The woman from the dream shop—Maybe Ms. Malo—shrugged and peeled another petal from a bouquet of crusty, dead roses. Perched over her left ear was an orange moth with black circles that looked like eyes on its wings.

“I saw what you gave your sister,” she said, gazing out across the parking lot. Her false eyelashes were thick as paintbrushes. Maren tried to stand, but the woman had dug the heel of her shoe into the hem of her long T-shirt, pinning it to the ground.

“So what?” Maren folded her arms and tried to look like she was perfectly happy where she sat.

“You’re not allowed to give dreams to non-consenting people,” said Maybe Ms. Malo.

“It’s not allowed for you.” Maren fought to keep her voice even. “Those of us who work at the shop don’t have to follow that rule.”

Another petal landed in Maren’s hair, and she swiped it off.

“I think you’re lying,” said the woman.

“It’s a free country.” Maren let out a tiny cough. “You can think whatever you want.”

The pointy toe of the shoe swung sideways, but the heel remained sunk into Maren’s hem. Underneath the shoes, the woman wore pale pink tights. “I wonder what your dear grandmother would say if she found out what you’d done.”

“She wouldn’t care.” Maren hated how nervously shrill her voice sounded.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” The women pulled a sleek silver phone from her bag. “I’ve got her phone number right here.”

Under normal circumstances, Lishta would never believe a random stranger’s story about Maren. But only a few hours ago, Maren had specifically asked about giving Hallie dreams. Her head began to spin.

The woman’s nails tapped at the screen of her phone, and Maren heard the other end ring. If Lishta believed the truth, she’d ban Maren from the shop. Maren couldn’t bear the thought of losing all the knowledge she’d gained, all the wisdom of collecting and measuring and mixing. Even more than that, Maren loved spending time with Lishta.

“Hang up!” she squeaked. The woman lifted a meticulously plucked brow, and Maren added, “Please.”

From the phone came Lishta’s muffled voice: “Hello? Hello? Is someone there?”

Maren made frantic cutting gestures at the woman. If Lishta banned her from the store, she’d have to go back to rattling around her empty house all day while her parents worked and Hallie was a vegetable miles and miles away. She’d have no friends, no sister, no parents…and no grandmother.

“Please,” she said again, and this time her voice broke.

The woman’s thumb hovered over the screen.

“Just tell me what you want,” said Maren.