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"We have to give her until the ninth," Diana said. "Maybe she'll change her mind."
"'Maybe later,'" Cassie quoted, but there wasn't much hope in her voice.
"We'll wait until the ninth for Sean, too," Adam said.
They made it through the next seven school days without trouble—except among themselves.
At New Salem High, the members of the Club only spoke to each other in public to argue. Laurel's
birthday on the first and Sean's birthday on the third of December went uncelebrated, because, according
to a distraught Diana, none of them could get along long enough to plan a party. Cassie saw the looks
and heard the whispers and knew that the plan was working. She concentrated on being as much like the
old Cassie as possible—shy, tongue-tied, easily frightened or embarrassed. The role was
uncomfortable, like some old skin she'd out-grown, and she itched to get rid of it. But for the time they
were fooling Sean. They were even fooling Faye.
"I hear you and Nick have broken up," Faye said in the hall one day. The hooded golden eyes were
warm and pleased.
Cassie flushed, looking away.
"And the Club isn't much of a club without me, from what I see these days," Faye went on, practically
purring.
Cassie squirmed.
"I may join you sometime—maybe for the next full-moon celebration. If you're having one, that is."
Cassie shrugged.
Faye looked smug. "We could have a wicked time," she said. "Think about it."
As Faye walked away Cassie saw Sally Walt-man at her post as hall monitor. She edged up as
inconspicuously as possible.
"We're ready for the ninth, like you told us," Cassie said softly. "But can you do one more thing for us?"
Sally looked uneasy. "He's got everybody watching everybody. Nobody's safe—"
"I know, but when the ninth comes, will you tell us if he does anything unusual? If it looks like he's
moving? Please, Sally. Everything I told you about him is true."
"All right," Sally said, casting a hunted glance around. "Now just go, will you? I'll try to get a message to
you if I hear anything."
Cassie nodded and hurried away.
The ninth dawned gray and windy, the sort of day that normally made Cassie want to curl up in front of a
fire. Instead, she put on extra-warm clothes: a thick sweater, gloves, a parka. She had no idea what they
might be facing today, but she wanted to be dressed for action. In her backpack, along with her school
notebooks, she put her Book of Shadows.
She was walking out of French class when Sally intercepted her.
"Come with me, please," the rusty-haired girl said in crisp hall-monitor accents, and Cassie followed her
into the empty nurse's office next door. Sally immediately dropped the officious tone.
"If I get caught with you, it's all over," she said rapidly in a harsh whisper, her eyes on the frosted-glass
window in the door. "But here it is: I just overheard Brunswick talking with your friend Faye. Maybe
you'll understand what it was about, because I sure don't. They were discussing something about
arranging an accident on the bridge—it sounded like they were taking an empty school bus over
there, and a car, or maybe it was a couple of cars. He said They only have to burn for an hour or so; by
then the water will have risen far enough.' Does that mean anything to you?"
"An accident would block the bridge to the mainland," Cassie said slowly.
"Sure, but why?" Sally asked impatiently.
"I don't know. I'm going to find out. Sally, if I need to see you again, will you be in the cafeteria at lunch?"
"Yes, but you can't talk to me there. Portia's been looking at me strangely ever since that night in the
clearing—I think she's suspicious. Her brothers went away mad, and she didn't believe a word you
said about Brunswick. If she catches me with you, I'm dead."
"You may be dead if I don't talk with you," Cassie said. "Go on, get out of here, I'll leave in a minute."
Cassie reached the old science building at a run. Waiting on the second floor was the rest of the
Club—minus Faye and Sean, who hadn't been informed of the meeting. The plan had been to nab
Sean right after lunch, even if they hadn't learned anything about Black John's plans by then.
"But we do know something," Cassie said breathlessly, sitting down on a crate. "Listen." She told them
what Sally had said.
"Well, that explains it," Deborah put in when Cassie finished. "I just saw him and Faye walk out of the
building, and the secretary said they'd be gone all afternoon. So they're going out to wreck a school bus.
Cool."
"But why?" Cassie said. "I mean, it looks like he wants to block the bridge, but what's the point?"
It was Adam who answered. He'd been sitting by Doug, with one of the earphones from Doug's
Walkman pressed to his ear.
"The point," he said, "is to keep everybody on the island. There's just been an update on the
news—anybody remember that hurricane they were talking about the last couple days? The one
that they were afraid was going to hit Florida, but then it turned north while it was still out in the Atlantic?"
There was head-shaking around the group— most of them hadn't been too interested in the news
lately—but Melanie said, "I thought they downgraded that to a tropical storm."
"Yeah, they figured it was just going to dissipate out in the ocean. Look, I know a little about hurricanes.
This one isn't supposed to be a threat, because they're assuming it's going to turn northeast at Cape
Hatteras. That's what hurricanes usually do when they hit the low-pressure trough around there. But we
all know what happens when they don't." He looked around the group grimly, and this time there were
nods from everyone but Cassie.
"When they don't turn at Cape Hatteras, they come barreling straight up here," Adam said to her, then.
"Like the one in 1938, and the one a few years ago ... and the one in 1976."
The silence was absolute. Cassie glanced from side to side at the faces in the dim room.
"God," she whispered, feeling dizzy.
"Yes," said Adam. "Winds a hundred and fifty miles an hour, and walls of water, forty feet high. Now,
they're still saying this storm is going to turn—they just mentioned on the radio that it's supposed to
stay well off the Atlantic seaboard. But"—he looked around again, deliberately— "anybody
want to take bets?"
Laurel jumped up. "We've got to stop Black John. If that bridge is blocked, everybody on the island is in
danger."
"Too late," Deborah said briefly. "He's already gone. Remember? I saw him leave ten minutes ago."
"And everybody's not just in danger, everybody's dead," Melanie said. "That storm a couple years ago
just nicked New Salem, but this one could wipe us out."
Cassie looked at Adam. "How fast is it coming?"
"I don't know. Could be fifty miles an hour, could be seventy. If it doesn't turn at Cape Hatteras, they'll
issue a hurricane warning—but it'll be too late by then, especially if the bridge is blocked. It could
get to us in maybe seven, eight hours. More or less."
"Around the time of the eclipse?" Cassie asked.
"Maybe. Maybe a little later."
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