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Chapter 1

"Are you ready to faint today, Phyllis?" I asked as I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.

Phyllis looked up over her computer screen, her gray eyes crinkling in the corners over her deep crow's feet as she smiled. She shifted the peppermint in her mouth and nodded her head of short, gray hair. "Ready, sweetheart."

I moved down the row of computers, wringing my hands together. "Howard?"

Howard, who always had a smile on his face, smiled even bigger over his screen. His rosy cheeks and bulbous nose glowed a brighter red today. "Are you ready?"

I forced a chuckle. The wringing of my hands turned into painful twisting as I made my way up the aisle towards the double doors. I stuffed my fidgeting hands into the pockets of my jeans and willed myself to chill. This was not a movie to be directed. These were not movie stars who were performing for me today. I was just a seventeen-year-old girl who had dreamed up The Plan and explained it to the people who came regularly to the Morgan Hills Community Center's computer lab, a.k.a. The Regulars. They took their parts very seriously, which may help explain my nervousness.

Still looking at the double doors, I stopped at the third row of computers and glanced over at Matt in the fourth row. Matt's friend Dalton, who was normally huddled right next to Matt in the far corner of the back row, had the key role in The Plan. I was apprehensive about giving such an important role to a junior high kid at first, but my mind was changed once I saw how excited he was about it.

Matt's cell phone buzzed, and he answered. He shook his dark hair out of his eyes so he could read the text. "Dalton's seen him, Jasmine. Mr. Blue's coming," he called over to me from the corner.

I nodded as my heart flipped over in my chest and turned to take my place at the front of the room. One of the double doors opened, stirring the air in this room and the hallway together. The door creaked loudly as it opened farther and creaked again before it clicked closed.

Since this wasn't a big Hollywood production, I didn't have to yell, "Action!" I thought the word instead, trying to think myself into action. I exhaled slowly, forcing all the air from my lungs, so that my next breath might be normal.

When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that he really was here. Mr. Blue. He sat in the back row on the right side of the computer lab, but that side of the room was empty of computers. Matt and Dalton came up with the nickname Mr. Blue because he always dressed in blue jeans and a baggy blue-hooded sweatshirt. Every day the last three weeks, he'd shuffled into the lab, sat in his usual spot, and observed but never participated. When one of the Regulars or I made the slightest move to approach him and invite him to join us for a free computer class, he bolted out the double doors, his shuffled walk instantly lost. He appeared to be in his seventies, or about the same age as Phyllis and Howard. But no one ever saw him up close. No one ever talked to him. No one ever heard him speak. Mr. Blue was a mystery, and we decided to let him remain a mystery.

Until today. Until The Plan.

My breathing was as normal as it was going to get, so I knelt next to Phyllis. "Pretend I'm asking you a question."

Phyllis glanced sideways at me, a smile hinting at the lined corners of her mouth. She pointed at her computer screen and nodded.

One of the double doors burst open, causing the air in this room and the hallway to collide with an audible whoosh. Dalton wilted into a bloody, wailing pile on the floor right in front of the double doors, blocking anyone's exit.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" Howard yelled before he even made it out of his seat.

As the other Regulars jumped up, I rushed down the aisle. I passed Mr. Blue, who now stood next to his chair to better see the madness at the door, and knelt at Dalton's side.

"Dalton, what happened?" I asked over his wailing.

He sat clutching his hoverboard in one hand and his bloody knee in the other. The sweet and salty smell of ketchup filled my nose, and I wondered if Dalton had used the whole bottle.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" Howard yelled again from behind me.

I was pretty sure I'd told him to say that just once, but whatever.

"I fell." Dalton gasped. "Stupid hoverboard!" He flung it away from him, and it flipped towards Mr. Blue.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Mr. Blue hadn't moved from beside his chair.

Dalton winced and wailed some more as he grasped his knee with both hands. Even his freckled face was red and splotchy as if he were crying.

I put my hands on his and said, "Let me see."

He slowly pulled his hands away, and I positioned myself so Mr. Blue wouldn't see that there was no wound.

Gasps of horror sounded behind me at the imaginary wound. Then, on cue, there was a grunt and a yelp. I looked behind me, and there was Phyllis on the floor in a faint. Howard used the table next to him to help him slowly kneel next to her and then began fanning her with both hands.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" he yelled again.

I tried to hide a smile as I turned to Matt, who was hovering over his friend. "Matt, go get some wet paper towels and some water for Phyllis."

He snapped into action and gingerly stepped over all the bodies to get out of the double doors. Dalton leaned away from the doors so Matt could get through easier, but then scooted even closer to them once his friend was gone.

Mr. Blue was still trapped in here with us, unmoving.

I turned to look at Phyllis lying gracefully on the floor. Howard was still fanning her, but with much less gusto. His hands were probably getting tired, so he switched to loud clapping, bringing his hands together again and again an inch from Phyllis's nose.

Forcing the laugh back down my throat, I turned back to Dalton. His wails turned to moans. I rubbed his back and thought about French fries dipped in ketchup.

One of the double doors opened and slammed into Dalton's side.

"Ouch!" Dalton glared at the door, then scooted and leaned away from it as it creaked open.

"Sorry," Matt grumbled as he entered. He carefully stepped over everyone and handed a cup of water to Howard, then knelt next to me with a pile of dripping paper towels.

Howard, who had stopped his clapping, said, "I think she's waking up."

As I attempted to unfold a soggy paper towel, I turned to Phyllis who was blinking her eyes and trying to sit up. She was really good at this. Howard helped her sip the water from the cup.

Matt and I cleaned the mess of ketchup off of Dalton. It covered his shorts, his shoes and socks, and the dingy brown carpet around him. We wrapped the remaining paper towels around his knee to hide his nonexistent wound. He kept wincing and taking sharp intakes of air as we worked. I shook my head at his brilliant acting ability.

"Go and talk to him," Matt whispered to me.

I nodded and straightened up slowly, my body stiff from kneeling. My knees felt permanently dented. I turned towards Mr. Blue and looked at him closely for the first time. He still stood next to his usual chair, an amused expression on his deeply lined face. Maybe he wasn't as impressed with our acting abilities as I was.

It was his eyes that held me frozen to the floor. They were a deep, penetrating blue. Familiar in a way, but I couldn't say how.

He broke my gaze and looked away, his face now blank.

"He'll be okay." I gestured behind me. "It's not nearly as bad as it looks." I glanced behind me at Phyllis, who was now sitting up. "It looks like Phyllis is okay now, too." I held out my hand towards him. "I'm Jasmine."

He made no move to shake it since both of his hands were buried in the big pocket on the front of his baggy blue sweatshirt. He wouldn't meet my eyes again.

I let my extended arm fall back by my side. "If you'd ever like to join us for a class, you can. Or you can just use a computer."

I was about to explain to him that it was a free class when he pierced me with his eyes again. He closed the distance between us in half a heartbeat and grabbed my shoulder roughly.

"Have you seen your sister lately?" he asked.

Then he barreled out the door, light-footed and fast enough to avoid stepping on anyone as he went.