My hands tremble, fingers unable to hit the right letters. Hard to believe someone like him might actually enjoy my company.

He doesn’t, the little voice pipes up. He just wants you to write about him. Why do you think he’s meeting you in the library where no one can see him talking to you?

Damn. It’s so obvious. Why didn’t I see it? I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing the voice inside my head would shut up and stop ruining things, but I can’t deny the truth. My phone buzzes again. Another message.

We could do lunch rather if you don’t want to skip??

My heart stutters and so does the voice in my head.

Sure. Lunch sounds great! I hit Send before I can overthink it, before that horrible voice can damage this too. Have you seen Natalie at all? I ask after he replies with a string of smiling emojis and a thumbs up. I think she’s got noro.

It’s been going around, Morgan answers. What are you doing right now?

Homework. Boring. You?

Regripping my skateboard.

I have no idea what regripping a skateboard involves and I’m about to ask but once again, Morgan gets in first.

I gotta go. I’m making a mess of my deck. See you tomorrow. He goes off-line before I can respond, and I deflate.

Dinner sits like a lump of stone in my belly as I reread the conversation, waiting for the voice to pounce on something I missed and tell me all the ways I suck. It’s only in rereading I realize he never answered my question about Natalie and she still hasn’t even seen my messages.

I’m contemplating calling her when there’s a flicker of green in the corner of my vision. I turn toward the window, but as soon as I focus on the spot where I thought I saw the smudge of color, it’s gone. Again all my little hairs are standing up, and this time there’s no way whatever I saw could’ve been a fox.

***

Fiona’s gnashing teeth snap at my face, her fangs caged in braces with red elastics. Morgan’s there, wielding an oversized safety pin like a club, but he misses every time he tries to hit the dragon. There’s a clash of guitar chords with every swing of the safety pin. I stare into the face of the lizard and watch, paralyzed, as her eyes turn bright green. When the dragon opens her mouth, it’s Natalie’s voice calling my name.

I wake up sweaty and breathless. According to my phone it’s 1:15 a.m. I draw up the covers, determined to go back to sleep so tomorrow isn’t any harder than it has to be, but muted voices drift up from downstairs. Someone’s in the kitchen.