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of them except this one, a tiny girl with giant blue eyes and blond hair. He called it his Piper-Puppet. When the Parents would drag me out of the attic, he’d always be hiding in a corner, clutching it in his thin arms when they brought me back.
    I smooth the puppet’s blond hair and set her gently aside before entering my combination. I used Sam’s favorite number (because it was the age he’d been when we met Nana), followed by Nana’s (because of Christmas), and then mine (because if luck exists, it’s screwed me over time and again): 5-25-13. Opening the door, I take out thirty-five hundred dollars and then close it again.
    When I come back into the room, I see Cam standing over the stack of mirrors I hid behind the chair. The only mirror that remains on the wall is the one in the bathroom, and that’s because I think I need a crowbar to get it down. His expression hovers somewhere between surprise and amusement.
    â€œI’ve never met a girl who didn’t like mirrors.”
    I shrug and hold out the money. “Appearances are overrated.”
    It’s fast, but I can’t miss his eyes sweeping from my bare feet up to my crazy bed-head hair. There’s an unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth, and I’m suddenly very aware of my blue polka-dot pajama pants and bright orange tank top.
    I sigh and mutter under my breath, “An opinion demonstrated by my choice of clothing.”
    Cam grins wide and I’m totally unprepared for the way it makes my stomach wobble inside me.
    â€œUh”—I step backward and run into my table—“that’s all you needed, right?”
    His eyes take in my quick movement, but he doesn’t mention it. “Any luck finding a job?”
    â€œNo, but my luck should improve once I start trying.” Pulling out a chair, I sit in it and wait for him to leave. The pounding in my head has eased, but not much.
    â€œSix blocks southeast of here in the Italian Market, there is a restaurant named Angelo’s.” Cam tucks the money inside his pocket without counting it. “Meet me there at five.”
    â€œWhy?” His constant amused expression is starting to bother me. “I have the rest of Charlotte’s papers. Now I’ve paid you the rest of the money. I thought we were done.”
    â€œWe aren’t.” He shrugs and walks to the door. “Not quite yet. Five—don’t be late.” Cam closes the door behind him without waiting for me to agree. The echo of it shutting mingles with my groan. Each of the seven pins and bolts slides into place under my fingertips, reassuring me as I close off the outside world and lock myself away. Something about that separation makes me feel like everything will be better when I wake up.
    It doesn’t matter that I know it’s a lie.

 
    5
    By afternoon my headache has dulled, but Sam won’t shut up.
    Go back. We need to know she is still okay.
    She’s living in a cupboard, of course she isn’t okay.
    Help her, Piper.
    I know his voice isn’t real. That he’s dead and I’m essentially arguing with myself. But it helps me feel like he’s still with me. And if that means I’m walking a bit on the crazy side of the sanity line, I’m okay with that. I’ve lived through reality—didn’t care much for it.
    Slow, deep breaths keep me calm while I shower and get ready, but I can’t say the same for Sam. He’s like a spring in my brain. Every motion I make that doesn’t take us closer to saving the girl winds him tighter. The pressure begins to feel like an unstable land mine waiting for the slightest trigger to set it off.
    Locking up my apartment, I turn and nearly step on a blond girl sitting at the top of the stairs. At my gasp, she glances around and beams up at me.
    â€œHi.” She lifts up a stuffed bear from her lap and waves at me with one of its arms.
    â€œHi.” I say