“One day, I bet she will.” The nurse’s expression was one Maren recognized. It was the “Everything is fine, even though I have no idea if it actually is” smile she’d given Alexei earlier. Maren snuffled into the tissues and muttered her thanks as the nurse left to check on other patients.

“Hallie,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

Maren’s phone chirped. Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes away from her sister. Her screen filled with text messages from Lishta, who hadn’t quite gotten the hang of cell phones.

My car wonton start

went start

My car will note startle

My car has broken I will bet here soon as i can

Maren stood and shook the pins and needles out of her legs. She checked to make sure Hallie was still breathing, then she looked for the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips, the smallest crease of a laugh line in the corners of her eyes. Nothing.

Maren’s hand tiptoed to her pocket, where the two last flying dreams were nestled. She shot a quick glance at the doorway. Ten seconds later, the dream was tucked under Hallie’s tongue. Maren stood beside her sister and waited as the clock ticked away the seconds. One minute. Two minutes. She checked Hallie’s mouth and the sachet had dissolved, but not a muscle in her face had moved. Maren began to pace. Ten minutes. Twenty. When people dreamed, their eyes twitched and darted around beneath their closed lids, but Hallie’s weren’t doing that. The dream should have started ages ago, but her face remained listless, her lips almost white.

It wasn’t working.

Maren ran out into the hall. She ran all the way to the double doors, slammed through, and kept running. Her feet didn’t want to stop to wait for the elevator, so she found the stairwell and clattered down.

Be careful on the stairs, said her mother’s voice in her head, and she wanted to be careful because the last thing her mother needed was two daughters with head injuries, but she just couldn’t stop. Finally she hit the ground floor with both feet, barged through the lobby, and threw herself outside.

Across the parking lot, the bus pulled away from the stop. Maren slumped against the scratchy brick side of the building. There was no luck in today after all. Nothing had changed. She’d given her sister a silly dream that made her laugh but not wake up. Dreams weren’t medicine. She drooped down to sitting on the gum-encrusted pavement.

A pair of high-heeled shoes appeared beside her. A withered, brown rose petal floated down and landed on Maren’s knee.

“Excuse me,” she said, brushing the petal off.

“No, I don’t think I will.” A woman’s voice, sharp as a spike.

Maren looked up so fast she almost tumbled over sideways. “You again.”