Wes and I stood in front of the door labeled 1051. That’s the room number the nurse had given us. The door was cracked, and I could hear voices from the inside.

  “I told you that I don’t want it!” Jo’s voice.

  “Oh, Miss Marks, I promise it will help. Just take it.” I peeked my head in to see a nurse standing in front of the bed.

  “And I told you to—” Jo’s raspy voice was cut off by loud, wet coughs.

  The nurse sighed as she stepped away, revealing a thin, pale woman I barely recognized. She was propped up on the white bed by pillows, the covers drawn up to her chin. Her hair was only a bit red now, mixed with mostly white. The most surprising thing, though, was that it was short—just past her ears. Her skin looked looser than it used to. Her eyes were the same, though: a bright, clear green that looked as if they were keeping a secret. Jo had always said she liked my streaky, spotted hazel eyes more than she liked her own. I didn’t understand that. Everything about me was boring.

  “Will you take it for me?” The nurse held out a little Dixie cup toward Jo. When she jiggled the cup, something inside rattled.

  “Fine.” Jo pushed down the covers with one hand; in the other she clasped something small and gold. After a moment she set it to her side. I saw just a glimpse of the thing through the folds of the blanket. It was the pocket watch.

  The nurse spied it too and became transfixed. “Where did you get—”

  But Jo snatched the Dixie cup out of the nurse’s hand and tossed the pill into her mouth.

  “Now get out!” Jo grabbed the gold watch and shoved it back under the covers.

  The nurse shook her head as if shaking off a dream. “All right, well, press the button if you need anything, Miss Marks.”

  I barely had time to step to the side of the door as the nurse rushed through. She seemed surprised when she saw me and Wes.

  “She’s a tough cookie, that Miss Marks.”

  I just nodded. I didn’t like how the nurse had been staring at the watch. It was the same kind of look a dog gives you when it’s sitting under the dinner table waiting for scraps to fall.

  “Come on, Rosemary.”

  I straightened my clothes as Wes walked through the door. It had been a long time since we’d seen each other. What if she didn’t even remember me? What if I wasn’t as special as she always thought I was? What if she didn’t like how I’d changed?

  “Lollygagging gets you eaten, Rosey-Posey. Get in here already!”

  I couldn’t help but smile. It was still the same.

  I stepped past Wes and saw her, face-on, for the first time in years. Her bright eyes gleamed, warm and magical, even under these horrible hospital lights.

  “Hey, Jo.”

  “Hey, kid.”

  I walked toward the bed, my hands stuffed deep in my pockets, my feet dragging on the floor.

  “Pick up your feet. You don’t know who’s living in the dirt underneath ’em.”

  My shoes shot up, too high, as I stepped. I knew it was just one of her stories. “Bugs are animals too, Rose! I’m good friends with a particular snail in the Tenth Hour!” Still, it was always easier to listen to Jo than to argue with her. She’d never admit the magic world wasn’t real.

  “Hello, Joanne.” I winced as Wes used her full name. Jo didn’t like when people called her that.

  “Hello, Wesley.”

  I smiled. Wes didn’t like it when people called him his full name either.

  “How are you?” he asked her.

  “I’ll be better if you give me some alone time with my niece.”

  I looked from Jo to Wes. He looked like he was about to argue, but he decided against it. He threw up his arms. “Fine. I’ll be back in a few.”

  As he walked out, I heard him muttering to himself about how it was “always the same with her.” Then he slammed the door shut.

  “Now come closer, I want to show you something,” Jo said as soon as Wes had left.

  She pulled the watch out from under the covers. I couldn’t help but stare at it. It was so perfect that it hardly looked real. It’s just as I remember it. Mom didn’t have anything nice like that. Is that what all fancy jewelry looked like? No, I decided. The watch was definitely the nicest thing I had ever seen.

  I wanted to grab for it, to hold it. I needed it. As I reached out my hand, Jo pulled the watch back. It made me angry, like I wanted to snatch it from her. Then I realized what I was thinking. That’s weird, I thought, trying to shake off the strange feeling. The watch had a tendency to put you under a spell.

  “So it still has a hold on you, huh? That will wear off the more time you spend looking at it.”

  “Why did you bring it with you here if—”

  “Have you been keeping up with your painting and drawing?” she interrupted.

  I sighed with frustration. Jo did that a lot. I knew she didn’t want to talk about the watch anymore even if I tried.

  “Every day,” I said. And it was true. I drew and painted as much as I could.

  “You any good? I don’t even want to bother talking to you if you aren’t any good.”

  I shrugged. I never had been good enough for Jo. “Still missing something,” she’d say.

  “Paint me something!” she continued, eyes shining.

  “With what?” I asked.

  “You can’t ask me that. This is a competition! If you want to win, you need creativity.”

  I nodded. This had been a game we’d played when I was little. The one where you’re both supposed to draw or paint a picture using the most unusual tools. The weirdest canvas or utensils won. The reason was so that when you were in Eleven O’Clock, you could make magical drawings out of anything. I always lost—partially because Jo was the only judge and she was competitive, but mostly because she was always better than I was.

  Maybe she never let me win just because she wanted me to push harder the next time. If that was true, then it worked.

  “Ugh.” Jo tried to heave herself up in bed, but it looked like it hurt.

  “Wait! Don’t get up, you’re sick.”

  “You’re just saying that so I don’t win again. I have to find my tools.”

  “I’ll get you your tools,” I said, pushing her shoulder back toward the mattress. “You shouldn’t stand, you’re in a hospital.”

  She looked up at me from under her thin eyelashes. “It’s the last place I should be, I’ll tell you that.”

  I felt calm again after she said that. She might look sick, but I could see it in her eyes. She didn’t need to be here. I knew it. I knew she would be okay.

  I was relieved, though, because even if she was acting like, well, Jo, she did lie back down.

  “Fine, you go first, then,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  “What should I use?”

  Jo snorted. “Why are you asking me? If you want to win, you need a plan.”

  I spun around the room, looking. I was excited, actually. I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d felt like this—like I could do whatever I wanted. I can draw a condensation picture on the mirror with my finger—no, too boring. Carve into the wall with a needle? Too dangerous. Finger paint with an IV bag? Too gross.

  Then I realized, taking three big steps back to Jo: her black purse sat on the table beside her. I rummaged through it without asking, knowing what I was looking for. She didn’t stop me.

  “Interesting choice,” she said as I pulled out a package of pink stomach pills. Jo always had them, and, I suspected, these particular pills were probably as old as I was. I then found a small plastic box of Q-tips. I emptied it, snatching a few of the cotton swabs for myself, and filled the box with water. Then I dropped the pills in and crushed them up with a pen cap as they dissolved. Soon the water was bright pink.

  “You need that?” I asked, pointing to a white sheet folded at the end of her bed. Jo shook her head, face blank. I laid it flat on the floor.

  “What do you want me to draw?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Whatever you think I need.”

  So I grabbed a Q-tip and stirred my pink paint with it. Perfect. I swiped the Q-tip against the sheet, producing a long, pale line. I smiled. This might actually work.

  But what did Jo need?

  The lines emerged faster than I could think, still not sure what I was drawing. My mind was stuck on the image of her as I’d entered the room: how small and tired she’d looked, surrounded by the loud machines, washed away by the all-white walls. She wasn’t meant to be small, or tired, or washed out. She was big, and loud, and Jo. What she needed was to get out of this horrible place. She needed trees, wind, the sounds of birds and running water, and minks. Many, many minks.

  I don’t how long I painted in silence, scrambling on my hands and knees, but then it was done. A mural of the place I imagined. Ten O’Clock. Jo’s favorite. It was right there in pastel colors.

  Halfway through, I’d gone into the bathroom attached to the room and got some plastic cups, then I’d found some yellow and blue medications in Jo’s purse that she said were safe to crush up as well. The mural looked a little messy, I guess, but I hoped it was enough.

  I glanced up at Jo, who hadn’t said anything the whole time. She was staring at the painting.

  “The sheet was thinner than I thought, so the colors bled a little, and I shouldn’t have mixed so much water into the pink, but—”

  “You win,” she said, lowering her blankets to her chest.

  “Wait, what?”

  She smiled, and for a second I thought she might have little tears in the corners of her eyes. Must have been the lights, though. Jo never cried.

  “You win, kid. You’re good enough.”

  “But you didn’t get your turn yet!”

  “I don’t need it. I can already tell.”

  “But—”

  “Before you get your prize, however,” she interrupted again, “answer me this: Why do you like to make art?”

  “I…” I glanced back at the drawing, not sure of the answer myself. “It’s the only thing I’m really good at. It makes me feel… worth something,” I finally admitted, looking up at her. I wouldn’t have told anyone but Jo that. Not Mom, not Wes, not any of the kids at school, but for some reason I thought Jo might understand. Jo, the hermit everyone judged and no one understood. No one but me.

  “Good answer. Now, would you like to see your prize?”

  “Sure, why not?” I said, unable to imagine what kind of prize she’d find in a boring old hospital room.

  Then her hands emerged from the covers along with the gold watch. She held it up but said nothing. I tried not to look at the watch again, afraid of what it might do to me. Instead, I unfocused my eyes, looking only at her face.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Of what?”

  “Your prize.”

  Wait, what? She was going to give me the watch for smearing pill juice on a bedsheet?

  “Are you kidding?”

  She shook her head, holding the watch out for me to take, but I didn’t dare.

  “But,” I exhaled, frustrated, “I don’t know if this is a joke or if you’re just being silly. That watch is worth a lot more than a drawing.”

  “Rosemary, I have had this watch since I was younger than you. It is the most important thing I own. I have thought long and hard about who I should give it to, and there is no one else. You’re the one.”

  “I am not! You should keep it. It’s not like you’re dying.”

  “If I was, would you take it?”

  The sounds in the room faded away as I looked at her.

  “Are you?”

  After too long she rolled her eyes. “Not right now, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m giving you a gift and you’re being a little slug after years of ignoring me.”

  The sounds returned as a loud smack in the face.

  “Are you… sure?” I asked finally, now looking to the watch, which seemed to glitter even more than it had when I’d first seen it.

  “I was more sure a few minutes ago.”

  My fingers rose, grasping for it. Inches before they touched, Jo snatched the watch back into her hand. “First, though, you have to promise me something.”

  I could feel my heart pounding. I knew there had to be a catch. “What?”

  “There are rules to this watch, Rose.”

  Maybe Jo really was as strange as Mom had always said, or maybe she was just playing with me. “Okay. What are the rules?”

  “The first rule is that you never let this watch out of your sight. It stays on you at all times. You never lose it. You never forget it. You never let anyone else touch it. In fact, don’t let anyone even see it.”

  I nodded.

  “The second rule is that you sleep with the watch. Every night it stays on you. Hold it, lie on it, shove it down your pants, I don’t care. Just don’t let it be seen.”

  That was weirder, but the look on Jo’s face told me not to ask questions. “Yeah, sure.”

  “The last thing is that you must fall asleep tonight between eleven and twelve.”

  “Huh?”

  Jo held up her hand, severe. “Don’t you dare go to bed before eleven or after twelve. If you do, then you have to stay up all night and try again tomorrow. No arguing.”

  “What are you talking—”

  “No arguing, Rose. This is very important. And when you do fall asleep, I want you to imagine the waves painted on the inside of the watch—”

  I threw up my hands. “Please just tell me this is a joke already.”

  She clutched the watch tighter to her chest. I was surprised by how angry she looked.

  “There’s…,” she began, her voice trembling, “a world inside this watch.”

  “Jo, I know you made up those stories—”

  “I’m serious.” Her eyes whipped back to me. “Deathly serious. You must be careful with it, Rose. It’s important. There’s a whole world with people in it. It’s alive.”

  “Jo…,” I began, my heart thumping with such urgency that I could hear it in my ears. She can’t really think those stories are real, can she?

  “Do you finally get it?”

  I nodded. I always thought Jo was just playing with me by pretending the stories about the magical world were real, but if she really believed in them, then she must be sicker than I’d ever realized.

  “Are you feeling okay? Should I go get someone? Like Wes? Or a nurse?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  “No, I need—” Her face looked angry, but then she cut herself off, sucked in a puff of air, and closed her eyes. “All right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told it to you like that.”

  “So it was a joke?”

  She cringed. “No, it isn’t a joke. It’s my life.” My eyes went wide again, and she held up her hands. “I mean,” she continued, “it’s that important to me.”

  There was a too-long pause as neither of us knew what to say. Then she broke the silence. “Are you… happy, Rose?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you happy with school? And friends? And the whole world around you?”

  “Psh,” I couldn’t help but snort. “That’s a silly question.”

  “Why?”

  My hands found their way to my hips. “Well, are you asking if I’m happy that I’m trapped in class all day when all I want to do is draw? Am I happy that everyone thinks I’m weird? Am I happy that I feel like there’s no place for me?”

  My heart was pumping faster. I don’t know why I said all of that, but I think it was just because no one had ever asked me that question before. People almost never really wanted to know what I thought.

  “No, I’m not happy.”

  I expected her to yell or get mad, but instead, she nodded. “Me too. When I was your age, Rose, I felt like the whole world was made for everyone else. It was like I wasn’t supposed to be born. And yet”—her eyes suddenly looked brighter and her lips curved into a smile—“I found the place where I was meant to be.”

  She pulled out the watch again, dangling it in front of me. I wanted to believe her.

  “Do you want to be happy too, Rose? I’m offering you the key.”

  “I—” The intensity on her face showed me that she really believed it. Could she be telling the truth?

  “The hours. The magic. The monsters. They’re real. They’ve always been real, and I just needed you to learn so that you could take over for me. I picked you for a reason.”

  She thrust the watch toward me, leaning her thin body off the bed.

  “I—I—” I couldn’t find the words.

  “Trust me,” she begged.

  I tore my gaze from the watch and looked into her eyes.

  “I can’t.”

  I started backing away from the bed, toward the door.

  “Rose.” She stretched her thin arms as far as they would go and grabbed a pocket of my baggy jeans, pulling me into her with her bony fingers. “Please believe me. When have I…” Her words became slurred and her mouth dropped.

  “Jo?”

  Her body went stiff for a moment before softening, her hand falling away from me. I was as still as a statue as I watched her. Her eyes rolled backward into her head, her chest pushed up toward the ceiling, and then her whole body started shaking.

  I wasn’t thinking after that. My legs just moved on their own, running to the door. I ripped it open and raced down the hall until I found a nurse.

  “There’s something wrong with my aunt!”

  THE LATE-NIGHT CALL

  We were stuck at the hospital for hours as the doctors ran tests. They told me that Jo had had a seizure but that she was okay. I told them about all of the… weird things she was saying—about how she really believed there was a magical world and stuff—but they didn’t look too worried.

  I asked if she was really dying, but everyone just told me that she was “stable” right now. I didn’t know what they meant by that.

  “Then, can she go home?” I’d asked, but no one had answered.

  Once all the doctors and nurses had left her room, the sky looked like a bruise outside the vast hospital windows. I asked a lady at the nurse’s station if I could say goodbye to Jo, but she wouldn’t let me. “You can come back tomorrow, sweetie, when she’s rested.”