The Eighth Day

by Salerni, Dianne K.

  Billy’s shoulders slumped. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You are so lucky to have Riley Pendare as your guardian.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  9

  THE BOYS HOLED UP in Billy’s basement rec room Friday night to play video games. Jax borrowed Billy’s computer and waited until his friend was fully engaged defending Hyrule against an army of giant spiders before he opened up Google. Searching for Grunsday turned up nothing but jokes. Eighth day or eight days a week unearthed movies and song titles. Jax scratched at the tattoo, which had begun to itch, then tried extra day between Wednesday and Thursday.

  A site called Between Wednesday and Thursday topped the list. The link led to a message board with a banner that read: If you have to ask, you don’t belong here. There was only one thing visible on the page:

  This is a private group. Potential members know why they belong here. If you wish to join, send a message HERE describing why you deserve membership in 140 characters or less.

  Jax hesitated only a moment before clicking on the link and typing a message:

  just had the eighth day for the 2nd time. seeking more information.

  He included his email address as requested and tapped the send button.

  Billy let out a horrible, bloodcurdling cry and stretched his arm over the back of the sofa, offering the controller to Jax. “Just got my brains slurped out of my head. Wanna turn?”

  “Yeah.” Jax deleted his search history and logged off. He was just sitting down on the sofa when his phone chirped, and he pulled it out of his backpack to check his texts.

  Riley: where r u

  Jax’s heart lurched. Reluctantly, he thumbed in a reply.

  Jax: @billys house

  Riley: u didn’t tell me

  Jax: i never tell u

  There was a long pause after that. Then:

  Riley: u coming home tonite?

  Jax: staying weekend

  Riley: WHEN r u coming home?

  In four months, Riley had never kept track of Jax’s comings and goings. Jax remembered Riley’s hand on his arm, pressing him into the chair for the tattoo, and shivered in revulsion.

  Jax: depends when will U b @ work?

  There was another pause before Riley’s final message.

  Riley: guess u dont want answers to those ?s after all

  Billy’s mom let Jax stay the weekend, sleeping on the couch in their basement. “Your guardian says it’s okay?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t care where I am,” Jax said, and she nodded grimly, as if that was exactly what she’d expected. Mrs. Ramirez was a lot less impressed with Riley Pendare than her son was. Jax kept his sleeve pulled down over his new tattoo lest her disapproval for Riley spill over onto him. He ate every bit of home-cooked food she put in front of him.

  He didn’t go home until late Sunday morning, when he found a blue ’58 Thunderbird with its roof off parked in front of the house. He would have assumed anyone with a car like that must be visiting one of the neighbors, except it was a classic car with no computerized parts—and by now Jax was catching on. He scrambled up the front steps and pushed open the door.

  Riley was sitting on the sofa next to a very pretty girl with long black hair. When Jax walked in, Riley stood up hastily. “Uh, Jax . . .”

  Jax cleared his throat. “I can come back later if you’re, um . . .”

  “We’re not anything.”

  The girl also stood up and smoothed down her short skirt. “You must be Riley’s protégé. Aren’t you a cutie!” She barely came to Riley’s shoulder, even in high-heeled boots, and she wore a short leather jacket that matched a sheath at her hip containing an engraved dagger.

  Jax gaped at her, and she raised her left hand to show him the tattoo on her wrist. It was delicate and feminine and bordered by red roses. When she walked toward Jax, he smelled the scent of roses in her perfume.

  “This is Deidre Morgan,” said Riley. “She fixed our refrigerator, and then she was leaving.”

  Deidre ignored him. “I didn’t catch your name, cutie.” Her dark eyes lingered on Jax’s tattoo.

  “Jaxon Aubrey. You fix refrigerators?” She was like no repairman he had ever seen.

  “I fix all kinds of things,” she said, leaning an arm on Jax’s shoulder. “Machinery’s my talent, especially engines of war.” Jax froze, suddenly realizing the dagger wasn’t the only weapon this girl carried. There was a shoulder holster under her jacket and something tiny and pearl-handled sticking out of the top of her boot.

  Nope. Not your typical refrigerator repairman.

  Riley rolled his eyes. “Just give him the radio, Deidre.”

  “Spoil sport.” She unclipped a radio from her belt and offered it to Jax. “This is a secure radio for you to use on the eighth day. Channel two is how Riley will contact you, but in an emergency, call for help on channel one, and they’ll all get it.”

  Jax frowned. “They?”

  “Riley’s raggedy crew.” She turned to Riley with a smile. “Anything else I can do for you, sweetie?”

  “No, thanks, Deidre,” Riley said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Say no in haste, regret at leisure.”

  He laughed. “I’ve told you what I think.”

  “Your counterproposal is weak,” Deidre said pleasantly. “You’ve got one thing of value to offer, and if you want my family’s manpower and weaponry to deal with the Emrys situation, you’re going to have to put that on the line. Think it over, sweetie. Jax, nice to meet you.” In a passing breeze of rose blossoms, she was out the door and gone.

  “Geez, Riley,” Jax breathed. “Is that your girlfriend?”

  “Deidre?” Riley laughed. “No.”

  What, then? His personal assassin?

  Riley waved a hand at the sofa. “Have a seat.”

  Jax felt a surge of panic. He remained standing, bristling from head to toe.

  “I’m not ordering you. I’m asking,” Riley said quietly.

  Was that some kind of admission? “Did you drug me the other night?”

  “Drug you? No.” He said it with the same amusement as when Jax asked if Deidre was his girlfriend. “Please, Jax. Sit down.” Riley sat down in the armchair, as if demonstrating how it was done.

  Reluctantly, Jax put the radio on the coffee table and sat down.

  “I asked Deidre to set up the radio so you’d have a means of communication on Grunsday. Keep it with you at all times on the eighth day.”

  “And if there’s an emergency”—What kind of emergency?—“Deidre would come?”

  “No, not Deidre. She just supplies me with these radios because she has access to them and we’re old friends.”

  Old friends. Yeah, right. “She said you wanted weaponry—” Jax began.

  Riley interrupted him. “Call on that radio, and you’ll raise me or the Crandalls. It has enough range to reach any of the corresponding radios within town limits.”

  “What if I’m outside town?”

  “Don’t be. A lot of Transitioners use Grunsday for their own advantage. I’m talking petty thievery, burglary, and some things a whole lot worse. My mother always said that having the extra day was too much temptation for some people. Maybe even most people.” Riley ran a hand through his hair and looked away, frowning as if he’d surprised himself by sharing something about his mother.

  It surprised Jax, too. He opened his mouth to comment, but Riley sighed and looked up again. “It’s better to stay with your own group, where there’s safety in numbers. Your father learned that the hard way.”

  Jax stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “What’d your dad do for a living, Jax?”

  “He owned a company called Information Resources.”

  “Which did what?”

  “He always said he ‘moved information.’ He was a consultant.”
>
  Riley stared at the floor for a moment, then met Jax’s eyes. “You mean people paid him to get information. Information other people didn’t want them to have.”

  Jax frowned. “Now wait a minute.”

  “Like plans for business mergers and new products and secret deals . . .”

  “No!” Jax leaped to his feet. “You make it sound like he was some kind of spy!” Riley didn’t drop his gaze, and Jax glared at him. “My dad wasn’t a crook.”

  “Your dad stumbled across something dangerous,” Riley said. “And realizing the danger, he approached me and offered useful information in exchange for my promise to look out for you if the worst came to pass. It did, and here we are.”

  “What?” Jax demanded. “What did he find out?”

  “He knew something that got him killed. If I told you, I really would be a lousy guardian, wouldn’t I?”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  10

  JAX LAY ON HIS BED holding the Grand Canyon photo. In the picture, his father was wearing an embarrassing Hawaiian-print shirt, and the hand he was using to shade his eyes wasn’t the one with the tattoo. There wasn’t a single thing in this picture to suggest Rayne Aubrey had a secret day of the week or made his living as a corporate spy.

  But Jax had to admit, there were things about his father that didn’t make sense. The tattoo, for one, which he told people was a leftover from “wild college days.” But on more than one occasion, he’d warned Jax to pull up his grades “so you can go to college like I never did.”

  And then there was the business, Information Resources, which had no employees and no office. Jax had never even seen a business card for it. He’d never questioned this before because, after all, what kids were really interested in their fathers’ work?

  Riley had refused to answer any more questions about Jax’s father or the bargain they’d made. “You want to leave here, and that suits me fine,” he’d said. “Once you leave my protection, it’s better if you know as little as possible about your father’s business—and mine.”

  But Jax was tired of being surprised. He slammed the framed photo onto the bedside table and went downstairs to his computer.

  Buried in his in-box below all the spam, Jax found an email with the subject line: Between Wednesday and Thursday Admission Granted.

  Fellow Eight-Day-Citizen: Your application for admittance has been granted. The username and password below will access your membership.

  Jax entered the ID numbers he’d been given and was prompted to change his log-in information. He chose his customary username, jaxattax, and the same password he used for everything. Immediately, he was redirected to the forum, where he found a list of discussion threads.

  Introductions

  Discussion Topics

  Vermin Infestation

  Can Duds Be Cured?

  Niviane’s Enchanted Forest: Was It a Real Place?

  Locus of the Spell: Stonehenge or Pentre Ifan?

  The Kin Issue

  Youth Camps

  Chat Groups

  But Jax couldn’t get into any of the discussions. Whenever he clicked on a link, a pop-up informed him:

  403 Error. Try again later.

  Transitioners might have a secret day all to themselves, Jax thought, as he sent an email to technical support, but they’re lousy with computers.

  The kid who smashed Giana Leone’s ceramic vase never realized he did it. He was talking to his friend in the hallway and didn’t look back when his elbow struck her arm. She lost her grip on the vase, and Jax, passing by, made a grab for it but missed. The vase hit the floor and shattered.

  Giana held out her hands in dismay. “That stinks,” Jax said. He squatted and started picking up the broken pieces.

  “It’s just something I made in art class. I don’t care,” Giana said, although the look on her face plainly said she did. She fetched a trash can from an empty classroom.

  Jax picked up shards with one hand and piled them into the other. “Do you want to save the big pieces and glue them back together?”

  “What’s the point?” Giana gingerly picked up pieces of pottery and cast a sideways glance at Jax’s hand. “I can’t believe you got a tattoo. Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Not if your guardian says okay.” She was eyeing him like she couldn’t decide whether the tattoo made him cool or creepy, so he said, “My dad had a tattoo like this. It’s a way to honor him.”

  “Oh.” Giana stood and picked up the trash can. Jax could’ve kicked himself. Nobody wanted to hear about his orphanhood.

  “You had Mr. Gupta’s history test this morning, right?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. “I have it next period. How was it?”

  “Not too hard, if you studied,” she said, starting to walk away.

  “Was it mostly on Chapter Fifteen?” He stood up, too, desperately wanting to extend the conversation. “‘Battles of the Revolution’?”

  Giana stopped with a jerk, almost losing her balance. “Yes, but he focused on the Pennsylvania battles.” Giana’s forehead rumpled. She made a movement, as if to walk away, but it was like she’d been welded to the spot. “You better know all about General Anthony Wayne.”

  “What about the essay? Was it tough?”

  Giana pressed her lips together and stared at Jax, then blurted out. “You have to compare the British and Continental armies. I didn’t have any problem with it.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Jax grinned. “D’you like history?”

  “It’s my favorite subject.” Again, Giana made a strange, jerky movement, like she was going to walk away, but didn’t.

  Jax’s heart flipped over. It seemed like she wanted to keep talking to him. “They’re showing a historical movie at the PTA Fun Night this Friday, aren’t they? I mean, it’s a ghost story, but set in the past, right?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes were very wide.

  “Are you going?” The bell rang for the next period.

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded strained.

  “Me too.” He made that up on the spot. “So maybe I’ll see you there?”

  “You probably will.”

  Jax hadn’t felt this light-headed since A.J. had stuck the needle gun into his arm. “Okay. Talk to you later.” Giana expelled her breath and bolted down the hall. Jax stood there, grinning, until an unexpected blow sent him staggering. He caught his balance and glared at Tegan Donovan, who’d hip-checked him as she walked by for no reason.

  “That was smooth,” she said. “Jerk.”

  He blinked stupidly. What was wrong with her? Why would Tegan care if he was talking to Giana?

  Then his grin returned. Giana Leone wanted to talk to Jax Aubrey. Wow.

  The rest of his day was a blur, and nothing, not even the history test, could squelch his good mood. But he wasn’t exactly sure what their conversation meant. Was he allowed to wave at Giana from across the auditorium on Friday night? Hover nearby? Sit next to her?

  After the last bell, he tried to catch her at her locker. Maybe he could clarify the situation. Giana glanced his way, slammed her locker closed, and walked in the opposite direction. Jax quickened his pace. “Giana! Wait up.”

  She whirled, her eyes flashing. “What?”

  Jax stepped back, startled by her expression. But his mouth kept going, plunging forward in his convoluted plan to find out her favorite candy and show up with it. “I was wondering, for Friday, if they sold snacks, or if we were allowed to bring—“

  “I don’t care what you do,” she snapped. “Just stay away from me!”

  “Uh . . .”

  “And don’t you dare let anyone know I told you what was on the history test.”

  Jax gaped at her. Students in the hall were turning to watch.

  “Freak,” Giana hissed, walking away as fast as her legs could take her.

  Girls.
Did they take lessons on how to humiliate a guy? Or did it come to them naturally?

  Jax replayed the conversation in his head all the way home, but he couldn’t figure out what had happened. One minute, Giana had been talking to him and admiring his tattoo—well, sort of—and a couple periods later, she’d practically spit in his face.

  “Pendare?” A.J. lifted his head off the recliner when Jax opened the front door. The host of Extraterrestrial Evidence was blathering on about aliens abducting the ancient Khmer Empire.

  “No, it’s me.” Jax stumped into the kitchen and got a soda from the refrigerator, which now hummed smoothly and kept everything cold. He sat at his computer in the alcove off the kitchen and checked his email glumly, still stinging from Giana’s last word. Freak!

  Huh, imagine if she knew how much of a freak he really was.

  An automated response from the Between Wednesday and Thursday website suggested Jax “check online assistance between the hours of 3–5 pm.” He signed in and found the link for tech support. A chat window opened within seconds.

  terrance: yo jaxattax. what u need?

  jaxattax: cant access discussions

  terrance: reload page

  jaxattax: already did

  terrance: must b glitch. sign on w/family account till i check

  Jax felt the usual punch in the gut he got whenever somebody mentioned family. But he was learning to use it to his advantage.

  jaxattax: no family. thats the problem

  terrance: no family on forum? new members welcome.

  jaxattax: no family period. thats why i need forum

  terrance: sorry. u newly turned & no family 2 help?

  jaxattax: yup

  terrance: where you live?

  Now Jax paused.

  terrance: just the state, not yr address. im not a creep. there r groups 4 newly turned kids. maybe one in yr area.

  jaxattax: PA

  terrance: ill check PA & work on fixing yr account.

  jaxattax: thx

  He closed the chat window and looked at the list of discussions he couldn’t get into. He was attracted and repulsed by the idea of a group for kids like himself. Part of him wanted to talk to somebody besides Riley; another part screamed, Don’t make yourself more of a freak! After a few seconds, his attention was drawn to some of the discussions he couldn’t get into.