“Tarot?” I ask, just so we’re clear. “You’re a tarot reader now?”

“Well, I’ve always been a tarot reader, Cat. I just didn’t do it nine to five before. It’s in the blood, you know.”

Not in mine, I think. Not in Moony’s.

“It pays great,” she continues. “Better than any bullshit retail or administrative work I might find. And let’s be honest, I’m not really cut out for the desk-set scene.”

She has me there.

“So,” she continues, “this fits. I have a great spot in the square, and I get client calls all the time. I keep busy. And I’m good at it, you know?”

I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. I’m sure she knows her way around a tarot deck, but I’m not sure anyone should be coming to her for advice. I make a noncommittal sound and settle under my covers, scrolling through memes on my phone. I consider texting my friends. What will Jaq and Gracie think come August when I don’t show up in the cafeteria? Who will loan Julie Perkins lip balm every time her bottom lip splits in winter? I could tell them what happened, where I am, but the truth is, my disappearance will not disrupt their summer all that much. They might not even notice. Because, like Moony, I never let anyone close.

It takes her a good forty minutes more, but my mom finally goes to bed, and I am alone in the stillness of the room. I drag my cards out of their box and flip them around. I always start at the beginning, with the Fool. The young man stares past me at some dazzling future I cannot see. His chin is too high. His step too light. The little white dog at his heel prances like a circus animal. But this is not what catches my eye tonight. Not even the rocky crag upon which they perch, one step shy of plummeting. Tonight it is the yellow flowers of his tunic and his golden boots. I know that color. It is the color of the waistcoat on the boy in my dream. It is the color of falling.

My arms erupt in goose pimples and my heart drops a beat, as if it too cannot believe what I am seeing. Did I dream the Fool? Or did he dream me?

The fact that I cannot answer that, that I would even ask it at all, makes me feel unhinged along all the most important seams.

I quickly tuck the cards back in their box and shove them under the pillow. When monsters sleep, it’s best not to make too much noise. That’s what Moony said when I would call her into my room at night, scared that a monster was slinking through my closet or curling under my mattress.