We rode home from the party in the dark. I was too scared to break the silence.

Mom parked in front of the ranch house and sat in the idling car. She gripped the steering wheel and stared ahead like we were still on the highway.

"What happened back there?" Her perfectly even voice raised the hair on my arms.

"That wasn't me," I said.

"Do I look stupid to you?"

"It wasn't." My voice twisted tighter.

"It was a twenty-foot-long dinosaur. Who else—" She bit her lip. Cut herself off. "I know you left the house last night. I know you've been hiding something from me. But this morning you seemed so in control, and I thought, 'if it's working . . .'" She bowed her head. When she looked up at me, her eyes were arctic. "The truth. Now."

My script was in my pocket. I knew what I needed to say. But now, after the Tenontosaurus bull wrecked the Hemming, my pre-made speech just sounded like the world's worst cover story.

"I—I have human soulshine." I swallowed to loosen the words in my throat. "Neanderthal soulshine."

The silence that followed twisted my guts up.

"Don't lie," Mom whispered. "Not about that."

"Why would I lie about this?"

"I don't know." She jerked her keys out of the ignition and ripped her seatbelt off. "Seems I don't know much about you anymore." She got out and slammed the door.

The bang made me flinch. I sat frozen for a second—until Pine's soulshine gave me a push.

Make her listen, he said. You have to.

"Mom." I got out of the car and ran a step to catch up to her. "Wait."

The look she shot me made me freeze in the 4Runner's headlights.

But I pulled my script out of my pocket. "I wrote this—before." I held the note out. "I was going to tell you."

She took the paper from me. Unfolded it. Read. As her eyes worked down the page, she started to look sort of sick.

I shifted my weight and dug my fingernails into my palms, waiting for her to finish.

When she looked up, her face was stone cold.

She folded the note. Put it in her pocket. Powered into the house.

I wasn't sure if I should follow—but then she came back out on the porch, Grandpa's guitar in hand.

She shoved it toward me. "Show me."

I took the guitar with both hands. "What?"

She motioned for me to go ahead. "Bring out the Neanderthal."

I glanced between her and the guitar. I was prepared for shouting. Maybe even crying. But I didn't expect a test. "Do you believe me?"

Her frozen-over face cracked, just slightly. Like the person under that mask wanted to trust me. "Give me something to believe in."

We stood there, facing each other. Slowly, I put the strap over my head. But everything felt wrong. I was missing a piece. "I don't have my—"

She slapped the glass slide into my hand, three steps ahead.

Pine? I figured I ought to ask permission, seeing as he just learned his whole world had gone extinct. Do you want to come out?

No. That one word drooped with exhaustion. But we need her help to take on the Crow.

My hand hovered over the strings. So . . .

I'll do it, he said.

I blew out a sigh to steady myself. Okay. I worked the slide onto my clammy ring finger, wrapped my hand around the neck of the guitar, and settled my fingertips on the frets.

Normally, at this point, the opening notes would come up under me like steppingstones. The soulshine would show me where it wanted to go, and all I had to do was follow. But when I listened to Pine's, I didn't get so much as a bunny trail.

I hesitated. Any requests?

It's your magic. I don't know how it works.

I made up a lame riff and tried to roll with it. But three short strums in, I wasn't feeling sparks.

Pine. You gotta work with me, here.

What do you want me to do? He sounded done and we weren't even started.

I don't know. It shouldn't be this hard. I wasn't even trying when I summoned Bitey Face—and he couldn't even tell me what he wanted.

Mom folded her arms.

My throat knotted up.

A bad note twanged out of the guitar.

I winced and tried to push through. At least I might've pulled off a rocky finish. But another off note slipped out. And another. It was an avalanche.

The song unraveled in my hands, until the only sound left was crickets chirping in the dark.

"Just a second." I readjusted my hold on the fretboard. But every position I set my fingers in made the lump in my throat swell, until it was hard to talk. "Sorry," I whispered.

Mom squared her jaw and looked away, closing my letter in her hand.

After a long, embarrassing stretch of silence, I had to lower the guitar.

I didn't know what the problem was. Maybe after a day like today, I just didn't have a song in me. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't summon Pine.

Before, Mom's folded arms seemed like a wall shutting me out. Now they seemed like a dam holding back—I couldn't tell. Anger? Disappointment? Or . . .

Were her eyes glossy?

Before I could be sure, she turned her back to me.

"I don't know what's going on with my magic." I struggled to raise my voice above a whisper. "But I promise what happened tonight wasn't—"

"Cecelia. Stop." Mom stood under the June bugs buzzing the porch light, her hand on the door. "Just stop."

I shrank back. Shut my mouth.

"Good people were hurt by our family's magic tonight," she said. "And how many people saw that happen? How long do you think it will take the Hemmings to connect thousands of dollars in damage to the only summoner in Glen Rose?"

I tightened my grip on the guitar. Shut my eyes to hold back tears.

"Go to bed," Mom said quietly.

I took a shaky breath. "Please—"

"Go." Her tone snapped sharp. Like she couldn't talk to me anymore.

I slipped past her, tears streaming down my face, and hurried up the stairs.

Just before I reached the attic, I heard Mom's heels click across the hardwood—and the door to Grandpa's room clicked shut.

I slammed my own door, fell into bed, and hugged Grandpa's guitar close in the dark. Tears pooled in my eyes and seeped into my quilt.

I lay under the moonlight shining through the window for a long time, holding in sobs.

If Grandpa John were here, he would believe me. He would wrap me up in a blanket, put on a black-and-white western, and hold me until I fell asleep, just like he did during the divorce. And when I woke up, he'd teach me exactly how to play this stupid guitar to make this stupid magic do what I wanted for once.

Slowly, my left hand, still wearing the guitar slide, shifted across the bedspread. I almost didn't realize what was happening, until it laced fingers with my right.

I blinked the tears out of my eyes.

Pine.

That was his soulshine. Holding my hand in the only way he could.

I curled up in a ball and tucked my clasped hands close to my chest. I almost forgot I wasn't alone.

I let out a shaky sigh and pulled the slide off my finger. I'm so sorry you got dragged into this.

It isn't your fault.

Those were the exact words I needed to hear, except they came out razor-sharp. It sounded like Pine had someone else on his mind.

I sat up and wiped my eyes to look out the window at the moonlit barn. You're thinking about Crow.

He's still out there, Pine said.

I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off a shiver. Not far, either. Lying low somewhere in Dinosaur Valley. No doubt about it. But I had to remember—He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know where I live. Not yet.

Mm, Pine said. But I could tell he still didn't feel safe.

Mom was moving around downstairs—probably checking the locks.

The stairs creaked. She was coming up to the attic.

I slipped under the quilt and lay on my side, facing the wall.

My door eased open. A tiny beam of light slid across my bed.

I shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep. But I could feel her hovering in the doorway. Watching over me.

After a long pause, she shut the door. I listened to her footsteps track all the way down the stairs.

My shoulders relaxed. Just slightly. You don't know my mom, I said to Pine. She may not buy our story, but if there's one thing she's good at, it's protecting me.

Good.

We'll get her to believe us, I promised. If you're still okay with—you know—being out in the world.

His soulshine smoldered in my chest. Anything to stop the Crow.

Just as my eyelids started to weigh down, my phone buzzed, lighting up the room.

I rolled over. Who was texting me after midnight?

It was a number I didn't know.

this is Dixon

what was that

"Ugh." I squished deep into my pillow till my quilt covered my nose. How did he get my number? Scrying everything in our area code?

I ran a quick Google search before I texted back.

Thanks for subscribing to WORM FACTS! Did you know the bootlace worm is 180 feet long? Text MORE for more WORM FACTS.

After a second of dot-dot-dot, he texted back.

ew

Then—

why am I seeing so many futures where you do this

I glared at my phone.

Did you know worms are 90% water? Text MORE for more WORM FACTS.

I set my phone face-down, lay back in bed, and shut my eyes. WORM FACTS was closed.

What a terrible day, I thought to Pine.

I took his silence as a nod.

*

The next morning when I came down to the kitchen, Mom was waiting by the stairs. The chill between us hadn't thawed one degree.

She held out her hand.

I sighed. I already knew what she wanted. "How long?"

"I'm still deciding."

Crud. I really needed the internet to learn more about Pine and Crow, and maybe something about Tenontosaurus. But I had negative brownie points with Mom right now, and I had to pick my battles.

I dropped my phone into her open hand. Dixon would have to get his worm facts somewhere else.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Mom called.

Dr. Jacobs opened the screen with the gentlest "Howdy" I'd ever heard. She had The Glen Rose Reporter rolled up in hand.

"Hi." Mom didn't even try to hide the frown in her voice. "We were just talking about last night."

Martina came in after Dr. Jacobs and shut the door. She wore a black tee for some metal band, and the cutoff sleeves slapped me with a clear view of her hot pink forearm cast.

My heart tripped over its next beat. "Oh my gosh."

She shrugged me off. "It's just a fractured wrist. From when I hit the"—She paused, noting Dr. Jacobs' warning look—"deer. The deer in the parking lot."

"That's our story and we're sticking to it," Dr. Jacobs sat down on the living room sofa. "For insurance purposes."

I wouldn't want to meet whatever freak-of-nature deer took the fender off her mini monster truck. Maybe they should go with horse.

"Did you hear anything about Pedro?" I asked.

"Still in the ER." Martina sat on the couch beside Dr. Jacobs. "Broken ribs. But he'll make it." She shrugged and showed me her cast. "Say what you want about the Hemmings—they have a killer benefits package."

Dr. Jacobs glanced at Mom and cleared her throat. "Do you know about . . . ?"

Mom frowned. "About what?"

Dr. Jacobs tossed the newspaper down on the coffee table. The headline read HEMMING STUNT GONE WRONG? with a grainy photo of the Tenontosaurus bull hidden in a patch of juniper trees, surrounded by cows.

"Some rancher off Highway 67 hit the poor thing a couple times with a .22. Said it took those shots like a brick wall." Dr. Jacobs sat back. "It ran off. They lost it in the woods."

My jaw dropped and my knees gave. I plunked down in Grandpa's old recliner.

Mom snapped her head toward me. "Again?"

I wasn't about to take credit for that front page. "I said it's not mine." It took all my strength to keep my voice out of dog whistle range.

"Wait," Martina said. "It's not yours?"

"Don't ask." Mom's glare drew a red line between me and our guests—no crazy stories beyond this point.

If I couldn't get Mom to believe me, I wasn't even gonna try to convince Dr. Jacobs and Martina I was innocent. Like I said—picking my battles.

"When we poofed that dinosaur, its soulshine didn't come back to me," I said. "I never got the chance to bottle it up."

Martina scraped her black fingernails across her hard cast, thinking. "So even if we poof Tenontosaurus, it's just going to keep coming back?"

Amazing that the only person in this room with broken bones was ready to take me at my word. Hoped Mom was taking notes.

"Probably," I said. Unless we poofed Crow, the bull would keep appearing. And from the sound of his threat yesterday, it wouldn't be the only dinosaur on the loose. I didn't want to find out what else he'd resurrect from the Trinity Hall grab bag.

"We're gonna drive the area," Dr. Jacobs said. "See if we can track Tenontosaurus down."

"I'll help." They knew dinosaurs, but I was the only one with summoning magic. I might be able to find a way to capture the bull's soulshine so Crow couldn't use it anymore.

"You're not going anywhere," Mom said.

"But they need my magic."

"Cecelia . . ." Dr. Jacobs took off her hat and held it in both hands. Her serious eyes softened with sadness. "You're off the team."

My whole body went numb with chills. "What?"

Dr. Jacobs held up her hand. "Now, I don't think what happened last night happened on purpose."

"No." I gripped the arms of my chair. My stomach was a rock. "No, I would never."

"I know, Sweet Pea. But listen. Broken windows, we can handle. But broken bones? And whatever this is?" She swept her hat toward the paper. "It's just too wild."

"But—" I glanced back at Mom, desperate for backup. What else could I say? "I didn't do it."

Dr. Jacobs looked at me like I was Old Yeller and this was the end of the movie.

Martina hugged her pink cast close to her body and focused on the floor.

"What about seeing Nuke fly? And the sauro . . ." I couldn't remember the word. "Sauropods?"

"Nobody wants those things more than we do," Dr. Jacobs said. "But until we figure out how to rein your magic in, we can't move forward." She got up from the couch and gave my shoulder a squeeze as she moved toward the door. "I'm sorry."

She put her hat back on, tugged it low, and pushed out the screen door.

Martina gave me one last miserable look before following her outside.

I peeked out the dining room window as Mom walked them out to the truck.

They all stood around and talked for a few minutes before Dr. Jacobs wrapped Mom up in her arms.

She buried her face in Dr. Jacob's shoulder and leaned into that hug like she really, really needed it.

I ducked away from the window and slid down the wall, hiding myself in the curtains. Guilt snaked around my middle and crushed all my air out.

Was I the reason she needed hugs like that?

Enough was enough. Taking the heat for dinosaurs I didn't resurrect was one thing. But Crow crossed a hard line when he messed with my mom.

"We have to fix this," I said to Pine.

How?

"One—we're gonna bring you to life and clear my name. And two"—I got up off the floor and cracked my knuckles—"We're gonna steal Tenontosaurus back from Crow."