“Did Simon get any treats?” I ask as she scoops vanilla ice cream into the centre of the donuts.

“Nope. I just shooed everyone out so I could hunt for you.”

“I really did ruin everything. I’m sorry.”

She just looks at me, then a smile creeps over her face and she waves her hand like it’s all no big deal. Over and forgiven.

I chew at my lip as she hands me my plate, then change the subject. “You told me you get nightmares from eating too much sugar before bed.”

“Yup, but I don’t think they tell the future like your sugar nightmares.”

“I don’t remember eating anything sweet before that dream.” I dig my spoon in.

“Anyhow, this donut is totally worth it.” She grins with sprinkle-covered teeth. “And, if you do get a nightmare, just remember —”

“You’ve got my back?” I finish.

“No, I was going to say, I’ll be right beside you. You can wake me.”

We eat our little parties on plates and head downstairs, where we pile onto the messy bed with the silver M on the duvet. We don’t talk since Morgan’s sister lies snoring on the other one.

I need to toss and turn to work out what’s happened to me and Diesel, but I don’t want to move and accidentally touch Morgan. Instead I replay Diesel’s voice in my head. That’s what I most miss about him right now. I try to imagine him telling me that this will turn out all right.

But I still can’t sleep. So no sugar nightmares tonight.

24

Wednesday, June 30:

The Nightmare

When the first bit of light filters through the small basement window, I jump out of bed and throw on my clothes. “Morgan.” I gently shake her shoulder. “I have to go home.”

“What, huh? What time is it? Let me get up. I’ll go with you.”

“No, it’s too early. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you as soon as I hear.”

I run the few blocks to my house. I’m not a big jogger, so I can feel my heartbeat through my gums by the time I get there. I grab the phone from the kitchen and sneak into Mom’s room to get that one, too. Don’t want her answering the vet’s call. I place them on my bed and lie down next to them, watching and listening.

The first time they ring, I startle awake and pick one up.

“I’m sorry but your dog died in surgery.” No hello, no identification of the caller. I actually see the apple-doll lady smiling at me.

“But you didn’t even take X-rays,” I yell.

“Sure we did. Summer told us we could.”

I scream then, loud and hard, and wake myself up for real this time. Stupid sprinkle donut and ice cream. Luckily, I don’t wake Mom — must have screamed inside my head.

Next time the phone rings, I nearly don’t wake up. I grab a receiver just as Mom walks into the room.