ll make it even more confusing,” Mark said. “If I’m right about all this, then the really big question is, why? If this is all some big cosmic game, who made up the rules? What’s the point? Why is Bobby so important? What is Saint Dane trying to prove? And-“

“And who’s he trying to prove it to?” Courtney finished Mark’s thought.

“Exactly,” Mark said. “There’s nothing in Bobby’s journals that gives me a clue, other than what Gunny said-“

“Right,” Courtney interrupted. “He thinks that somebody out there chose the Travelers.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know who it might be and neither does Bobby. Which means all he can do is keep playing the game and hope for the best.”

“Courtney! Mark!” Mr. Chetwynde called from downstairs. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Coming!” Courtney shouted.

“So what do we do?” Mark asked.

“What do you mean?” Courtney shot back. “It’s not like we can jump into a flume and hop over to Quillan to tell him our theory.”

“No, I mean about you. Saint Dane nearly killed you. We both agreed that Bobby should know.”

Courtney stood up. “I changed my mind,” she said with finality.

“But-“

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if we wanted to tell him, how could we? We don’t know if the Traveler from Quillan had an acolyte. Who would we send the message to?”

“We could send it to one of the other acolytes, like Saangi, and she could tell Loor and-“

“And Loor would go to Quillan and do what? Tell Bobby that he’s gotta get home because Saint Dane is messing with poor Courtney? What if that’s exactly what Saint Dane wants? I’ve had a lot of time to wonder about why he came after me, and all I can come up with is that he wants Bobby to run home to protect me.”

“Yeah, I thought about that too,” Mark agreed.

“Look,” Courtney said. “We can’t travel to another territory, that’s a fact. We’re stuck here. But you know what? That’s a good thing. Saint Dane is going to come after Second Earth. What he did to me might be part of his plan for this territory, or maybe he was just trying to distract Bobby. We don’t know. But the fact remains, Second Earth is in play. It’s not our job to go to other territories and interfere. Our job is to help Bobby protect Second Earth. I say we hold off on telling him anything about what’s happened until the turning point on Quillan passes, no matter which way it goes. The battle isn’t on Second Earth right now; it’s on Quillan. That’s where Bobby belongs, and it would be wrong for us to distract him.”

Mark nodded.

“Now let’s eat, I’m starving,” Courtney said, and walked stiffly for the door. Conversation over.

The dinner that Mark shared with the Chetwyndes was a lot of fun, in spite of all that was bothering Mark and Courtney. They did their best to put their concerns about Bobby aside and focus on the celebration to welcome Courtney home. It was a warm, wonderful time. The tension between Courtney and her parents that existed before she left for summer school had evaporated. Courtney realized that her brush with death went a long way toward putting her priorities in order. Not being the best girl on the soccer team suddenly seemed trivial. Her parents were just happy that she was alive. Courtney kind of liked that fact too. If Saint Dane had accomplished anything, it was to bring Courtney and her family back together.

For Mark and Courtney there was an added reason to celebrate: They had survived Saint Dane’s plot to hurt Courtney. Courtney’s body may have been worse for wear, but their resolve was stronger than ever… and their confidence. It truly was a time to celebrate, in spite of the sad and scary news from Quillan.

Mark and Courtney decided to go about their lives as normally as possible, which meant Mark started his junior year at Davis Gregory High, and Courtney continued the grueling process of physical therapy. Both knew they had to stay aware, in case Saint Dane made another appearance, though neither knew exactly how to do that, or what to look for. Of course they were wary of strangers or anyone new who came into their lives. Courtney wasn’t about to let another Whitney Wilcox weasel his way into her confidence. At least not until Saint Dane was done for good.

Mark brought Bobby’s latest journal to the National Bank of Stony Brook, where all of Bobby’s journals were kept in a safe-deposit box. Every day he would check the newspaper and the online news services, searching for any hint of something that might lead to a turning point on Second Earth that Saint Dane could exploit. After a week of sleepless nights spent online, he realized it was futile, because everything seemed like it could lead to a turning point. There was no shortage of stories about strife in other countries as well as at home. There were countless reports of terrorism and border disputes and sickness and crime and any number of things that Mark could easily imagine blossoming into a full-blown turning point. It was making him crazy. He began to realize that even if he ran across the right information, he’d never recognize it and make the connection to Saint Dane. He had to accept the fact that he’d never come across an item on Yahoo! that read: stranger appears out of nowhere to offer prosperity but really plans disaster. Short of that, he knew he was spinning his wheels, so he reluctantly gave up doing research.

Courtney’s mom dropped her off every day at the High Point Rehabilitation Center, where she spent a solid two hours being tortured. She worked right alongside many elderly people with various problems. One man had suffered a stroke and had to learn to use his legs again. Courtney found herself being a cheerleader and coach for the guy, encouraging him to keep trying. She also helped a young boy who had injured his hand so badly, he had trouble holding a fork to eat. Courtney sat by him, telling him jokes and getting him to focus. Many times the older man was nearly in tears out of frustration, but Courtney was able to get him to think ahead to where he would soon be, as opposed to dwelling on where he’d been. In the few weeks that Courtney was there, she saw great improvement in both the old man and the kid. The therapists told her she played a big part in their recovery, which made Courtney feel great.

Her own recovery went very well. Most of the patients there would have to be coaxed and cajoled into exercising, since exercise usually meant pain and frustration. With Courtney it was the opposite. The therapists had to caution her to back off, for fear she’d hurt herself again. The term “back off” was not in Courtney’s vocabulary. She had a deadline. She wanted to play soccer that spring. But more than that, she was driven by her hatred of Saint Dane, and what he’d done to her. It fueled her and it healed her.

The investigation continued in Derby Falls as to who the stranger named Whitney Wilcox was, who showed up at Courtney’s summer school, pretended to be a student, nearly killed Courtney, and then vanished. Courtney spoke many times with the local detectives and with school officials, answering the same questions over and over again. But it was all for show, because she knew they were wasting their time. They’d never find the guy. At one point she wanted to blurt out, “Look, Whitney Wilcox was actually a demon named Saint Dane who is trying to crush all of humanity, and the reason he tried to kill me is because my friend Bobby Pendragon is off in another time and territory trying to stop him, and I think he wanted to get Bobby to come home and protect me. Does that clear things up for you now? Have a nice day.” She didn’t say that.

Instead she bit her tongue, answered their questions as truthfully as possible, and secretly felt sorry for them because it was such a total waste of their energy.

By the time November rolled around, Courtney was itching to get back to school. Up until then she had been getting her assignments brought to the house. Her parents even hired a tutor to help her with math. (Courtney wasn’t big on math.) Her grades rebounded from the disaster of the year before, and after the first quarter she was back on the honor roll. As great as that felt, Courtney was still frustrated. She wanted to get back to normal, and normal meant going to school.

The final step was to get a clean bill of health from her doctors. The bones in her leg and arm were healing nicely. She could get around, though she still used a cane as a precaution. What the doctors were more concerned about was that she had recovered enough from her internal injuries to resume a normal, busy, tiring life. It was the week before Thanksgiving when Courtney had the examination she had been aiming for. She walked into the doctor’s office, sat on the crunchy paper that covered his exam table, and announced, “Just so you guys know, the Monday after Thanksgiving, I’m going back to school.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow and smiled. After asking a number of questions as to how she was holding up, examining her, ordering a few blood tests, and then checking over her chart, the doctor called Courtney and her mom into his office to say, “Congratulations. You are good to go.”

If there ever was a Thanksgiving when Courtney felt she had a lot to give thanks for, it was this one. Her life was back on track. She still had some pain and stiffness, especially after the weather turned cold, but Courtney was confident that in time any residual effect from the crash would be gone. She did feel a little nervous about going back to school though. She hadn’t been there since the previous spring. She knew there would be questions as to where she had been. Mark told her how there were all sorts of rumors flying around school. Kids were saying how she’d had a total nervous breakdown and had to be committed to an insane asylum and spent the last few months strapped into a straitjacket in a padded hospital room. That made Courtney laugh, because of course none of it was true, except for the breakdown part, but secretly she was nervous about what she would tell people. Courtney prided herself on being strong, so it was embarrassing for her to admit that during the previous semester, she’d had trouble coping.

It wasn’t like she could tell the truth about what had put her over the edge either. She couldn’t say how she and Mark had traveled to Eelong and caused the death of one Traveler and trapped two others. That wouldn’t fly, unless she really wanted to be put in a straitjacket and a padded hospital room.

Courtney wasn’t used to admitting fault, or weakness, so the worry about how to explain her absence to the kids at school caused her more anxiety than just about anything else. Eventually she came up with a story that was partially true. She decided to be honest. Sort of. She would boldly say how she was under a lot of stress and was having trouble dealing with it. So rather than forcing it and alienating all her friends, which would have only made things worse, she chose to take a timeout. Courtney wanted to show strength in discussing her weakness. Then, she decided, she would immediately tell people about how she was nearly killed up in Massachusetts. She knew that story would be way more interesting than the one about her being depressed, and hoped the kids would soon forget about why she was gone in the first place. With that plan in place, Courtney felt she was ready to reenter her life.

The day after Thanksgiving, before she returned to school, Courtney got a call from Mark, who seemed all sorts of excited.

“I’ve got to show you something,” he said. “Can I come over?”

“Is it-“

“No,” Mark said quickly. “No new mail. It’s something we’ve been working on.” “We?”

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Is it okay if I bring Andy Mitchell over too?”

Courtney hesitated, then said, “You know I’m still not used to you hanging out with that roach.”

Mark laughed. “I know. But things are different.”

“Fine,” Courtney said. “Just make sure he takes a shower first. And washes his hair. The guy’s disgusting. That hair always looks like the Crisco fairy just paid him a visit.”

“I’m not going to tell him that,” Mark said.

“And there’s no smoking in my house,” Courtney said. “And deodorant is good. So is a toothbrush.”

“Can I bring him over or not?” Mark asked impatiently.

“Yes,” Courtney said. “I’m just giving you a hard time. But make sure he takes his shoes off before he comes in. No, wait, I don’t want to smell his socks. He can leave his shoes on.”

“Good-bye, Courtney,” Mark said with a laugh. “We’ll be there in an hour.”

Right on time, Courtney’s doorbell rang. She opened the door to see Mark and Andy standing there. Her first thought was, He didn’t wash his hair. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to embarrass Mark.

Courtney thought the two guys made an odd pair. Mark was shorter than Andy, with black hair that wasn’t so much long as it was curly and unruly. It always looked like he had been in a windstorm, even after he got a haircut. They were the same age, but Andy looked much older. Or maybe, Courtney thought, Mark still looks like a little kid. Andy had the red blotches from a bad bout with acne, which didn’t do much for his overall appearance. Courtney always thought that if he washed his face and hair a little more often, he might not have had to deal with so many skin problems. His dirty-blond hair always looked stringy and wet. He wasn’t a handsome guy either. Where Mark was cute in a kind of little-boy way, Andy looked like an older kid who had already seen too much of life.

“Hi!” Mark said brightly.

“Hey, Chetwynde, how you feeling?” Andy asked. “Great,” Courtney said. “Steal any good books lately?” “Courtney!” Mark chastised.

Andy shook his head and snorted. Courtney wanted to gag. “You’re hysterical, Chetwynde,” Mitchell said. “Anybody ever tell you that?’

“Sorry,” Courtney said. She meant it too. “Old habits. C’mon in.” She led the boys into the house and to the kitchen. “You guys want some leftover pumpkin pie?” Courtney asked.

“Sure!” Mark chirped.

“Did you make it?” Mitchell asked.

“Are you kidding?” Courtney answered. “No!”

“Then I’ll have some,” Mitchell said.

Courtney glared refrigerator. Mark and Andy sat down at the high counter across from her.

“So what’s going on?” Courtney asked.

Mark could barely contain his excitement. “The project Andy and I are working on got accepted for the eastern regional science exposition! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Uh, yeah,” Courtney said, though it didn’t sound like she meant it.

“Geez, Chetwynde,” Mitchell said. “Try to contain your joy.”

“I’m sorry,” Courtney said. “That was rude. I just don’t know anything about it.”

“It’s leading up to the single biggest high school science competition of the year is all!” Mark explained. “The regionals are next week in Orlando. If we win our class, we go to the nationals in January!”

“Wow,” Courtney said. “That is pretty good.” This time she meant it.

“Pretty good?” Mitchell said. “It’s freaking awesome. You’re looking at a couple of geniuses.”

Courtney stopped and looked at them. Neither looked like a genius, but then again, she didn’t know what geniuses were supposed to look like. She could accept that Mark had the goods, but she still couldn’t get her head around the fact that Andy Mitchell could spell his own name let alone create something that would be honored by a national committee. She decided not to challenge them, for Mark’s sake. She put their pieces of pie down on the counter and said, “So what’s the big project?”

Mark smiled and said, “That’s why we’re here. Nobody outside of the club at school and the judging committee has seen it. We wanted you to be the first civilian to get a look.”

“Mark wanted you to be the first,” Andy corrected.

Courtney let the dig pass. Mark reached into his backpack while Andy picked up the piece of pie with his hands and bit off half. He could barely close his mouth to chew. Courtney stared at him in wonder. She held out a fork. “This works too” she said flatly.

“Nah, I’m good” Andy said through the mouthful of gooey pie.

Mark pulled a small metal box out of his backpack He opened it and reached inside, saying, “This is so revolutionary, Mr. Pike at Sci-Clops thinks we should get it patented.”

“Enough buildup, what is it?” Courtney demanded.

Mark took something out of the metal box and placed it down on the counter. It was a round dull-gray object about the size of a golf ball. It wasn’t perfectly round. It had facets and bumps, as if it were made of clay. To Courtney it looked like…

“Silly Putty,” she said. “This is your big revolutionary invention?”

Mark and Andy exchanged knowing smiles. Mark said, “We call it ‘Forge.’” “Because…?”

“Watch,” Mark said. He leaned in close to the object and said, “Activate.”

The thing didn’t move.

Courtney looked at the two guys curiously and asked, “Did it activate?”

“Yup,” Andy said.

Courtney nodded. “Nice,” she said, unimpressed. “Dull, but nice.”

Mark said, “The mechanics are fairly rudimentary, nothing big there. The skin is something Andy’s been working on for a while now. My contribution is the brain that drives it.”

“Wow,” Courtney said sarcastically. “No wonder you’re going to Orlando! Be sure to say hi to Mickey and Goofy for me. Especially Goofy.”

Andy said, “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“What’s to get?” Courtney said quickly.

Mark leaned down to the object and said in a firm, clear voice: “Cube!”

The object began to writhe. It looked to Courtney like the center was full of worms that had all decided to shift at the same time. She heard a faint metallic clattering sound. Five seconds later the object had changed itself from a ball into a cube. Courtney stared at it, wide eyed. Andy gave Mark a smug look. Mark beamed.

“Still think we should be hanging with Goofy?” Andy asked.

“That’s incredible!” Courtney shouted. All traces of sarcasm were gone. “How did it do that?”

Mark leaned down and said, “Pyramid!”

As before, “Forge” moved and squirmed and transformed itself into a pyramid. Courtney couldn’t take her eyes off it. Then it was Andy’s turn. He leaned down and said, “Sphere.”

The object bumped and shook, and in moments it was back to ball shape. Still wide eyed, Courtney leaned down to the sphere and said, “Orlando Bloom!”

The object didn’t move.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andy asked.

Courtney shrugged and answered, “I figured if it could turn into anything, it might as well be something interesting.”

“Courtney!” Mark said, chastising.

“Hey, I said we were geniuses, not magical,” Andy said defensively.

“I’m kidding,” Courtney said quickly. “This is awesome. How does it work?”

Mark answered, “Like I said, the skin is something Andy’s been working on for a long time. It pulls into any shape and it’s almost indestructible. I programmed the voice-activated device and built the arms inside that form the shapes. It’s pretty rudimentary, but there are a lot of moving parts. That’s why it only becomes three different shapes.”

“Oh” Courtney said. “No Orlando Bloom?”

“Not today” Mark said. “But who knows? The idea of Forge technology is to create products that can become a variety of different shapes.”

Andy said, “So instead of having a whole toolbox full of wrenches, you have only one that can mold itself into whatever size you need. Or into any other tool you need.”

Mark added, “Or imagine a road that won’t crack when it expands and contracts with the weather. Forge technology would make roadways breathe, so that you’d never have to repair them.”

Andy said, “Or you can have a chair for your little kid that grows along with him. Or a football helmet. One size fits all.”

“Imagine a car that can be reduced to a third of its size when you get out” Mark said excitedly. “Think of the space saving!”

“The idea is to take things that are solid and make them flexible,” Andy said proudly.

“It’s all about options,” Mark added.

“But no Orlando Bloom?” Courtney asked.

Mark and Andy looked at her blankly.

“It’s a joke,” Courtney said flatly. “Is all that really possible?”

Mark shrugged and said, “Not now, but who knows where this might lead? The whole thing works with a watch battery!”

Andy picked up the Forge object and threw it on the floor. It bounced up like a Super Ball. He caught it and announced, “It bounces pretty good too!”

Courtney took the Forge object from Andy and stared at it. “I don’t know what I’m more amazed at,” she said. “The technology, or the idea that the two of you came up with it.”

Andy said, “What you really mean is you can’t believe I had anything to do with it.”

“Well, yeah,” Courtney admitted.

“I don’t know what our competition is,” Mark announced proudly, “but I can’t imagine anybody beating this.”

Courtney looked to Mark, then to Andy and said, “Neither can I. This is amazing. I am totally impressed.”

Mark beamed. Andy shrugged.

Mark put the Forge object back in its case, and they finished their pie. As they ate, Mark excitedly went into the details about how he and his mother and father were flying down with Andy to Orlando the following Wednesday and the competition was the day after. Andy didn’t say much of anything. He wasn’t the best at making conversation. Before it was time to go, Mark hit the bathroom, leaving Courtney and Andy alone in the kitchen. Courtney watched Mitchell as he wiped his plate with his finger and licked the pumpkin remnants off. She had to force back the urge to retch.

“So,” Andy said. “Things ain’t turning out the way you thought, are they?”

“Give me a break,” Courtney shot back. “You’ve been a jerk your whole life. You expect me to believe you suddenly turned into a great guy?”

“I don’t care what you believe” Andy said. “I’m not a great guy. I’m not a bad guy. I’m just me. What can I say?”

“You can say that you won’t do anything to mess things up for Mark,” she said sternly. “He is a great guy, and if you do anything stupid, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

“Oooh,” Andy said with mock fear. “I’m quakin’l”

“Just don’t be a jerk, all right?”

Andy stood up and said, “I might be a jerk, but if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be lying in a ditch up there in the mountains.”

This stopped Courtney. For a moment she had slipped back into remembering the old Andy Mitchell. The Andy Mitchell that was the scourge of grade school.

“You’re right,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. I owe you.”

“No you don’t,” Andy said. “Just try to be a little more, I don’t know, open-minded. All right?”

Courtney didn’t say anything. She knew he was right, but it killed her to admit it.

Mark came bouncing back into the room saying, “So? You coming back to school on Monday?”

“Absolutely,” Courtney said. “The return of Courtney.”

“Whoa! Stand back!” Mitchell said jokingly. They all laughed.

When the guys left, Courtney was left feeling off balance. She was happy for Mark and proud that he was going to the regional competition. She was even legitimately impressed with their Forge thing. It was Andy Mitchell that made her feel odd. Having him turn out to be an incredibly smart, good guy didn’t fit the way she thought the world was supposed to work. As much as it was a good thing, it just felt weird. As she cleaned up the pie plates, she decided that the only problem with Andy was her. She realized she was being rigid. People change. People grow up. They mature. She knew that. Who was she to say that Andy Mitchell couldn’t be one of those people? If Mark accepted him, then why couldn’t she?

Courtney promised herself that she would stop judging Andy Mitchell by the old rules, and look at him the way Mark did. Besides, she thought, she’s got her own problems to deal with. On Monday she was going back to school.

(CONTINUED)

It felt like the first day of school for Courtney because in many ways, it was. It was strange and exciting and scary and overwhelming all at the same time. In a word, it was excellent. Her mom had dropped her off and asked if she wanted help to get inside. Courtney’s answer was a stern “You’ve got to be kidding” look. Mrs. Chetwynde shrugged, gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek, and watched as she walked slowly back to school for the first time in seven months.

When Courtney stepped into the school, it reminded her of when she stepped into the flume. It was like entering a strange and scary new dimension where she didn’t know exactly what to expect. She knew she could handle the physical part. She’d worked too hard on her therapy to worry about that. She also knew that classes would be fine. She looked forward to being back with a real live teacher. What made her nervous was facing her friends. She had no idea how they would treat her.

What happened was… things couldn’t have been better.

Courtney was totally relieved to find that nobody pressed her on the details of what had happened the year before. They all wanted to know about the accident, and how she was feeling, but when it came to the question of why she’d left school in the first place, her friends were cool. It wasn’t like they were avoiding the issue. Just the opposite. They would bring it up, but would say things like, “Glad you’re back to your old self.” And, “We missed you.” And, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.” Even some of her rivals from the soccer team went out of their way to wish her well and say they hoped she’d get back up to speed as soon as possible. They told her that since a whole senior class had graduated, they needed her in a bad way. It blew Courtney away. She never expected to be treated so nicely. It wasn’t like anybody felt sorry for her either. They seemed to respect that she was having a tough time, and genuinely wanted her back to her old self. Nobody judged her, or made fun, or snickered behind her back. What she’d feared was that her friends were going to act like kids and not know what to say. What she found instead was that they, like Andy Mitchell, were growing up. It made her realize just how long she had been gone. It made her a little sad, but she couldn’t have wished for a better homecoming. Or schoolcoming. It felt to Courtney like the whole nightmarish experience made her stronger. At one point she had to chuckle when she thought that she had Saint Dane to thank for getting her head back on straight. If he only knew, she thought.

Courtney didn’t see Mark for those first few days. They didn’t share any classes. They didn’t share any friends, either. Other than Bobby. She wanted to see him though, if only to show him that she was almost back to normal. By Wednesday she still hadn’t seen him, and knew that he was leaving for Orlando that evening. So rather than go home after school, she had her mom drop her off at Mark’s house to say hi and wish him good luck at the competition.

What she ran into instead was… disaster.

She rang the doorbell. There was no answer at first. She was about to leave when the door was suddenly thrown open. Mrs. Dimond stood there, looking stressed.

“Courtney!” she exclaimed. “You look so good!” Mrs. Dimond threw her arms around Courtney and gave her a big hug. “But I can’t talk now, we’re in the middle of a crisis.”

“What’s going on?” Courtney asked.

“Don’t ask,” she said. “No, go ask Mark. He’s In the living room with Andy Mitchell.” Mrs. Dimond leaned into Courtney and whispered, “Is that guy a little, I don’t know, greasy?”

Courtney chuckled and said, “No, he’s a lot greasy.”

“Good,” Mrs. Dimond said. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so. Go talk to them.”

Mrs. Dimond left her and hurried up the stairs. Courtney saw that at the foot of the stairs were all their suitcases, packed and ready to go. She walked into the living room to see Mark sitting on the sofa looking nervous, while Andy paced.

“Hey, ready to go?” Courtney asked.

Mitchell looked up, spotted Courtney, and his shoulders fell. “Don’t you go giving me a hard time,” he said anxiously. “I’m having a bad enough day as it is.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Courtney asked as she sat in an easy chair. She needed to sit down. Though she was feeling better, the three days she’d spent at school had taken a lot out of her.

Mark said, “The sprinkler in Andy’s uncle’s florist shop just exploded.”

“It didn’t explode,” Andy said. “He must have been smokin’. I know that guy. He set it off. Idiot.”

“Whatever,” Mark said. “Andy came over, we were all set to leave, and then he got the call.”

“Five minutes from a clean getaway,” Andy lamented.

Mark added,” His uncle says the place is a wreck.”

“There was a flood and it blew out the heat,” Andy said angrily. “Just his luck the weather turned frigid last night. The place is turning into a skating rink.”

“So what does that mean for you?” Courtney asked.

“Oh, not much,” Andy answered sarcastically. “Only that I can’t go to Orlando! Months of work, all for nothin’. Unbelievable!”

“Why can’t you go?” Courtney asked.

“Because I gotta help him clean up the mess!” Andy cried. “He just took delivery of all his Christmas flowers. If we don’t get them out of there and over to his house like, right now, they’ll die and his whole season will be gone, which means I’m out of a job. I gotta go there right now and get to work.”

“It’s not fair,” Mark said. “We’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Is there a later flight?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, but there’s too much work to do,” Andy said, sounding defeated. “I’d never get it done and make it down to the airport in time.”

Mark said, “I told you I’d stay and help. With extra help you might still make the later flight.”

“Or I might not, and then you’d be stuck too,” Andy said.

Mr. Dimond entered the room holding a piece of paper. “I just called the airline,” he announced, referring to the paper. “Good news, bad news. There’s a later flight tonight, and one first thing in the morning. If worse comes to worst, you can make the flight tomorrow and still be at the convention center in time for the presentation.”

“Seriously?” Andy asked, gaining hope. “What’s the bad news?”

“It’ll cost two hundred bucks a ticket to make the change” was the answer.

“Ouch,” Mark said. “That’s a lot of cash.”

“Eight hundred bucks for all of you,” Courtney pointed out.

“I can do the math,” Mitchell snapped.

“Here’s my suggestion,” Mr. Dimond said. “Mrs. Dimond and I will go down on the flight as scheduled. We’re there to chap-erone, but it’s a vacation for us too. I’d just as soon not miss any of it. Sorry, Andy.”

“No problem,” Andy said.

“But if Mark wants to stay, he can help you clean up the shop and maybe you can both make it to the airport for the later flight. If not, I can book you on the flight tomorrow and you’ll come down then. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Andy said. “Except for the part about the extra two hundred bucks to change my ticket. I ain’t got that kind of cash. If I did I wouldn’t be working for my idiot uncle.”

“I’ll spring for it,” Mr. Dimond said. “For both of you.”

“Are you serious?” Andy said.

“Really, Dad?” Mark asked.

“Hey, how often do I get to see a couple of geniuses change the world?” Mr. Dimond said. “What do you say?”

Andy looked at Mark. Mark shrugged and said, “Let’s go save some flowers!”

D. J. MacHale

The Quillan Games

Courtney said, “I’d help but I barely have enough energy to get out of this chair.”

Andy ran over to Mr. Dimond and shook his hand. “Thank you, man. Seriously. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll hurry up,” Mr. Dimond said, laughing.

“Dad, you are the best,” Mark said.

“Don’t tell him that,” Mrs. Dimond said as she entered the living room. “It’ll go right to his head, and I won’t be able to live with him.”

“Thank you, both,” Andy said. “C’mon, Chetwynde, we’ll drop you at home.”

Courtney pulled herself out of the chair and said, “Well, glad I came by to solve the dilemma.”

“Yeah, you’re swell,” Andy said sarcastically. “Let’s go.”

He ran out. Mark gave his mom and dad a quick hug and said, “See you in Florida. You guys are awesome.” He ran after Andy; Courtney was right behind.

They all headed for Andy’s ancient station wagon. Since Andy used it to transport flowers, the backseat was down. That meant all three had to sit in front on the bench seat. Andy jumped behind the wheel. Courtney looked to Mark and said, “You’re not going to make me sit next to him, are you?”

Mark laughed and jumped in first. Courtney didn’t live far from Mark, so the drive only took a few minutes. Andy pulled the car up to the curb in front of her house, skidding to a stop.

“Okay, out!” he shouted. “We ain’t got a whole lot of time.”

Mark said, “Wait, I gotta use Courtney’s bathroom.”

“What?” Mitchell exclaimed. “We just left your house a minute ago!”

“Wh-What can I say,” Mark said. “When you g-gotta go… “

Mark’s words caught Courtney by surprise. Why was he stuttering? Mark only stuttered when he got nervous. She opened the door, pulled her stiff body out of the car, and headed up the walkway to her house. Mark was right after her.

“Make it quick!” Andy shouted. “We got a plane to catch!”

Mark hurried up behind Courtney, took her by the arm, and hurried her toward the house.

“Geez,” Courtney said. “He’s right. Why didn’t you go back at your house?”

Mark didn’t stop. “Just hurry,” he said.

He pulled her quickly toward the door. Courtney pulled her keys out and could see that Mark was nervously hopping from one foot to the other.

“You gonna make it?” she asked, chuckling.

“Just open the door,” Mark ordered.

Courtney wasn’t used to Mark giving orders like bathroom. When she got the door open, Mark jumped past her and inside.

“Close the door!” he shouted.

She did. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

Mark pulled his right hand out of his coat pocket.

“This!” he shouted.

His ring had come to life. Bobby’s next journal was about to arrive.

“You’re not gonna make that plane later tonight,” Courtney said, breathless.

“No,” Mark said. “We’ll fly tomorrow.”

No sooner had Mark finished saying that than the entryway to Courtney’s house came alive with light from the expanding ring. Mark and Courtney already had their eyes shielded.

“Courtney?” came a familiar voice. It was Courtney’s mother.

“Uh-oh,” Mark said. He quickly took off his jacket and threw it over the growing ring just as Mrs. Chetwynde entered.

“Oh, hi, Mark!” she said cheerily. “Congratulations, I heard all about your, uh, your science thing.”

“Thanks, M-Mrs. Chetwynde,” Mark stammered nervously.

Both he and Courtney stepped onto Mark’s coat, pressing the edges down into the rug so no light would shine out.

“What is that strange sound?” Mrs. Chetwynde asked.

Mark and Courtney knew it was the strange music that always accompanied a delivery through the ring.

Courtney said, “That’s part of Mark’s project. They’re experimenting with sound, too.”

Mrs. Chetwynde looked at the jacket they were standing on and frowned. “It’s in the jacket?”

“Uh-huh,” Courtney said.

“The jacket you’re standing on,” Mrs. Chetwynde added. “Uh, yeah, we didn’t want to track dirt onto the rug,” Courtney said, thinking fast.

“Since when?”

Courtney could feel the ring shrinking under her foot. The music ended too.

“Hey! Dimond!” Andy Mitchell called from outside. He was pressing his face against the small window next to the front door.

Mrs. Chetwynde saw him and jumped in surprise. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Who is that person?”

Mark took the opportunity to scoop up the jacket, along with the ring and the pages that had just arrived.

“He’s my partner in the project,” Mark explained.

Courtney said, “He won’t bite, he only looks scary. You know how those genius types are.”

Mrs. Chetwynde shook her head in dismay and walked out of the room. “If you say so,” she said with confusion. “Good luck, Mark.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chetwynde!”

“Come on!” Andy Mitchell yelled. “My uncle’s waitin’!”

Mark held up his finger to Andy as if to say, “One second!” He pulled Courtney away from the window, into the living room, out of Andy’s sight. From under his jacket he pulled out a thick brown envelope. Bobby’s latest journal.

“What happened to the yellow pages with the purple ribbon?” Courtney asked.

Mark ripped open the envelope quickly and looked inside. “It’s a journal all right,” he announced. “Maybe he wrote it from another territory.”

“You’re not going with Mitchell now, are you?” Courtney asked. “We’ve gotta read!”

“I can’t blow him off,” he said. “What would I tell him?”

“Who cares! You don’t owe that jerk anything. After all he’s done to you? Mark, it’s a journal from Bobby!”

“He’s not a jerk anymore; he’s my partner,” Mark said seriously.

Courtney backed down, saying, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. But you’re not gonna take that plane tonight!”

“No,” Mark said. “I’ll help move the flowers, then come back here right after. I’ll just have to make sure it takes long enough so we miss the night flight.”

“Do you realize how hard it’s going to be for me not to read this?” Courtney said.

Mark gave her a stern look. Courtney smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.”

Mark put his ring back on his finger, pulled on his jacket, and headed for the front door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Put the journal someplace safe.”

He was about to leave, then he turned and walked back to Courtney. He held her by the arms and said, “I am really glad you’re back.”

The two hugged. They had forged such a strong bond over the last few years that if Courtney were asked, she would have to say that as strange as it might seem, her very best friend in the world was Mark Dimond.

Mark felt the same way.

They hugged for a second more, then without another word, he was gone. Courtney looked at the envelope. She hadn’t thought about it until that second, but it was the first time she’d been entrusted with one of Bobby’s journals. Usually that was Mark’s job. Now she was the one who had to have the patience to wait, knowing that the next chapter in Bobby’s adventure was right there. She sat down and felt the paper envelope, wanting to pull the pages out and start reading. She almost did, too. But she stopped herself. It was always Mark who had to wait for her. She now knew just how hard that was.

She took the envelope and brought it up to her room, carefully placing it under her pillow for safekeeping. She had no idea why she did that. It wasn’t like the underside of her pillow was any safer than her desk, or her dresser. But she felt as if she needed to treat the pages with special care. It also helped to get the journal out of her sight, because she feared her willpower would crack and she’d read.

She went downstairs and had dinner with her parents, then did her homework in the dining room. Her mother asked her why she wasn’t working in her room as she usually did. Courtney said it was because she was tired of being alone. It was the truth, she was tired of being alone. It was one of the great things about going back to school. After being in self-imposed exile, and then being hurt for so long, she loved being around people again. But if Courtney were being totally honest, she’d admit it was also because she didn’t trust herself alone with Bobby’s journal. She was afraid that if it were in her reach, she’d go for it. So rather than be tempted, she did her homework downstairs. When she finished, she sat with her dad to watch some TV. But her mind wasn’t on the newsmagazine they watched. It was on the treasure under her pillow upstairs.

Courtney checked her watch. Mark had been gone for over five hours. How long did it take to clean up a couple of flowers? Another half hour went by. Still no Mark. Courtney couldn’t take it anymore. She went into the kitchen and called his cell phone. All she got was Mark’s message. As far as she knew, she was the only one who ever left a message on Mark’s cell phone. Her message this time was short and to the point, “Where are you? It’s after ten! Call me!”

Mark didn’t call her. Ten turned into ten thirty and then eleven. Where was he? Could he have taken the night flight to Orlando after all? No, she thought, he would have called. This wasn’t like Mark.

Finally, at eleven thirty, Courtney broke. She convinced herself with him for not calling. In her mind that justified her taking a peek at Bobby’s pages.

“I’m going upstairs, Dad” she said. “There’s a chance Mark Dimond might come by tonight; he was supposed to help me with calculus.”

“Tonight?” Mr. Chetwynde said with surprise. “Isn’t it a little late to study on a school night?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’ll come, but don’t be surprised if he does. Mark is an odd one.”

Mr. Chetwynde would never question anything that Mark Dimond did. He had saved his daughter’s life. Whatever Mark did was okay with him, no matter how odd.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Mr. Chetwynde called.

“G’night, Dad.”

Courtney hurried up the stairs, rushed into her bedroom, closed the door, and locked it. She stared at her pillow. She was torn between curiosity and guilt. Curiosity won. She jumped on her bed, jammed her hand under the pillow, and pulled out the envelope.

He’ll understand, Courtney thought.

From out of the envelope she pulled a thick stack of small gray pages. It was notepaper, with each sheet around five-by-seven inches. Each sheet was filled on both sides with Bobby’s familiar handwriting. She was about to read when she noticed one more thing about the pages. Printed on the bottom right hand corner of each page, in small square letters, was a single word. blok.

“Blok,” she said to herself out loud. “I hope he’s figured out what that means, because it’s making me crazy.”

Courtney’s head went to Quillan. She knew Mark would understand. It was time to read.