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like a children’s nursery rhyme, yet the girl sang it in a sinister tone. Michele felt an odd sense of foreboding as she moved through the grass.
    I’m in Central Park , she realized as she passed the rippling lake and took in the verdant greenery on either side. But how did I get here? Where are all the people?
    A drop of water hit her fleece pants, and Michele looked down to see that she was in her sleepwear, with soft slippers in place of shoes. What in the world?
    A drizzle had begun to fall, and she quickened her pace until she found herself standing in front of an old merry-go-round. The creaky carousel moved in slow motion while droplets of rain hit the colorful carved horses. And then Michele saw them—two children, around eight or nine years old, moving through the mist on the ride. The girl was dressed formally for the park, wearing a white pinafore tied with a yellow sash. The tiny hands holding on to the horse’s neck were adorned with kid gloves, and an old-fashioned bonnet framed the girl’s jet-black hair. Meanwhile, the little boy was adorably dressed in a petite Norfolk jacket with knee-length trousers.
“Ninety years without slumbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock.”
    The sweeter voice of the little boy voice joined the girl’s in song.
“His life seconds numbering ,
Tick, tock, tick, tock ,
It stopped short ,
Never to go again ,
When the old man died.”
    As they finished singing, the little girl suddenly turned her head to face Michele with an expression that made her stumble backward in alarm.
    Instead of the innocent look of a child, the girl’s pale face was hard and severe, her dark eyes menacing. There was something disconcertingly familiar about her face. Michele knew she had seen it before.
    The little girl slid gracefully off the carousel horse and walked toward her, eyes focused on Michele’s neck, hands outstretched. Michele reached up protectively, shielding her key necklace.
    “What are you doing?” the little boy called out nervously, hopping off his carousel horse.
    “Be quiet, Irving.” The girl dismissed him.
    It’s Irving and Rebecca .
    Michele lost her breath as the little boy turned around to look at her. His face was like a younger male version of hers.
    “Dad,” she mouthed, but no sound came out. And then the scene turned black.
    DAY TWO
    Michele awoke to the music of the Black Keys blaring from her iPod alarm, and at first she couldn’t remember where she was.The strange dream had disoriented her, leaving an unsettled feeling in her stomach. But soon she registered the familiar sight of her bedroom and remembered that it was a school day. She might have a nineteenth-century time traveler to defeat, but first she would be seeing Philip again. The thought was enough to momentarily distract her from Rebecca and her father. Jumping out of bed, she hurried into the bathroom, butterflies dancing in her stomach as she wondered if today would be the day he remembered her—or if it would be the day she discovered who he really was.
    But when she reached the bathroom, the sight in the mirror caused her to yelp in alarm. Wisps of grass were stuck to her pants … and there were water marks on her T-shirt. She racked her brain, trying to come up with a memory of having gone outside before bed, but she knew she hadn’t. It hadn’t even rained last night.
    The Central Park of her father’s youth hadn’t been a dream. She had really been there . This wasn’t the first time she’d traveled against her will, but it was the only time she had mistaken it for a dream.
    Michele sank onto the edge of the tub, head in her hands as she tried to make sense of the madness that was fast becoming her new reality. She might have stayed there, frozen in thought, if Annaleigh hadn’t buzzed her on the intercom, letting her know Fritz had arrived to take her to school.
    Michele hurriedly blow-dried her hair into natural waves and paired her plaid school skirt with a snowy blouse that