I lay awake in bed that night for hours. I never was a good sleeper but when Chris and Cassie came I always had more to stay up and think about. I was lucky if I got six hours in a night. That night I thought about the day, thought about what Chris and Cassie must be feeling, and I thought about Gordie too. The boy had been trying to tell me how he felt about Chris, what he wanted for the boy. He'd come pretty close to making it all clear–there were only a few parts of what he'd said that I was still trying to work out.

I didn't know how Maddie and I were supposed to be helping Chris and Cassie, mostly. By giving them room and board? That wasn't anything. You could get the same thing at any second rate hotel with a continental breakfast. What had Gordie been talking about? What aid was he referring to?

It occurred to me, later on, exactly what we gave them while they were with us. It was little things. Banana pancakes and peanut butter cookies, and quilts for their beds. It was watching TV with Cassie and trying to show her the good time Maddie had always shown me. Not blaming Chris for the torment I was taking. That's what we gave them. The shame of it is, I'll never know if it was enough.

It had begun to storm, a loud, violent storm with strong winds and lightning. It was the kind of storm that could have blown my windows clear in on me, and as they started to rattle, I moved away. Fumbling for the light switch, I flipped it on just in time to see the power blow out. Goose bumps prickled my skin, and I slowly backed out into the hall.

Then I heard screaming. It was the kind of screaming I'd never heard before, anguished, frightened screams emitting from the attic. Had the house blown in up there? Without thinking I ran up the rickety stairs and flung open the door.

Chris was sitting up, muscles completely tensed, staring into the blackness. He muttered something inaudible, and, seeing that the roof was completely intact I slowly backed down the stairs, feeling foolish for my sudden alarm.

"Cassie?" He called out. "Who's there?"

"Uh," I stared bashfully at the floor. "Betsy. I just heard screaming, and came to make sure....I mean I don't think the attic could blow in or anything but my windows were rattling and so I just wanted to make sure..."

As the lightning flashed, the room was illuminated. His forehead gleamed with sweat and his normally tan skin had gone white. "Oh." He said quietly, still breathing heavily.

"You all right up here?" I asked, a little concerned at his obviously shaken state.

"I'm fine." He lied, flashing me the Chris Chambers ice smile.

"Liar." I spoke firmly.

He laughed, a choked, drowning laugh. "Okay. You caught me."

"Were you dreaming? What happened?" I shifted my weight, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Was it bad?"

He pulled the quilt up a little higher, shivering involuntarily before he asked, "Do you know Teddy Duchamp?

"The kid with the long hair and the thick glasses? Yeah, I know him. He used to take the bus, but now he rides around with his friends after school."

"Yeah," Chris nodded. "Well me and him used to be pretty tight, back in grade school and stuff. And this one time we were climbing a tree up at Gordie's. It was a real tall tree, and it wasn't all that sturdy. We must have been a hundred feet off the ground at least. And I stopped, you know, because the branches at the top were small and rotten and I mean, we were both scrawny little kids, but I knew they wouldn't hold." He paused for a second. "Hey Betsy?"

"Yeah, Chris?"

"This is going to sound real pussy. So, you know, I'd appreciate if–"

"Chris? You think I'm going to be talking to anyone besides you and Gordie anytime soon? Nobody at school cares what I have to say anymore anyway."

"I know." He nodded. "But I don't even want Cassie to know, or Maddie. They'd think something was wrong with me."

"I doubt it." I told him. "But I won't tell."

"Thanks," He smiled again, the same beaten smile. "Anyway, I told Teddy the tree wouldn't hold him. But he didn't believe me and he kept on going. And he reached the top too, you know, he reached the top of that stupid tree. But the branch he was standing on gave and he fell. He would have died but I caught him by his hair. Gawd, he was mad. Screamed at me for days after that, for pulling at his hair. But he would have died, you know?"

I nodded.

"Anyway, I dream about it sometimes. That was back when we were all eleven or something but I've never quit dreaming about it. And in the dreams I never catch him either. He just flies past me and I wake up. But this time I didn't wake up right away. I climbed down the tree, and he was laying there at the bottom with his head all smashed up and his arms and legs smashed, and his eyes were wide open and he was staring at me and...he wasn't even Teddy anymore."

"You remember that Brower kid who disappeared a couple of years ago? It was him. He was laying there at the bottom of the tree and it was my fault. If I'd have caught him he wouldn't have died."

"Chris," I interrupted. "How did you know what the Brower kid even looked like? How did you know it was him, I mean...that was a long time ago, Chris."

"Five years." he laughed. "Almost five years ago. Same summer Gordie's brother died."

"Yeah." I remembered. "How did you know it was him?"

He sighed. "I just knew, I guess. And it was so scary...I can't even explain....Gawd." He chuckled sadly. "You're probably thinking I'm the biggest baby in the world."

"No," I shook my head. "No, you're tough Chris. It must have been real bad."

We were both quiet for a moment. I turned to leave.

"Say, Betsy?"

"Yeah, Chris?"

"You're all right."