t rang so many times that she became sure their mother had gone out. That might be good, but it might also be bad. It was certainly worrisome. If she was out, it was entirely possible that she might come back before...

'Trent, I don't think she's h...'

'Hello?' Mrs. Evans said in a sleepy voice.

'Oh, hi, Mom,' Laurie said. 'I didn't think you were there.'

'I went back to bed,' she said with an embarrassed little laugh. 'I can't seem to get enough sleep, all of a sudden. I suppose if I'm asleep I can't think about how horrible I was last night...' 'Oh, Mom, you weren't horrible. When a person faints, it isn't because she wants to...' 'Laurie, why are you calling? Is everything okay?'

'Sure, Mom... well...'

Trent poked her in the ribs. Hard. Laurie, who had been slumping (growing smaller, it almost seemed), straightened up in a hurry. 'I hurt myself in gym. Just... you know, a little. It's not bad.'

'What did you do? Jesus, you're not calling from the hospital, are you?' 'Gosh, no,' Laurie said hastily. 'It's just a sprained knee. Mrs. Kitt asked if you could come and bring me home early. I don't know if I can walk on it. It really hurts.' 'I'll come right away. Try not to move it at all, honey. You could have torn a ligament. Is the nurse there?'

'Not right now. Don't worry, Mom, I'll be careful.'

'Will you be in the nurse's office?'

'Yes,' Laurie said. Her face was as red as the side of Brian's Radio Flyer wagon.

'I'll be right there.'

'Thanks, Mom. Bye.'

She hung up and looked at Trent. She drew in a deep breath and then let it out in a long, trembly sigh.

'That was fun,' she said in a voice which was close to tears.

He hugged her tight. 'You did great,' he said. 'Lots better than I could have, Spr — C Laurie. I'm not sure she would have believed me.'

'I wonder if she'll ever believe me again?' Laurie asked bitterly.

'She will,' Trent said. 'Come on.'

They went over to the west side of the park, where they could watch Walnut Street. The day had turned cold and dim. Thunderheads were forming overhead, and a chilly wind was blowing. They waited for five endless minutes and then their mother's Subaru passed them, heading rapidly toward Greendowne Middle School, where Trent and Laurie went... where we go when we're not playing hookey, that is, Laurie thought.

'She's really humming,' Trent said. 'I hope she doesn't get into an accident, or something.' 'Too late to worry about that now. Come on.' Laurie had Trent's hand and was pulling him back to the telephone kiosk again. 'You get to call Lew, you lucky devil.'

He put in another quarter and punched the number of the History Department office, referring to a card he had taken from his wallet. He had barely slept a wink the night before, but now that things were set in motion, he found himself cool and calm... so cool, in fact, that he was almost refrigerated. He glanced at his watch. Quarter to three. Less than an hour to go. Thunder rumbled faintly in the west.

'History Department,' a woman's voice said.

'Hi. This is Trent Bradbury. I need to speak with my stepfather, Lewis Evans, please.'

'Professor Evans is in class,' the secretary said, 'but he'll be out at...'

'I know, he's got Modern British History until three-thirty. But you better get him, just the same. It's an emergency. It concerns his wife.' A pointed, calculated pause, and then he added:

'My mom.'

There was a long pause, and Trent felt a moment of faint alarm. It was as if she were thinking of refusing or dismissing him, emergency or no emergency, and that was most definitely not in the plan.

'He's in Oglethorpe, right next door,' she said finally. 'I'll get him myself. I'll have him call home as soon as...' 'No, I have to hold on,' Trent said.

'But...' 'Please, will you just stop goofing with me and go get him?' he asked, allowing a ragged, harried note into his voice. It wasn't hard.

'All right,' the secretary said. It was impossible to tell if she was more disgruntled or worried.