“A speech?” Dad asked. He sat across the table in one of his sleeping T-shirts. The shirt was emblazoned with the logo of some software company he used to work for, the once bright colors faded. His hair was scruffy, and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days.

Mom was eating standing up, already dressed for work in a two-piece suit, the collar of her blouse blindingly white in the sunlit kitchen. She’d never dressed up this much for work in Chicago, but Jessica guessed she was trying to impress her new bosses. Mom had never worked on Saturday before, either. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Jessica realized that there was no way to tell the truth on that one. Before she’d showered this morning, the soles of her feet had been almost black, a lot like the feet of someone who had walked a mile on asphalt barefoot. Her hands still had faint red marks on the palms, and she had a bruise on the hand the slither had bitten.

Of course, there was still the barest chance that it had all been a dream, complete with sleepwalking and sleep-fence-climbing. She would be checking that possibility in a couple of hours.

“Jessica?”

“Oh, sorry. I guess I’m kind of tired today. I’ve been having these weird dreams since we moved. They wake me up.”

“Me too,” Dad said.

“Yeah, Dad,” Beth said, “but you don’t come into my room and make little speeches.”

All three of them looked at Jessica expectantly, Beth smiling cruelly.

Normally Jessica would have made a joke or left the room, anything to escape embarrassment. But she had already fibbed about why she couldn’t sleep. She decided to make amends in the truth department.

“I just thought that I’d tell Beth,” she said haltingly, “that I knew moving was tough on her. And that I was here for her.”

“That is so lame,” Beth said. “Mom, tell Jessica not to be so lame.”

Jessica felt her mom’s fingers lightly on the back of her head. “I think that was really sweet, Jessica.”

Beth made an ugh noise and fled from the kitchen with her breakfast. The sound of cartoons came on in the living room.

“That was very mature of you, Jess,” Dad said.

“I didn’t do it to be mature.”

“I know, Jessica,” Mom said. “But you’re right—Beth needs our support right now. Keep trying.”

Jessica shrugged, still a little embarrassed. “Sure.”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go,” Mom said. “I get to try out the wind tunnel this afternoon.”

“Good luck, Mom.”

“Bye, sweethearts.”

“Bye,” Jessica and her father said together. The moment the front door had closed, they took their breakfasts in front of the TV. Beth scooted aside on the couch for Jessica but didn’t say a word.