+JMJ+

"MARIA!" Joshua snapped. "Wake up!"

When Maria woke from her second nightmare of the day, it was to see both Joshua and Miss Martinez leaning over her.

"That must have been some dream!" the librarian murmured. "Are you all right now?"

Maria shook her head.

"I guess we both didn't get enough sleep last night," Joshua said, explaining their visit to Dr. Vink's studio.

"You two do look really tired," Miss Martinez said. "I'll take both of you to the infirmary now and ask the nurse to send you home. Then you'll be excused for the whole day . . . even first and second period."

The two friends exchanged sheepish looks, then began to gather their things.

As Maria started folding up Joshua's lyrics sheet, she noticed something odd. "Joshua, is there supposed to be a different design on every album?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" "Death-or Father Time-or whoever . . . He's different on your cassette. We see more of him here. And he's bigger."

"Are you sure it's not just your mind playing tricks on you again?" Joshua stood up and helped her to her feet. "I'm pretty sure they're identical."

But they weren't - as Maria saw when she finally got back home. And although she desperately wanted to buy Joshua's theory about her mind playing tricks, she would have sworn to Heaven that even her own copy of the album was not exactly the same as it had been the night before. There had not been, she was certain, a long pointed chin and smirking mouth visible from beneath the black figure's hood.


Although she told herself it was silly to keep all the lights on in her room that night, she did it anyway. The album - case, lyrics and all - were already in her school bag. She didn't intend to listen to it again until she figured out what was going on, but she wanted to make sure she could compare it with Joshua's copy at school.

There were no bad dreams that night, though Maria woke up earlier than usual, thanks to her blazingly bright room. The long scratches were still sore on her arm, however, and she was eager to get to the bottom of it all.

But Joshua didn't show up for the second period class they shared, and when Maria checked with the principal's secretary, she learned that his mother had called that morning to say he was too ill to come to school. That was when Maria knew that something was very wrong.

Heading for the pay phone outside the office, she rang Joshua's home. His mother answered and was happy to vent.

"I'm not surprised this has happened," she told Maria. "My poor Josh has been overworked for weeks! He went straight to bed after he got home yesterday, and he's been too exhausted to move since then. I'm not letting Scotty Brown talk to him again until Josh has seen a doctor."

"But is it okay if Icome over to see him after school?"

"I'm sorry, dear, but he's really tired. Maybe in a few days, he'll feel better and you can drop by."

"Oh, okay."

"But while you're on the line, Maria, I'd like to know what in the world Joshua did at school yesterday to give him those red marks on his face."

"Red marks? You mean like scratches? On his face?"

"Yes, exactly."

"I have no idea!" Maria squeaked. "I have to go now, ma'am. Bye!"

She put the phone down harder than she intended to and started walking away without really seeing where she was going. The conclusion she had reached was completely insane - and yet everything backed it up. But who would believe her if she explained? And even if she did find someone, what could they do?

"This is so crazy," Maria muttered to herself - and as if on cue, like the key change in a song, she whispered the hook from Joshua's: "But you can only fight the crazy with crazy."

Then she knew exactly what she could do - and exactly where she should do it.

Miss Martinez was not in the library, but Maria figured that "borrowing" a pair of scissors and a glue stick from the librarian's desk and filching a couple of four month old magazines were justified, given the circumstances. She took all the supplies with her to the Classics section, where she immediately began the strangest art project of her life.

Taking the scissors to the album jacket, she first set to work rescuing the other characters. From one of the magazines, she found a proper head for the man with only a wallet above his neck, and a proper body for the woman who had been forced to be a cordless phone. She had to draw a real cello, using her felt-tipped pens, for the boy with the electric guitar and saw. There were other characters to fix, and it took the rest of the school day to complete the task; but Maria kept at it until they were all part of a new collage - a happy family portrait - on a page of her sketchbook.

She saved the dark figure for last, twisting an old paperclip all around its torso, as if binding it, before gluing it to a different sheet of paper. Only then did she notice how late it had grown . . . how dark the library had become . . . and how loudly the clopping sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the silent room.

The blunt craft scissors were useless as a weapon, so Maria scanned the shelves quickly for the right book to arm herself with: heavy enough to beat back an attacker, light enough for her to swing without losing her hold. As she pulled out her chosen book, the intruder's steps quickened, and Maria knew she had to strike. Raising the book over her head, she lunged at the figure that stepped into her line of sight . . . and nearly brained a shocked Miss Martinez.

"Maria! What the-?" the librarian cried, side-stepping the attack. "What are you doing with . . . the Vulgata?"

"Oh, Miss Martinez, I'm so sorry!" Maria gasped. "I thought you were someone else."

"Who else would possibly . . ." She shook her head. "Maria, it's really late and I almost locked you in. You should get home. Do you want me to call your parents, in case they've been worried about you?"

Maria had handed the old Bible back to the librarian and was snatching up her things. "No, thanks, Miss Martinez. I'm going now."

She dashed out of the library and into the twilight, hoping that her plan had worked.


When Maria reached Joshua's house, she didn't bother trying the doorbell. Knowing his mother would likely turn her away at the front door, she sneaked in through the basement window, which she knew hadn't been locked properly since she and Joshua were both seven years old. Then she crept past the living room, where his parents were arguing loudly with Mr. Brown over the speaker phone, to his bedroom at the back of the house.

She pushed the door open, and saw the black-robed figure, as it had always looked in her dreams, standing right in front of her . . . life-sized, menacing, and bent over the unconscious body of her best friend.

"NO!"she screamed. "Joshua, wake up!"