Everybody’s got a light inside them—some reflection of their spirit, or soul, I guess. But apparently I’ve got this extra glow to my shine—courtesy of a gift the real White Deer Woman gave me when I was a kid, telling stories to a tree. See, that’s how we got this connection in the first place. I treated a tree like it was a real person, and that tree was part of her. She took a liking to the sorry little kid I was and invested me with this shine, which was part gift and part burden. It draws magic to me, then helps me send it out into the world using whatever natural talents I can bring to play.

So I shine, apparently. It’s what draws the otherworldly types to me, which is not a bad thing, mostly. The trouble comes from the fact that the otherworld’s full of dark and nasty things, too, and this shine of mine is like a beacon to them, as well.

Joe always said he’d teach me how to protect myself—to turn down the shine, I guess, or hide it—but we haven’t really talked about it since I last got back from the otherworld. No need to. The Broken Girl I am—or that I am back in the World As It Is—wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t need to be protected.

“So I guess I need to wake up,” I say. “If I want to be safe.”

“You’re not sleeping. You need to cross back over again.”

I nod. Because I understand. But the thing is, I don’t really want to go. Can you blame me? After two years of being trapped in a body that doesn’t work properly, I want to cut loose. I want to run and dance. I want to find pencil and paper and put down all the images that have been banging around in my head, yearning to get out. I want the rush of immediate creation, not the slow pixel-by-pixel method I use on the laptop that the Professor gave me. Or the big sloppy paintings I can manage with the arm that wasn’t hurt.

I want detail again.

I want to be like I was before the accident. Like I am now.

But I know I can’t stay here. It’s not just that it’s dangerous for me. All of my life, such as it is, lies in the World As It Is. That’s where Geordie and my friends are. That’s where my sister lives. I can’t just disappear on them.

God, what must Geordie be thinking? All I left behind by way of explanation was an empty bed.