Cagley has committed so much oneiricide lately that it’s putting her a little behind on homework.
“Cagley?” her mom says nervously when she starts brushing her teeth at 7:00. “Are you really that tired, sweetie?”
“I’m going to read for a while first,” Cagley assures her, then leaps into bed and spends the next ten hours pushing confused people off buildings. They always disappear with a poof and a yelp before they hit the ground. Well, almost always.
“We’re thinking about taking you in for a sleep study,” frowns her dad in the morning.
“Whatever,” says Cagley, thinking, okay, you’re next.