The last window on this side had its shade up, but gauzy curtains were pulled across it. It also had the same kind of solar panel outside—this one taped to the jamb. He tried cupping his eyes with his hands to the glass but could barely see anything in the dark room. What he did see was a pair of sneakers on the floor: Amanda’s black high-tops. Convinced he had the right room, he tapped lightly on the pane. Waited. Tapped again.

All at once, black objects fled from the overhead eves. Bats! Finn instinctively jumped back, slipped, and fell face-first to the curved tile roof. He reached out and clawed his fingertips into the windowsill. Just then, the curtains sprang back, and there was Amanda looking out the rain-stained window at him, her face a sleepy, twisted knot of curiosity. She wore a spaghetti-strap top and plaid pajama bottoms.

Finn’s fingers slipped an inch, leaving scratch marks on the sill. Another half inch, and he was gone.

Amanda threw open the window and grabbed both his wrists. They locked grips. She put her foot to the wall and heaved and pulled. Finn grabbed the inside of the sill, got his knees under him, and, with her help, climbed inside.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“The front door is easier,” Amanda said in a normal voice. “Or you could have called.”

“Shhh!” he said, ducking low, as if that would help.

“Why?” she said, again in her normal voice. “I’m the only one here.”

“What?”

“I…ah…” Amanda switched on the light. It was a dim compact fluorescent bulb hanging from a wire that led to a car battery. A second wire led from the battery to the window and the solar panel beyond. As Finn took all this in, Amanda spoke, but unlike the Amanda he knew, she wasn’t telling the truth. “Our mother…my mother…she…she…her sister down in Boca needed her. She had to leave suddenly. Left me by myself.”

“All alone?”

“I’m a big girl.”

“You’re fourteen. My parents never leave me alone overnight.” He paused as their situation sank in. “You’re alone? We’re alone?” He spoke in his normal voice.

He took in the light, the battery, and the solar panel outside the window. He saw no light in the hallway. He’d seen no other lights from the street.

“We are. Stay there.” She went to a closet and put on a robe. She sat down on the edge of her bed and pointed to a rickety chair at the desk.

Finn moved the chair closer.

“It’s two in the morning,” she said. “Just for the record.”

The air from the open window was cool. The curtains danced at the sides. Amanda stood and closed the window. “Whoa!” she said. “Check it out!”

It took Finn a moment to spot the bat hanging upside down from the eaves above the window. It was big, though Finn didn’t want to appear scared by a bat. It had a blue iridescence to its black wings, tucked at its sides. It looked dangerous.

“Creepy,” he said.

“There are a lot of bats here,” she said. “I think they live in the attic. Though that’s the biggest one I’ve seen, by far.”

She pulled the curtains, shuddered, and sat back down on the bed. “They make the weirdest sounds at night. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping.”

“Flying rodents. Never been a big fan. I’m not one of those guys with rats for pets. No thanks.”

“I’ve never had a pet.”

“Seriously?”

“We moved around a lot.” She blushed and looked away; he wondered what that was about.

“You remember Wayne?” he asked.

Her eyes went wide. “I thought he’d disappeared.”

“Yeah, So did I.” Finn went on to explain his encounter with Wayne, and then the meeting that had followed. Amanda interrupted several times, clarifying the connection between Jez’s disappearance, her DHI being seen at the Magic Kingdom, and the possibility that the DHI server had been cloned.

She sat for several long minutes with her head in her hands, her hair cascading over her forearms and forming a veil she hid behind.

“I’m going to trust you,” she said.

Finn felt a shiver. He looked up at the bat, a long, dark silhouette seen through the translucent curtains. “Okay,” he said.

“I can trust you, right?”

“Right.”

“Because I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

He didn’t say anything, but she had every cell in his body focused on her.

“Most people, they would never believe it. And that’s a good thing. It’s better if people don’t believe it. It’s safer for everyone. There’s some saying about hiding behind ignorance, isn’t there? There should be, if there isn’t. Am I rambling?”

“Sort of.”

“Nervous.”

“It’s just me.”

She came up from under the veil of hair and met Finn’s eyes. Hers were close to tears, shining like marbles. “You, of all people, might understand. You and the others. I can’t think of anyone else. Maybe you won’t believe—and that’s okay,” she said, reaching out and touching his knee. “I won’t be mad or anything.”

“I can’t believe it if I never hear what it is,” he said, a little impatiently.

She nodded, her eyes apologetic. “Jez and I are different,” she said.

“I know that,” he said quickly. “You’re very different.”

“No…I don’t mean from each other. I think it might be better if you just listen. No offense or anything, but this is kind of hard to explain.”

He nodded, thinking he shouldn’t speak.

She saw this and giggled. Covered her mouth. Looked as if she might cry. When she spoke, it was very softly.

“I guess the only way to explain this is just to say it.”

Works for me, he thought, but didn’t say so.

“We’re Fairlies.”

“You mean: fairies?”

“No. Fairlies. As in, fairly human. It was supposedly a joke a long, long time ago, but it stuck. Fairlies. Go figure. We’re not witches or fairies, or anything like that. We’re just kids with…unusual abilities.”

“Such as?”

“I’m not allowed to say. Sorry. Rules, you know?”

“You and Jez are sisters?”

“Sort of, I guess. Not exactly. We’re both orphans. All Fairlies are orphans. My parents drowned. Jez’s went on this trip to South America and never came back. They think pirates—real pirates—got them. She and I were raised in the same foster home. That’s why I call her my sister. Fairlies display certain qualities at a very young age: spoon-benders, mind readers, clairvoyants. There was a boy who could set fire to things by just looking at them. Very strange. But real. Jez dreamed the trouble here in the Parks. This was way before you guys were hired to be the models for the DHIs. She and I…we kind of ran away. Not recommended, I might add.”

Finn understood the solar panels then: there were no parents. Jez and Amanda lived by themselves.

“The day we got here, Maleficent put a spell on Jez or bewitched her or something. Jez didn’t even recognize me. Then you and the DHIs came along. Somehow, you released her right before Maleficent was captured. I wanted to go back after that, to the foster home, but Jez had more dreams. She keeps them in a diary, a journal,” she explained.

“So, she can dream the future?” Finn asked skeptically.

“Believe whatever you want to,” Amanda said, “or not. I believe the Overtakers have taken Jez prisoner to prevent her from interfering with whatever they have planned.”

Finn’s skin crawled. He felt slightly sick to his stomach.

She stared at Finn long and hard, her eyes fiery pinpricks. “I can’t expect you to believe any of this. Asking that is probably too much. I hope you do someday. I hope this makes us better friends, not worse. I’m trusting you in ways I’ve never trusted anyone.” She paused. Her breathing was labored, her skin flushed. Finn felt as if he might explode with anticipation.

“And your powers?” he asked.

“Sorry,” she said squinting. “Can’t say. Not now. Not yet, anyway.”

“You and Jez are squatting. Here, in this house, this church. Whatever it once was. The solar power.” He pointed.