"They got me once. And trust me, it wasn't funny either, but they didn't mean any harm by it." There was silence for a moment. "But call the cops if you think it'll make you feel better. It would serve them right."

I checked the driveway again. Nothing. Michael was gone. "If he was still out there, I would, but now I'll just come off as a paranoid teenager."

"You okay now?" "I'm okay."

"Good. Now forget about the crazy loser guy. You have to tell me everything that happened with you and Chris." So I did.

I talked to her for ten minutes about the dance-and her date and what she was planning to wear-until I felt better. After I hung up the phone, I figured I'd get started on my studying.

I was so mad that I'd allowed myself to believe Michael's stupid joke. That jerk was probably laughing right now at how gullible I was.

Other dimensions. Sure.

I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself without Melinda's help, as I shakily walked through the dark and silent house and up the staircase to my bedroom. Lining the walls were framed covers of my mom's romance novels. Being married and divorced multiple times hadn't done much to change the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and she loved to talk about-and write about-being in love. My father had never been part of those conversations, though.

My eyes narrowed at the thought of my father. If I did have the chance to someday meet the man who had left her alone, I'd have several choice things to say to him, none of which was, "Nice to meet you, Daddy."

Demon king.

I was sure he was a demon, all right. But of the purely human variety.

By this time, the envelope Michael had given me was all wrinkled up, and I threw it on my bed along with my backpack. My stomach was churning and I still had my headache.

I wondered what the point of the practical joke had been-other than just messing with me. I was supposed to read this note and then go with him. Where was he going to take me? Or would he have come clean about everything before that?