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“My mom didn't have it? He made up the epilepsy story?”

“You
both
have epilepsy,” he said. “Some of your behavior lately led him to believe you might be coming out of incubation.”

“How can this be?”

He shrugged, and I wanted to slap him. The man was so cavalier it was chilling. “I don't think so. I don't believe you,” I said again.

“I'm only the messenger.”

“My mom allowed herself to become a live test for me?” I touched my head, my legs, my arms—I felt so normal.

“Yes.”

“So the Germans didn't save her,” I asked.

“The drug from Germany saved both of you,” he said. “But your mother went first and then had a recurrence. Just as your father told you.”

“How do I get medicine and not know? How could I be this sick and Aunt Charlotte doesn't know?” I asked. Then I thought about Aunt Charlotte and Amilee doting on me at times. “Did Aunt Charlotte and Amilee help?”

“
No. You lived far enough away from your aunt and uncle that nobody knows the details. Everyone thought you had your tonsils removed.”

He inhaled deeply, his chest rose and then fell as he released the air—and that small physical gesture made me understand how difficult this task was for him. Mr. Emotionless wasn't, after all, completely without emotion.

“Amilee and your aunt and uncle observe you for signs that you might have inherited this crazy disease, that's all,” he said.

“You expect me to believe I have CJD and I'm going to die if Dad doesn't finish testing the medicine on my mother? My mother who died, but didn't die?”

“That is correct. But you don't have to believe me, you can wait and see.”

And then he reached over and gently put his hand over mine.

I lifted my other hand to wipe the new flow of tears away. I was shaking all over. “I want to see my mom,” I whispered.

“Okay,” Mr. Campbell said.

“What about your flight?” I asked and then felt so dumb. Of course that was a ruse, too.

He pulled out his phone and sent a few messages. While I sat there wondering if any of this was even happening.

Could it be I'm just crazy?

“Your dad wanted me to tell you that you should wait a day to see your mother. If the medicine works, she will be in a better state tomorrow.”

“No. I want to see her now.”

“We expected as much,” he said.

“
What about my phone? And the car—are we bugged or tracked or anything?”

“You saw me get rid of the bug and the tracking device. It's fine,” he said. “For the next few days it will be important to show that things are normal. You'll need to go to school and so on.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” I said.

“Oh.” He didn't even look up from his phone. “Then do what you normally do on the weekends. Go to the mall.”

“I don't go to the mall,” I snapped.

“You get my point, don't you?”

“My brain is supposedly rotting away, what do I care about being normal?” I said.

He sat even more upright and then actually raised his voice. “You are as good as cured. All of this has been for you. When you are ready to digest that, you'll understand how much these people love you.”

We sat in silence for quite a while and then in a hushed tone he said, “It's my understanding that your parents wanted a normal life for you, for as long as possible.”

“Do I have a time bomb ticking inside of me? Can this go either way?”

“Yes,” he said. “But it won't. The drug will work.”

Heavy concrete walls crashed down on me.
How could this whole thing have been about me?
“Who else knows about me? Aunt Charlotte? Amilee?”

“Not exactly.”

“Explain.”

“I told you, they have been instructed to watch you because it might be hereditary.” He touched my arm and softened. “That's all.”

“
What now?”

“Once the medicine is shown to work on your mother, you will be next.”

I didn't really expect an answer. But now I wondered, was my swinging mood tree a part of my insanity?

The noises of the car were loud—the squeaky leather and the ticking of the blinker. Every movement, every dip, every angle on a turn seemed to be over-accentuated.

Would this be my last car ride?

A moment of clarity happened so fast that it slipped through my lips before I could think about it. “Why not give it to us both? What's the plan if it doesn't work?”

“That's why your father is still in the lab.”

“No, no, no.” I put my head in my hands and sobbed.

Chapter
32

We parked outside an old-folks home, a single-story brick building that ran the length of half the block. Mr. Campbell called it an extended-care facility. But I saw all the silver-hairs outside, enjoying the momentary splash of sunshine.

“I'll give you a minute.” Mr. Campbell stepped out of the car and then poked his head back in and said, “But we don't have much time.”

I used my sleeve to wipe my face off and decided to get moving, because thinking about everything wasn't going to help my cause, or my mother's, no matter how much effort I put into it.

I stepped onto the curb and straightened my clothes. “I'm ready,” I said as I walked to the front door. I looked around, and it occurred to me that we were only about five miles from Amilee's house.

“Beatrice?” An older woman wearing a floral housecoat approached me. “We haven't seen you in a while.” She had frizzy gray hair, and her back was humped, but as strange as she looked, her eyes were clear. “How are you feeling, dear?”

I looked at Mr. Campbell for help but he shook his head as if to say
, I don't know who she is
.

She followed us through the front door and into the lobby. “You look really good. All grown up.”

I stopped and looked at her. “I'm sorry, do I know you?”

“
Oh, it's been a few years. But I'd recognize you anywhere,” she said. “You're our little miracle.”

“Huh?”

“Three years ago, maybe longer,” she said.

Mr. Campbell put his hand on my arm. “Excuse me,” he said to the woman. “It's this way, Bea.”

“I'll wait for you, Beatrice.” She waved at me as we walked away.

How could that woman know me?

The Formica floor and bright walls reminded me of school, but that was the extent of my familiarity with the building. I'd never been here before.

Mr. Campbell led me down the corridor. I knew he'd never been there because he was searching for a room number that was written on a tiny scrap of paper. He kept looking at the number like he couldn't remember it.

We rounded the corner and ran into the man who was at the helicopter with my dad. He was wearing a white orderly's coat and folding towels on a table in the hallway.

“Security detail,” Mr. Campbell whispered, as he pushed open a door and stepped inside. “C'mon.”

We walked past an empty bed and moved the curtain back from the second bed. The walls around both beds were lined with medical equipment. Soft music was coming from a boom box on a table in the corner.

“Mom?” My knees buckled and an instant flow of tears streamed down my cheeks. “Is she asleep?”

Her
body looked so small. She had an IV in one arm and all sorts of machines surrounding her.

“I don't know,” Mr. Campbell said.

I touched her hand and it was warm. “It's a miracle,” I whispered.

I crawled into bed next to her and felt how small she was, even though her body was curled inward. “How long has she been like this?”

“Several weeks,” he said. “They're using a feeding tube to feed her.”

Her skin was white and everything about her that was once so strong was now frail.

“Can I be alone with her, please?”

Mr. Campbell nodded and left the room.

I sobbed into my mom's shoulder and I felt her hand move. “I don't know what to believe, Mama. Why didn't you tell me?”

I laid my head on her shoulder as I whispered in her ear. “Am I going crazy? Are you my proof of that?” And then I cried some more. “I'm so scared. I'm so alone.” I ran my fingers over her face. “I thought you were dead.”

I must have dozed off because when I woke up, Mr. Campbell was looking at me. “We need to leave,” he said.

He was gentle when he helped me off of the bed—I felt so drained.

“This way,” he said.

We walked down the hall and out the door. The frizzy-haired lady was not waiting for me, and I didn't ask about her.

Mr.
Campbell gave the driver his orders and then he turned to me and said, “We're so close to righting a true wrong.”

“What does that mean?”

“It's very important that you do not tell Amilee about this and that you go about your weekend as planned,” he said. “Officially, I missed my flight and we grabbed a bite to eat. I don't think you will be bothered again by the FBI, but just in case.”

“Am I safe from myself?” I asked.

“By Monday all of this will be over,” he said.

I gulped. “Is my mom going to die?”

“She's in good hands,” he said. He handed me a note and told me to put it in my pocket. “Just in case, I want you to put this where you'll see it Sunday night and Monday morning.”

I read:
Be ready at 6 a. m. Monday morning
.

Chapter
33

When I opened the front door and sensed an empty house, I was grateful. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I took a shower and went straight to the computer.

I read about the symptoms of CJD again, but this time it was different because it was about me: personality changes, anxiety, depression, memory loss, blurred vision, insomnia, and difficulty speaking.

At times, I had all of these!

According to Internet sources, I had less than seven months to live because that's the length of time the disease runs from the onset of symptoms. Technically, I already was dead!

Immediately my vision blurred and I felt anxious. So I thought that if was going to die—because the memory loss had me forgetting that my parents had developed a potential cure (right?)—then I was going to enjoy my final weekend. My last stand.

I dug my cell phone out of my book bag and saw all the text messages from Amilee. Within seconds of my text, she called me, as usual. “What's up, little sistah? Are we still on for tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. And what do you say about ditching school the rest of the day?”

“I only have one class left.”

“Come and get me!” I said.

“I'm on my way,” Amilee said. “You must have had a good day at the FBI.”

“I'll say.”

“
Give me ten minutes to get home and let's celebrate,” she said.

I liked that about her. She was up for anything. I put on a pair of jeans and some grubby shoes. When I tucked my shirt in I found a stone. It was the geode that I took from Dad that day in the park.

Had I been carrying that thing around with me for the last few months?

“Stop it, cuckoo,” I said to myself. “You're memory's fine.”

After I got dressed and used eye drops and put on some makeup, I almost looked normal. Then hurricane Amilee came storming through the door. “Scott and Grant have big plans for tonight, but they won't tell me and—” She stopped abruptly when she saw me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I said.

“You look . . . different.”

“How so?” I said.

“Hmm.”

“C'mon. That's not right!”

“What happened today?” she said.

“Same old routine. And I'm so over it. I want to let loose tonight.” I grabbed her hands and jumped up and down. “Are you ready to party?”

She was so easy. She hugged me and spun me around, saying, “That's my girl. Let's have some fun.”

I flashed the money Dad had given me right before his arrest. “I want to experience everything. Right here, right now. Let's go buy some Ecstasy or something.”

“
Wait a minute,” she said. “Why don't we just buy some beer? I don't want that hangover from X.”

“Okay, what else can we do?”

“Condoms, just in case,” she said.

“Sounds like fun!”

“Wow—what's up, Beatrice?”

“I just want to live!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Amilee burst out laughing. “I like this wild side of you. Let's go now, before you change your mind.”

“Why not? Let's do it all.” I winked.

“Whatever floats your boat, little tigress!” Amilee growled at me.

We ran out of the house and it felt so good to throw caution far, far away. At the liquor store, Amilee pulled out a fake ID! and bought us two twelve-packs and a bottle of Jack Daniels. She was a pro.

She drove to the Gable Motel and used the cash to reserve a room. “We need a place to drink.”

“We're nuts!” I said and then I bit my tongue and we both started lisping. “Two shades of cuckoo, right here.” We were giggling so hard when we got home that we thought for sure the neighbors would complain.

“Mom!” Amilee yelled.

“Note,” I said, handing it to Amilee while giggling. I don't know why that was so funny—I was just slaphappy.

Amilee
said, “She's not here but she says to have fun. Awesome. We're going to rock this town!”

Chapter
34

Amilee's heels clicked on the kitchen floor. Her black leggings were perfect with the short skirt she'd bought. Her new makeup made her eyes pop, or maybe she was just elated. “You're pretty,” I said.