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thought she felt something twitch in her skull, like a flashing tail. Reptile brain. Lizard in my brain. Chelsea nodded.
    â€œI can understand that. They can bite. They can scratch.”
    â€œIt’s more than that. Monitors can get really big. And they’re aggressive.”
    â€œIs this a big lizard?”
    She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know.”
    â€œOkay. Is it in a cage or is it wandering around the house?”
    â€œA cage. Ms. Mandisa said it was totally safe. She used to study them. She was a herpetologist.”
    â€œAnd we trust Ms. Mandisa?”
    â€œPretty much.”
    â€œSo there’s a good opportunity here for you, but you’re worried there’d still might be some danger. What’s the OCD telling you to do?”
    â€œDon’t do it. No matter what. Don’t do it.”
    â€œAnd what should you do?”
    â€œGo and see if it really is dangerous before I decide.”
    The doctor nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
    He pointed at the little quote above his desk, and for a second, Chelsea felt as though she understood it.

3
    On the outside, at least, the home of Ms. Mandisa was disappointingly unremarkable. It was a typical white cape, sort of stately if you accepted a loose definition, dormers extending the second floor headroom. Maybe it had been painted once in the last ten years, but the lawn was overgrown and the rust on the chain-link fence was worse than Pete’s acne. A blue Volvo was planted in the yard, the fraying Bilsford High School parking sticker looking like its newest part.
    Not that it was unusual. Most academics weren’t big earners, and—head in the clouds anyway—some just let their places go to seed. What bothered Chelsea more was how far she was from home. The bike ridethat she’d told her mother would take fifteen minutes was closer to forty. Thirty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. And she was cold despite her warm jacket.
    Chelsea pedaled onto the gravel driveway. She hopped off, laid her bike against a thick pine and noticed that all the first-floor windows were barred. This was also not unusual. The university town suffered from many a petty robbery. Usually no one was hurt, but there was always some down-and-out student willing to test your doors or windows. The newer colonial Chelsea shared with her parents had a full-blown alarm system, but her parents had only installed that so she could sleep at night.
    She looked up and thought the bars on the second-floor windows were pushing it. Bilsford thieves didn’t bother to climb. Too much effort. She made a quick circuit around the house, counting. Twenty-one windows, all barred.
    Back out front, a cheerful yipping made her turn to see a creature from a fantasy story galloping straight toward her. She gasped at the little brown body and white mane. Except for the floppy ears, it looked like a tiny horse. She thought she was hallucinating until she recognized the dog’s breed: Chinese crested. They’d had one just like it at Rhett’s when she startedthere. Pete nicknamed it “Ming the Merciless” because of the way it shredded chew toys. This little fellow had the same coloring.
    Wait a minute. Could it be?
    â€œMing?”
    The dog yipped again and lolled its tongue. It was Ming! Chelsea bent and patted the tiny horsey head, noticing the dragging leash. “You’re a surprise! Yes you are! A nice surprise! Where’s your owner, baby, huh? You got a tag?”
    She felt around the neck and pulled a pink collar with silver studs into sight. Could it get more tacky? Well, what other sort of person would want a dog that looked like a little horse, anyway?
    â€œAristotle!” a sandpaper voice cried out. Chelsea remembered the tall, elegant woman who’d bought the dog two months ago as she strode up on her long legs. At five foot ten, she was a sight to behold. Straight, bleached-blonde hair dipped below her shoulders.