“Hey, big sister.” Maren loomed over her, watching carefully for the tiniest flutter of eyelash or lip, but there were no flutters. She blew on her sister’s eyebrow. Still nothing. Maren pulled the chair up so close to the bed that there was no room for her legs, so she sat with them tucked up, elbows propped on Hallie’s mattress.

And she watched.

And waited.

And watched.

“Gran-Gran told me more about that whispering dust,” Maren said to fill the silence. “If you give it to someone while they’re sleeping, you can talk to them inside their dream. Isn’t that cool?” She sighed. “But she won’t let me use any to talk to you. I have no idea if you can hear me right now. Can you?”

Hallie didn’t answer. Rationally, Maren hadn’t expected her to, but there’d been a dust-sized fleck of hope.

“Twitch your finger once for yes,” said Maren, unwilling to let go of that speck of hope.

But Hallie didn’t move. Not a twitch, not a blink, not a smile.

The clock ticked away the time, and Maren’s foot tapped along. Her arms began to tingle. Her calves cramped. Her head grew heavy. She slumped back in her chair, still watching. The machines beeped and clicked, and Hallie didn’t budge. Maren had to pee, but she feared she’d miss an important flicker of movement if she left.

“Wake up,” she whispered. “Wake up wake up wake up.”

A nurse wearing Mickey Mouse scrubs came in. “Hello, Maren,” she said.

“Hi.” Maren felt bad that she didn’t know the nurse’s name. “Has she laughed again yet?”

“Not since before your mom was here.” The nurse adjusted Hallie’s IV and wrote a few things on her clipboard. “I’m really going to miss her next week.”

Maren gulped. “But she smiled, too?”

The nurse lowered her clipboard, and pity filled her eyes. “She did, and that’s great progress. But Hallie’s recovery is going to be a marathon, not a sprint.”

Maren didn’t understand why the nurse was handing her a tissue. Then she realized she was crying. She felt like a baby.

“Whittaker is better equipped for a marathon than we are.” The nurse rubbed Maren’s shoulder, which made her cry even more. Whittaker, like Sterling, was a long-term-care facility, not a place for people who had started waking up and returning to normal. It was even farther away than Sterling, almost an hour by car.

“Is there somebody we can call to come get you?” said the nurse, handing Maren another tissue.

“My grandmother is on her way.” Maren’s voice was thick with tears. Lishta should have been there ages ago, but apparently Alexei’s problems were more important. “We thought Hallie was waking up.”