I’m lying down, and I can feel a blanket covering me, so at first I think I’m in my bed at Grandma Jo’s house. Opening my eyes feels like way too much effort; all I want to do is let myself drift back into unconsciousness. I feel like I could easily sleep for eight more hours right now, lulled by the soft classical music playing somewhere nearby and the way the whole world seems to be vibrating beneath me. But I’m lying on my arm, which is half-asleep and tingling with pins and needles, so I roll over to get more comfortable and my cheek lands in a freezing-cold, sweet-smelling puddle. Eww. How did that get in my bed? Grandma Jo won’t even let me bring a granola bar up here; she’s going to be so mad. I try to reach up and wipe my face . . . and that’s when I realize my wrists are tied behind my back. My heart, which felt like a sluggish sea creature treading water in my chest a second ago, kicks back into gear and starts thrashing. I force my eyes open, and everything comes back to me in bits and pieces.
