The following morning, Milos suggested a skinjacking expedition to a nearby roadside café. “No disrespect is meant to you, my friend,” he said to Mikey apologetically, “but like it or not, we skinjackers do have needs.”

Mikey could see how much Allie perked up at the suggestion. He could also see how much she tried to hide it.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Squirrel. “Needs. Like we need to sit inside a nice, juicy fleshie, and enjoy their nice juicy bacon cheeseburger.”

“Why should I care if you skinjack?” Mikey said. “Do whatever you want.”

Then Milos turned to Allie. “You should join us,” he said. “I can see you are in need.”

“She doesn’t need anything,” said Mikey.

But Allie said, “I can speak for myself, Mikey.” Then she looked at Milos, and said, “Thank you for the invitation, but I’d prefer not to.”

This, Mikey knew was a lie—he knew she really did want to go, but instead she stayed with Mikey as the other three left. It was a good feeling to know she chose to say with him, but that was tempered by how bad he felt to know he was making her suffer.

“Tell ush about Mary the Shky Witsch.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell us.”

Milos, Moose, and Squirrel had come back from the diner in good spirits. It was dark now and all five of them rested on a deadspot on the highway shoulder. Like Allie, these three other skinjackers enjoyed the act of sleeping— a totally unnecessary thing for an Afterlight. Mikey much preferred nonstop wakefulness—but he had been willing to adhere to a living sleep cycle because that’s what Allie preferred. Now he realized it must be a common desire among skinjackers. It was just one more thing making Mikey feel like the odd man out.

“Iz it true the Shky Witsch iz beautiful?”

“Is it true she rides in a giant balloon? Huh, huh?”

Apparently Moose and Squirrel wanted bedtime stories as they sat there in a small circle. There was no campfire, only the gentle light of their afterglows.

“Do we really need to talk about this?” said Mikey.

“Of course not,” said Milos. “If you would rather not.” But then he added, “I am curious, though. I have never met anyone who knows the Sky Witch or the Chocolate Ogre— and you know both!”

Well, Allie was the one who dropped their names, Mikey decided to let her field the questions.

“So, so you’re friends with them?” asked Squirrel.

“The Chocolate Ogre—Nick, I mean—is my friend,” Allie said.

Moose shook his helmeted head. “Thatsh a bad name for an ogre.”

“Nick’s NOT an ogre. Or at least I don’t think he is—I haven’t seen him for a long time,” Allie said. “We died in the same car accident.”

Both Moose and Squirrel looked over at Milos when she said that. Mikey wondered why, and wondered if Allie noticed.