“Good. You should walk around the house a bit. Go up and down the stairs a few times, see how your heart and lungs handle stress.”

I nod. This is a language I understand, the language of my life for the past several years, and I cling to it as to a lifeline. “I’ve been hydrating pretty well, but I need to replace lost muscle mass.”

“And fat stores. That’s why I put so much peanut butter on your sandwich.”

“Thanks.”

“We can work out together,” he says cheerfully. “We’ll start with easy isometric exercises, then move on to weights when you’re ready.”

“I’d like to work with Emmaline too,” I say. With my forefinger, I wipe a dollop of peanut butter from the side of my sandwich. I lean down so she can lick it up, which she does with gusto. “She’s pretty well trained already, but I’m worried about her running off. What if we have to hide again? Can’t have her whining and growling.”

“We have a plan then,” he says. “For the next few days at least. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

The decision won’t be any easier for putting it off, but I’m in no mood to argue, so I just nod.

March 22

SOMETHING SHAKES ME AWAKE. I LURCH UP FROM MY BED, HEART hammering, before I realize it’s Trey.

“You need to see something,” he whispers.

I slip out from under the covers. Emmaline uncurls from the foot of my bed and indulges in a full body shake before hopping down and following us into the hallway and up the stairs.

Trey has been using the upstairs corner bedroom. He says he likes to look out the window when he can’t sleep, and the room gives him a good view of the street. I’ve heard his footsteps on my ceiling in the middle of the night. Often enough to wonder if he sleeps at all.

The floorboards creak as Trey brushes past his rumpled queen-sized bed and pushes aside the curtains. The moon has been waning, but enough moonlight remains to make sense of the neighborhood. Three-story Victorians rise from tiny front yards that are lush with weeds and bulb sprouts and overgrown grass. Mature oaks shade broad lemonade porches, and fading solar lamps line brick walkways.

“In the house across from us and two doors down,” Trey whispers. “Watch for it in the bay window.”

It’s the biggest mansion on the block, with a giant, castle-like turret on one corner. The bay window juts out beside it. A neglected plant wilts from the window box at its base.

I’m not sure what I’m watching for, but Trey is tense in the space beside me, both hands on the sill.

Something flickers in the window.

“There!” he says. “Did you see that?”