Later that night, still a little let down by how my afternoon with Jack had ended, I crawled into bed with a bowl of popcorn, a big bag of Skittles, and two juice boxes. One advantage of having a bedridden mother was the let-go effect on me and the house in general. There were no less than three Coke bottles on my vanity; a pizza box lay on the floor next to my bed; and the six outfits I’d tried on for school that morning were scattered everywhere. I didn’t think my guest would care. Over the past week, I’d felt Jacob’s presence growing stronger. Sometimes it would be the faintest hint of a child’s voice splashing with the milk over my morning Cocoa Pebbles. Or the way I’d swear it was a chubby finger turning my chin so as not to miss a big truck or a fast car. And as much as I knew I’d somehow summoned him, I didn’t know how to proceed. What I wouldn’t have given for advice. Hulda’s would have been ideal. The very depressing news on that front was “no change in her condition.” Frustrating, but better than a turn for the worse, I supposed.

I stuffed a handful of popcorn into my mouth, powered on the TV, and scrolled through channels until I got to the Cartoon Network. Ofelia had crossed my mind as a confidante, but the way she continued to ingratiate herself with my family still had me uncomfortable. Not only was she Afi’s go-to gal, but it had furthermore been decided that she’d stay with my mom while Afi and I were in Iceland. She’d even offered, so my mom said. The whole thing smelled as fishy to me as the oil-packed tuna my mom craved. Given how she’d wheedled her way into our family’s business, and now even my mom’s trust, I was not about to confide in her. And I ignored every esoteric cock of her head or googly-eyed look she gave me.

With my teeth, I stripped the cellophane from the juice box’s straw and pushed it into the tiny foil-covered hole. Next, I did the same with the other juice and set it on my bedside table. For the briefest of moments, even old Grim had seemed a possibility for guidance. Though the way her disapproving once-overs and rankled jabs undermined my temporary authority at every opportunity, I knew she was out of the question. It was more likely she’d have my Stork wings clipped in some painful and humiliating way for what I was doing.

Just what was I doing? Jeez. I barely knew. And as much as I had a conviction that I was finally putting my gifts to good use, I was on my own. Winging it — ha, ha. With a questioning shrug, I opened the bag of Skittles and spilled a big pile of them next to the juice box on the nightstand. Who cares about plates or napkins? Not us; right, Jacob? And if he could overlook the pink and purple in my room, I could overlook a few table manners.

We watched two shows. I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts I don’t even remember what was on, but occasionally it’d seem like the bed shook ever so slightly. Jacob laughing at something? Jacob squirming to get to the goodies? Once the credits rolled, I turned off the TV. And so concluded the entertainment portion of our evening.

I sat back against my headboard and concentrated harder than I ever had. Harder even than that algebra final, after which I stood and fell to my knees because my darn legs — both of them — had gone to sleep. Listen to me, Jacob, I repeated over and over in my head. I knew, somehow, this wasn’t getting the job done. How many adults had tried to get his attention with that line? Probably a few, right? I tried again. Peep! Peep! doing my best impersonation of a bossy little engine. My right ear tickled with the lightest of whispers.

Let’s play a game. A game where you go for a train ride, Jacob. Thomas will be the engine, of course. And you’ll be the passenger. Would you like to do that? If you would and if you’re ready, you have to let me know. You have to tell me tonight while I sleep. And, Jacob, you have to tell me the name of the coach you’d like to ride in. I know Thomas usually pulls Annie and Clarabel, but you could pick your own. Do you understand, Jacob? You get to pick the passenger car.

After that, I wasn’t sure if I felt sleepy or was in some kind of weird stupor. My lids were so heavy they felt like slabs of concrete pinning me to the pillow, but my arms and legs felt tingly, like carbonated water, not blood, was fizzing through my veins. I may have burped. And somewhere far off I heard the rumble of a train and then a whistle.