Memorymakers
face and white shoes like the golf casuals her father wore on Wednesdays and weekends.
    The Chalk Man paused its restless march, stared at Emily with blackboard eyes. He reminded her of a snowman in outline form. She wondered if he was cold to the touch, and wasn’t certain she wanted to find out.
    Sometimes when Emily thought about the Chalk Man during daylight hours, when her thoughts were clear, it bothered her that the creature intruded on her private space, her dreams, her room. But it never harmed her and this time, as always, she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 4

    The Ch’Var who intermarries with a Gween wastes the precious Ch’Var bloodline, for the union of these races cannot produce children. Ch’Vars with Ch’Vars; Gweens with Gweens. Thus it has always been.
    —Ancient saying

    During breakfast the Harvey children listened halfheartedly while Victoria lectured them about manners. The volume of the kitchen television was on low, and the morning news flashed across the screen. Whenever Victoria looked away, Emily turned the volume up little by little. Something about a mysterious childhood ailment, and Emily wanted to hear it.
    “Turn that down,” Victoria snapped after a while. “I’m trying to tell you something.”
    When Emily complied, Thomas said, “I heard buzzing, like I’ve been hearing all over the house. Little flies or bees or mosquitoes, I don’t know.”
    Emily nodded. “I hear it, too.”
    “You know what’s weird, though?” Thomas said, holding a piece of raspberry jam-smeared toast near his mouth. “I haven’t seen any bugs. Not one. It’s like they’re moving around just out of sight.”
    Victoria glowered at Emily. “Now you’ve got your brother imagining things.”
    “We’re not imagining!” Emily said. “Listen! You can hear them.”
    “You’re both crazy!” Victoria said. But she grew quiet.
    Now Emily heard the buzzing quite distinctly—a definite burr of sound. She tried to place its direction.
    Her brother pointed at the back door. “Over there, I think.”
    Victoria arched her brows. “Nothing buzzing around here but your heads.”
    Thomas went to his lips with a finger. “Shhh!” he cautioned. He saw his stepmother’s withering glance and closed his mouth, but only for a moment.
    “An infestation of invisible insects!” Thomas said. “They got tired of being swatted and came up with a new breed. We’ve been studying about entomological selection in school.”
    “Ridiculous!” Victoria said. “No one’s ever heard of invisible insects!”
    “Doesn’t make them impossible,” Emily said. She spread peanut butter on a piece of fifty-grain toast, took a bite and chewed slowly. Anything to avoid the bowl of cereal Victoria had poured for her. Grown-up cereal tasted awful.
    “I’m going to talk with your therapist about this, Emily,” Victoria warned.
    Therapist—the word bore dark connotations for Emily, as if anyone going to such a person had a straitjacket reserved. It was one of Emily’s buttons that Victoria liked to push when Dad wasn’t around, a provocation that boxed the teenager in. If Emily flared back, it would be distorted and described as craziness. And if Emily said nothing, her silence “proved” mental debility.
    This time Emily smiled, and the maneuver disarmed her adversary.
    Victoria looked away uneasily, then continued her lecture. “No time to discuss other subjects today. I have a tennis date in a few minutes and my hair appointment after that, and I need something new to wear before your dad and I take off this afternoon for the San Margarita Golf Tournament. You can’t begin to understand the energy it takes to do all these things.”
    Emily stared at a cobweb on the ceiling.
    “We’ll be back tomorrow evening,” Victoria said.
    “If you won’t be here, can we go see Return of the Killer Couch?” Thomas asked. “I hear it snuffs people with pillows.”
    “Nonna and P’no—P—oh, whatever. Your grandfather

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