“And running around in the rain,” she adds. “Go on and get dried off. Put everything in the laundry room, and we’ll get Macy’s clothes back to her after we wash them.”

Mom doesn’t notice that Macy is already wearing my clothes, but that’s probably a good thing: fewer questions.

Ugh. I place my hand over my stomach. It feels like the lies bounce around inside me, making me suddenly queasy.

Macy places her hand on my shoulder. “Dewey will be okay.”

I nod, but I’m not so sure.

Part Four

SERENDIPITY

Chapter 28

THE STORM

It’s still raining when I wake up in the morning. All night long, I had nightmares about Dewey in her old life, chained up outside, drenched in her mildewy doghouse. I shake the dream from my mind as I get out of bed and go to the circle window. Dewey is safe.

I purposely take my time getting ready so Mama has to drive me to school with her and Noah. I don’t think I can ride the bus today without Macy. It seems like forever until she arrives at school, because of her Thursday morning appointment.

But when she finally does, she gives me a small wave and immediately pulls out a piece of paper and starts writing. She looks up at Ms. Avery, but all the while she’s actually folding it up into a triangle without even looking.

When Ms. Avery turns around, she passes me the note.

Sadie,

Bad news. I can’t come over after school today. I have to help my grandma with some stuff at home that I promised I would do.

Sorry ☹

—m.m.m.

When I read her note, I feel exactly like the weather outside.

NOOOOOOO! WHYYYYYY? We’ll miss you—remember we still need to figure out a name for (the dog formerly known as) Dewey. R U sure you can’t help her later?

Macy writes back:

Well, the truth is she needs me to dye her hair for her. She says I do it better because she can’t see the back of her head. But really, it’s our special “girl time” together. It’s kinda fun, but I will miss hanging out with the team, though!

I can’t be upset about that. I draw a little picture of Macy’s grandma with fancy hair, and pass the note back to Macy.

The day drags on and on.

In the cafeteria at lunch, the power goes out with a big zap and everything goes dark. There’s tons of screaming, a lunch tray clatters to the floor, someone knocks over their chair, and teachers yell for everyone else to stop yelling, which only adds to the nuttiness.

“It’s not the zombie apocalypse, people!” Macy shouts, but no one can hear her over the noise except for me.