“JONATHAN, I THINK SHE blinked.”
Waking up was like walking down an endless tunnel. It took forever, and it was uphill all the way.
“Her eyes just twitched.”
“Did she open them?”
“No, but I see them moving under her eyelids.”
I could feel something wrapped tightly around me—a blanket maybe? Somebody’s legs were under my back, and someone’s arms held me almost as tightly as the blanket.
Amy the Architect. It was Amy. I tried to push her away, but my arms were swaddled tight against my body. Finding my voice, I groggily said, “Get off me. I don’t need your help.”
“Jonathan, her eyes are open!” Amy shouted gleefully across the front room. “How’s that tea coming?”
“Just stirring some sugar into it,” my father replied. “Sugar is good for shock.”
Amy and I were bundled together in fron
