Kenya had dozed off with the lights still on, and when the knocking woke her up she panicked. She didn't recognize the bed she was in, the color of the walls, the temperature of the light. Her head was still in a dream, still in the house in Germany.

They were pounding so hard on the door it was rattling in its frame. The moment came back into focus. Kenya lurched to the door on stiff legs and opened it to find Audrey and one of the twins from her band, and another guy she didn't recognize, all crazy-eyed and out of breath.

They were carrying Joanie on their shoulders, like a warrior queen fallen on the battlefield.

"Christ, Audrey," Kenya said. "What the fuck happened?"

"Fucking move, Kenya!" A voice from behind the guy she didn't know. It was Sarah, of all people. "She's heavier than she looks."

Kenya stepped aside, and they carried her in and laid her on Kenya's bed. It was the nice one (they traded for sophomore year), but Joanie's feet still stuck straight off the end, like the Wicked Witch of the East in purple Reeboks. "What's wrong with her?"

Sarah gave her a look. "Isn't it obvious?" Kenya didn't care for the little princess's tone, but it was obvious. Joanie had taken all the gunpowder - as in, she had taken all the gunpowder. A heroic dose, Kenya thought it was called. Joanie's eyes were black, twin opals set in a reliquary skull. She had the tremors that Kenya recognized, but they were so fast, more like shivering than the usual spasms, and they didn't stop. Joanie was communing, but where and with whom, she had no idea. Audrey sat on the bed and stroked Joanie's dirty hair.

"Kenya, we've got to do something." Audrey's voice was shaky, brittle. She was close to breaking. Kenya knew how she felt. If something happened to Joanie, they'd both blame themselves.

"Okay," said Kenya. "Okay. We need to think about this." First things first, they needed to get the boys out of there. Audrey too, ideally, but it didn't look like she could be pried away from Joanie. They'd probably need her to help carry Joanie anyway.

The twin was scratching at a tattoo on his forearm. He looked gullible enough. "What she needs is electrolytes. Can you guys go find some Gatorade or something?"

"Yeah, totally," said the twin. But the other guy was hesitant. Kenya looked him over: not tall but not short, formless in khakis and a checked shirt. Something clicked in her memory. He was the guy from Weston, the armadillo with Blondie and the mouthbreather. Small fucking world.

"I think I need to stay with her," he said.

Kenya didn't have time for this bullshit. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Tim?" Like he wasn't sure.

"Tim. Listen to me. What Joanie needs right now is some Gatorade. Okay?"

"Okay. But I...I think I'm supposed to be here. I'm—"

"He's the boy in the tunnel," said the twin, scratching at a tattoo on his forearm. "He won't shut up about it."

Kenya stared at the kid. "Holy shit. The actual boy in the actual goddamn tunnel." Joanie must not have ripped out those pages after all. Tim actually smiled, like some D-list actor finally recognized on the street. Things were just going completely pear-shaped tonight.

Audrey stood, her little fists balled up. "Can you please shut up and help her?"

"You heard the lady. Gatorade." Kenya squared up, ready to physically herd them out of the room if she had to.

The twin grabbed Tim by the arm. "Come on, dude. The Kangaroo's open. Let's go get some Gatorade." He guided Tim out the door, the kid looking back at Joanie the whole time like he was never going to see her again. If Kenya had anything to say about it, he wouldn't.

Kenya shut the door behind them. "All right." Step two: she backhanded Sarah on the shoulder. "Why'd you fucking bring her here? God knows how many people saw you."

Sarah took a swipe at Kenya, but she dodged it. "She was wandering around downtown and West Campus, screaming her fucking head off. How many people do you think saw that?"

There was no point in arguing with Sarah right now. "So why did you bring her here?"

"So you could call Charlie."

There it was. Of course. "You can't call Charlie?"

Sarah fiddled with the bracelets on her right wrist. "Charlie," she started. "I don't think Charlie's really talking to me right now?"

Of course. "Uh-huh. And why's that?"

"Can you just call Charlie?"

Audrey grabbed the phone receiver. "Goddamn it! Just give me the number and I'll call Charlie, whoever the fuck Charlie is." Tears were forming in Audrey's eyes. One fell, leaving a streak of mascara on her cheek to match the gunpowder burns on Joanie's face. Kenya forgot sometimes how much they must have meant to each other.

Kenya took the receiver from Audrey's hand as gently as she could. "That's not a good idea." She punched in the four numbers for the Student Activities Office and waited.

After four rings, Charlie picked up. "Who is this?" Charlie must have lived in Student Activities. Kenya had never seen her outside the office.

"Charlie, it's Kenya."

A pause. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Listen, something's wrong with Joanie."

"What does that mean?"

Kenya wasn't quite sure what to say. You never knew who was listening. "You know...you know when you go to Olive Garden and they put fresh ground pepper on your pasta? And you forget to say when?"

A longer pause. "Kenya, what the hell are you talking about?"

"She took...you know...too much of it?"

"Damn it, Kenya, nobody's listening in on these calls."

"She took a shitload of gunpowder, okay? She's been wandering around all night screaming, apparently, and it looks like she's communing but it's not stopping—"

"Okay. Calm down. Go to the Health Center. Ask for Lark."

"Lark?" But Charlie had already hung up.

Kenya replaced the receiver. "Well?" said Sarah.

"Did you guys drive her here?"

They hauled Joanie out to the little visitor's lot behind Mary Rutherford, where Audrey's Volvo was parked diagonally across both handicapped spots with its lights still on. There were three Everybody girls in their purple T-shirts at the bus stop next to the lot. When Audrey unlocked the Volvo's doors, they all turned in unison to see Kenya and Sarah carrying Joanie with her arms slung over their shoulders, Weekend at Bernie's-style.

"Make sure she gets home safe," said one of the Everybody girls, or maybe all three. Kenya found it hard to get her eyes to focus on just one of them.

"That's the plan." Audrey opened a door so they could slide Joanie into the back seat.

"If you're looking for a different ending to your night," said the girls, "next time give the Everybody a chance." They all raised their white cakeboxes in salute.

Audrey floored it out of the parking lot and headed for the North Campus extension and the Health Center. Sarah rode shotgun, and Kenya sat in the back with Joanie's head resting in her lap. She looked back and could just see the Everybody girls still waiting at the bus stop. "What is their deal?" she asked.

"I went to one of their box socials last year," said Sarah.

"Really? What was it like?"

Sarah reached for her bracelets again. She rotated a chunky black plastic one around and around her right wrist. "It wasn't my kind of thing," she finally said.

"At least tell us what's in the boxes."

"I don't know. I never got one." Sarah kept turning the bracelet, clockwise, like she was trying to screw her hand on tighter.

Audrey ran the light at Martin and Hollister and sped past Weston, then hung a left onto Rivers at the arena. The last time Kenya had been in this car was nearly a year ago, when she still barely knew Joanie. Audrey and Joanie were clinging to each other, clinging to the safe place they had already made. Kenya wanted what they had. She'd never stayed in one place long enough to make that kind of friend. She was always the outsider, but with Joanie she had found a way in.

She wondered if it was still there. She lifted up the padding that had separated from the armrest on the door, and smiled. A year ago, while Joanie and Audrey had talked in their childhood shorthand about people Kenya would never know, she had lifted that padding and scratched into the foam with a fingernail: "JOANIE IS MINE." A wish, a command, a spell. And it had come true, as sure if it was written in the Handbook. Audrey had drifted away, into the orbit of the twins and their band, and Kenya and Joanie had become something more than friends, more than teammates. They were a team unto themselves, and they were undefeated.

"There's a cop!" Sarah screamed. Audrey stepped on the brakes, and the Volvo jerked to a stop at the light at Powell. A CPD cruiser was stopped in the oncoming lane just over Powell. "Just calm down," said Sarah. "We're almost there. Running lights is only going to make things worse."

Audrey was strangling the wheel, her eyes on the red light. "You don't even know Joanie," she said.

Sarah rotated the bracelet again. "I know Joanie."

"Fuck!" Audrey hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand and turned toward Sarah. "Who even are you?" Sarah didn't answer, didn't even look at Audrey. "Huh? Who the fuck are you?"

They sat there for a full minute, bathed in red from a traffic light that refused to change. They were all united in this bloody glow by love for one person, and in that way they prayed. Each of them had, in her own way, written "JOANIE IS MINE" in the malleable surface of her heart. Even Sarah, Kenya knew, though she never talked about it. Joanie twitched and shook, and Kenya looked into those black eyes for an answer but saw only herself.

They waited for a minute, in silence and supplication. Kenya wondered if the cops across the street were watching; and if so, what they saw.

The light changed. "It's green," said Sarah, and Audrey drove on.

Coming on Friday: Party time.