I’m shocked. My mother has always hid me under her wing; she’s never wanted the world to notice me. “No thanks,” I mutter, reaching down to massage my ankle. At this point, I’d much rather blend.

“Oh, does it hurt bad?”

Not as much as my heart pounding against my chest like it’s trying to escape. “Not so much. I just need to sit a second. Can we get a pretzel?”

We head outside the outlet and my mom buys a pretzel and a lemonade from a stand on the sidewalk. She rips the pretzel in half and, as usual, gives me the bigger piece. Then we sit on a bench, our packages surrounding us. She’s bought more than I have, though she doesn’t really need anything. I have a pair of ballet flats, some skinny jeans, and a black pencil skirt. I can’t decide whether the kids at the Architectural Journal will be going casual or businessy, so I’ve decided to pack a little of both. I should have plenty of purchases to show for our three hours at the outlets; after all, since my wardrobe is mostly shorts and flip-flops, I need just about everything. But I can’t concentrate.

“Maybe we should just call it a day, shop some more when you’re feeling better.”

I’m glad I have my ankle to blame for my spaciness. “Yeah.”

“I’d say you can drive home for the practice, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

I nod. Smart thinking. For once in my life, I am in no mood to drive.

“I hope you’re feeling better for your big day tomorrow.”

I stare blankly at her. Big day? Oh, she means my driver’s test. How can it be that I’ve had that day circled in red on my calendar forever, but now that it’s almost here, I’m a wreck? “Mom,” I say. “Do you think I should postpone it?”

The shock is everywhere on her face. “Is this because of the accident?”

“Um … yeah,” I say.

“Well, if you’re in New York for the rest of the summer, I don’t know when you’ll be able to reschedule it.” She studies me. “After all, the accident was just a symptom of the problem, wasn’t it?”

It’s uncanny the way my mom can read my mind. I nod.

“This is really about Griffin, right?”

I nod.

She puts her arm around my shoulder and pulls me so close that I can smell her Herbal Essences shampoo. “Oh, hon. I know you miss him. I know how much you loved him.”

I blink. Okay, she shouldn’t quit her day job to become a Psychic Friend just yet. How can she know how much I loved Griffin when even I don’t anymore? How can I explain to her that it’s not sorrow or grief I’m feeling … but guilt … and fear?

When we return home, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is trudge to bed, but the second we pull into the driveway, I see that’s not going to be possible. Bret is standing on the front stoop, looking unsure, as if he doesn’t know whether he should knock. He’s never shown up at my house. In fact, I didn’t know he knew where I lived. From the look on his face, I know why he’s here. I cringe.

My mother eyes him like he’s one of those door-to-door Holy Rollers come to lure me off to a cult. “Do you know this boy?”

I nod as she takes my one and only bag from me and opens the screen door, still shooting him eye daggers. “Yeah, Mom. It’ll just be a second.”

His smile looks about a second away from shattering into a thousand pieces. “So!” he says brightly as I sit down on the stoop beside him, but far away enough that he can’t easily touch me. I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I stare straight across the street, at two girls playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. “I found out who broke into my locker, I think. Someone on the track team. Anyway …”

“Oh yeah?” I say. I know he didn’t come all the way over here to tell me that.

“Yeah.” He is silent for a minute. I can tell he’s going to open up a vein. And the last time he did that, he kissed me. That is not what I need right now, not after seeing Griffin in my dream. Not when I feel like he’s here, watching. “Look, I don’t really remember what happened that night. But I woke up feeling like scum, and knowing I should apologize to you.”

I shrug. “Forget it.” Please.

He laughs. “I did. I swear I can’t remember a thing. But when you didn’t call me these past couple of days, I knew you were angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you,” I protest. “We’re still friends.” I emphasize the last part, hoping he’ll get the hint that this isn’t an invitation to exchange bodily fluids.

“Right. Ippie, you’re my best friend. And if that’s what you want to stay, that’s okay with me.”

I heave a sigh and finally look at him. “Yes!” I say, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Yes. Thank you. That’s what I want to stay.”

His face falls. I guess he didn’t expect me to be so jumping-up-and-down excited about the proposition. “Okay,” he says, standing. “Well, um. So we’re okay?”

I nod. “Perfect.”

“Good.” He studies me. “You look a little beat. Shopping all day?”

“Yeah. I was. Um, getting clothes for New York.”

“Oh. Right. Congratulations on that,” he says, looking toward the street. “Call me later, okay?”

“Sure,” I say, yawning and turning back to the house. I can’t even feel glad that things between Bret and me are patched up. I’m too hazy, numb. I climb the stairs to my bedroom, pretty sure I’m already half asleep. After the second nightmare with Griffin, I spent most of the night awake in the dark, watching the shadows stretch across the ceiling. But now, as soon as I pull back the sheets and slide into bed, sleep overtakes me. In minutes I am dreaming.

Of Eron again.

He’s standing on the street, staring up at the enormous buildings. The sky above and his skin take on the same grayish blue of the concrete. He’s wearing his tuxedo, and when I come up behind him, he turns and I see that his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. “Good. You’re here,” he says.

“Where is here?” I ask.

“Don’t you know? I’ve brought you here before. You’re sleeping.”

“Yes.” I guess I did know that. For as long as I can remember, Eron has been the one to bring me to this place, which is why I’ve always felt safe with him. “Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer; instead his face turns serious. “Have you seen Griffin here lately?”

“Yes. Last night. He was very angry at me.”

Eron’s hair whips in the breeze. “I was afraid of that.”

“What does it mean?”

He moves close to me but does not touch me. He seems afraid to. Like he knows that that’s the reason Griffin is so upset. He whispers, “If you ever see him in your dreams, you must do everything you can to awaken. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“He is much more powerful when you are asleep.”

“Powerful? I don’t understand …” My voice drifts off. “What is going on?”

I reach for him, but he steps away. The wind feels like ice on my skin. “I will do my best to protect you,” he answers. He reaches over and pushes the hair out of my eyes, then strokes my cheek very gently.

Suddenly, storm clouds drift over us. He tilts his chin to them just as the first bolt of lightning slashes the sky.

“He’s coming.” He focuses on me, his eyes intense. “Wake up. Wake up, Julia.”

I’m startled into reality. My curtains are flooding the room, carried by a fierce, whistling wind. Papers from my desk scatter to the floor. Everything in my room is cast in gray, the color of storm clouds. I lick my lips; despite the icy wind howling through the room, they’re coated in sweat. I can’t catch my breath.

I throw the covers off my body and race down the stairs.

CHAPTER 26

Eron

Despite my searching everywhere, Mr. Colburn is nowhere to be found. I suppose that wherever he is, he’s more irritable than ever, since he shirked his regular duties. At times, while I stood over Julia, helping her take her afternoon nap, I sensed him near. I met Julia in her dreams and told her to beware; I knew he was there and furious that she’d been dreaming of me. It’s early in the evening when I finally realize I’m human again. I’m not sure how long it will last, so I hurry to Julia’s home. The moment I reach the front stoop, she swings open the front door, as if expecting me. Her gasp tells me that she wasn’t, that she was just on her way out.