The Stowaway

"Leave it off. It will make it easier for you to relax," she said, then she seemed to realize she was still holding his hand and dropped it fast. "Now take off your shoes and lie down."

Michael kicked off his sneakers and stretched out on the bed. He felt a little of the tension ease out of him. Maria's room was one of his favorite places.

"Okay, I know you think aromatherapy is a big joke, but smell this, anyway." Maria thrust a little vial at him, and he obediently took a sniff. He would have done pretty much anything she told him to right then. She seemed a lot less freaked now that she was all caught up in her healing arts stuff-that's what she called it, healing arts-and if doing this was helping her feel less afraid, that was all he needed to know.

"Really breathe it in," Maria instructed.

The lilac scent made the inside of his nose burn, but he didn't tell her that. He just pulled in a lungful of the stuff.

"Now close your eyes," she said, her voice soft and almost musical.

It's got to work this time, Michael thought as he shut them. If it didn't, Isabel-

He felt Maria's hand smoothing out the wrinkles the thought had made in his forehead. "Focus on the lavender."

He found himself focusing more on the scent of her. Had he totally screwed things up with her? Could they ever just be couch potatoes on this bed again, watching a triple feature of old horror movies? And what was that withered spot on Max's neck?

Maria started rubbing her fingers in little circles on Michael's temples. "You can't stop thinking, can you? Okay, here's what I'll do. I'll talk to you. Listen to me instead of your thoughts," she said. "Mozart used to have his wife read to him when he was composing because it got rid of the chatter in his head and let him concentrate. If it worked for Mozart, it can work for you."

The warmth of Maria's fingers felt as if it were seeping deep into Michael's brain. He settled deeper into her bed.

"Lavender used to be my favorite color in the box of sixty-four crayons-you know, the one with the sharpener built into the side," Maria said, her voice calm and sweet. "It seemed like it could draw anything. It was the right color for everything. I drew lavender flowers and my father's lavender eyes, my mother's lavender smile. They were the same to me, mother, father, flowers. All good. All lavender. And I was lavender, too."

Michael's breathing slowed down. The thoughts that had been attacking him faded into a babble that was easier for him to ignore.

"We were made up of the same stuff," Maria continued "The boundaries warm and fuzzy. Mom was me, and I was Dad, and he was all of us and the flowers. My father used to hang the pictures I drew up on the refrigerator before he… before he left. He said I'd created a beautiful world, a beautiful lavender world."

Maria's voice faded as the spi

He didn't see it. But that didn't mean it wasn't there. Michael began to whistle, calling to Isabel's orb. Maybe she wasn't asleep right now, although Adam had slept pretty much nonstop. Or was that even sleep? It was more like unconsciousness. Could Isabel even dream?

Adam got to Liz, he reminded himself. He continued to whistle. He'd stay in the dream plane all night if he had to. It was their only shot.

He sat down, and one of the orbs circled around his head, playfully brushing his cheek. Michael knew that orb. He'd visited it quite a few times when he was about thirteen and obsessed with Patrice Burgess, the woman who worked in the dry cleaners near foster home number whatever.

Michael nudged Patrice's dream orb away A few seconds later he felt a light brush on the back of his neck. Take the hint already, he thought. He turned to flick it off and saw Isabel's orb hovering behind him.

He held out his hands, and her orb spun into them. He peered inside and saw a blond doll in a bikini driving a little pink convertible. The car kept zooming halfway up a steep hill, then rolling back down.

Where was Isabel? He didn't see her anywhere.

Doesn't matter, he told himself. He'd just expand the dream orb, then go inside and find her. He began to whistle again, slowly moving his hands apart, urging the orb to grow.

It began to shrink instead. This had never happened before. The orb had been the size of a volleyball, and it had already shrunk down to grapefruit size. There was no way he could get inside.

"Isabel," he shouted. "Where are you?"

The doll in the convertible turned her head. It's Izzy, he thought. He should have realized it before. Isabel was dreaming she was the doll.

With a sucking sound the dream orb collapsed to the size of a baseball. Before Michael could react, it was the size of a golf ball.

"Izzy, you have to tell me where you are," he screamed. "Where did DuPris take you?"

Michael heard another sucking sound. The orb was going to shrink again. "Tell me!" he cried.

"Cameron knows," Isabel wailed, her voice like a squeaky hinge.

What? Had Cameron betrayed them again? Was she working with DuPris all along? "What do you mean? How does she know?" Michael yelled.

Before Isabel could answer, her dream orb shrank to the size of a marble, then to the size of a pea, and with a tiny pop, it disappeared altogether.

"The ticket guy remembered Cameron," Michael a

Was this the hand of fate trying to bring Cameron and Michael together? Maria wondered as Michael wheeled the Jeep around and sped out of the parking lot. Maybe the two of them were destined to be a couple. Maybe Maria should be really happy for them because they'd found their soul mates.

Maybe she should ask Michael to pull over so she could puke.

You shouldn't even be thinking about that stuff, she told herself. You should be thinking about Isabel and Adam. She managed to concentrate on sending them some positive thoughts for about two seconds before she started wondering why Cameron had left town in the first place. Did she and Michael have some kind of fight? Would they end up doing the whole joyful I-was-wrong-no-no-I-was-wrong thing at the bus station? Would she have to watch them kiss?

"Next time you work at the Crashdown, I'm sure my papa is going to ask you how you did on your life science test, okay, Maria?" Liz asked. "I told him you needed me for an all-night study session tonight or you'd flunk it."

Maria could hear the tension in her friend's voice. Maybe Michael would have to stop the car for her, too. Liz was always so careful to be the most perfect daughter. She wasn't as skilled as most about lying to her parents.

"Got it. I'll tell him that I never would have passed if not for your brilliant tutoring," Maria promised. "I hope the babysitter remembers the cover story I told her to give my mom." She gave a choked half laugh. "Actually, it probably doesn't matter. My mom's so in lust, she probably won't even notice that the babysitter isn't me."

Alex groaned. "Mom. Lust. 'One of these words is not like the others. One of these words just doesn't belong.'"

"Tell me about it," Maria answered. "New subject, please."

"I have one," Alex said. "What I don't get is how Cameron could know where DuPris took Isabel and Adam."

Cameron wasn't exactly the new subject Maria had been hoping for. But what did it matter? Whether they talked about her or not, Maria would be thinking about her. She couldn't help herself.