Some deep noise rumbled in the distance, pulling Jack from the entranced state he was in. Miss Collins's words were music. Woven into melodies that spiraled through his mind like intricate strands of molecules. How much sense she made to him! How much beautiful sense!

When he was brought back mentally into the room, he looked up at his former teacher, who had fallen silent. A thought had struck him suddenly. "Am I . . . am I where you were, then? After your friend . . . died?"

Miss Collins nodded. "Yes, Jack. I believe you are."

"So . . . what does that mean?"

Sighing audibly, Grace cried, "Duh! It means you're either going to make it through or you won't! It's up to you!" She turned to the woman. "Right, Anne? It's up to him, isn't it?"

Reaching into her glass of water to retrieve her contact lens, Miss Collins peeled back her eyelids and replaced the false eye that Jack and all the students at Webster Day were used to seeing. The boy immediately felt downcast.

"Yes," Miss Collins said in delayed response to Grace's question. "Grace is right." She locked her gaze on Jack. "You are in a dangerous place. I know what happened to your brother and what continues to happen to him. He grows more embittered toward you every day. He's been hurt so terribly, and not just physically. His entire life has altered, and so has yours. You are both lost, right now. Unsure whether anything is important or even real."

Jack thought of the viral hatred consuming his brother. Of the hole that was Kyle's bedroom and the unearthly presence lurking in his house. It had torn apart his entire family, and it was tearing apart his world, yet he was the only one who could see it. It was too deep, now, the enmity. Too strong for him to fight. He knew, then, what Miss Collins meant by what she'd said. Jack was like her friend, the dancer—not like herself. Jack wasn't near understanding at all; he was in danger of letting everything overwhelm him. He was in the most crucial stage of what she'd described to him. If he could not fight what was happening . . . he would lose. And to lose meant to let the absolute nothing that he'd seen eat him alive, like it already was eating Kyle. If he gave up, if he continued to lie in his room and lose himself in his misery, he'd definitely lose.

But to win . . .? What did that mean? He wasn't strong enough to get rid of the virus haunting his family, his home. He didn't even know what it was, or if it was anything in particular at all.

He turned back to his teacher. "What we see . . . what we hear . . . what is it?"

Miss Collins half smiled. "I don't know," she replied, much to Jack's discontent. "I wish I could tell you . . . I wish I was certain, myself. But I don't truly know."

Jack leapt from his seat, a sudden passion consuming him. He wasn't sure where it had come from, had never felt something like it before. "What do you mean, you don't know? How can I overcome something I'm not even sure exists?"

"It definitely exists, Jack," replied the woman, remaining calm in her seat.

"But if I don't know what it is . . . how can I know its weaknesses? And I can't fight something if I don't know its weakness. There's nothing I can do! Nothing!"

Turning to Grace, Miss Collins said softly, "Grace, would you mind taking Oreo out for a few minutes? I think I heard him scratching at the back door."

"Sure! I love your dog!" Grace happily replied. She understood that her friends needed to be alone for a moment. "It's cold out there, though," she added as she left the room, "so I might not be too long."

Once the girl was gone, Miss Collins rose from her seat. Jack was about her height, she being short for her age. Her hands on his shoulders, the small, slight woman looked deeply into the boy's eyes. "It doesn't have a weakness, Jack. It's nothing. Nothing can't have a weakness or a strength . . . it's just . . . nothing. It's you who has to discover your own weaknesses and strengths. It's you, not anything outside of you. What we see and hear . . . it is real, but it doesn't affect who we are. It doesn't fight you or help you—it just is.

"You're much younger than I was when I went through this. Grace, she hasn't had something so severe happen to her; hopefully, she never will. But you and I and my friend—we've been put through things that no one should ever have to experience. You have to be strong. Do you understand?"

Jack nodded solemnly. He wasn't sure he did understand, but he was too distracted by Miss Collins's glowing face right in front of his to say anything.

"And you must come back and see me again, you and Grace. I want to make sure you're doing all right. Ok?"

"Yes," whispered Jack, finding some of his voice. "Yes, I'll come back."

Miss Collins smiled, shook Jack slightly by his shoulders. "Good," she said, and she backed away a bit. "Good. Then I'll see you again soon."

The back door squealed open and thumped shut again seconds later; dog claws clicked on the floor. Miss Collins released Jack and sat back down as Grace came into the room.

"Waaaay too cold out there," the girl said, rubbing her arms. "Couldn't stay out there for more than a minute. I think it got colder since we got here."

Shaking her head, Miss Collins said, "Well, it would help to put your coat on."

"Aw, who needs a coat?"

"Obviously, you do, if you're going to go outside." Miss Collins laughed soft.

"And actually," added Grace, building on the woman's comment, "we do need to get going, Jack."

The boy frowned. He didn't know if he wanted to stay; his old music teacher made him feel kind of lightheaded. But he didn't want to leave, either. "We just got here," was what he said.

"Well, I know, but it took a long time to walk here and it'll be a long way back. My step-mom wants me home by two because we need to go shopping for new boots. Can't you see how worn out these old shoes are that I'm wearing? I mean, I love converse. I love them. But she thinks I need some boots. I wouldn't let her buy me ones all winter because I just couldn't find any good ones. She said she found some in a catalog I'd really like, though, so she wants to go shopping today and get them. I don't blame her; she doesn't want to pay for hospital bills if my toes fall off cause of frostbite. You know how moms are—all worried about toes and money and stuff. Anne wouldn't know. She's not a mom, right Anne? But you might be some day, and then you'd understand about the frostbite."

Miss Collins smiled. "I'm sure I would." Then she stepped around Jack and toward the hallway. "Come on, then; if you have to go, you'd better. I don't want a call from your mother saying you've lost your toes because of the day I wouldn't let you leave in time to get boots." She looked at Jack as the boy and girl joined her in the hall. In the utmost sincerity, she added, "I'm very glad I was able to see you, today, Jack. There are amazing things in store for you, if you can only learn how to accept them."

Jack wasn't sure how to respond, just half-smiled in thanks and stepped outside into the frosted white world. What she was saying wasn't entirely clear to him. If there were amazing things coming his way, he had no idea what they were going to be. At present, his life was a disaster. This visit to Miss Collins was a small fragment of light in a vast darkness.

As he and Grace reached the sidewalk and began walking, the girl chattering on about something having to do with dog treats, Jack stopped suddenly and gripped her arm. When Grace stopped talking, cocked her head to the side and looked at him expectantly, he said, simply, "Thank you."

A prism of understanding passed between them. From his eyes into hers, and from there into her mind and heart. Grace, in her busy ways, knew when words weren't needed. She understood, without having to hear him say it, that she had very well pulled him back into life by going to his house that morning. By revealing her secret to him. By dragging him to Miss Collins. The boy was going to make it, she believed. How?—she wasn't sure, and what he might suffer or lose on the way was beyond her knowledge. But she did feel, in a place deeper than her heart, that he would be all right.