I hurried past the living room and down the long hallway that led to Dr. Slaski's room. I could hear the Game Show Network blaring away. That must have been a nice accompaniment to Kelly and Paul's make-out session. The dulcet tones of Bob Barker. Smack, smack.

When I got to Dr. Slaski's room, I stopped and knocked, just to make sure I wasn't interrupting a sponge bath or anything. When no one called for me to come in, I went ahead and pushed the partly open door. Dr. Slaski's attendant was sprawled in a chair in one corner, taking what was probably a well-earned nap. Dr. Slaski himself, propped up in his hospital bed, appeared to be dozing as well.

I hated to wake him, of course, but what choice did I have? Was I wrong in thinking that he might want to know that his own grandson was thinking of tampering with the course of history, something he himself had warned me was perilous in the extreme?

"Dr. Slaski?" I whispered, since I didn't want to wake the attendant, as well. "Dr. Slaski? Are you awake? It's me, Suze. Suze Simon. I have something really important I need to ask you."

Dr. Slaski opened one eye and looked at me. "This," he wheezed - his breathing didn't sound right - "had better be good."

"It's not," I assured him. "I mean, it's not good news, anyway. It's about Paul."

Dr. Slaski looked toward the ceiling. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It's just," I said, slipping onto the chair beside his bed, "that I found out why Paul wants to go back through time."

Dr. Slaski's eyelids opened a little wider. "To save mankind from the atrocities of Stalin?" he rasped.

"Um," I said. "No. To keep my boyfriend from dying."

Paul's grandfather blinked his rheumy eyes at me. "And this is a bad thing because . . . ?"

"Because if Paul goes back through time and saves Jesse," I whispered, to keep the attendant from overhearing, "I'll never meet him!"

"Paul?"

"No." I couldn't believe this. "Jesse!"

Dr. Slaski licked his cracked lips. "Because," he wheezed, "Jesse is. . . ."

"Dead, all right?" I shot the still-dozing attendant a careful look. "Jesse is dead. My boyfriend is a ghost."

Slowly, Dr. Slaski closed his eyes. "I don't," he sighed, "have the patience for this. I'm not feeling very well today."

"Dr. Slaski!" I leaned forward and prodded his arm. "Please, you have to help me. Tell Paul he can't do this. Tell him he can't play around with time travel, the way you told me. Tell him it's dangerous, that he'll end up like you. Tell him something, anything. But you've got to get him to stop before he ruins my life!"

Dr. Slaski, his eyes still closed, shook his head slowly from side to side. "You've come to the wrong person," he said. "I can't control that boy. Never could. Never will."

"But you can still try, Dr. Slaski," I cried. "Please, you've got to! If he saves Jesse . . . if he succeeds. . . ."

"Your heart will break." Dr. Slaski had opened his eyes and was gazing at me. "Your life will be over."

"Yes!"

"How old are you?" Dr. Slaski wanted to know. "Fifteen? Sixteen? You really think your life will be over if a boy you have a crush on - not even a boy, a ghost! - happens to disappear? Next year, you wouldn't remember him, anyway."

"That isn't true," I hissed at him through gritted teeth. "What Jesse and I have . . . it's something special. Paul knows that. That's why he's trying to ruin it."

Dr. Slaski looked interested in that.

"Is he?" he said with a little more animation. "And why would he want to do that, do you think?"

"Because . . ." I was embarrassed to admit it, but what choice did I have, really? I took a deep breath. "Because he thinks we should be together. Him and me. Because we're mediators."

A slow smile broke out across Dr. Slaski's dry, liver-spotted lips.

"Shifters," he corrected me.

"Shifters," I said. "Whatever. Dr. Slaski, it's not right, and you know it."

"On the contrary," Dr. Slaski said with a phlegmy cough. "It's probably the smartest thing that boy's ever done. Romantic, too. Almost gives me faith in him."

"Dr. Slaski!"

"What's so wrong with it, anyway?" Dr. Slaski glared at me. "Sounds to me like he's doing you a favor. Or the boyfriend, anyway. You think this Jessup - "

"Jesse."

"You think this Jesse likes being a ghost? Hanging around tor all eternity, watching you live your life, while he hovers in the background, never aging, never feeling an ocean breeze on his face, never again tasting blueberry pie. Is that the kind of life you wish for him? You must love him a lot, if that's true."

I felt heat rising in my cheeks at his tone.

"Of course that's not what I want for him," I said fiercely. "But if the alternative is never having known him at all - well, I don't want that, either. And neither would he!"

"But you haven't asked him, have you?"

"Well, I - "

"Have you?"

"Well." I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "No. No, I haven't."

"I didn't think so," Dr. Slaski said. "And I know why, too. You're afraid of what he'll say. You're afraid he'll say he'd rather live."

I looked up sharply. "That isn't true!"

"It is and you know it. You're afraid he'd say he'd rather live out the rest of his life, the way he was supposed to, never having known you - "

"There has to be another way!" I cried. "It can't just be one thing or the other. Paul said something about soul transference - "

"Ah," Dr. Slaski said. "But for that, you need to have a body available to take the soul you want to transfer into it."

I thought darkly of Paul. "I think I know of one," I said.

As if he'd read my thoughts, Dr. Slaski said, "But you won't do that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Won't I?"

"No," he said. His voice was beginning to sound fainter and fainter. "No, you won't. He would. If he thought it'd get him what he wanted. But not you. You don't have it in you."

"I do," I said as fiercely as I was able.

But Dr. Slaski only shook his head again. "You're not like him," he said. "Or me. No need to get huffy about it. It's a good thing. You'll live longer."

"Maybe," I said, tears filling my eyes as I looked down at my hands. "But what's the point, if I'm not happy?"

Dr. Slaski didn't say anything for a while. His breathing had grown so raspy, that after a minute or so, I began to think he was snoring, and looked up, fearing he'd fallen asleep.

But he hadn't. His gaze on me was steady.

"You love this boy?" Dr. Slaski asked finally.

"Jesse?" I nodded, unable to say more.

"There is one thing you could do," he wheezed. "Never tried it myself, but I heard it could be done. Wouldn't recommend it, of course. Probably put you into an early grave, like I'll be, soon enough."

I leaned forward in my chair.

"What is it?" I cried. "Tell me, please. I'll do anything . . . anything!"

"Anything that doesn't involve killing someone, you mean," Dr. Slaski said and broke down into a coughing fit from which it seemed to take him ages to recover. Finally, lying back on his hospital bed, the horrible, body-wracking spasms finished, he wheezed, "When you go back . . ."

"Back? Through time, you mean?"

He didn't respond. He just looked up at the ceiling.

"Dr. Slaski? Go back through time? Is that what you meant?"

But Dr. Slaski never finished that sentence. Because midway through it, his jaw went slack, his eyes closed, and he fell sound asleep.

Or at least that's what I assumed.

I couldn't believe it. He's about to give me some really valuable tip on how I might be able to save Jesse, and suddenly his Excedrin PM kicks in? What's the deal with that?

I reached out to touch his hand, hoping that might wake him. "Dr. Slaski?" I called a little more loudly. When he still didn't respond, panic set in.

"Dr. Slaski?" I cried. "Dr. Slaski, wake up!"

My scream brought the attendant snorting back into consciousness. He was up and out of his chair at once, crying, "What? What is it?"

"I don't know," I stammered. "He - he won't wake up."

The attendant's fingers flew over Paul's grandfather's body, feeling for a pulse, adjusting IVs. . . .

Next thing I knew, he'd straddled the old man and was pounding on his chest.

"Call nine-one-one," he yelled at me.

I just stood there, not understanding. "He was just talking to me," I said. "We were having a totally normal conversation. I mean, he was coughing a lot, but . . . but he was fine. And then all of a sudden - "

The attendant had to say it twice.

"Call nine-one-one! Get an ambulance!"

That's when I noticed that there was a phone right there in the room. I picked it up and dialed. When the operator came on, I told her that we needed an ambulance and gave her the address. Meanwhile, behind me, the attendant had placed an oxygen mask over Dr. Slaski's face, and was filling a syringe with something.

"I don't understand this," he kept saying. "He was fine an hour ago. Just fine!"

I didn't understand it, either. Unless Dr. Slaski was much more ill than he'd ever let on.

There didn't seem to be much else I could do to help, so I figured I'd better go and tell Paul his grandfather had had some sort of attack. I got back to the living room just in time to see Kelly, seated beside Paul on the couch, her legs draped over his like a throw, stick her tongue in his mouth. . . . A sight I actually would have paid money to have been spared.

"Ahem," I said, from the hallway.

Kelly pulled her face off Paul's and looked at me sourly.