It was a shoebox, and the photo on the front was of a pair of royal-blue high heels.

“Okay . . . thank you,” I said. “But I don’t really need blue shoes. Should we put them back?”

She pushed it at me again, clearly wanting me to take them. It seemed morbid, like something a dying person would do. I’d spent enough time that day talking and thinking about dying people, so I stopped protesting. I went into my bedroom and set the shoebox on the floor by the dresser. I’d just return it later.

Agatha followed me in and sat down on the bed, without being invited.

“Are you okay?” I asked. She didn’t answer, but she seemed fine, so I let it go.

Laura’s gentle knock came from the door, and she peeked into the room. “Have you seen—oh, there she is.”

“Yeah, I guess she wanted to hang out in here.”

“How lovely,” Laura said. “Come, Agatha. Don’t bother Margot. She’s busy.”

I wasn’t. Not at all. But oh well.

THE SOUNDS THAT woke me were low and constant—a steady stream of mumbles and unhappy whimpers. At first, I thought it was me. Then I realized it was coming from the other room.

I ran into the nursery. Agatha was thrashing in her bed like a madwoman, and the cries that escaped her were primal, animalistic.

“Agatha!” I cried. I tried to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away. I got a glimpse of her face—she was crying, raking her fingers down her cheeks. She’d already left two long scrapes on the right side. “Stop! Please, stop!”

I knew I should go get Laura, but I didn’t want to leave Agatha alone when she was having some kind of fit. Then she grabbed her hair in her fists and pulled so hard I expected it to come out of her scalp in great chunks.

I kept repeating her name: “Agatha, Agatha, Agatha—” And finally, my voice seeped into her head and she looked at me, scooting all the way back across the bed as if I was going to hurt her somehow.

But she was calmer now—still freaked out, tears still rolling down her cheeks, wide-eyed and terrified—but calmer.

“It’s me,” I said softly. “It’s me, Margot. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here. I’m here.”

In spite of the horror of this outburst, something inside me was amazed and hopeful. There was an awakeness about her I’d never seen before.

“Do you know me?” I asked.

She gave me a quick little nod. And then it was like she couldn’t stop nodding.

“Right,” I said. “I’m Margot. I’m here, Ags. I’ll help you. You’re so upset. What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth to speak. “Kah!” she spat. “K—gah. Gah.”