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dream was easy. His mind barely put up defenses at all—just a series of curtains, many of them torn, fluttering as though in a breeze. Just beyond the line of flimsy fabric was a patchy yard and a cheap, aboveground pool. It was the kind of sunlight that exists only in dreams: it came from every direction at once, so it felt like being on the wrong side of a magnifying glass.
    He was in the pool, not more than two feet away from Dea, shirtless. She could have threaded her hand past the curtains and touched his shoulders or run her fingers through his hair. She could have climbed into the pool with him. She could have leaned over and pressed her lips to his, like she’d seen Mishti Barns and Mark Spencer do every morning before homeroom. She wanted to, desperately.
    But it was against the rules.
    The water broke and Hillary Davis surfaced soundlessly, looking even better than she did in real life. Her skin was golden and her teeth were the white of bleached bone. Her hair shimmered in the sun and her boobs floated like overturned cups on the water.
    Then they were kissing. Dea stood there, not two feet away, mesmerized. She could hear the suction sound of their lips and the lapping of their tongues and the whisper of his fingers on her back and shoulders. She stayed there until the curtains became iron walls and she knew Brody was waking up. She had just enough time to slip out of the dream before she felt a sudden, jolting pressure in her chest and she was back in her room, in her body, touching her lips with one cold hand.
    Still, to this day, Dea had never been kissed.

FOUR
    The Donahue house was a good seven miles outside the commercial center of Fielding. On the way toward town, Dea spotted Gollum riding her ancient Schwinn. Dea jerked the car off the road, sending Connor careening against the passenger-side window.
    â€œThanks for the warning,” he said. But he laughed.
    â€œSorry,” Dea said. Gollum spotted Dea’s car and came to a stop by dragging her feet, kicking up a cloud of pale dust. She didn’t get off her bike but stood up, straddling it, gripping the handlebars.
    Gollum was dressed in her typical style: an assortment ofclothes no doubt inherited from one of her older brothers, which she’d tucked and pinned and rolled so that they would at least somewhat fit. Her blond hair was pulled back, but a crown of wisps had escaped from her ponytail, giving her the look of a deranged angel. For the shortest second, Dea was embarrassed by her and wished she hadn’t stopped. Then, furious with herself, she rolled down the window as Gollum looked up, her eyes practically shooting out of her head.
    â€œConnor,” she said. “This is my friend, Gollum.” She pronounced the word friend emphatically, still angry at herself for her moment of mental treachery. “Gollum, this is Connor. He’s the one who just moved in.”
    Gollum stooped down to peer past Dea. Her mouth opened, and then closed. Dea had never seen Gollum speechless before.
    Luckily, Connor took the lead. He leaned over the center console, his shoulder bumping Dea’s. “Gollum,” he said. “Cool name.”
    â€œThanks,” she said, still staring at him. “Cool . . . face.”
    Connor burst out laughing. Gollum turned roughly the color of beet juice.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “My mouth isn’t always hooked up to my brain.”
    Dea reached out and squeezed Gollum’s hand. She was filled with a sudden sense of warmth. She was driving in the car with a boy who had a cool face, and her friend—they were friends, even if they didn’t really hang out outside of school—was standing there, blushing, and the whole scene felt like it could have been lifted straight out of any teen movie.
    Which made her, Dea, the star.
    â€œThat’s okay,” Connor said. “Neither is mine.”
    Once again, Dea had a momentary suspicion that Connor must be