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was hitting something on the floor.
    Everyone’s always amazed at how good-looking Hugh is. They wonder how his Dad could have a son like that. But I think he looks just like his Dad sometimes—when he looks down his nose at something with those animal eyes, his mouth hanging open, showing his teeth. He’s not so good-looking then.
    I was slow and quiet coming around the piles of wood. There was a thing on the ground, gray and blue, thin as thread, curled up, hugging itself. I forgot that I was hiding. I forgot to be afraid of Hugh.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I said.
    Hugh turned on me, raising the stick, face twisted. He stopped, eyes wide.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
    I looked past him.
    â€œWhat is that?” I asked. It lowered its arm and I saw two eyes like angry black slashes on its narrow face. The air shimmered around it with a golden glow and something rattled on the roof of the barn. White hailstones fell through the holes and shattered on the ground around us.
    â€œStupid!” yelled Hugh, swinging the stick at the gray-blue thing. “Stop! Stupid!”
    I jumped to grab the stick, missed, but caught Hugh’s wrist with both hands and twisted. But he was too strong and I was too small. His arm wouldn’t move. He grabbed at my hands with his free hand, and I put all my weight on his wrist, nearly pulling him over. I lifted both my feet and kicked my heels into his stomach. There wasn’t much force behind it, to be honest, but it made him double over and his face went red and he dropped me then the stick and staggered backward a bit, clutching himself, looking astonished.
    More hailstones fell. The golden glow spread.
    â€œNO!” Hugh, panicking, reached for the stick. I picked it up and waved it at him. He crouched down with his arms spread and started circling. I held the stick two-handed over my head, in a samurai-fighting stance. My feet were slipping and crunching on hailstones the size of golf balls, and more were bouncing wildly around us, flashing in the golden light.
    A dark shadow blocked out the light. The golden glow went out. A figure crouched low over the thing on the floor and touched it, and the thing whimpered and curled up like a drowned spider.
    â€œLeave it alone!” I tried to shout, but it came out as a croak. Suddenly all my aches and pains and stings started to burn, and I closed my eyes and dropped the stick and felt tears pour from my eyes and heard myself groan.
    A cool hand touched my cheek and all the pain went away.
    I opened my eyes to see a face, pale and beautiful, dark hair framing gray eyes and blue lips. I recognized Mrs. Fitzgerald. She smiled at me.
    â€œYou must be Liz,” she said.
    â€œMum?” said Hugh.
    â€œBe quiet, Hugh. Go check on your father.”
    She rested a hand on my shoulder and held me until I was steady on my feet.
    â€œThank you,” I said. Her smile did not change. She stood between me and the thing on the floor. I didn’t dare try to look around her. Sunlight shone in a beam through the hole in the roof. The broken ice of the hailstones was melting away into shrinking puddles.
    â€œThere,” she said. “It’s finally done, and now I can begin.”
    â€œWhat?” I said. “What is that thing on the ground?”
    â€œThe future,” she said. “And whoever owns it, owns the future. Everything is going to change now, Liz. You must prepare yourself. The future is mine.
    â€œI think you and your father and brother should go now. You might think about telling them what you’ve seen in here, but that would force a confrontation and it’s too early for that. Your father still has a job to do, doesn’t he? It’s the last day of Summer. Season’s end. Tomorrow will bring a whole new world.”
    She closed her eyes and raised a finger and the barn was filled with the rushing, whispering hiss of a gentle