The living room phone had this strange ring, an almost cricket-like chirp. Reaching over to the end table, the young woman picked up the receiver. "H-hello?"

"Hello, Tara? Tara Maclay?" the nasal female voice inquired. She pronounced it 'Tar-uh.'

"Um, y-yes?" Tara said in her best 'I'm really sick' voice.

A static-y sigh hissed in Tara's ear. "It's our policy to call the student's house when they are absent, to verify that they are out ill. Parents like to know if their kids are cutting school," the woman informed Tara in an almost bored tone. This obviously was not her first such call today. "Our records say you live with your father, would he happen to be at home right now?"

"No, he – he's at w-w-work. I can, I can give you his w-work number, if you need it?"

Another sigh. "That won't be necessary. Thank you for your time," the nasal-voiced woman. "And Tara?"

Gulp. "Yes?"

"We hope you feel better soon," the lady said unconvincingly. "Bye now."

"G-good bye." Tara replaced the receiver and let out a giggle. It was easier than she thought to play sick. The hardest part had been convincing her father, since he tended to need a more easily noticeable symptom. She smiled and put her feet up on the coffee table, humming along with Steve and Blue in a repeat of Blue's Clues. She bobbed her pink-socked feet in time to the music, a grin on her face. She had her multi-colored knitted blanket around her and a glass of ice water on a coaster, so in case she got any unexpected visitors, she could say she woke up and felt like lying on the couch and watching some cartoons for a while.

She was done with all the packing she could do without it being noticeable, and had decided to take the rest of the day to just relax. She remained in her blue-and-white flannel pinstriped pajama bottoms and the long-sleeved lavender thermal shirt she'd worn to bed last night. She had also brushed her hair, pleased that the scrape on her elbow was almost completely gone, so she could now use both hands. It made her feel better to have done her hair, now at least she didn't look like a complete bum. In the middle of Little Bear, the phone chirped again. Tara put on her sick voice and picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dad," her father said, as though she wouldn't recognize his voice or something. "How you feeling?"

"Um, a little bit b-better. I, um, I'm in the l-living room. Lying down. On the – on the couch."

She could all but hear him nodding his head. "Good, you keep resting. Need anything?"

Wow, this is weird, Tara thought. Since when does he care if I need anything? Out loud she replied, "N-no, no, I'm okay." Maybe he's just worried something besides him will end up hurting me. Or he still needs to know my every move, even though he isn't here, she mentally speculated. "Did the school um, c-call you, today? Because, they c-called here. To um, to make sure I was home. And n-not, not c-cutting school."

A phone rang in the background. "No, I didn't get a call from them. You must have answered their questions just fine." The phone rang again insistently. "Listen, Tara, I have to get going, it's pretty busy here. You need anything, just call, the number's next to the kitchen phone. Extension 5541. Your brother should be home right after school, and I've told him to leave you alone and let you rest up. He asks you to do anything for him, don't worry about it. I'll deal with him when I get home." A touch of that same familiar threat laced his tone, and it sent a chill up Tara's spine, even though it seemed to be directed at her older brother for once.

"Okay, bye, Dad," the witch said hastily.

"Bye, Tara." A click on the line was followed swiftly by the dial tone, and Tara again replaced the receiver. He must know something, she decided. There was no way he'd actually care that much if she just had a stomach bug and a fever. She didn't like it one bit. It made her stomach all acid-y. Oh well, it will all be over soon. Only twelve hours to go, then she'd hopefully never have to see this town again.

Tara returned to her cartoons to get her mind off her father. By the time The Adventures of Superman was on, she'd already made herself a light lunch and wasn't too sure what else she was supposed to do. Any housework, even a bit of sweeping and vacuuming, might tip them off that she wasn't as ill as she had seemed. It was just strange to not have anything to do, when she was used to taking care of pretty much everything that needed to be done in the house. Then she smiled to herself as she realized something, the finality of tonight's escape setting in. She had already vacuumed the carpets for the last time, folded the towels for the last time, and cleaned the shower for the last time. After midnight, this would not be her house any more. It was enough to make her want to dance with joy.

Unexpectedly, she heard footsteps at the front of the house. She looked at the clock in puzzlement. It was still too early for Donnie to be home, and way too early for her father. Who on earth could that be? A sharp knock came on the door. Tara wrapped the blanket around her as she stood, and padded to the front of the house. Peeking through the window, she couldn't hide the look of surprise that crossed her fine features as she saw who was standing outside.

"B-beth?!"