The Girl Who Could Not Dream by Sarah Beth Durst

awake.”
    â€œThat just means you’re not an idiot, either.”
    He smiled sunnily. Sophie thought he was the kind of person that the phrase “his smile brightened the room” was invented for. Even though the sun was out, it felt extra sunny when he smiled. If she practiced for hours, she’d never be able to achieve that effect. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day,” he said. “Knew you weren’t as prickly as everyone says.”
    â€œYes, I am.”
    Sophie walked quickly toward the bookshop. Wind whistled down the sidewalk, stirring bits of trash. A few people were around—a woman carrying both a baby and dry cleaning to her car, an elderly man walking a shriveled, fuzzy dog, and the kids from the bus, heading for their own houses. On this street, homes were mixed with shops. She usually liked that, because it meant there were lots of people to watch. She liked to stroll home and imagine what people’s lives were like—and their dreams. But today, she only had eyes for the bookshop.
    Ethan hurried to keep up with her. “Do you think it followed us?”
    â€œHope not.”
    â€œThat’s not exactly reassuring.”
    She didn’t have anything reassuring to say. Maybe her parents would. The sooner she could reach them, the better. They could talk to Ethan, send him home, and this would be over. She could stop feeling like her stomach was a shaken snow globe.
    He caught up with her, walking fast beside her. “Why do I get the feeling that there’s a lot you’re not telling me?”
    â€œBecause there is.”
    Up ahead was her parents’ bookshop. The lights were on, a warm glow through the windows, and the sign said
Open
. Mom and Dad would know what to say and what to do. She hoped.

 
    S OPHIE PUSHED THROUGH THE DOOR TO THE BOOK­SHOP. Overhead, the bell rang cheerfully, as if welcoming her home. She lowered her backpack to the floor and closed the door behind Ethan. She felt as if she was shutting out the world. “We’re safe now.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Ethan peeked through the bookstore, checking the aisles.
    â€œAbsolutely. Mom and Dad wouldn’t allow anything dangerous here after school. Except Monster. But he’s the friendly kind of dangerous.” Raising her voice, she called, “Mom? Dad? I’m home! I brought . . .” She hesitated over what to call Ethan. A friend? A classmate? “. . . someone,” she finished. She’d never brought anyone home from school before. She hoped they didn’t make too much of a fuss.
    â€œAre they here?” Ethan asked.
    â€œOf course,” Sophie said. “It’s business hours.”
    Muffled by the backpack, Monster asked, “Any customers?”
    She peered down each aisle. No customers. And no parents, either. “Nope. All clear. You can come out. But hide yourself, just in case.”
    Monster unzipped the backpack with a tentacle, wiggled out, and then scampered up one of the bookshelves to his usual perch. He blended in with the shadows at the top of the shelves. From here, if anyone bothered to look up, he looked like an ordinary housecat.
    Ethan shrugged off his backpack and left it next to hers, near the checkout desk. His backpack was covered in sports key chains. It made Sophie’s look drab in comparison. “So are you going to explain how you have a pet monster? Also, what was that thing that attacked me? Is it going to come back? What does it want? Where did it come from? Are there more like it? Why aren’t you more freaked out about all of this?”
    â€œMy parents will explain.” She called again, “Mom? Dad? Hello?” It was strange that they weren’t here. One of them should have been in the shop in case someone came in.
    Ethan exhaled heavily, as if breathing out all his additional questions. They waited in awkward silence. She