Heading out into the night, Amy felt deja vu pulling her back through time. Something about the deep chill in the air, the yellow light of the streetlamps on the pavement, and the dreamy glow from the windows of the neighborhood houses were connected with another moment long ago. Amy might have just told her mom she'd finished her homework and wouldn't be late as she went off to meet her friends.

Lucy's presence helped ground her and keep her from feeling like she'd fallen into a memory.

Amy still wasn't sure what she felt about this new friend. Lucy wasn't the type of girl she'd normally spend time with in her old life. In the hours they had spent together, it had become apparent she was too concerned with fashion and the designers on the labels. There was a frantic air about Lucy when it came to clothes and fitting in which Amy didn't understand at all. Although Amy admitted Lucy had done her a huge favor by raiding her sister's closet for a decent outfit that fit.

The ugly dress and men's boots were gone and Amy felt almost normal wearing the oversized cable knit sweater and jean jacket over the black pants and flats. She was still self-conscious about her hair but Lucy had helped her style it and proclaimed it: cool.

Amy wasn't so sure. However it may look to others, Amy was still freaked out by it.

When they had arrived at Lucy's house, her parents were out and it was just the two of them. Amy hopped in the shower while Lucy played on her phone and listened to morose sounding music.

The noise of the shower barely drowned out the emo band on the stereo but the velvety waves of hot water made Amy forget all about those depressing sentiments crackling out of the speaker in the other room.

Waking up in a ditch by the side of the road made the grime feel embedded into her skin and like she hadn't been clean in weeks.

She began to feel guilty about the time she was spending luxuriating in the cascading streams of liquid heaven. Long after she was washed, she let it roll off her shoulders and down to the small of her back, letting the heat loosen her muscles and erase their tension. It was only when the warmth began to wane, growing colder drop by drop as the last of the hot water ran out that Amy grudgingly turned it off and padded out into the steamy bathroom. She wiped the mirror clear and gasped at the different face in front of her.

Well, the face was the same but the hair framing it was not. Lucy's compliment when they first met finally made sense. Soaking wet, the blonde of her hair deepened in hue to the dark wheat color she was used to seeing. But now new streaks of white striped it in candy cane streaks.

She drew one of the pale tresses away from her head and examined it. All the pigment had gone. Amy had seen pictures of her wolf self. The pale strands was reminiscent of the silver-white fur. What had happened since yesterday?

I turned for the first time above ground. Everything is more connected up here, she observed.

Amy stared a long time at the hair, partially in fascination, partially because it kept her from looking into her eyes. The pale blue eyes that seemed to have their color washed out a degree or two. But that was probably just her imagination.

Even if Lucy thought it was a fashion choice, Amy didn't want anyone to see her this way. It was like being naked—exposed. Her body was showing a glimpse of her beast. Would people detect the rest? But despite this shyness, she was happy when Lucy had suggested they go hang out with her friends after dinner.

There was a strange vibe to the Hanarhan household, which made her anxious to leave. Over dinner, it permeated the room like the stench of illness. It was strongest from Lucy's father. It was as though his pores oozed an invisible, cancerous slime. But it wasn't limited to him. Lucy's mother had nervous, vinegar odor about her and her quick, short breaths hit a jarring out of tune note below the surface hum of the meal. The atmosphere made Amy unable to eat the food put in front of her.

Lucy seemed to have a similar problem, as she moved her chicken fingers around her plate instead of eating them.

Whatever sense of home Amy felt was missing from her life, the evening's dinner erased that feeling of deprivation. A house and parents didn't always equal belonging. In this place, it seemed the opposite was taking place and it might just be more of a prison than The Music Box had been. So when Lucy suggested they go out, Amy was grateful. And when Mr. Hanarhan asked if she'd be coming back and staying the night, Amy was happy to answer, no, and gave a silent thanks to the bloated moon overhead.

They met up with the others in the 7-Eleven parking lot. There were about six of them standing around the ice chest looking bored. Amy recognized most of the crowd as the kids she'd passed on the street, but there were a couple she hadn't seen before. Lucy introduced her around.

The jerk from earlier addressed Lucy as he looked Amy up and down, "Wow. She turned out good. Who knew you were such a charity worker."

"Fuck off, Campbell," Lucy said.

"Maybe she should take you on next, Camp," another boy spoke. He had a rugged, dimpled jaw and longish hair the same color as sage grass in the fall. "Perhaps she can make you look halfway human."

Everyone laughed except Amy who looked at this new boy nervously. Is that how he saw her, halfway human? Despite the accuracy of the judgement, she really wanted to look better to his sparkling blue eyes.

"This is Moore Chadwick," Lucy said.

"My pleasure." Moore bowed his head to her and gently shook her hand. This elicited snickers from some of the others, but Amy didn't notice.

"What kind of name is Moore?" Amy asked, only to have embarrassment flood in and warm her cheeks the moment the question was out of her mouth. She hadn't meant to be rude.

But Moore didn't take offence. By the broad grin, he seemed amused and threw the question back at her. "What kind is Ylva?"

"It was my grandmother's. It's Swedish."

"That's a coincidence. Mine's from my grandfather."

"Bullshit," Campbell said. "His name is really Maurice."

Moore gave him a sharp look. "Yeah, and that was my granddaddy's name. Got a problem with that?"

"No, not at all, Maurice."

"I'm starving." Lucy cut the weak banter short by taking a half step to the door of the convenience store. "Want anything?" she asked Amy.

"Oh my, it has been forever since I had a Slurpee. But I don't have any money."

"I've got it," she said patting her purse and they all headed inside, where the bright lights and electric heat made the night behind them feel wintery. Once they were all in, they dispersed down the aisles, scattering as though on predefined paths.

Amy watched them from the doorway still in awe of this world. This world she had fantasized about from her windowless cell was so beautiful and so ugly—sacred and profane in equal measures. It was wondrous in its excess. Synthetic, artificial, and manufactured, it was as far from nature as could be imagined but it was as close to normal as she had ever dreamed. With tentative steps, she stalked to the Slurpee machine.

While Amy filled up her cup at the machine, Beth, a girl with dark hair and a full length skirt, came up beside her and got a glass of blue raspberry. "He's cute isn't he?"

"Who?" Amy asked.

Beth just rolled her eyes. "I don't know what to make of you, Ylva. You come off as all Little House on the Prairie but I get the feeling that you're a lot more dangerous than that."

She gave Amy a look of deep meaning as if expecting her to spill all her secrets. But Amy felt too exposed already and retreated further inside herself. Her only response was to tuck her hair behind her left ear.

"Anyway," Beth said. "Break his heart and you'll have me to answer to."

"I'm not going to break anyone's—"

Amy was cut off by a sharp scream.

Three young boys had just entered the store. The moment Amy looked at them, the little blond kid in the middle stopped wailing and in a barely audible mutter said, "You're dead. You're dead." His two friends started at him in stunned silence.

"WTF?" Beth said in a surly staccato.

Amy felt as cold as the icy slurry in her plastic cup.

The boy was older than the last time she'd seen him, but she knew the face right away. She had grown up with it. It belonged to Kevin Walsh her next-door neighbor and Donny's best friend.

***

Author's note: Originally this was to be a much longer chapter but I cut it so it would flow better and I never could quite get a hold on Amy and Lucy's friendship. I realize most of you aren't going to remember Kevin. He goes way, way back to chapter 1 of book one. But I knew if Amy went anywhere near her old home I had to bring him back in,