But.

But.

This is also Janie’s last chance to see, and say good-bye, once and for all, to Miss Stubin.

Close the door, as they say. It’s fucking painful to think about.

But Janie’s going to get through this, figure out how to help Henry, and get it done in one shot, even if it kills her.

Er . . .

Well, hopefully not “kills her.” That would ruin everything. Yeah.

HENRY

Still Monday. 10:44 p.m.

It’s a long, dark walk to the bus stop. Heat lightning flashes in the sky. Thunder rumbles low and the humidity is thick. No rain, though.

Enough with the mosquitoes already.

Janie snacks on a sandwich and a PowerBar. Stocking up on energy, gearing up for a big night. Wondering if Henry is still alive, even.

11:28 p.m.

The hallways are quiet as usual and the doors are closed. Janie waves to Nurse Miguel and approaches the desk. “Anything new?”

Miguel shakes his head. “The doctor thinks it won’t be long now,” he says.

Janie nods. “I’m probably going to spend the night . . . just sit with him. Okay?”

“Sure thing, hon,” he says. He reaches down behind the counter. “Here’s a blanket in case you get cold. You probably know the chair reclines, right?”

Janie doesn’t know, but she nods anyway, taking the blanket. “Thank you.” She continues down the hallway to Henry’s room. Stands there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. “This is it,” she says softly, and then she opens the door. Shuts it quickly behind her as she goes down.

It’s different this time.

This time, Janie is flung directly into the nightmare. She’s in a familiar spot as before, with Henry screaming out, “Help me! Help me!” again and again. He turns to Janie when she approaches and he continues to scream at her. A stoic Miss Stubin stands near Henry, waits patiently for it to end. Even in her divine state, if that’s what it is, she looks weary.

Janie doesn’t waste any time. “Henry!” she shouts. “I want to help you! I’m here to help you. But I don’t know what to do. Can you show me?”

There’s no stopping him.

Janie turns to Miss Stubin. “Why don’t you leave?”

“I can’t. Not until he’s ready to come with me.”

Janie groans, realizing now she’s not only responsible for her hysterical, nearly dead father’s peace, but her beloved Miss Stubin’s happiness as well. She puts her hands over her ears. Frustrated, growing frantic because of the yelling. It’s unnerving, really. And painful. Her whole body begins to ache.

Henry stands up and walks over to Janie and she steps back, tensing, worried that he’ll grab her, strangle her, but he doesn’t. “Help me! Help me!” He screams in her ear, making her bones rattle from the intense pitch. She moves and he follows her around. His voice is pleading. He gets on his knees and grasps Janie’s hand, tugging at her, crying out. Begging for help.

His voice grows ragged, out of control.

Janie doesn’t know what to do. She screams back at him, “Tell me what to do!”

Henry’s cries grow even louder.

Miss Stubin waits and watches, her eyes filled with pity. “I don’t think he can,” she says, but Janie can’t hear her.

Janie knows she can’t hold on much longer. She can’t move. Her physical body is gone from her, and her dream body screams out in its own pain. There’s nothing she can do for Henry . . . nothing.

Nothing she can think of.

She turns to Miss Stubin. “Can you try? Like last time?”

Miss Stubin nods. She approaches Henry. When she walks, it looks like she’s gliding effortlessly across the floor.

“Henry,” she says. She puts her hand on his shoulder.

His screams falter.

Miss Stubin concentrates. Talks to him with her mind. Calms him.

Henry’s ragged voice falls away.

Miss Stubin leads him back to his chair and beckons Janie to come.

“There,” Miss Stubin says, smiling. “It’s really a lot easier this way, Henry.”

Henry holds up handfuls of his hair. Shows them to Janie.

Janie nods. “Your head hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says, cringing, as if talking calmly is difficult for him. “Yes, it hurts.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Janie says. “Do you know how I can help you?”

Henry looks at Janie. He shakes his head. “I just want to die,” he says. “Please. Can you help me die?”

“I don’t know. I’ll . . . I’ll try. I can’t do anything illegal. You understand?”

He nods.

“Where are we?” Janie asks. “Is this your dream? This dark gymnasium? This is it?”

Henry stands up. “This way.” He beckons the other two to follow. He pushes open the double doors that lead out of the gymnasium. They walk through, into a hallway. There are doors on both sides.

They go into the first room.

It’s a synagogue.

A boy convulses in his seat. His father, next to him, reprimands him.

“It’s you, the boy, isn’t it?” Janie asks.

“Yes.”

“A memory?”

“Sort of. That is my dream—my life, over and over.”

They go to the next classroom. People are lined up outside it. Henry, Miss Stubin, and Janie squeeze past the line of people and go inside. It’s a pizzeria. They walk past tables filled with people eating, laughing, to the kitchen, into the walk-in cooler. There, Henry leans in a corner with a girl. Kissing.