“I was tired from working today.”

“Were you really at the museum all day? Or with him?”

“I was at the museum. He wasn’t there.”

He nodded. “Doing a whole day’s worth of homework in the first week of school? Can we see this homework?”

She swallowed. There was nothing to show them. She’d taken a few notes but had solemnly promised Rex never to show them to anyone. When had she started lying to her parents? When the world had stopped making sense, maybe.

“I was doing research.”

“On what?”

“On the possible connection between the tool-making techniques of Solutrean Stone Age culture in southern Spain and certain pre-Clovis spear points found in Cactus Hill, Virginia,” she blurted.

Dad’s mouth dropped open.

Jessica blinked, surprised at her own words. Apparently some of her crash diet of midnighter lore had managed to stick in her head. She remembered Rex showing her the long case of gradually evolving spear points and the gap in the middle where everything had changed at once.

“There was a technological leap in New World spear points around twelve thousand years ago,” she said with quiet focus. At least talking about this stuff didn’t make her want to cry. It made her feel in control. “An improved meridian groove and a sharper edge. Some people think that the advanced technique somehow came over from Europe.”

“It’s okay, honey. We believe you,” Mom said, patting her hand. “You’re sure Jonathan didn’t take you anywhere in a car?”

“I’m positive. We just wound up walking much farther than I thought we would. Really.”

“You know this boy’s been in trouble with the police before.”

Jessica shook her head. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you do now. And you are never going to leave this house again without telling us, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And you’re not going anywhere except school for the next month,” Dad added.

Mom looked unhappy with this for a split second, but she nodded.

“I’d like to go to bed now,” Jessica said.

“Okay, sweetie.”

Mom led her back to her bedroom and kissed her good night.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. It’s dangerous out there, Jessica.”

“I know.”

17

11:59 P.M.

REVELATIONS

The walls were painted a deep purple that turned black during the secret hour. A blackboard hung on one, where Dess did her calculations in red chalk on those rare occasions when she couldn’t do them in her head. On another wall was a self-portrait Dess had made out of Legos by fitting gray, black, and white elements together, like the pixels on a computer screen. She had been meaning to do an updated picture, now that she had dyed her hair and cut it shorter, but the thought of breaking up all those Legos and starting over was too daunting. Besides, unlike a computer image, there was no way to save the original.