Smoke Sick.

  I turned back to see that Scape, Fleck, and Jonquil were all holding their breath, their cheeks puffed out. I did the same, then turned to Jeremiah—but he was nearly passed out already.

  We have to wake up. We have to wake up now!

  I went to grab the energy watch chain in Jeremiah’s pocket, but it slid through my fingers, like it was just a hologram. I tried again, but it was the same.

  What the heck? Is it because he has it in the real world?

  “Rosemary! Hurry!”

  I clamped my fingers over his nose. His eyes burst wide as he gasped for air. I covered his mouth to stop the smoke from getting in.

  Wake up. Come on, wake up! I was pinching my arm over and over again, hoping it would send some signal to my body. I have to wake up now.

  I looked up to see Fleck carving something into a bronze tile. Jonquil carried Scape on his back. He turned to me, uncovering his mouth and nose for only a moment to say, “Hurry, Rosemary! The boat’s going to disappear!”

  Seconds later a bronze bird, bigger than a motorcycle, soared out from the tile, hovering over the boat with squeaky flaps of its large wings.

  I stood to follow the others as they climbed on its back, but then I heard Jeremiah cough, choking on the smoke. I rushed back to him.

  What will happen if the Wall gets him? Will he really get hurt? Will he wake up?

  “Stand up. Jeremiah, please stand up,” I wheezed, taking the smallest breaths I could.

  His eyelids fluttered, but he couldn’t wake.

  “Hurry, Rosemary! There’s no time!”

  I tried to lift him, but he was too heavy.

  I can’t leave him.

  I knew that Jeremiah was cruel, and I knew that he didn’t deserve my help. Would he ever help me? Of course not.

  But I’m not like him, am I?

  I waved the others forward, trying to tell them to go without me. I could barely hold my breath any longer.

  I just had to keep us alive until we woke up, then we’d be fine. Everything would be fine.

  “Well, hello, children.”

  The voice sent a shiver down my spine.

  I turned to see that Fleck, Scape, and Jonquil were gone—along with the big bronze bird. It was just me, Jeremiah, and the Smoke Keeper.

  Thud. Thud. I felt the boat rock with footsteps as he strode off his ship onto ours.

  As he walked toward me, he took a big breath in. I could see the smoke streaming into his mouth and nose. He smiled, then stood up taller—like he had grown even stronger. It was as if breathing in smoke was the same as breathing in air. Maybe for him it was.

  “I’m going to throw both of you into the Wall,” he growled, wrapping long, bony fingers around Jeremiah’s ankle, “and then I’m going to drink you up—”

  Before he could finish, the bronze bird rammed into him, throwing him backward onto his boat. He nearly flew off, into the Mire, but he snatched the edge of the ship just in time and pulled himself back in.

  “Use your smoke, Rose!” I heard Fleck’s faint voice as the bird flew back up into the air.

  Jeremiah pushed himself backward, woozy.

  Think, Rose, think. What would Jo do?

  Well, of course, this was just like her competitions.

  “What should I draw?” I would ask her.

  “Whatever you need,” she’d say.

  I scrambled onto my knees, snatching up Fleck’s nail that had dropped and rolled underneath the lip of the boat.

  Then a white wooden block clattered to my feet.

  I grabbed the block and scratched quickly. It was small, but maybe I could make it work.

  I could hear the Smoke Keeper rise again, his joints cracking. “Mine. You’re both mine.”

  As the smoke settled in my lungs, taking with it my ability to think, I found myself unable to worry. I just drew, like Jo had always told me.

  I looked up to see the Smoke Keeper crawling across the ship. His bony arms and legs were fast and angular, like a spider’s.

  But my drawing was done. I watched it rise, glowing brown. Then it settled in my hand. It was a tiny wooden arrow, perfectly straight, and the curve of a bow. I snatched the elastic band from my hair. My brown curls fell free as I snapped the band to the bow.

  I looked up, startled, to see the Smoke Keeper dragging a kicking Jeremiah onto the black ship.

  Quickly, I dunked the tip of the arrow into the Mire, setting it ablaze. Then I fit it in the bow, as best as I could, and pulled back.

  Twang.

  The Smoke Keeper stopped for only a moment to watch the tiny arrow soar straight over his ship.

  He grinned at me, toothy and wild. “It seems you missed, girl.”

  But I hadn’t.

  The arrow shot across the backs of a row of Mireflies, lighting them on fire. The flames spread quickly down the ropes, to each Mirefly, and then slowly down the ship itself.

  The Smoke Keeper’s ship was on fire.

  I did it! a proud little thought whispered.

  “How dare you?” the Smoke Keeper’s voice boomed out.

  I expected him to retreat, but instead, he stormed across the boat, straight at me.

  I was too frightened to move.

  Then I noticed that the ground was glowing a faint purple.

  The boat is going to explode. I need to wake up!

  I didn’t want to know what it would feel like to fall into the Mire, nor did I want to know what would happen if I was thrown into the Wall.

  Right before either happened, however, Jeremiah pushed himself in front of me. The Smoke Keeper’s bony fingers wrapped around his wrist instead of mine.

  I was too shocked to think or try to stop it as the Smoke Keeper, in his rage, lifted Jeremiah and threw him. The moment he was in the air, it was as if the Wall were a vacuum sucking him in.

  He made no sounds as he fell into the Wall. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open. He was trapped, suspended in the middle of the swirling energy.

  I wanted to scream, to say or do something, but I suddenly felt very weak. I could hear a ticking in my head.

  “Now you,” the Smoke Keeper said, the burning ship behind him.

  But everything was turning gray. There was so much smoke, and it was everywhere. I could feel the floor of the boat giving out from under me.

  The last thing I saw before I finally passed out was Jeremiah’s face, trapped, frozen midscream inside the Wall.

  I swear he was looking right at me.

  THE WORLD OUTSIDE THE WATCH

  Ugh.”

  I sat up quickly but regretted it. My whole body ached.

  Why am I here? Why does everything hurt?

  Then the memories streamed back: the slumber party, the battle with the Smoke Keeper, Jeremiah trapped in the Wall.

  I glanced down at my body, but there were no bruises or burns. I would have expected some after last night. This must be the “phantom pain” Alejandro had told me about.

  I felt my pockets, the ground, the cushions, but I couldn’t find the watch. Jeremiah must have really taken it.

  I’m the worst. Jo had given me only a couple of rules, and I’d already broken the most important one.

  There was only one way to fix it. I would have to find Jeremiah to get the watch back before he woke up.

  I squinted at the old cat clock on the wall behind me. It was almost 10:00 a.m., and no one had come to wake me up.

  At least it’s Saturday, I thought, hurrying from the basement. I had to make this quick and then get out of there.

  I snatched up my backpack and tiptoed up the stairs. I could smell eggs and waffles from the kitchen down the hall. Must be Mr. and Mrs. Berg cooking breakfast. They used to make us eggs and waffles after all our sleepovers.

  I pushed the memory away and slid down a hall. Jeremiah’s room was at the end, next to Fallon’s. I really, really didn’t want to wake anybody up. It’d be impossible to get the watch back if someone caught me now.

  I pushed open Jeremiah’s door.

  The walls were covered in soccer posters. Jeremiah was still in bed, flat on his back.

  He’s still asleep, right? I’ll have to be quiet.

  I snuck up to his bedside, as silently as I could, but when I peered down, I wanted to scream. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself.

  His face was pale and drenched with sweat.

  I stepped closer to inspect him. He took low, shallow breaths.

  He wasn’t dead, at least, but this was really weird.

  I shook his shoulder and whispered his name, but it didn’t work. I got bolder, louder, rougher, but still he lay there.

  What if he couldn’t wake up because he was trapped in the Wall? Alejandro thought that our minds could enter alternate realities but not our bodies, right? Then what if Jeremiah’s mind had gotten stuck there?

  Will he be like this forever?

  All at once I felt panicked. I had to do something. I had to help him.

  I ripped the covers off and saw the watch in his fist.

  I pried it from his warm fingers, dropped it back into my pocket, and replaced his blanket.

  If he was trapped in the dreamworld, it was probably my job to get him out.

  I clicked Jeremiah’s door shut behind me, then stopped to listen outside Fallon’s room. I wanted to know if all the girls were awake yet.

  I pressed an ear to the door and listened. I could hear the soft sounds of someone snoring.

  Good. It’s still safe.

  “Oh! Rosemary, dear! You’re awake!” I spun around to see Mrs. Berg wearing an apron. She was smiling. I suddenly felt very bad about Jeremiah. What would she think when she saw him? I couldn’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t believe me.

  “I was coming to get you kids for breakfast!”

  “Everyone’s still asleep,” I mumbled, my eyes down. I couldn’t face her.

  “Oh, all right. Then I guess we can wait.” She suddenly gasped. “Rosemary!”

  I looked up quickly, aware that my heart was beating much faster than it should.

  “What?”

  “Your face!”

  I turned to see my reflection in a portrait on the wall.

  I expected maybe bruises from last night, but instead, there were thick black and red Sharpie lines.

  Someone had drawn a mustache on me, connected my eyebrows, drawn spots all over my face. “GROSSY” was written in big letters across my forehead. I couldn’t stop the blush from reaching to the tops of my ears.

  They must have done it while I was asleep. I guess that’s when Jeremiah stole my watch.

  “Who did that?” Mrs. Berg whispered with concern, her hand around my cheek so that she could get a better look.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, pulling my face away. “It was just a game,” I muttered, pushing past her.

  “Oh.” I turned back to see her eyes screwed up in pity. It was like she knew I was lying. “Well, let me help you wash it off, and then you can get some breakfast. How does that sound?” she asked, her big smile returning.

  I shook my head. “I kind of want to go home. Do you mind if I call my mom and wait outside?”

  I really didn’t want to run into any of the girls when they started waking up.

  “That’s fine, hon.”

  Mom can’t see me like this. It’ll break her heart.

  “Actually, yeah, could you please help me wash this off first?”

  * * *

  “Sooo, how was the party?” Mom sang.

  For a second I thought about telling her what had really happened. Telling her that it had been a bad idea for me to go in the first place and that I never wanted to do it again… but then she smiled at me.

  If I told her, then she’d just get sad again. I didn’t want to disappoint her.

  Instead, I said, “Good. It was fun.”

  “Right? I knew it would be! You just have to give things a chance, my love!”

  THE BOOK

  As soon as we got home, I rushed to my room and locked the door. I needed a plan of action.

  Maybe Jeremiah would wake up on his own. Then all I’d have to do was convince him that neither the Wall nor the watch was real.

  If he didn’t wake up, that was a lot scarier. I would have to find a way to get him out of the Wall before he died… or, at least, before his mind did.

  My stomach hurt just thinking about it.

  A plan, I need a plan, I thought as I paced.

  “If you want to win, you need a plan,” Jo’s voice echoed in my memory.

  Jo had told me so many stories, but I guess I hadn’t paid enough attention—I didn’t know the stories could possibly be real, so I didn’t realize how important all the details were.

  And now Jo was gone. I couldn’t ask her questions about what to do or where to go.

  Why didn’t she give me specific instructions or something?

  I stopped pacing, a realization holding me still. But what if she did leave instructions?

  I rushed to my closet. Up on the highest shelf, tucked away in the back, was a dusty old book—the storybook about the clock world. What if it wasn’t just a storybook after all? What if it was a guide?

  I held it as gently as I could, afraid that somehow, after years of sitting there, it might fall apart at my touch.

  I blew the dust off the worn cover. Over the years the red leather had faded to more of a brick brown, and the once-gold threading was tinged with age too, save for in the middle of the braids where some luminous gold still winked out.

  The Thirteenth Hour.

  It looked the same as it had in my memories. This book felt more different and special than any other. It always had.

  It had been a long time since I’d looked at this book, and I wondered how much I’d forgotten. One page, however, stuck out. I flipped to it, near the back.

  Amisi was flying over a city where everyone wore masks and rode on giant turtles. An electric-blue dragon soared alongside Amisi—it glowed the same shade of brown as the things I had drawn in Eleven.

  The inscription read: Amisi found himself at the Eleventh Hour, where everyone danced. The people of Eleven were so happy because they could create anything using only a pen and their imagination.

  It really was the world I had discovered in my dreams, and it had been here all along.

  I went back a handful of pages to see a farm, but instead of a farmhouse, there was a huge matchbox, and in place of a windmill was a rainbow-colored pinwheel. Surrounding the strange scene were whole fields of apple trees that only came up to a farmer’s knees—I couldn’t tell if they were tiny or if he was a giant.

  The man held a red apple in the palm of his hand. It was surrounded by glowing red energy that swirled like a tornado.

  It reminded me of how Fleck’s purple smoke moved.

  I guess the red of Six and the blue of Eleven combined into purple—makes sense.

  Amisi found himself at the Sixth Hour, the text read, where nothing was the size it was supposed to be—because the farmers of Six could make anything bigger or smaller, even themselves!

  So this is Fleck’s world, I thought, or half her world, at least. I stared intently at the farmer, satisfied by the spray of freckles spattered across his cheeks.

  I reached over my desk and grabbed a Post-it Note. I scribbled, Six, Fleck. Then I stuck the Post-it in the corner of the farmer’s page.

  I figured Jo hadn’t collected the energy from Six, because I didn’t see red Smoke in the watch when I was in Eleven. I put an X on the Post-it.

  One down, eleven worlds to go.

  Jonquil’s smoke was a very light blue, which meant he was the blue of Eleven and the white of Three, represented in the book’s drawing by a dark mountain that floated above the ground, a black ocean underneath. A woman with long yellow hair was just visible, lofting her hand above her head, shooting white smoke and fire toward the mountain.

  I put a Post-it with a check mark on it on that page. There was white smoke in the watch, I realized with relief. I didn’t want to have to go to the scary fire mountain.

  Then there was Scape’s green smoke. I matched it to a page that looked straight out of a cartoon—the people there had yellow smoke, it seemed. A man had presumably been run over by a wild carriage, his body perfectly flat on the ground. But what was strange was that he had peeled his head up off the ground to look at the carriage as it pulled away. His whole body was awash with a sunny yellow glow.

  That page’s sticky note got a check mark too.

  I got excited—maybe my plan would work. All I had to do was find out which other worlds Jo had already gotten smoke from. After that, I could figure out how to get smoke from the rest.

  I found the last three colors of smoke that were in the watch. The bright violet smoke was from Nine, where everything was covered in snow. The black smoke was from Two, where a boy sailed straight into the sky. And, last, the pink energy came from Eight, where the people tunneled underground.

  By the time I had found all of the colors, the book was covered in Post-its. There were seven kinds of smoke I needed to collect, including Eleven’s.

  No wonder Jo never got it—the Smoke Keeper of Eleven was terrifying. How was I supposed to steal smoke from him when he had his guards around all the time?

  And how was I going to get smoke from the Smoke Keepers, anyway? Plug their noses and ask them to sneeze? I doubted the Smoke Keepers from the other worlds would be any nicer than the one from Eleven.

  I wished Jo were around so I could talk to her, ask her what I should do.

  “Just buck up and save that brat’s life!” is probably what she’d say. I giggled at the thought, but then the nerves crept back in.

  I shouldn’t be in charge of someone living or dying. There shouldn’t be any worlds inside watches. Jo shouldn’t be missing.

  I read through the book again and again, trying to find clues on how I was going to survive in these odd places.

  But there was something strange, I realized. There should be twelve worlds, but there were only eleven.