“You know you’re not supposed to speak foreign languages to me,” I grumbled, falling into the bed with my clothes on. My voice wasn’t loud enough to travel to the first level, but Bex could hear, regardless.

“I wasn’t…never mind,” Bex said, too involved in the hot tub disco party to argue.

Just as I closed my eyes, they popped open again. The alarm clock on Jared’s side read nine-thirty.

“You okay, Nina?” Bex called up. “Bad dreams?”

“No,” I whispered. Just that minuscule bit of effort was all I could manage. I hadn’t realized I was so tired, and it was so much easier to fall asleep without the fear of screaming myself awake.

Ice was beneath me, and my bare toes wiggled against the smooth, shiny whiteness below. That was the only way I was aware it was dream—my feet were warm and comfortable. My father’s office window came into view above me. I was standing alone in the middle of Fleet Rink. Soon my naked feet were adorned with a pair of new ice skates, and Jack stood in the window, smiling down at me. A crowd of people, young and old, circled the space where I stood. Sporting matching red noses, their misty breath puffed out with each word or laugh.

I waved to him, and he waved back. Pushing forward, I could hear the blade of my skate scratching the surface of the ice. Looking up again, I noticed Jack was no longer smiling. Instead he bobbed in and out of visibility, pacing back and forth in his office, and then I saw Gabe.

They were arguing.

Oh no, I thought, feeling the tugging feeling again. No!

Back in the dusty, stale office, I landed on all fours again. Anger surged through me. My nights were just returning to normal. I wanted to sleep all night in Jared’s arms. I wanted him to see that things were getting better, that I was getting better.

“I’m not doing this again!” I yelled, storming Jack and Gabe.

They ignored me, repeating the same scripted dialogue from before.

“Stop!” I said. “I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?” Gabe asked.

My mouth formed around each of Jack’s words. “Are you sure it’s her, Gabe?” He paused for Gabe’s answer, and then continued, “Then you know the answer.” I shook my head from side to side as I spoke along with him, copying him like a toddler, angry and snide.

A ferocious rage overtook me, and I grabbed the book from Jack’s hands.

Time stopped. Several times before, I had attempted to physically interrupt, and failed. Jack, Gabe, and the book were always very real, but when I tried to interfere, they were the consistency of a hologram. This time the book was in my hands.