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my hand. Magdalena snatched it up in her claw and traced the lines in my palm. Foul energy sparked from her fingertip. I tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. A wild gleam flared in her eyes.
    "Where do you live, boy?"
    "He and his dad are on the streets, same as us," Kali said.
    Magdalena's energy spiked crazily. The force of it knocked me out of her grasp. "I gotta go," I told Kali. I ran off, but not before I saw the shrewd expression on Magdalena's face. A week later, my whole life had changed.
    Kali and I stacked our bowls in the kitchen sink, then headed out. I rubbed my arms beneath the lamplight. White vapors huffed out of my mouth when I spoke. "Did you know they were killers?"
    "Not for sure. Not until tonight."
    "You knew they'd never let us go, so you never tried to escape."
    "I knew they'd never let you go. I 'm responsible for you."
    "Kali—"
    "I don't want to talk about it." She disappeared into the fog, holding a clean plastic bucket. To get water, we had to steal it from a neighbor's outdoor hose. I quickly lost sight of her. I waited a moment, listening for trouble. When I didn't hear a bark or shout or scream, I moved on. Shivering, I hiked the neighborhood in search of more firewood. Plenty of branches had fallen during yesterday's storm. The trick was to stay one step ahead of the gardeners — the mow-and-blow guys. The way I figured it, I was doing them a favor by picking up the deadfall. Hopefully we'd still be around by the time the twigs and branches dried.
    Back at the house, light from the street lamp filtered through the mist, dimly illuminating the path to the front door. Kali let me in, stamping her feet to keep them warm.
    "Did you find water?"
    She nodded, teeth chattering. The temperature inside had plummeted once the sun had slid from view. I dumped the armful of wet branches on the stone hearth, brushed off the front of my jacket, and then dropped onto my sleeping bag and untied my hiking boots. If I crawled in, maybe it would take the edge off the cold. The wall-to-wall carpeting provided a meager cushion. It wasn't as nice as a mattress, but better a shag carpet than a hardwood floor, or worse, linoleum over concrete.
    Wedged between the flannel-lined down, I began my nightly mantra.
    I will finish high school.
    I will go to college.
    I will live in a warm house with running water and electricity.
    I will get a girlfriend.
    I will find Bronwyn.
    Art class, especially Salem, replayed in my mind. My stomach did a little flip as I remembered the current that had passed between us. Papo would yank me out of town in the dead of night if he thought I had broken Rule Number One: don't get attached; don't get involved. Still…
    I pulled the sleeping bag up over my mouth so Papo couldn't see my expression. He may control my life, but he can't control my thoughts — especially not the ones about a pretty, crazy-smart fairy witch pretending to be Goth Girl. I drifted off debating the harm of sitting at her table for one more day.
    The next morning I woke before dawn. Papo and Magdalena's snores rumbled through the frigid, barren room. The fire in the fireplace had long since died. Kali rolled over, her sleeping bag pulled up to her eyes. I don't know how she breathed.
    I flicked on my flashlight and checked the watch Kali had given me for my birthday. Six-fifteen. Good. I had plenty of time to chow down a banana, change into a clean shirt, and walk to school. The trick was to get there after the janitors opened up the bathrooms, but before the rest of the students arrived. I didn't want anyone catching me taking a spit bath or brushing my teeth.
    I slipped out quietly. Mist slicked the gate latch. Once I reached the sidewalk, the owl hoo-hooed. I craned upward and spotted the great horned owl perched high in the birch tree. It swiveled its head and stared past me. Following the owl 's gaze, I peered at the shrubs lining the picket fence across the street. Between a pair of holly bushes,