And at last he asked again, ‘Who,’ he said, ‘is there?’

Here, something murmured.

‘What?’

Me, something spoke in the night.

‘Who’s me?’

Here, was the quiet answer.

‘Where?’

Here, quietly.

‘Where?’

And Douglas looked all around and then down.

‘There?’

Yes, oh, yes.

Down along his body, below his chest, below his navel, between his two hipbones, where his legs joined. There it was.

‘Who are you?’ he whispered.

You’ll find out.

‘Where did you come from?’

A billion years past. A billion years yet to come.

‘That’s no answer.’

It’s the only one.

‘Were you …’

What?

‘Were you down in that tent today?’

What?

‘Inside. In those glass jars. Were you?’

In a way, yes.

‘What do you mean, “in a way”?’

Yes.

‘I don’t understand.’

You will, when we get to know each other.

‘What’s your name?’

Give me one. We always have names. Every boy names us. Every man says that name ten thousand times in his life.

‘I don’t …’

Understand? Just lie there. You have two hearts now. Feel the pulse. One in your chest. And one below. Yes?

‘Yes.’

Do you actually feel the two hearts?

‘Yes. Oh, yes!’

Go to sleep then.

‘Will you be here when I wake up?’

Waiting for you. Awake long before you. Good night, friend.

‘Are we? Friends?’

The best you ever had. For life.

There was a soft rabbit running. Something hit the bed, something burrowed beneath the blankets.

‘Tom?’

‘Yeah,’ said the voice from under the covers. ‘Can I sleep here tonight? Please!’

‘Why, Tom?’

‘I dunno. I just had this awful feeling tomorrow morning we’d find you gone or dead or both.’

‘I’m not going to die, Tom.’

‘Someday you will.’

‘Well …’

‘Can I stay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Hold my hand, Doug. Hold on tight.’

‘Why?’

‘You ever think the Earth’s spinning at twenty–five thousand miles per hour or something? It could throw you right off if you shut your eyes and forget to hold on.’

‘Give me your hand. There. Is that better?’

‘Yeah. I can sleep now. You had me scared there for a while.’

A moment of silence, breath going in and out.

‘Tom?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You see? I didn’t ditch you, after all.’

‘Thank gosh, Doug, oh, thank gosh.’

A wind came up outside and shook all the trees and every leaf, every last one fell off and blew across the lawn.

‘Summer’s over, Tom.’

Tom listened.

‘Summer’s done. Here comes autumn.’

‘Halloween.’

‘Boy, think of that!’

‘I’m thinking.’

They thought, they slept.

The town clock struck four.

And Grandma sat up in the dark and named the season just now over and done and past.

Afterword

AFTERWORD

The Importance of Being Startled