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run and tell Mr. Logan, the owner, to call the cops on them, someone else says my name. Much closer. And the voice sounds so familiar.
    I see the guy standing at the end of my lane, just a few feet away, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s absurdly and out-of-place handsome, tall and blond with dark blue eyes, and watching me with a familiar look of concern.
    The world tips sideways, and I can’t breathe.
    Chase Henry. Chase Henry is here.
    The store windows behind him flicker out of existence, replaced by boarded-up windows and peeling green paint on concrete walls. I’m not in Logan’s anymore—was I ever? Sometimes it’s so hard to tell what’s real and what my brain has created to help me survive—I’m back in the basement at Jonathon Jakes’s house.
    The air feels too thick, choking me every time I try to inhale. The band around my wrist is warm from the heat of my skin and blood as the metal bites into my flesh. My body aches again, that bone-deep pain, with bruises and abuse. I want to scream, but my voice is trapped in my throat, like a bubble I can’t force out. How did I get back here? I was out, wasn’t I?
    Chase looks alarmed, staring at me. Oh God, that can’t be good. He’s always the calm one.
    He takes a step toward me. “Amanda, I—”
    Overhead, the distinctive shuffle/thump of Jakes walking on the floor above makes bits of dirt and insulation rain down on my head.
    The sound of Jakes, obviously alive and, if not well, certainly not dead, is like a punch to the gut.
    No. No, no, no! He’s supposed to be shot, in the ground. Gone.
    You didn’t really believe that, did you? The evil voice in my head is back, the one that keeps me awake at night by bringing up awful memories and all the things I should have done.
    I drop to the floor, whimpering, my hands up in defense. I can’t do this. Not again.
    Then a flash of red moves through my vision. I blink, and Mia is suddenly in front of me, blocking most of my view of Chase. She’s pushing at his shoulders, moving him away.
    For a second, just a half moment, I’m confused. Mia was never in Jakes’s basement; as often as he threatened it, it never happened. I know that.
    And that’s all it takes for reality to snap back into place.
    The basement vanishes, and I’m on the floor in Logan’s, in my register cubicle. My hands and feet are numb. Coins in all denominations lay scattered around me.
    Slowly, sound trickles back in. I can hear the buzz of agitated voices, the beeping of a distant register, and my sister shouting at someone.
    No more basement, no more Jakes. It’s like living in The Matrix .
    But one thing from that flashback is very real. Chase Henry. I can see him over the wall. He’s still here, walking backward, his hands up in defense against Mia, who’s after him like a girl possessed.
    “What the hell is wrong with you?” she screams, taking another swipe at him. “You just show up here? Don’t you know? Get out!”
    “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t—”
    His eyes lock with mine, and then he turns abruptly without another word and walks out. I feel the strangest twinge of something. Regret? It’s fleeting, gone before I can identify it.
    Andy kneels next to me at the entrance to my register cubicle, his eyes wide above his acne-scarred cheeks. “Are you okay?” He’s careful to keep distance between us.
    But it’s not enough and too much at the same time. I’m not safe. It’s not safe here. The words beat as a refrain in my head, keeping time with my racing heartbeat.
    “I have to go. I have to … I just have to go.” I push myself up to stand on shaking legs. I have to get out of here. Now. Everyone’s staring at me, and that’s not good, but it isn’t enough to stop me.
    I can feel the pressure hanging overhead, the sensation that something bad is going to break open and pour down over all of us. I don’t even know what that bad thing is, but I can sense it, the same way you can feel a