“There’s also someone else who’s been visiting almost every day. She’s very devoted to you.”

I smile. “Zora,” I say.

“And a young man has been by a few times too.”

Now, I frown. “Really? Who?”

For some reason, that makes the nurse guffaw with laughter. “I’ll leave you to figure that one out on your own. For now, I have another dose of medication for you, and then you should get some rest.”

Rest sounds like the absolute last thing that I want. I want to move, to get up and figure out what’s been happening in the month I’ve been out. My muscles feel thin and wasted, and I want to walk, to run, to do something.

Then the drugs kick in, and I end up back in a deep and dreamless sleep.

2

“I thought you said she was awake!” Mom’s voice sounds frustrated, frazzled. “This is beyond ridiculous. I want to take my daughter home now!”

I can hear her, but she feels just out of reach. My eyes are glued shut with gritty sleep. I tilt to the side, reaching my hand out in the direction of her voice.

“Mom?” I manage to whisper.

“Lacey!” She’s by my side in an instant, her warm hands clasping my outstretched one. I instinctively grip back. I’m coming back to myself. I can feel it.

I force my eyes open and wriggle until I’m sitting up. Mom wraps her arms around me, her embrace warm and comforting. “Can we go home now?” I ask, speaking directly into her neck.

“Yes, honey,” she says, stroking my hair. She’s holding me so tightly, I don’t think she wants to let me go.

Her tone changes as she addresses the nurse. It’s much sterner. “Have you finally figured out what happened to her?”

The nurse makes a show of scrolling through the data on Catcher’s back. “We’ve been treating her for mild hypothermia. She has now completely recovered from it, which is why she is feeling stronger. And she hasn’t lost consciousness in the past forty-eight hours, so we’re hoping this is the end of it.”

“Does that mean I can take her home?”

The nurse nods, and her expression softens into a smile. “I think the doctor wants to do one more examination to give her the all clear, then we can formally discharge her. In the meantime, I should mention there’s another visitor…”

Mom smiles too. “Yes, you can let him in.”

The nurse pats my leg and leaves the room, Catcher trotting at her heels.

“Have I really been in this hospital for almost a month?” I ask Mom.

“Twenty-seven days, and I’ve counted every minute of every one,” she replies.

“Wow,” I reply. Then my voice drops. “I don’t remember anything about why I’m here…”