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It was safer if the truth about dreamcatchers stayed a secret. If word got out . . . Just thinking about the Night Watchmen finding out about Sophie and her family made her want to curl into a ball between the library shelves. And if they ever found out about what happened when she drank a dream . . . An image flashed through her mind: shadowy Watchmen bursting into the shop and dragging her away. Definitely better to keep everything a secret.
    Madison snorted. “We don’t have nightmares in my house. Night is for sleeping. Do you cry to your mommy every time you have a little nightmare? I know you do. She probably sings you a lullaby, tucks you in with your blankie, and gives your teddy bear a kiss. You’re such a baby.” She peeked into the folder, looking at the dreamcatcher as if she wanted to complain about it but couldn’t think of anything wrong with it. “See you next week. Don’t talk to me before then. And . . . thanks.” The last word was said as if it hurt her.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” Sophie said.
    â€œYou better not have made me late.” Madison stalked out of the shelves, snagging a random book on her way. Catching a glimpse, Sophie saw it was on guinea pigs. She opened her mouth to tell Madison that it wasn’t a fashion book, but Madison strode out of the aisle before Sophie could even form the words.
    Sophie waited a few minutes and then emerged from a different set of shelves. She hurried out of the library before the librarian could try to talk to her again. Returning to the main hallway, she deposited Madison’s used dreamcatcher in her backpack and stuffed it in her locker.

    Delivering a dreamcatcher to Lucy Snyder was also difficult, but for different reasons. Lucy was still in elementary school, and Sophie could only exchange dreamcatchers with her on days when Sophie’s free period intersected with Lucy’s recess.
    Sophie checked the clock above the lockers. She had exactly fifteen minutes to cross the street to the elementary school, locate Lucy on the playground, and scoot back before her free period ended. It was doable.
    She’d met Lucy two months ago. Her mother had dragged her into the shop and asked for books without any villains in them, because her daughter had nightmares. Sophie’s parents had sold the woman a few of their happiest little-kids’ books—the kind with pink winged ponies and cheerful mice—and given her a dreamcatcher. The woman had rolled her eyes at the dreamcatcher and muttered about “New Age hippie nonsense,” but the little girl wanted it. The next day, Sophie spotted Lucy across the street at recess. When the teachers weren’t looking, Sophie crossed the street to the school playground and asked how the dreamcatcher had worked. Lucy burst into tears of relief and said, between sobs, that she hadn’t woken up “too scared to pee” for the first time in forever and ever. So Sophie had the idea to set up a secret weekly exchange.
    It was tricky at first, since middle-schoolers weren’t supposed to just waltz over to the elementary school, but now Sophie had an official pink note with a faded, unreadable date that said she had to deliver a message to the elementary school nurse. She’d obtained the note legitimately a few weeks ago and had been using it ever since.
    Taking the note and a fresh dreamcatcher, she strolled out of the school and across the parking lot. It was always important to look purposeful and not sneaky when one was trying to be sneaky. (That was Monster’s advice, though he always said it didn’t help if you had six tentacles.) The little kids were already on the playground for recess, swarming over the equipment like monkeys.
    Lucy, of course, was the one standing next to the swing set screaming her head off. She would have been noticeable anyway with her strawberry blond hair that liked to point in all directions at