That day, Macy’s grandma taught us some Japanese words (the only one I remember is arigato—“thank you”), and we also made candy sushi out of Rice Krispies Treats rolled up with gummy-fish filling and then wrapped with a green Fruit Roll-Up around the outside, like seaweed.

She also taught us step-by-step how to make an origami star, but I sucked at it because my fingers were all sticky from the candy sushi; my folds were all messy and uneven.

“Shhhh!” Bailey—the same Bailey from the bus stop—hisses, turning around in her seat to stare at me. “That’s so annoying.”

Only then do I realize that I’ve been tapping my pen against my desk, over and over again. “Oh,” I whisper. “Sorry.”

I glance to my side, and Macy is looking at me too, only this time she isn’t glaring. I hold the pen still in my hand, but there are a series of blue dots speckled where I’ve tapped it against my desk. I lick my thumb and try to wipe the ink, but it only leaves behind a big smudge in the center of all the dots.

And right before my eyes, I start to see something take shape in between the dots and the smudge mark. The smudge is in the shape of something familiar. Like an animal. Like a . . . dog. And the dots: there are two of them right where her eyes would be. Ms. Avery’s voice starts to fade away into the background of my mind. And the words on the whiteboard at the front of the room begin to look all squiggly and far away.

Next, the pen is moving, drawing trees and the two lines that form the road by the bus stop, and two blobs of varying heights stand on the side of the road. I squint to see them better, and as they come into focus, I realize those blobs are me and Macy, and the closer I look, the more detailed those blobs of us become. Like an animation, the dog seems to be running through the trees toward us. But she can’t catch up, and she seems scared, like she’s no longer running toward me, but away from something else. As she runs, she gets bigger and bigger, closer and closer.

Someone screams.

I fall out of my chair onto the floor. And then I realize the scream has come from my own mouth! As I look around, every single student in my class is staring.

“Sadie Mitchell-Rosen!” Ms. Avery shouts, marching up the aisle toward me. “Back in your seat right this instant!”

I scramble to my feet, taking too long to understand what has just happened.

“S-sorry, I—I—” I try to explain, but as I look down at my desk, I can feel my face turning hot and embarrassed.

“Did you do that?” Ms. Avery yells, pointing at the desk.