If you are a dreamer, come in . . .
Evan Walker was gone. Forever, Zombie said. Sam didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about Cassie being gone or Dumbo or Poundcake or anyone from his old squad or his father or his mother or anyone he knew before he came here to the great big house by the river. He was pretty good at not thinking about them most of the time. Sometimes Cassie would come into his dreams, and she would fuss at him about everything. He wasn’t clean enough. He wasn’t nice enough. He couldn’t remember things that she thought were important. In his dreams, her nose was straight and her hair longer and her clothes cleaner. In his dreams, she was the before-Cassie.
Are you being good, Sam? Are you saying your prayers every night?
One night he woke up Zombie—in his head, Sam still called him Zombie—and Zombie took him into the bathroom and washed the tears from his face and told him that he missed her, too, and then he walked Sam outside and he pointed at the sky. See those stars up there, the ones that kind of look like a sideways W? You know what that is?
They sat on the back porch and looked at the stars while Zombie told the story of a queen named Cassiopeia who lived forever on a throne in the sky.
“But her throne’s tilted down,” Sam said, looking at the constellation. “Won’t she fall out?”
Zombie cleared his throat. “She won’t fall. Her throne is turned that way so she can keep watch over her realm.”
“What’s a realm?”
Zombie pressed his hand against Sam’s chest.
“This is.” Zombie’s hand to Sam’s heart. “Here.”