voice trailed off.
Jenny looked and saw an extremely weird picture. It showed a brown pipe, the kind Audrey's father smoked, with the words This is not a pipe under it.
Jenny stared at it, feeling stupid. Beside her, Zach was tense, waiting for her response.
"But-it is a pipe," she said timidly, tapping her finger on the brown bowl.
Zach's gray eyes were still on the book. "No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it isn't. A picture of a pipe is not a pipe."
For a moment she got it-then it slipped away. It made her head hurt, but it also gave her a vaguely excited feeling. Mystical.
"The image isn't reality," Zach said quietly but with force. "Even though we're used to thinking that way a lot of the time. We show a kid a picture of a dog and say This is a doggie'-but it's not. It's just an image." He glanced at her sideways and added, "A paper house is not a house."
"Unless you have somebody who can make an image into reality," Jenny said, giving him a meaningful glance back.
"Maybe he's an artist, in a way," Zach said. He flipped to another page. "See this? It's a famous painting."
It was another extremely weird picture, but it took you a moment to see the weirdness. It showed a window in a room, and through the window a pretty
landscape. Hills and trees and clouds. Only-it was odd, but under the window were three metal things like the legs of a stand. The legs of an easel, Jenny realized suddenly. There was actually an easel with a canvas on it in front of the window, but the painting on the canvas blended in so exactly with the landscape behind it that it was almost invisible.
It left you wondering: Where was the artist who had left the easel? And who could have painted a picture that blended in so exactly with reality, anyway?
"It's bizarre," Jenny said. "I like it." She smiled at Zach, feeling as if they had a secret. She saw his expression change, and then he looked away, his gray eyes distant.
"It's important to know the difference between image and reality," he said softly. He glanced at her sideways again, as if considering whether to tell her another secret. Considering whether she could be trusted. Then he said almost casually, "You know, I used to think that imaginary worlds were safer than the real one. Then I saw a real imaginary world. And it was-" He stopped.
Jenny was startled at his expression. She put her hand on his arm. "I know."
He looked at her. "Remember how we used to play in the orchard when we were kids? It didn't seem important then to know the difference between what's real and what isn't. But it's important now, It's important to me."
Oh. All at once, Jenny understood. No wonder Zach had been so moody lately. His photography, his art-it wasn't safe anymore. It had been contaminated by their experience in the Shadow World. For the first time in his life Zach was having to face squarely up to reality.
"That's why you haven't done any new prints," she said. "Isn't it, Zach? It's-it's artist's block."
He hunched one shoulder again. "I just haven't seen anything I wanted to photograph. I used to see things all the time and want to shoot them-but lately I just don't care."
"I'm sorry, Zach." But I'm glad you told me, Jenny thought. She felt very close to her cousin just then. She went on in a low voice, "Maybe when this is all over-"
She was cut off by the bang of a door. The quiet moment was shattered. Zach's father stood in the doorway.
He said hello briefly to Jenny, then turned to Zach.
"So here you are," he said. "What's this about you taking off without telling anyone last night?"
Jenny had never been sure she liked her uncle Bill. He was a big man, and he had large hairy hands. His face always seemed rather flushed.
Zach's voice was cool and bloodless. "I just went to spend the night somewhere. Is that a crime?"
"It is when you don't tell your mother or me."
"I left a note."
Mr. Taylor's face got more flushed. "I'm not talking about a note. I don't know what's going on with you anymore. You used to spend most of your time holed up out here"-he gestured around the garage-"and now you're gone all the time. Your mother says you think you're going to spend another night away from home."
"I've got a project