“I’m just tired,” said Amy. “I’ve had a hard time sleeping the past couple of nights.”

“Really?” asked Ms. Sarkopolo. “Any specific reason?”

Amy half smiled and wondered what would happen if she just said it: Between us, Ms. Sark, our psychic dog is giving me nightmares. Really vivid nightmares, where he’s staring out of the dark at me with these bright red eyes. But then his fur falls off and his skin underneath is raw and chapped, and then his flesh peels away, and then there’s just a skull, a dog’s skull, white and lifeless, but the eyes are still there, glowing, red, dripping hot blood—

“Nope,” said Amy, yawning. “I think it’s just insomnia. I’ll ask my mom to take me to the doctor.”

Ms. Sarkopolo nodded but never stopped looking worried. “Well, Amy, let us know if there’s any way we can help. But this weekend, try to get some good sleep, all right? If there isn’t an improvement, I’ll have to call your parents. I’m sorry.”

Amy nodded, got up, hoisted on her backpack, and trudged out. Some part of her was angry at Mr. Nowak and Mr. Heindecker for ratting her out, but given how she felt, she wasn’t surprised. It was probably written all over her face, in the bags under her eyes and the oily skin. She hoped staying with Marguerite and her family this weekend would at least allow her to get some sleep.

Every night since that fateful walk, something had kept Amy up. One night, the coffee grinder in the kitchen just kept going off, buzzing every thirty minutes or so, just as she fell asleep. Another night, the shutter outside her bedroom window kept banging, even though there was no wind or rain that day; and another, she kept hearing sounds somewhere in her closet, scrambling nails on wood, like rats. When she did manage to nod off, there was always the same dream—Rover’s cold, calm face looking out of the shadows at her with those glowing red eyes, and then rotting away, revealing the skull. Rover never growled, or bit, or chased her, just stared her down as he showed his true face.

Of course, it could all be a coincidence, she reminded herself. When she’d brought up the coffee grinder, Dad had said their house was old and had faulty wiring. He and Mom were still sore about Amy’s outburst at the dinner table, and every time Amy brought up anything that sounded strange or had to do with Rover, Dad rolled his eyes and spoke tersely to her. When Amy had mentioned she’d had a nightmare, Mom said it was probably her brain trying to deal with what she’d seen at the science fair.