“Hey, is that her again?” Amos pointed to a green car that had circled the perimeter of the parking lot and now rolled toward them. Maren caught her breath as the car drifted past and Maybe Ms. Malo held her gaze. There was something unfathomable in the woman’s dark eyes, something cold and reptilian.

“Do you think we should go inside until she’s gone?” said Amos.

Taillights flashed as the green car rounded the corner. Maren shuddered and nodded. Maybe hanging out with Amos wasn’t the worst option.

He let her go through the doors first. “Should we tell somebody about her?”

“No!” Maren didn’t mean to yell, but did. The last thing she wanted was that creepy woman telling the hospital staff she’d been slipping things into coma patients’ mouths.

“Ooookay.” Amos flopped in a chair in the atrium and pulled out his phone.

“Don’t give me that look,” said Maren.

He tapped at his screen. “What look?”

“The one that means I’m weird and you’re normal and I’m somehow endangering your health with my weirdness.”

Though he didn’t look up from his phone, the corner of Amos’s mouth twitched.

“And if you’re texting Curtis about me, I swear I’ll punch you,” said Maren.

Amos’s laughter echoed through the high-ceilinged space. “I’m texting my mom. She wants to know what time I’m coming home.”

“Oh.” Maren couldn’t remember the last time her mom had asked her that question. They spent so much time at the hospital that it was pointless. Sometimes it felt like she’d lost her parents in this accident, like she’d gone invisible to them in their new lives that revolved around work and the hospital. Only Lishta noticed her anymore.

Maren wondered what would happen if she called the police. Maybe they’d arrest the woman for harassing and blackmailing a child. But if they pressed charges, there’d be a court case and the woman would get a chance to speak, and she’d tell everyone what Maren had done. Maren couldn’t let that happen.

“You hungry?” said Amos.

Maren’s stomach rumbled. “A little.” This was an understatement. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“They have really good cake in the cafeteria,” said Amos.

“The hospital cafeteria?” Maren had eaten enough gray hamburgers and crunchy pasta in the days following the accident to be very suspicious of Amos’s statement.

“Yeah.” Amos hopped out of his chair and tripped over his shoelace. “I know it’s gross in there, but you have to trust me on the cake.”

Maren glanced out at the parking lot. No sign of Lishta yet—or Maybe Ms. Malo’s green car. Her stomach gurgled again. She took out her phone, but there were no new messages from her grandmother, so she wrote her own.

I’ll be in the cafeteria.

* * *