Within Danny Rozelli were two sets of thoughts, two minds, two histories, and with each day it was getting harder and harder for Danny and Allie to recall whose memories were whose. Now they both fell asleep at the same moment, awoke at the same moment, and when they dreamed, they dreamed as one.

It was late August, and the school year had just started. Life was slipping into a regular routine. Allie tried to imagine growing up, and growing old as a lifelong tenant in someone else’s body. Would there come a time when she could accept life as the other half of Danny Rozelli? In these two weeks they had learned each other’s rhythms and patterns like Siamese twins, and were quickly adapting to a life for two in a single body.

And what of her own body? It was lying somewhere in any one of a dozen hospitals—and that was just if she was in Memphis. She tried calling a few, but never got very far.

“Honey, why don’t you put your mama on the phone?” the receptionists would invariably say. It was hard to get respect as a seven-year-old.

—This is not who I wanted to be— Allie thought.

—Me neither—Danny thought right back at her, but both of their protests were getting weaker every day. They were becoming resigned to a shared existence.

Then the pool cleaners came.

They came the same day that Mary arrived in Memphis and sent her letter to Nick, but Allie had no way of knowing that, or anything else that went on in Everlost. As long as she was stuck in a living body, all she could see was the living world.

Late that afternoon, Allie and Danny were out in the yard playing handball against a side wall. It was one of the benefits of their particular condition; there was always someone to play with. Allie would hit the ball, then pull back, letting Danny take his turn. They had become skilled at switching back and forth at will. Neither fought for control anymore. It was like riding a tandem bike.

Allie scored a point.

“Aw! No fair!” Danny said.

—Quiet—Allie thought to him—your mother will hear you talking to yourself—

But when they looked up, it wasn’t his mother standing there, instead it was a man holding a blue pole with a net on the end, and a second man a few feet behind him.

—It’s okay— Danny told Allie— It’s just the pool guys—

The head pool guy was a middle-aged man with a frayed baseball cap and beard stubble. His assistant was a punk with skull tattoos and a limp mohawk on the verge of surrender.

“Hi, Curtis! Hi, Chainsaw,” said Danny, brightly. “Pool’s real dirty. S’got lots of leaves and bugs today.”