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asleep, Jason?" I whispered.
    "No." He looked up at me, his face worried. "I was thinking about Wanda."
    "Wanda?"
    "Yes. I was remembering what she said about her father and mother. You don't think Mommy would just leave us here with Aunt Grace and never come back, do you?"
    "Of course not." But, the truth was, I'd been worrying about that ever since Wanda had mentioned it. Suppose Mom decided it was a lot easier to live by herself? No more of our messes to clean up, no more fights to break up, no more worrying about getting a baby-sitter every time she wanted to go somewhere. When I really thought about it, I wasn't sure she got much fun out of Jason's and my company.
    I smiled at Jason and stroked the inside of his arm with my fingertips, the way Mom used to. "She loves us too much, Jasie. And so does Daddy. You wait, things will work out okay."
    Hoping I was right, I caressed him till I felt his body relax. Then I lay there, gazing out the window at the moon, thinking to myself that I would definitely go to see Maude, no matter how scared I was. She said she would help me because of my grandmother and I knew I had to let her. There wasn't any other way.

Chapter 7
    "Do you think
that's
Wanda's house?" Jason pointed at an old frame house perched on the hill above the road.
    "You can't expect the whole world to look like Stoneleigh," I said, quoting something Aunt Grace had said to me on our first trip into Blue Hollow.
    To tell the truth, I didn't like the looks of Wanda's house any more than Jason did, but I was trying to be open-minded. Wanda's grandmother was probably too old to do much work in the yard and maybe she couldn't afford to get the house painted or buy screens for the windows or fix the front steps. And the rusty truck without doors standing in the weeds like a half-sunk boat probably belonged to Billy or Duane.
    Anyway it was all in how you looked at things. Take an artist, for instance. He might think this shabby old house with the paint peeling off was the perfect subject for a painting.
    "Aunt Grace's house doesn't look like this," said Jason the Philistine.
    And of course he was right. Our great-great-grandfather had built Aunt Grace's house out of stones he cut himself and it was as perfect now as it was the day he built it. And the lawn surrounding it was as velvety green as any lawn in Stoneleigh.
    "Well, do you want to stand here all day thinking nasty things about Wanda's house or do you want to go see her?" I asked him.
    Jason looked ashamed. "I didn't mean anything bad about it. It just looks kind of tired."
    Without another word, he followed me up the deeply rutted driveway. When we reached the top of the hill, three of the meanest, most vicious looking dogs I'd ever seen came running out from under the porch, barking and growling as if they hadn't eaten for a week.
    "Don't run, Jason!" I screamed. "Stand absolutely still and don't let them know you're scared!"
    I grabbed for him, praying Wanda would appear and call the dogs off before it was too late, but Jason was too fast for me. Before I could move, one of the dogs grabbed his shirt and pulled him down. Picking up a stick, I ran toward the two of them, screaming for help. Just as I whacked the dog as hard as I could, I heard someone yelling behind me. Snarling, the dogs backed away from us and skulked in the weeds near the truck.
    "Are you all right?" I knelt down next to Jason and put my arms around him.
    He was crying too hard to answer. His shirt was torn and both knees were bleeding from his fall, but I couldn't see any teeth marks anywhere.
    "What are you kids doing? Where'd you come from?" A tall woman brushed me aside and examined Jason. "You're all right, boy. Chief didn't put a mark on you. Now you stop that crying, you hear? Just stop it right now and I'll take you up to the house and clean you up
and fix you a nice cold glass of Kool-Aid. Would you like that?"
    "Are you Wanda's grandmother?" I stared at the woman. I hadn't given