“Did you know that you drool?” a voice asks. I ignore this and focus instead on how my own comforter at home would feel. “It’s disgusting,” the voice continues. “I guess with your lip sagging like that you probably can’t help it. It’s like how my granddad’s used to be after his stroke.” If I count backward from a hundred, I might be able to drop off again. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven… “And you snore, too,” the voice adds. “No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend.” “Bug off, Meadow,” I say, keeping my eyes closed. There’s a tickling sensation behind my ear, and I jerk my head away. “Quit it. I need to sleep.” A tongue licks my neck, and I open my eyes instantly, only to see something red blinking at me. Sitting up so suddenly that Manhattan flies off the bed, I snatch the camcorder out of Meadow’s hands. “Hey, you ruined my shot!” she says. “What the hell are you doing? There’s already a camera on the wall, do you have to stick one in my face, too?
