The next afternoon, Maren and Amos sat in old Mr. O’Grady’s nursing home room, listening to the old man’s wheezy snore.

“It should be done now.” Maren checked her watch. Her dreams still weren’t as precise as Lishta’s, but she’d designed this memory to last somewhere between two and three minutes. Before Mr. O’Grady had consented to taking the dream, he seemed to recognize Amos but kept calling him “young man.” Maren suspected he couldn’t remember his name. She hoped that would change when he woke, but there was no knowing for sure. Her dreams couldn’t work miracles.

“Gramps, can you hear me?” Gently, Amos shook the old man’s shoulder.

Mr. O’Grady let out a sharp snort and lifted his head. His unfocused gaze drifted around the room, and Maren worried they were too late and his brain had deteriorated beyond healing. But then he spotted his grandson and smiled.

“Amos, my boy!” he croaked. “I was just dreaming about playing softball with you.”

Amos let out a surprised laugh, and Maren pretended not to notice the tears in his eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she said, easing out of her chair. “Just need a drink of water.”

Out in the hall, Maren gulped and gulped from the water fountain until the world around her swam. She was thrilled to help Amos’s grandfather remember him again, especially after everything Amos had done for her. Yesterday, she’d even gotten a sincere apology from Curtis, something she’d never imagined in her wildest dreams.

Maren sighed. Nothing made her happier than finding the perfect present for somebody else. But it had been so easy to heal Mr. O’Grady’s brain, and she couldn’t quite bury her own jealousy. As delighted as she was for Amos and his grandfather, she still felt sorry for herself and Hallie. She’d begun testing the whispering dust with Lishta, but that didn’t change the hospital’s no-magic policy, and Maren wasn’t sure about the long-term facility’s rules.

Tomorrow Hallie was moving to Whittaker. Everyone assured Maren it wouldn’t change anything, but it changed everything. Her sister was going to that hopeless place. Maren had failed to fix her.

From inside her backpack came a melodic trill. She fished out her phone. “Hi Mom.”

“Sweetie? Can you hear me?” Her mother sounded frantic, and Maren’s stomach clenched.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“Your sister is awake!” yelled Maren’s mom. “Completely, fully awake and responding to questions. She asked for you.”

Maren let out a scream, startling the old people in the hall. “Sorry,” she said to them. “It’s good news, don’t worry. Mom? Are you still there?”

“Yes. You’re still at the nursing home, right? I’m almost there. Meet me outside.”