Free Havoc by Jeff Sampson

to do it right. I don’t want to just sleep when I know I can be so much more than I usually am.”
    I swallowed, then looked out the window to my dark bedroom window. I could almost swear I saw a shadowy figure moving behind the curtains. Any normal person could rationalize that away as nerves, post-traumatic stress, whatever. But I was living in my own insane TV show now. It felt like anything and everything someone could conjure up in their demented brain could and probably would happen.
    The pills, Spencer, they placated me. But only for so long. All the fears were there, just beneath the surface, no matter what I did.
    It sucked.
    Besides, I didn’t want a newly changed Dalton roaming the streets alone, getting into trouble.
    Maybe for one night, just one night, I could let go again. Let myself be fearless and crazy and worry free. I wouldn’t let it go too far. Nighttime Emily and I had made sort of an agreement about that, hadn’t we? The night I went after Emily Cooke’s killer?
    Yes, we did. The voice in my head. Listen to yourself. Listen to me . Together we can be awesome again. You know we can.
    I looked into Dalton’s excited, waiting eyes. And I told him, “All right. Let’s do it.”

7
    I’M RIDING SHOTGUN
    I left Dalton in his car and ran inside my house. I paused to hug my dad playing his MMO at his desk, assured him I’d eaten at Dalton’s even though I hadn’t, told my stepmom my school day went well when she asked, then speed walked as nonchalantly as I could up to my room.
    And I sat rigidly straight at the foot of my bed, then changed into the same black sweatpants and turtleneck that I’d worn the night Spencer and I faced Dr. Elliott in a dark backyard. I picked at my amateur stitching attempt on the pant leg, where a few nights earlier I’d been stabbed with a serrated hunting knife. Aside from that scar of black thread, and the turtleneck being stretched out in strange places because I had worn it when I changed into wolf-girl, there wasn’t any sign that it had been worn during the battle. My blood and the blades of grass had all been washed away.
    I didn’t want to be wearing those clothes, but I figured if I was going to let myself change, I should probably be productive and get all stealthy. Maybe scope out BioZenith again. It’d be easier in all black.
    I breathed in slowly, eyes closed, shutting away the blurry, bright room. Waiting. My alarm clock had said 8:11 when I set my glasses next to it after getting dressed.
    â€œOkay, Nighttime,” I whispered, my eyes still shut. “We worked together well last time. I know we can do it again. So … just don’t get into trouble or anything. Please.”
    Nighttime didn’t say anything back.
    I breathed out. Breathed in once more—and the breath caught in my throat.
    My eyes snapped open. My vision was crystal clear.
    I was back. After two nights of being forced into unconsciousness, I was finally, mercifully, wide awake.
    â€œHell yeah,” I said, my lips splitting into a grin. “Don’t worry, Daytime. I got your back.”
    The routine was quick by now: Pillows artfully stuffed beneath Daytime Emily’s covers to more or less resemble the shape of a nonbreathing and feather-stuffed person. Lights out. Window open. Feet on the sill—and a leap to the dark, wet grass below.
    I landed in a crouch, my sneakers squelching in the damp ground. The rain had petered out now and the air was crisp, clear. I breathed in the earthy smells around me, the air scrubbed clean of exhaust. It was so good to be outside again, to stretch my muscles and let them move in the ways I’d longed to for the past few nights, trapped as I was behind a haze of stupid pills.
    Even if I was dressed all cat burglar again instead of as fabulously hot as I knew I could be. Whatever. I’d play nice for Daytime Emily. I mean, for me. The both of us.
    Across the