Her face fell. “Who are you?” she asked suspiciously.
She was taller by almost an inch, with a new fullness to her cheeks. Her blond, touchably soft hair fluffed to her shoulders, and she wore a new striped sweater of purple and red. Before I could drink in any more, she started to close the door.
“Wait!” I said, blocking the door with my foot. “I need to talk to you about Rosie. I have news about her. Is your ma home?”
“Dad!” Dubbs called.
“What did I tell you?” Larry called from inside. “Never answer the door.”
Dubbs was staring at my belly now. When her gaze lifted to mine again, her eyes narrowed. “You said you were Rosie.”
“It’s complicated,” I said. “Rosie’s changed. She has a new body.” I bent lower so my face was on a level with hers and smiled. “You wouldn’t believe how happy I am to see you.”
She ducked her head back on her neck and made a face as if I stank. Larry stepped behind her and set a heavy hand on the doorway. He was all stubby bulk and crew cut. He shot one look at my belly and another toward Tom, who stood behind me on the steps.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “Move along. Can’t you read?”
He smacked a hand on the sign. Dubbs withdrew behind him.
“I’m not a reporter,” I said. “I’m a friend of Rosie’s. She gave me a message for you.”
“Did she now,” he said. “Nobody’s heard hide nor hair from her in months. What’s the message?”
“Let me in and I’ll explain,” I said.
“She said she was Rosie,” Dubbs said.
“Yeah, and I’m pregnant, too,” Larry said. He regarded me skeptically and spat. “Move your foot or it’ll get crushed.” He began rolling the door shut.
“Wait! You read mysteries and you like to hunt,” I said to Larry. “You had a pet parakeet that died a year ago.”
Larry held the door at a gap and measured me. “What was its name?”
“You didn’t give it a name,” I said. “You just called it ‘Bird.’ I tell you: I know Rosie.”
He picked at his neck. “What’s your name?”
“Thea Flores, from Texas,” I said. “We drove all day to talk to you.”
“You called once before, didn’t you? I don’t forget a voice.” Larry’s gaze shifted from me to Tom again. “Who’s this meathead?”
“He’s my friend, Tom Barton,” I said. “Can we please come in?”
Larry lifted his chin at me. “Are you mic-ed?”
“I’m not,” I said. “Dubbs can pat me down. I don’t have any cameras, either.”
He gave me another long look and then backed up a step. “All right,” he said. “But only you. The meathead stays outside. Leave him your phone.”
I glanced back at Tom, who frowned in pure warning.
“I won’t be long,” I said, passing him my phone.
“This is nuts, Thea,” Tom said.
“No, I’m good. Ten minutes.”
I stepped inside, and Larry rolled the door closed behind me with a metal bang.
The stale orange couch, Ma’s fabric softener, and the metal of the boxcar combined in a unique, homey smell. Above, the skylights were black, and wan lamplight pushed the dinginess to the corners. The red curtain still hung on its sagging wire, separating my and Dubbs’s bunk beds from the living room, and the kitchen table had its same circular marks from wet glasses.
“I don’t want to pat her down,” Dubbs said.
Aside from growing taller, she looked sturdier, too, like she’d been eating better. I couldn’t get enough of her beautiful little face and knowing eyes. I longed to see her break into her old smile.
“It’s okay,” Larry said. “She’s doing the talking anyway, not us. Tell us. Where’s Rosie? What’s her message?”
My heart sank at the implication that he hadn’t heard from her. “Rosie left Berg,” I said. “She was able to escape the Onar Clinic where he was keeping her and get free.”
“Onar, huh? Where is she now?” Larry asked. “Why hasn’t she come home?”
“She’s hiding,” I said, inventing a theory. “She’s afraid to come here in case Berg has you watched.”
I glanced toward my parents’ bedroom beyond the bookshelves, then toward the screen door that led out back, but there was no sign of Ma.
“Of course he has us watched,” Larry said. “Some kid’s been skulking around the place, and more cameras show up every other day. I shoot them as fast as I can, but there’s always more. If you ask me, Berg’s sick in the head. But he’s also smart. Scary smart.”
“Do you talk to him?”
“Can’t get past his lawyers,” he said. “Where’s Rosie hiding? When did you talk to her?”
“I knew her at Onar,” I said. “She wants you to know she isn’t crazy.”
“Of course she isn’t,” Larry said. “Or if she is, it’s Forge that made her that way. I figure everything she told us was true. Rosie means big money to Berg, one way or another. That’s why he’s kept her.”
It was great to know he believed in Rosie. “You’re right,” I said. “He was able to mine dreams out of Rosie and ship them to be seeded into other people. That’s what he’s been doing.”
Larry started looking skeptical, so I plunged on.
“I saw this first hand,” I said. “He’s been working with a team in Iceland. They have a research clinic there, and they put Rosie’s dreams into a coma patient there, trying to save her.”
“Were you a dreamer, too?” Dubbs asked. “Did they mine your dreams, too?”
She was leaning against the back of the couch, and I turned to her.
“This is why I’ve come here,” I said softly. “They put some of your sister into me.”
Dubbs’s little mouth opened. “But what did that do to Rosie? Is she okay?”
“Now, hold on,” Larry interrupted. He shot me a warning look and gave a quick jerk of his head toward Dubbs. “Some of us have got enough nightmares as it is. I’m sure Rosie is just fine, wherever she is. You said she got free, right?”
My heart thudded painfully. “Right. She did.”
“Then why doesn’t she call us?” Dubbs said. “When is she coming home?”
I sank slowly to the armrest of the couch so my face was on a level with hers. “You miss her, don’t you?” I asked.
She nodded. “She’s my sister.”
“You know she loves you, right? No matter what,” I said.
Dubbs’s big eyes were wary. “What did they put in you from her?” she asked. “Like, feelings? Dreams?”
“Some feelings,” I said. “Some memories.”
All of them, actually, I thought.
“Is that how you know about Bird?” Dubbs asked.
I nodded. “Yes. And I have memories about you, too, like all those times we walked on the tracks together and picked wildflowers to make crowns. Once we found a subway token all the way from New York. Remember? The one with the square hole?”
I touched my neck. I had threaded the token on a string of leather and I’d worn it as a necklace every day. She had to remember. Dubbs was standing very still, with her knuckles bent awkwardly against the couch. I could see her weighing my words, testing them against what she knew.
Then she shook her head.