With a breathless laugh, Maren ran back to her starting position, set her hand on her hip, and waited for the song to begin. The dancers had reached that giddy end-of-class state where they knew the routine well enough to fling themselves through it, putting their own personal spin on the steps and fully letting go. It was the closest thing to a flying dream, Maren thought, as her shoes skimmed across the floor and the music filled her whole body. She never wanted it to end, never wanted to stop moving, never wanted to go back to real life ever again.

But after three more repetitions of the wonderful, zooming routine, dance class ended.

“Fabulous job, everyone!” said Ms. Marigold as the dancers ran for their towels and water bottles. “Maren, you were on fire today. What’s gotten into you?”

Metric tons of guilt and a desperate need to escape reality. Maren smiled and shrugged at her teacher. She wished she could stay for the next class, but it was ballet, and Maren was decidedly not a ballerina. Plus her parents couldn’t afford any more classes. She felt bad enough taking this one, but her mom had said that dance class would be the absolute last thing on their list to cut. After groceries and heating, she’d said, and even though Maren knew that was a joke, she loved that her mother knew how important it was to her.

“See you all next week,” said Ms. Marigold as the dancers filed out of the studio. Maren lingered in the changing room, not ready to face Maybe Ms. Malo. But it needed to be done. The euphoria that had fizzled through her veins all through dance class slowly drained away as she guzzled the rest of the water in her bottle. She shoved her tap shoes into her backpack, where a packet of nightmares lay nestled, and headed outside.

* * *

As Maren approached the hospital’s automatic doors, they swished open and Maybe Ms. Malo glided outside. She wore sunglasses and a leopard-print dress that hung off her stick-straight frame. A scarlet moth with a body like a feather duster perched on her belt. Without a word, she walked around the side of the building. Maren hated the assumption that she’d just follow like a dog, but she did. The woman leaned against the brick wall and held out her hand, palm up.

Maren hung back as close to the hospital’s entrance as she could. “You can only have these if you swear you’re not giving them to anybody else. And you have to promise you’ll leave me and my family alone after this.”

The woman let out a wolfish laugh and pulled out her phone. “Come here, darling. I’ve got something to show you.”

“I’ll wait here, thanks.” Maren crossed one ankle over the other and folded her arms. She still had some leverage while she held onto the dreams.