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Margaret's friend, Diane Manning, who lived just around the corner, followed them into the hallway. "How long are you going to be gone, Mrs. Brewer?" she asked, her eyes on the two bulging suitcases.

"I don't know," Mrs. Brewer replied fretfully. "My sister went into the hospital in Tucson this morning. I guess I'll have to stay until she's able to go home."

"Okay. All packed," Mrs. Brewer said, dropping her suitcases with a thud in the front hallway. She poked her head into the living room where the TV was blaring. "Do you think you could stop the movie for one minute to say good-bye to your mother?"

"Well, I'll be glad to baby-sit for Casey and Margaret while you're away," Diane joked.

Casey pushed a button on the remote control, and the screen went blank. He and Margaret obediently walked to the hallway to give their mother hugs.

"And I'm smarter than both of you," Casey added with typical modesty.

"I'm not worried about you kids," Mrs. Brewer said, glancing nervously at her watch. "I'm worried about your father."

"Give me a break," Margaret said, rolling her eyes. "I'm older than you are, Diane."

"Don't worry," Margaret told her seriously. "We'll take good care of him."

It's going to be really lonely around here without Mom, Margaret thought. Dad hardly ever comes up from the basement.

"Just make sure that he eats something once in a while," Mrs. Brewer said. "He's so obsessed with his work, he doesn't remember to eat unless you tell him."

"I'll call as soon as I get to Tucson," Mrs. Brewer said, nervously lowering her eyes to her watch again. She took three long strides to the basement door, then shouted down, "Michael -- time to take me to the airport!"

It had been two weeks since he yelled at Casey and her to stay out of the basement. They had been tiptoeing around ever since, afraid to get him angry again. But in the past two weeks, he had barely spoken to them, except for the occasional "good morning" and "good night."

"Don't worry about anything, Mom," she said, forcing a smile. "Just take good care of Aunt Eleanor."

After a long wait, Dr. Brewer called up a reply. Then Mrs. Brewer turned back to the kids. "Think he'll even notice I'm gone?" she asked in a loud whisper. She meant it to be a light remark, but her eyes revealed some sadness.

A few seconds later, they heard footsteps on the basement stairs, and their dad appeared. He pulled off his stained lab coat, revealing tan slacks and a bright yellow T-shirt, and tossed the lab coat onto the banister. Even though it was two weeks later, his right hand, the hand that had been bleeding, was still heavily bandaged.

"Ready?" he asked his wife.

Mrs. Brewer sighed. "I guess." She gave Margaret and Casey a helpless look, then moved quickly to give them each one last hug.

"Let's go, then," Dr. Brewer said impatiently. He picked up the two bags and groaned. "Wow. How long are you planning to stay? A year?" Then he headed out the front door with them, not waiting for an answer.

"Bye, Mrs. Brewer," Diane said, waving. "Have a good trip."

They watched the station wagon roll down the driveway, then returned to the living room. Casey picked up the remote control and started the movie.

"You know what I mean," Diane replied, tossing back her long red hair and rolling her eyes.

"How can she have a good trip?" Casey asked sharply. "Her sister's in the hospital."

"Who picked this movie?" Diane asked, crinkling the foil bag noisily.

"I did," Casey said. "It's neat." He had pulled a couch cushion down to the living room carpet and was lying on it.

Diane sprawled on the couch and picked up the bag of potato chips she'd been eating.

"Yeah. It's neat," Casey said, not taking his eyes off the glowing TV screen.

Margaret was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back against the base of an armchair, still thinking about her mother and her aunt Eleanor. "It's neat if you like to see a lot of people blown up and their guts flying all over," she said, making a face for Diane's benefit.

"I've got so much homework. I don't know why I'm sitting here," Diane said, reaching her hand into the potato chip bag.

"Me, too," Margaret sighed. "I guess I'll do it after dinner. Do you have the math assignment? I think I left my math book at school."

"Sshhh!" Casey hissed, kicking a sneakered foot in Margaret's direction. "This is a good part."

"You've seen this tape before?" Diane shrieked.

"Sshhh," Casey insisted, picking up the potato chip bag and tossing it at Diane.

"It's a pretty afternoon," Margaret said, stretching her arms above her head. "Maybe we should go outside. You know. Ride bikes or something."

"I guess he's okay," Margaret said wistfully. "I don't know, really. He spends all his time down in the basement with his experiments."

"Experiments? Hey -- let's go take a look." Tossing her hair back behind her shoulders, Diane jumped up from the chrome and white leather couch.

"Twice," Casey admitted. He ducked, and the sofa pillow Diane threw sailed over his head.

"You think you're still back in Michigan? It's always a pretty afternoon here," Diane said, chewing loudly. "I don't even notice it anymore."

"Maybe we should do the math assignment together," Margaret suggested hopefully. Diane was much better in math than she was.

Diane shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe." She crinkled up the bag and set it on the floor. "Your dad looked kind of nervous, you know?"

"You know. Being laid off and all."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Just nervous," Diane said. "How's he doing?"

"Shut up!" Casey yelled, staring at the movie, the colors from the TV screen reflecting over his clothes.

She should have been in the Brewer family, Margaret thought with a trace of bitterness. Maybe Dad would pay some attention to her since she's into the same things he is.

"Is he building a Frankenstein monster or something?" Diane demanded. "Or some kind of RoboCop? Wouldn't that be cool?"

Diane was a science freak. Math and science. The two subjects Margaret hated.

"Come on --" Diane urged, bending over to pull Margaret up from the floor. "He's a botanist, right? What's he doing down there?"

"It's complicated," Margaret said, shouting over the explosions and gunfire on the TV. "He tried to explain it to me once. But --" Margaret allowed Diane to pull her to her feet.

"Shut up!" Casey repeated shrilly as Arnold Schwarzenegger bounded across the screen.

"Huh? It's like top secret?" Diane's emerald green eyes lit up with excitement. "Come on. We'll just take a peek."

"He's got all these machines and plants down there," Margaret said uncomfortably. "But he doesn't want us to go down there."

"Chicken," Diane repeated. Tossing her mane of red hair behind her shoulder, she strode quickly toward the basement door.

"Diane -- stop!" Margaret cried, following after her.

"I'm not afraid," Margaret insisted shrilly. Diane was always daring her to do things she didn't want to do. Why is it so important for Diane to think she's so much braver than everyone else? Margaret wondered.

"We'll take a quick peek," Diane insisted. "We'll just look. We won't touch anything. And then we'll come right back upstairs."

"No, I don't think so," Margaret told her. She couldn't forget the angry look on her father's face two weeks before when she and Casey had tried to pay a visit. Or the way he had screamed at them never to come down to the basement.

"We can't --" Margaret started, but Diane clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Come on. I dare you," Diane challenged. "Are you chicken?"

"Hey, wait!" Casey cried, clicking off the movie. "Are we going downstairs? Wait for me!" He climbed quickly to his feet and enthusiastically hurried to join them at the basement door.

"Okay. I'll go first," Casey said, grabbing for the doorknob.

"Why do you want to do this?" Margaret asked her friend. "Why are you so eager to go down there?"

Diane shrugged. "It beats doing our math," she replied, grinning.

Margaret sighed, defeated. "Okay, let's go. But remember -- just looking, no touching."

Casey pulled open the door and led the way onto the stairway. Stepping onto the landing, they were immediately engulfed in hot, steamy air. They could hear the buzz and hum of electronic machinery. And off to the right, they could see the glare of the bright white lights from Dr. Brewer's workroom.

This is kind of fun, Margaret thought as the three of them made their way down the linoleum-covered stairway.

It's an adventure.

There's no harm in taking a peek.

So why was her heart pounding? Why did she have this sudden tingle of fear?