In the morning the stack of stuff was still exactly as Anji had left it the night before. As far as we could tell, nothing had happened in the night. Nothing moved, nothing shifted. I was both relieved and disappointed. I’d hoped to wake up to answers, to get some sort of proof or explanation that would explain what exactly happened to me during my missing moments.
Anji told me she had stayed awake until three. “Then I crashed. But nothing weird happened before I drifted off. You even snored a little.”
I giggled and pulled my covers up over my face. “Really?”
“Okay, more than a little,” she said, laughing along with me. “You sounded like a goat.”
“No I didn’t!”
“You did!” She was laughing so hard she had to gasp for air. “You were totally out.” She made horrible snorting, snoring sounds, and we both laughed even harder. When she caught her breath, Anji said, “I’m sure if anything weird was going to happen, it would have happened by three, right?”
“I guess.”
We went downstairs for breakfast, interrupting my dad’s morning yoga. “Namaste!” he chirped, popping out of a clumsy Downward Dog. “Sleep well, ladies?”
“Um,” Anji said, choking back a giggle. Dad was wearing his usual tank top, and I wondered if Anji would ever be able to look at him the same way again.
“Dad, can you put on a sweatshirt or something?” I asked.
Anji raced into the kitchen to hide. Once Dad had scuttled up the stairs, she told me, “My dad wears a teal bathrobe, and he has more chest hair than a gorilla. It’s so much worse than a tank top. Trust me.”
We both poured big bowls of cereal and sat at the kitchen table. “Why do you think strange stuff happens some nights, but not others?” I asked in a whisper. “Do you think nothing happened last night because you were here? Does that break the magic or something?”
“But you think you heard someone behind you on the night of the eclipse . . . ,” Anji said, chewing thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say you thought you heard a footstep before you fainted or whatever happened?”
I nodded. “But that could have been my imagination. It was seriously creepy up on that rooftop alone, and my mind could have been playing tricks on me.”
“If there was someone else there, though, then that means you don’t have to be alone for whatever’s happening to you to happen. The only things that were different about last night were the expertly barricaded door and me watching over you.”
Anji poked at the colored marshmallows in her bowl. Suddenly she asked, “Have there been any nights when you’ve been without your moonstone? Did Jonathan take it home with him on Friday? Because if nothing happened that night and you didn’t have your moonstone, and nothing happened last night . . .” She trailed off.
“No,” I said. “I kept it. And I had it during my sick day on Thursday. I slept with it last night. I know I had it the night of the eclipse.” I thought back but couldn’t remember every night over the past week. “I keep it near most nights.” I tried to dredge up more memories, then suddenly remembered. “I know I had it the night I supposedly went to the river with Will, because I’d tucked it inside my sweatshirt pocket before falling asleep on the couch. But I honestly can’t remember other nights.”
“Maybe you should try sleeping without it tonight? Just to be safe?”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. But if nothing had happened last night and I had my moonstone, what difference would it make if I slept without it for a night? I wasn’t sure I was willing to risk it. I told her, “Maybe.”
After Anji went home, I opened my e-mail. My mom had sent me Suze’s phone number and e-mail address earlier in the week. I’d promised Jonathan and Anji that I would call and set up a time for all of us to meet with her and talk through my situation as soon as she had time. When I opened my e-mail, I saw that I had an unread message in the e-mail chain between my mom and me. She’d sent it a few hours earlier.
Lucia, it said. We need to talk about all of this face-to-face. Please Skype me when you’re up. Mom.
I scrolled down to read the last message I’d sent—at four in the morning. My body tensed when I read it:
Mom,
You always tell me I should talk to you about things, but I don’t think you actually want to know what I’m thinking. I think you just say that, knowing I’ll forgive you for leaving. But here’s the truth: I’m sick of acting like everything is okay between us when it’s not. You need to know that I don’t think it’s fair that you walked out on your life. I’m sorry you weren’t happy, but it was really selfish to move so far away and start a new life. What was wrong with the life you had? Why do you have to leave all of us to find yourself? What did we do wrong? I don’t want to hear any of your lame excuses about soul mates and finding your chi. Tell me the truth for once. Why did you need to ruin my life to make yours better?
My breath caught in my throat. I had sent that e-mail. Me.
There, in words, were all the things I’d been thinking for the last few months—since the family meeting when Mom had made her big announcement—but hadn’t ever said that bluntly to anyone, except Will. I reached into my pocket and rubbed my fingers over the moonstone. Suddenly a brilliant flash of a dream came swimming into focus: me at the computer, typing. Nothing dramatic—just that and no more. So something had happened in the night. I hadn’t gone anywhere, but I sure had done something.
I wasn’t ready to face my mom yet, but I knew we’d have to talk soon. I’d put a lot into the e-mail, and I knew she would want to go through each of my thoughts in great detail. As sleepy and out of it as I was, I just didn’t think I could face her. I quickly wrote her an e-mail back, saying that yes, we did need to talk—but could we wait a day or two so I could “collect my thoughts and have a more productive conversation”? I thought she would appreciate my mature wording.
She wrote back almost immediately and said waiting a day was fine, but that she was eager to talk to me as soon as I was ready. Then she thanked me for the e-mail, complimented me on how expressive I had been, and said she was grateful I’d finally reached out.
Huh. That was unexpected. I felt this huge weight lift off me, and for the first time in a while, I was sort of looking forward to talking to my mom.
I spent the rest of the day working with Romy on my audition song for The Wizard of Oz. I was starting to get really nervous about the tryouts and began to have second thoughts. But Romy assured me I sounded great and needn’t worry. She even gave me a few great tips for overcoming stage fright.
In the afternoon Dad trimmed his beard into a really awful goatee and ordered a few new shirts online with the money he had taken from his friends at poker the night before. That night Dad, Romy, and I made pizzas together. With all of us beginning to heal and move forward, it seemed like we were finding a way to fit together as a family. It was a different kind of family than we’d always been accustomed to, but it was one that might work eventually.
I sang my audition song for Romy and my dad one more time before bed. Then I took a shower and sang to myself in the mirror. I began to feel hopeful about my chances of making it into the cast, but I still hadn’t decided if I was going to go through with the audition. My song was ready, but I wasn’t sure I was ready.
That night I decided to take Anji’s advice and sleep without my moonstone. I left it inside my jacket pocket downstairs so I would have it in the morning, but I knew it was safely out of reach in the night. I put my phone downstairs too, just to be safe. Before I fell asleep, I piled a bunch of stuff up in front of my door again and turned off my computer.
When I woke up, I was somehow much more tired than I had been the night before—but from what I could tell, nothing had happened. I rushed downstairs and grabbed my moonstone. For the first time in a long while no strange memories or dreams floated into focus when I touched it. Feeling slightly more in control of my life because I’d made it through a night where nothing weird had happened, I tried to embody some of the quiet confidence Anji was sure I had. But by the time Monday afternoon came around, I was feeling less sure of myself.
In English class my doubts multiplied when Velvet and Briana approached me about the auditions. “You don’t actually think you stand a chance, do you, Lucia?” Velvet asked me in her nicest voice. “They want someone with power. Confidence. Someone with strong stage presence. No offense, but that’s not exactly how I would describe you.” She smiled at me and leaned in close, as though we were sharing a secret. “You know you’re more of a behind-the-scenes girl. We’ve talked about this before.”
I glared at her. “You’ve talked about it,” I said, surprising myself. “I never said anything.”
She smirked. “Exactly.”
“You know what, Velvet?” I blurted out, my voice more of a whine than I would have liked it to be. “You don’t get to decide who does and doesn’t try out for the play. You’re not in charge.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Lucia.”
I wanted to say more. Wanted to tell her I hoped she’d fall and break a leg during the audition. I wished I could tell her she had a terrible voice but had gotten so used to her dad’s paid employees complimenting her her whole life that she probably thought forced compliments were real. I longed for her to know that if she did get cast, it was only because people were afraid of what her dad might do if her name wasn’t on that list.
But even though I thought all of this, I knew every single one of those things was much too mean to say. As much as I wished that Velvet would someday know what it felt like to lose out on something she cared about, I knew I could never be the kind of person who would tell her that. No matter what.
Walking through the halls after school, I still hadn’t decided for sure what I was going to do about the audition. It would be easy enough to just go home, forget about the musical, and apologize to Anji later. I knew she planned to audition with or without me. She’d be disappointed if I didn’t show up, sure, but I knew she’d understand. For a moment I let myself imagine what it would feel like to get up on that stage and let everyone hear me sing. I pictured all those eyes on me and the look on Velvet’s face when she realized I was someone who had a voice. That I actually could be a threat. In time, I knew, I would reclaim Will as a friend. If I also took a part in the musical away from her, it would be such sweet revenge.
But I couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
Shouldn’t.
I tossed my books into my backpack as quickly as I could and ran out of school before Anji got to her locker. I knew she would try to convince me to stay, and I didn’t want to let her down. Even as I made my way to the side door, the one closest to my bus stop, I felt a little wriggle of doubt. Why was I running away? Hadn’t I wished for the guts to do things like this? I was the one who could make that wish come true. All it would take is a little courage, and I could be the kind of girl who tried out for school plays. I could be the kind of girl who stood up to Velvet Mills.
The doubt about my choice was strong enough that I didn’t run for the bus when I got outside. I lingered, still debating. If I left school and went home, it would be impossible to change my mind. When Daunte Adams and a few guys from the soccer team burst out of the back door near the gym, I rushed to catch the door before it closed and locked behind them. I hustled back up through the halls, toward the media center.
The library was empty today. No one had media last period, and Mrs. Davies always left right after the last bell to get her kid from preschool. I slipped inside the darkened library and found my favorite corner way in the back. I slid down to the floor, hidden among the books and the silence. I pulled my moonstone out of my pocket and rubbed the soft edges. I wished the stone would tell me what to do.
Then I realized maybe it could. If I fell asleep, I wondered, what would happen? Ever since the eclipse, every other time I’d fallen asleep with my moonstone I had acted out on some unrealized wish or thing I longed to do. If I fell asleep now and let the moonstone take charge, would I make it to the audition . . . in my dreams?
Could using the moonstone’s magical power for something good really be so bad?