Jane sat up, worried for her younger sister. "You'll get in trouble."
"No, I won't." Hannah slipped in, a little basket with a gingham napkin, a sandwich, an apple, and a cookie in her hand. "Richard gave this to me so I'd have a snack tonight."
"What about you?"
"I'm not hungry. Here."
"Thanks, Han." Jane took the basket as Hannah sat on the foot of the bed.
"So what didja do?"
Jane shook her head and bit into the roast beef sandwich. "I got upset with Mom."
" 'Cuz you couldn't have your party?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well… I gots something to cheer you up." Hannah slid a folded piece of construction paper onto the duvet. "Happy birthday!"
Jane looked at the card and blinked fast a couple of times. "Thanks… Han."
"Don't be sad, I'm here. Look at your card! I made it for you."
On the front, drawn in her sister's messy hand, were two stick figures. One had straight blond hair and the word Jane written under it. The other had curly red hair and the name Hannah at its feet. They were holding hands and had big smiles on their circle faces.
Just as Jane went to open the card, a pair of headlights swept the front of the house and started coming up the driveway.
"Papa's home," Jane hissed. "You better get out of here."
Hannah didn't seem as concerned as she'd usually be, probably because she didn't feel good. Or maybe she was distracted by… well, whatever Hannah got distracted by. She was mostly in her daydreams, which was probably why she was happy all the time.
"Go, Han, seriously."
"Okay. But I'm really sorry that your party got quitted." Hannah shuffled over to the door.
"Hey, Han? I like my card."
"You didn't look inside."
"Don't have to. I like it because you made it for me."
Hannah's face split into one of her daisy smiles, the kind that reminded Jane of sunny days. "It's about you and me."
As the door shut, Jane heard her parents' voices drift up from the foyer. In a rush she ate Hannah's snack, shoved the basket into the folds of the drapes next to the bed, and went to the stack of her schoolbooks. She took Dickens's The Pickwick Papers back with her to the bed. She figured if she was working on school stuff when her father came in, it would buy her some brownie points.#p#分页标题#e#
Her parents came upstairs an hour later and she tensed, expecting her father to knock. He didn't.
Which was weird. He was, in his controlling way, as reliable as a clock, and there was a strange comfort in his predictability, even though she didn't like dealing with him.
She put Pickwick aside, turned the light out, and tucked her legs under her frilly duvet. Beneath the canopy of her bed she couldn't sleep, and eventually she heard the grandfather clock at the head of the stairs chime twelve times.
Midnight.
Slipping from bed, she went to the closet, got out the rogue knapsack, and unzipped it. The Ouija board fell out, flipping open and landing faceup on the floor. She grabbed it with a wince, as if it might have broken or something, then got the pointer thingy.
She and her friends had been looking forward to playing the game because they all wanted to know who they were going to marry. Jane liked a boy named Victor Browne, who was in her math class. The two of them had been talking a little lately, and she really thought they could be a couple. Trouble was, she wasn't sure what he felt for her. Maybe he just liked her because she gave him answers.
Jane laid out the board on her bed, rested her hands on the pointer, and took a deep breath. "What is the name of the boy I'm going to marry?"
She didn't expect the thing to move. And it didn't.
A couple more tries and she leaned back in frustration. After a minute she rapped on the wall behind her headboard. Her sister knocked back, and a little later Hannah sneaked in through the door. When she saw the game, she got excited and jumped on the bed, bouncing the pointer into the air.
"How do you play!"
"Shh!" God, if they got caught like this, they were totally grounded. Forever.
"Sorry." Hannah tucked her legs up and held on to them to keep from spazzing. "How do—"
"You ask it questions and it tells you the answers."
"What can we ask?"
"Who we're going to marry." Okay, now Jane was nervous. What if the answer wasn't Victor? "Let's start with you. Put your fingertips on the pointer, but don't push down or anything. Just—like that, yup. Okay… Who is Hannah going to marry?"
The pointer didn't move. Even after Jane repeated the question.
"It's broken," Hannah said, pulling away.