Saturday afternoon was drawing to a close, and Arthur's friends Francine, Alan, and Fern had gathered at his house for jazz practice. Francine had set up her drum kit next to the piano, and Alan's cello case was leaning against a wall.

"It's entirely possible that she traveled backwards in time," said Alan to the others. "I've done so myself."

"I didn't believe in time travel before," replied Francine. "But after all the weird things that have happened, I'm ready to believe in anything."

"I did a little investigating," Fern reported. "Sue Ellen's dad said he was called to Karjakistan on an emergency mission. But at the time there was no emergency. The country was in the middle of a cease fire, which didn't break down until a week ago. And there's more. I called the Karjakistanian embassy, and they have no record of a diplomat named Hank Armstrong working there."

Arthur glanced across the living room at Francine, and noticed that the girl was looking rather uneasy.

"But that's not the best part," Fern went on. "I talked to Van's sister Odette. She's April's best friend. She said the two of them went swimming, and they were wearing two-piece suits, and she saw scars all up and down the left side of April's body--but not on her left arm."

Surprise filled Arthur and Alan's faces as they recalled the day when Sue Ellen had stood before them with a magically healed arm.

"There's just one thing I don't get," said Alan. "When I went to the future, I learned that Sue Ellen will die from AIDS in two years. And April's three years older than Sue Ellen."

Seeing that Francine had become visibly nervous, Arthur tried to distract her with a question. "Francine, you know Sue Ellen better than the rest of us put together. What's your opinion?"

Francine spoke with a quivering voice. "Er, well, Sue Ellen and April are alike in a lot of ways, but in some ways they're different."

"Like what?" asked Arthur.

The monkey girl quickly realized that she had no follow-up to her previous statement. Yet to avoid suspicion, she had to say something...

"April does her hair differently," Francine blurted out. "She has hair puffs on the back of her head, but Sue Ellen had them on the sides."

"That doesn't prove anything," said Fern incredulously.

"Neither does the stuff you found out," Francine shot back.

Before the others had a chance to remark on Francine's sudden sharpness, Fern proposed another theory. "Odette told me that April's parents are dead, and she's totally on her own. Maybe Sue Ellen's parents were killed somehow, and she came back in time to save them. They're always traveling to dangerous countries, after all."

"That doesn't make sense," said Arthur, not noticing the expression of wide-eyed horror that had enveloped Francine's face. "If she wanted to warn her parents, why would she go back in time three whole years?"

"Maybe time machines won't be invented for another three years," Alan suggested.

At that moment the screen door flew open and April marched into the house, clutching a saxophone case in one hand. "I'm here," she announced with an eager grin. "Let's get started."

The other kids, except for the terror-stricken Francine, jumped to their feet. "Hi, I'm Fern," the poodle girl introduced herself to April. "I used to sing with the quartet, but I took time off to do voice work for...Francine? Are you okay?"

It was only then that everyone noticed Francine's struggle to hold back tears.

"What's wrong, Francine?" Alan asked the girl.

She didn't reply, but stepped slowly and determinedly toward April.

"They're dead." Fear and sorrow mingled in her voice. "They were murdered. That's why you came back, isn't it? Isn't it, Sue Ellen?"

The cat girl held her peace, but the others could tell she had been affected by the unexpected display of emotion.

"Answer me!" Francine shouted at her.

April nodded solemnly.

Bursting into anguished sobs, Francine fled up the stairway and into Arthur's bedroom, where she closed the door. Arthur, Fern, and Alan hurried after her, while April nonchalantly rested her saxophone case on the floor.

When he was halfway up the stairs, Arthur held out a hand to stop Alan and Fern. "Let me handle this. It's my bedroom."

As the aardvark boy went on his way to console Francine, Fern and Alan descended the stairs and confronted April. "So it's true," said Alan accusingly. "You really are Sue Ellen."

"And Francine was in on the secret all along," Fern added.

April lowered her head. "It's complicated," she said quietly. "You must promise never to tell. The more it gets out, the greater the danger."

"What danger?" asked Alan.

"Are you afraid the people who killed your parents in the future will come after you?" Fern inquired.

April didn't look up or say a word.

Meanwhile, Arthur had taken a seat on the edge of his bed next to the bitterly weeping Francine. Uncertain if the girl's woes could be fixed by a simple arm around the shoulder, he kept his appendages to himself.

"Do you want to talk about it, Francine?" he asked gently.

The tearful monkey girl reached into her pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and mopped her cheeks with it. "I'm sorry, Arthur," she choked out. "I try so hard to act like myself and not Sue Ellen, but she's a part of me, and I can't help it. I love her parents as much as I love my own."

"There's nothing wrong with that," said Arthur, placing his hands over Francine's shoulders.

"I can't tell you any more," the trembling Francine continued. "There are things about her parents you don't know...things you're not supposed to know."

"Who would want to kill them?" Arthur asked innocently.

"That's one of the things you're not supposed to know."

Having said that, Francine leaned closer to Arthur and started to cry on his shoulder. It occurred to the boy that he had found himself in an identical situation many months before, only with Sue Ellen mourning the breakup of Carla and Mr. Ratburn. As he laid his arms across Francine's heaving back, he realized that he didn't feel the way he might expect to feel while holding his best female friend so close. Rather, an odd giddiness had filled him, not unlike the weird, pleasant sensation he had experienced while...

He couldn't remember how his lips had ended up pressed against Francine's cheek. Yet there they were. Francine was surprised as well, and took a rest from weeping so she could gape at the boy.

Pulling his face away, Arthur felt an unpleasant pang of separation, as if his lips were a natural outgrowth of Francine's face. He had no explanation for how he was feeling, except that it most likely had something to do with growing up, coming of age, taking an interest in girls...

He wasn't sure if he had moved, or Francine had moved, or both, but his lips were now joined with hers, and they were getting wet. Her lips were smooth and rubbery, not fuzzy and gross like Sue Ellen's. He maintained lip contact for five full seconds.

Francine backed away abruptly, confusion and joy both registering on her face. "Y-you kissed me," she marveled.

"Yeah," said Arthur, astonished that he had not only endured the act, but enjoyed it.

Francine grinned stupidly, and a salty tear dropped from her cheek into her mouth. "Kiss me again," she requested.

And Arthur did so. They locked lips for more than ten seconds, gently pawing at each other's backs.

Francine reluctantly leaned backwards. "I love you," she said sweetly.

"I guess I love you too," Arthur replied. "Darn."

TBC