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don’t need Malcolm anymore.”
    â€œI don’t want you to hurt him,” I said. “A person can’t help who he likes. He wanted you .”
    â€œAnd now I want him,” she said. And she bit.
    I woke up in my room, all tucked into my bed, wearing my pajamas even.
    It was still mostly dark out. My window was open wide—the morning chill and damp filled the air, and the scent of the woods. It could have come in from outside, but I felt like it was on me. I pressed a hank of my hair to my nose and breathed deep. I had been outside, hadn’t I?
    If the past night had been a dream, it was the most vivid I’d ever known. Feeling like an idiot, I pressed my hand to my throat, felt along the smooth skin, and, finding nothing amiss, ran my fingers along my own cheekbone—just the slightest curve to the bone, as it should be, and peach fuzz.
    I made myself move—my whole body felt stiff, achy, and chilled—wrapping the comforter around my shoulders to peer out the window.
    It scared me to stand close to it, even though that wasn’t a rational fear. After all, it had been open all night. My mom’s car was parked in the driveway, right where it should be.
    I wanted to ask my parents, did they remember me coming home last night? Did they remember who drove the car? But it was too early to wake them, and I had a feeling they wouldn’t have any answers, that they might sound a lot like Evy’s mother had sounded when I’d called.
    I tried Ben instead. He answered on the second ring, sounding groggy but very much himself.
    â€œAre you all right?” I asked.
    â€œYeah, I’m fine. Are you okay? Les, what’s wrong?”
    â€œI just had a bad dream,” I said. “I needed to check. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
    â€œNo, it’s nice to hear your voice.”
    â€œI’ve been worried about Evy,” I said. “You know, Evy?”
    My heart thudded while I waited to hear if he recognized the name, or if she’d been erased, leaving me as the only one with the knowledge she’d been here at all.
    â€œYeah, I know Evy,” he said, sounding wry but troubled. “I’m worried too. For your sake. If you want, I’ll go with you and we can visit her after school.”
    â€œYeah, okay,” I said, knowing already the lights would be out, no one home.
    I could call Malcolm’s house. That would tell me for certain whether last night was real. But that might be dangerous if he’d gone missing.
    It was better to stay quiet, wait and see.
    I hung up with Ben and reached to pull the window shut.
    Way off in the woods, something, several things, howled.
    The moon had set. The stars were fading from the sky. Soon they would move on.
    I slammed the window shut.

Excerpt from Don’t Touch
Read on for an excerpt from Rachel M. Wilson’s
Don’t Touch

1.
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    â€œCadence Finn? Take yourself right out there, hon.”
    The office lady points toward the academy’s courtyard and goes back to her magazine: Crafting for the Southern Home.
    â€œI think I’m supposed to get a Peer Pal?”
    â€œHon, yours is late. I’d stick you with another group, but you’re our only new junior. You just wait right on out there.”
    â€œI can’t wait inside?”
    Outside, the air’s thick and wet, the sun scalding. It’s like the sauna at Mom’s fitness club with the temperature dialed up to hell.
    Instead of answering, the lady sniffs and sets down her magazine to pour me a Dixie cup of lemonade from a pitcher on the dividing wall. “You’re not dressed for the heat,” she says with a pinched smile.
    That’s an understatement.
    It’s ninety degrees out, but I’m wearing jeans, long sleeves, and a scarf. The humidity’s plastered my hair to the back of my neck in a sticky shield. Alabama in August calls for pixie cuts and ponytails, but I don’t dare