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windowpane, turning my attention to the neighbor’s house on the left. One second-story window was practically opposite my own, yet it was hard to really see because of the huge old oak tree in our side yard. Its trunk was at least ten feet around, and its massive branches spread out so far, I could easily have crawled out and perched on them. There were more thick heavy limbs stretching all the way across the fence to that upstairs window, making a kind of bridge between the houses. Sliding open the sash, I let the cool air blow across my cheeks as I stared out into the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. We were supposed to have screens put on the windows, but they’d had to be special ordered and hadn’t come in yet, so I could hang out as far as I wanted. Squinting, I tried to see if anyone was visible in that window next door. For one second I thought I saw curtains moving, but I couldn’t be sure.
    â€œ If it happens again, what if something happens to you? ”
    I tried not to think about what Dobkin had said, but I couldn’t help it. He has such a wild imagination, and he always tries to sound so mysterious when he’s offering words of wisdom—but this time it really got to me.
    Come on, Marlee, give it a rest. I mean, look around! What could be more peaceful than this boring place?
    Peaceful …
    A little town where nothing ever happens.
    And when Aunt Celia decided it was time to move again, I closed my eyes and moved my hand back and forth over the map, and watched my finger land right on this spot, just as surely as if some invisible force had grabbed it and slammed it smack down on top of Edison.
    â€œThat’s not true,” I mumbled. “It seemed that way, but I could have picked anywhere. Anywhere at all.”
    Shivering, I closed my eyes and just stood there, feeling the breeze on my cheeks, listening to it sift through the oak leaves and sigh around the eaves of the house.
    And then … slowly … my skin began to prickle.
    Eyes wide now, I drew back into my room, hands clenched tightly on the sill.
    Someone’s watching me.
    I knew it just as surely as I was standing there, could feel it, hidden and silent and cold— so very cold — eyes without emotion — without feeling — empty …
    â€œAunt Celia,” I whispered, but of course she didn’t hear.
    No one heard as I stood there, too terrified to move—trapped by something I couldn’t even see—
    â€œAunt Celia!” I screamed.
    From faraway I heard a muffled voice and then footsteps running up the stairs.
    But I didn’t need Aunt Celia now.
    I knew that whoever had been watching me was gone.

6

    W hat on earth’s the matter!”
    I can only imagine what I must have looked like, standing there with my back pressed against the wall, arms out to my sides, trying to breathe normally again. Poor Aunt Celia rushed over to me and put an arm around my shoulders and led me straight over to the bed.
    â€œYou’re as white as a ghost! What happened?”
    â€œI thought I felt something,” I mumbled. “I mean, I did feel something … I don’t know …”
    â€œWhat, dearest? What did you feel?”
    â€œEyes.” My voice dropped and I leaned against her, still trembling. “I felt eyes watching me—”
    â€œEyes!”
    â€œBut I don’t feel them now.” Gently I disentangled myself from her arms and ran one hand across my forehead. “Really. I’m okay.”
    â€œI told you,” Dobkin said.
    I hadn’t noticed him standing in the doorway, and now he came into my room, exchanging solemn looks with Aunt Celia. I wished they’d go away and quit fussing—I felt silly now for making such a commotion, and I hated the way both of them had stopped looking at each other and were now staring straight at me.
    â€œI’m just tired,” I insisted crossly. “You know how hard it