I caught Jude after school the next day. I'd been in such a ferocious mood the whole time we'd been in class that I hadn't spoken at all to Jill. I didn't even feel bad about that; I was too set on my own thoughts.

"Wait," I called to him before he could exit the front doors. He barely slowed down, and I jogged to catch up with him. I didn't notice how the other kids stared as I spoke with Jude. They'd never really seen him talk to anybody. "What are you doing right now?"

He stared ahead questioningly.

"I mean, do you have to go straight home?" Still I received no answer. I pulled on his arm, bringing him to a halt. He was startled; I'd never touched him before. "I want to show you something. A place . . . a really neat place."

For what seemed like half an hour, he chewed his lower lip and gazed blankly at the tiled floor. Then, to my surprise, he replied, "Sure."

"OK," I nodded. "OK, good. Then come on." We left the building through the cafeteria doors, which exited into the schoolyard. That way, all we had to do was cross the asphalt and climb the stairs up into the field. As we passed the swings, I wondered if Jude had ever seen them. From the first day he'd been in school he hadn't once been allowed outdoors after lunch. Ms. Montague always kept him in. Maybe she thought that if she did that he would participate in class. I don't know what her reasoning was, but I was sure that it hadn't worked. I bet Jude didn't care at all that he wasn't allowed outside. Nothing seemed to bother him much at all, except his music. Old Ms. Montague wasn't going to get through to him, no matter what she tried.

When we drew near the first rows of massive green pines, Jude stopped walking. He stared up at them in what I could only call amazement. I'd never seen that emotion on his face, so it gave me an unsettled feeling. But if I had thought that his look before entering the forest was amazement, I couldn't begin to describe the pure wonder in his eyes when he saw the old stump. The thrill I felt in watching him went beyond what I had experienced myself when I'd first seen it. The power and magic of that ancient, lost tree was too much even for a boy who noticed nothing.

The deep green quiet of the woods surrounded us like a great, dark shutter. Jude didn't touch the bark or climb up to view the rings of the old stump, as Jillian and I had done. He only stared at it from a distance. "Go on," I urged him. "Go look at it." He wouldn't move, though, and it annoyed me.

"I won't touch it," he said determinedly. "I shouldn't."

"Why?" I asked him. If there was one person in the whole world who deserved to touch the thing it was Jude Wood. He was closer to it than anyone – I was sure of that.

"I don't want to."

I couldn't argue with him. His mind was set. Afraid that I was once again wasting my efforts, I remembered something that I wanted to have a look at. So I began to walk further into the woods, past the old stump. I didn't expect Jude to follow me. I didn't think I'd even care if he turned and went home.

"Where are you going?" he cried. Startled, I spun around. There had been some fear in his voice. He added, "Can I go, too?"

I was shocked. Jude was asking whether he could go somewhere with me. "Yes," I replied. "But you have to be quiet."

He moved past the stump, keeping as far away from it as he could. When he reached me, I moved on. Before more than a few minutes had gone by, he and I stood under the most miserable pine trees we had ever seen before. They were the group I had seen from my window at home, and, as I'd noticed, they were needleless. I was certain that the last time I'd been near the house – when I was with Jill – they had been green. But maybe I'd been too preoccupied to really notice them. Glancing to the ground, I saw that it was carpeted with pine needles, just like the rest of the forest was. The slivers were still green, though, and they covered the forest floor with a much thicker layer. It was because every single needle had fallen from the trees there, and they'd done it recently, too, like they'd all just given up.

Next to me, I heard Jude take in a quick breath. He had seen the house, and I was sure he was feeling just as horrified by it as I had been. The monstrous building lay no more than about fifty feet from us, and although we were closer to the lake, we could see the house clearly through the bare trees.

"Isn't it ugly?" I said. Jude didn't answer, and I wasn't surprised. However, when I turned to ask him what he thought of it, I could see plainly that something was wrong with him.

Jude was on his knees on the ground. He held his arms tight across his chest, and the upper half of his body was jerking back and forth. His dark eyes were still open – they focused on the house – and his breathing was sharp and short. Seeing him like that made me more frightened than I'd ever been in my life.

My words faltered as I ran to his side. I didn't know if I should touch him or let him alone. I didn't know if he was having some sort of attack. Did he have asthma or epilepsy or something I didn't know about? My stomach jumped into my throat. "H-how can I help?" I cried. "What's wrong? Tell me!"

He took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes closed. I crouched down next to him and, despite my hesitation, put my hand on his shoulder. He stopped moving and sat back, but he didn't even seem to know that I was there. No noise came from Jude other than that of his quivering breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks. My own chest suddenly heaved with a terrified sadness. How could I ever have wanted to give up on him? He was more sick than I could imagine. At that moment, there didn't seem to be anything in the world I could do to help him. He wasn't even aware of my presence. Why had I brought him to this place? I was unfeeling. I was a horrible person. I had to get him away from it.

Without much struggle, Jude let me help him up. He walked with me through the pines, all the way to his house. He didn't speak the entire way. If other people stared at us as we walked through town, I didn't care. The only person I cared about was in so much pain that he didn't even know where he was. By the time we reached his house, Jude had regained some of his thoughts. He didn't need me to support him quite as much. I was going to walk with him to his front door, but he shook his head. With very little strength, he pushed away from me and slowly made his way to the back, where the toolshed was. I stood and watched him enter it, my own eyes and nose burning because I knew I was helpless to do anything.

That day he played more intensely than I had ever heard him. Once he began, I couldn't dream of going home. I could only sit outside, huddled against the chill by the tool shed door, and listen. I couldn't say how long he was there. I only knew that for as long as he played I felt as if my very soul – everything I had been and wanted to be – was being pulled out of my body by a force too great to withstand. Such sorrow filled me that I was sick from it. I was dizzy with fear and distress. The most horrible emptiness and fright I had ever felt overwhelmed and laughed at me, and it seemed to last for eternity.

The sound of rustling leaves came to my ears, and I at last felt the prick of cold wind on my cheeks. My eyes opened to see that the surrounding woods were quickly turning dark. For several moments I just listened to the soft sounds around me. I wasn't quite sure where I was, or why I was there, or even who I was. Everything seemed so blank – nameless. I couldn't identify the setting or my reason for being in it. Then, slowly, feeling returned to my arms, my legs, and my head. My thoughts became clearer and gained meaning.

I remembered Jude. Jumping to my feet, I hurried into the shed. I started to say his name but stopped when I saw him. He was leaning over against the piano. As I suspected he would, he sensed I was there.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I frowned. "Why?"

He turned around to face me. His expression said: Don't you know why?

But I didn't know.

"I want to go back there," he said

"Where – the old stump?"

"No . . . the house. The house we saw."

I was shocked. "Are you joking? You practically went into a coma when you saw it. I don't think you should ever go back there. Who knows what could happen to you!"

Jude shifted his gaze, looking almost nervous. "Well, that's why I need you to come with me."

"Me?"

"Please. I . . . I haven't ever talked to anybody about my . . . problem. I can't. I don't know how to. When I was there, though, at that house, I felt like everything was going to be explained to me. But it also hurt worse than anything I ever felt. I know that if I had just waited a little longer, maybe I could have put up with it and pushed myself until I knew whatever I'm supposed to know." He paused, seeming to realize that he was saying more to me about himself than he ever had. I merely kept silent, blank-faced, afraid that if I said or did anything he would stop and ask me to leave. "Who lives there?" he asked.

Then I had to say something. Disappointed, I replied, "I don't know. Some man. He owns the forest and the lake."

"Oh . . ." His troubled demeanor returned.

I was tired. My arms and legs moved like they had anchors attached to them. A sudden resistance sprung up in me. "It's late. My mother is going to worry."

"Your mother?" he said absent-mindedly.

"Yes. My mom." I felt uncomfortable. "I should go home."

"Will you go back with me, Nat, please?"

I had started to leave when he asked me the question. Glancing back at him, I was nervous at how pale he looked in the dim, creeping shadows. His eyes – the dark holes of his eyes – gave me chills. "OK," I slowly agreed. "Not tomorrow . . . but later." Then, not waiting to hear if he had anything else to say, I left him.