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pointing out that everything’s out of place. These dolls are all mixed up. Some are upside down…”
    Calvin knew that in Sasha’s world, this would be unacceptable. I’d told him that one of the things we’d done on Sunday was alphabetize the emergency contact list that her mom kept on the fridge. Whoo-hoo! Par-tay, Sasha style!
    I continued, “And yeah, maybe Sasha fought back when whoever grabbed her, grabbed her.” I shook my head as I looked around. “But nothing else in the room is knocked over. It doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œOkay, so if Sasha didn’t mess up the dolls, who did?” Calvin asked. “For the record, if I’m executing a home invasion with the intent to kidnap a child, I’m not gonna take the time to rearrange her freaking freaky dolls.”
    I agreed. But those haunting images from my dream popped back into my head. I thought about Sasha’s eyes—how they’d looked empty as she’d leaned against the car window.
    I rubbed a tired hand over my face and sighed. “Cal, I’m gonna tell you something, and you’re going to think I sound crazy.”
    â€œGirl, I thought you were crazy from the jump.”
    I gave him the side eye. “I’m serious. I know it’s going to sound completely unreal, but I can’t not tell you.”
    Calvin nodded. “Okay.”
    â€œI had a dream this was going to happen.” I frowned. “Sort of.”
    Calvin looked amused. “Like a premonition?” he said, and I could tell immediately that he wasn’t taking me seriously whatsoever.
    â€œI guess.” I sat down on Sasha’s bed, sighing. “It’s hard to explain. Right before Carmen came to our door, I was having this nightmare. And Sasha was in it. She was walking down this deserted highway in the rain. I think—no, I know that she was in danger.”
    Calvin wheeled close and draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling my head playfully into his armpit. “You’re like Old Mary One-Eye, the palm reader who lives underneath the highway overpass—but cuter.”
    â€œDickweed.”
    â€œI love you too.”
    â€œI’m serious,” I said, pulling free and looking up at Calvin. “Why would I have a dream about Sasha right before she disappeared? I feel like maybe I know more than my conscious mind will let on.”
    Calvin shook his head. “You had a bad dream. It’s a coincidence.”
    I didn’t quite believe that.
    â€œTell you what,” Calvin said. “When they find Sasha—after you’ve gotten some good, uninterrupted sleep—we’ll ask her if any part of your dream actually came true.”
    â€œDo you really think they’ll find her, Cal?”
    â€œI know they will,” he said, his voice so rich with conviction that I almost believed it myself.
    â€œI so hope you’re right,” I said.

Chapter Three
    The next two days were seriously surreal—and this was well before Friday’s after-dark run to the Sav’A’Buck in Harrisburg. That fabulousness was still to come.
    Calvin and I both took Tuesday off from school to search for Sasha in the daylight, while the rest of the neighborhood watch rapidly waned. It was creepy, seeing people who had been standing outside with flashlights and umbrellas just hours before as they bustled into their cars and SUVs for a normal workday as if nothing were different. Old Mr. McMahon, two houses down, whistled as he mowed his lawn.
    Even the sun was shining again. It seemed, honestly, as though the entire world was giving Sasha the finger.
    Wednesday meant it had been long enough since Sasha’s disappearance that the police could finally become involved. My mom had delivered an exhausting number of diatribes about that . She could still remember the days when a missing nine-year-old got immediate attention from the local police. But it had been decades