While I'm asleep, I dream. The real kind, not the ones I manipulate. It's the first time in over a year.

I dream stark, poignant memories, maybe to remind myself of a time when Asher and I were closer than any other two people on this planet. The first time I met him, when his hair was so floppy it covered one of his eyes and when his eight-year-old smirk snaked through my heart and entangled it. The time we both ran away from home when we were ten, cloaked in black raincoats to blend into the New York night, fleeing from everything and nothing all at once. We had been so small but as his hand had clutched mine, I'd felt safe. At home.

The time he'd come over to my apartment and I'd been thirteen and a mess of tears and betrayal. How he'd sat there with me and let me sob and mourn my dad, only leaving my side to bring me tissues and water. How his soft blue eyes had held mine just like always, with that same sense of familiarity and intensity.

And then last night: how that look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the emptiness of a stranger. How I called him just that and he left, slamming the door behind him, rattling me.

The dream shifts from real to imagined. Suddenly I'm watching Willa and Asher—they're in the living room of my apartment and they must not see me because they're pressed tight against each other. His lips find the top of her forehead and her nose and settle on her mouth. As my heart crumples to the floor my dream self clutches the doorframe so tightly my knuckles turn white. Asher can't be Willa's. He's mine. Always has been. Maybe always will be.

My alarm clock jolts me out of my nightmare, startling me. When I sit up straight and push the covers off, the fear doesn't leave. Instead it slithers through my veins and settles into my pounding heart. The feeling isn't going to wear off like it would with someone else's nightmare, because I'm living mine.

I have to talk to Asher.

He does a spectacular job of avoiding me at school, until it's lunchtime and I corner him in front of his locker. Willa is there, studying me with hooded eyes and her lips flattened into their trademark thin line.

"Asher, I need to talk to you," I say, ignoring her as best I can. Last night's dream pulses in the back of my head, confusing me. I don't think of him like that—at least I try not to.

His eyes flick over to me; they look more grey than blue. Lethargically, he glances back at Willa and dismisses her with a nod of his head. The second she's gone, I close the distance between us and say, "Someone broke into my room last night. Actually, three people did."

"Are you okay?" For the first time since summer ended he looks concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. They didn't hurt me."

He sucks in his cheeks, chiseling out the bones. "What'd they take?"

I open my mouth to tell him everything but realize I can't. He doesn't know what I can do, and I can't tell him. But what else should I say? It would sound stupid to tell him they stole nothing.

I settle for half-truths and admit, "A book."

"What kind of book?" When I don't reply, he presses, "Come on, Gab. This is important."

Why? I want to ask, but for the sake of our friendship I don't. Maybe I've interrogated him enough for a while. "Just some dumb book about dreams I bought from a thrift store. It's not important."

But the look on his face changes: those grey eyes sharpen until they're bright blue again. They stare into nothing, as if he's somewhere far away from the grimy halls of University Heights. Then, in an instant, he snaps back.

"Come to lunch with me." It isn't a question—more like a demand—and I know better than to turn him down. It's a step in the right direction to mending our friendship, so I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder and follow him down the hallway. The further I walk with him, the less the fingers of my nightmares reach me, until all images of him with Willa dissolve into meaningless dust.

Five minutes later, I find myself seated between Asher and Willa with a tray of meatloaf in front of me. Nathan Collier sits on the other side of our circular table, pulling out a pre-packaged lunch from Eataly, some posh Italian place on Fifth. I didn't expect the extra guests, but I'll endure them if it means I get to be in Asher's lunch group again.

"Afraid of getting food poisoning?" I ask Nathan as he pulls out a fancy silver fork and spoon and twirls his spaghetti with both, which I guess they teach you how to do in debutante classes.

His eyes flicker up to me. "Very. I don't eat food from questionable sources."

Snorting, I shovel into my meatloaf. Why'd he even come to this school if he's so against it?

Beside me, Willa picks at a spinach salad and avoids conversation. To her credit, she doesn't glance over me at Asher, and I wonder if everything I've suspected between them is an illusion. Asher is my best friend—he would tell me if he was in a relationship.

Still, there's something between these three that I know they're hiding from me. The barely concealed sideways glances, the occasional meaningful look: they're having a conversation that I'm excluded from. It only makes me feel further from Asher, like yelling at him from the opposite side of the Hudson River.

"So, Gabi." Nathan startles me out of my thoughts as he talks around a bite of mushed spaghetti. "Come over to my place after school, will you?"

"Why?" I ask, instantly wary.

His smile widens, and I get a lovely view of half-chewed food. "Asher and Willa are coming, too. We have something we want to talk to you about."

"Is there going to be some sort of initiation so I can finally figure out what's up with you guys?" I ask. "You're acting beyond weird."

"Something like that," Asher says. When he looks at me I see a trace of his old self. "If you meet us out back at three we can take Nathan's limo there."

"You have a limo?"

Nathan reclines back on the bench, stretching out his arms. "It pays to be rich."

I want to roll my eyes but hold back, because at least now Asher is talking to me, and the more time I spend around Nathan and Willa the more I may like them. I have my doubts about Willa—she's sulky and silent as if she has something to hide—but if she's Asher's friend then I guess I should at least give her a chance.

Last night sneaks into my brain again: the flicker of different colored visions and the dream. Willa and Asher. Their names run together so fast in my head that they blur together as one word. Willa-n-Asher. Willa-n-Asher.

I force another bite of meatloaf down my throat. My best friend's relationship with another girl should be the least of my concerns right now, and yet it's still there, pressing against my temples. And this time there's no switch to turn it off.

It's 3:05 PM, and Nathan's sleek black limousine is parked against the curb. When the chauffeur opens the door Nathan slides in and Asher follows, as if they're used to doing this every day. Willa starts to go in after them but I cut in front of her—it's subtle, but she catches it and sniffs in distaste. Then I'm squeezed into the backseat, sandwiched between Asher and Willa as the driver pulls out of the school parking lot. My backpack is situated in the spacious legroom in front of me, which I wish I could transfer to my upper body.

I don't expect anyone to say anything, but to my surprise Nathan pulls up the divider between us and the driver and twists as best he can to face me. "Asher said someone stole a book from your apartment last night," he says.

I pause when I see the greedy expression in his eyes. Then I nod. If Asher trusts him, so can I.

"Did it look anything like this?"

He holds out his phone to me, and the screen showcases a blurry photo of the exact book the teenagers took from me. I nod again.

"That settles it." Nathan inhales through his teeth, letting out a breathy whistle. "I'm just going to cut to the chase. You know how important that book is, don't you? What it's taught you to do?"

"How do you know—" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"We have our ways. Look, we can all do it. Me, Willa, Asher, and now you."

I crane my neck to look at Asher, but he won't meet my eyes. Instead he lowers the collar of his shirt, the one he'd been so intent on keeping in position all day, showing me the formation of ink spread across his neck.

My lips part in awe. I brush my fingertips against the arrangement, feeling his raised skin where the ink lies. "You never told me," I murmur.

He shrugs. There's regret in his eyes, which have turned grey again. They're the color of a stormy sea and all I want is for them to turn back to a summer sky.

"When did all this happen?" I ask.

Willa speaks for the first time since we slid inside the limo. "We all discovered our powers at different times," she says, running her fingers along the ends of her hair. Her voice is low and grating. "Some of us are born with them. Some people, like you, are taught. Everyone has a different power. Some of us can control dreams, some of us can twist reality, some of us can mess with people's minds. If you can think of any power that has to do with dreaming, someone probably has it."

I think about what I can do. All I'm capable of is transporting myself into an alternate world for a few hours. It's my own escape, and my actions there don't affect anyone. How is that a power?

"What are your powers?"

Nathan squints. "They're a secret. No one ever knows what someone else can do. To reveal your power is to lose your advantage. If someone can expect what's coming, then they can prevent it. Fight against it with willpower. The point is to catch them off guard."

I think back to the girl who tried to erase my memory last night. Her voice in my head was monopolizing, but I resisted. Was it because I knew what she was about to do, and I'd somehow been able to prevent it?

I sit back against the black leather. As I think, the seat behind me moves in ripples, massaging my back. I can't image what Asher's power would be—does it explain why he's been acting so distant? Why it still seems like he has something to hide?

"Who are these people?" I ask, leaning towards him. "Where did you meet them?"

"I read the book," he murmurs. "The one in your bedroom. I found it one day while I was in your apartment—I didn't think you'd read it, obviously, or else I would've known you had these powers a lot sooner. And this summer, things started going crazy. I was scaring myself with what I could do."

Running his hand through his hair, he says, "I ran. I didn't go visit family. And when I fell asleep that night Nathan appeared in my dream just like he did in yours. He told me where to go, what to do. So I found them and here I am. Nathan's family funds the organization. It's run straight out of their apartment. He's conceited and spoiled, but he has a heart. Willa is fierce and it takes a while to get to know her. When you do though, I guess she's okay."

"I heard that," snaps Willa.

His mouth quirks up into a half-smile, and I don't know whether to label it as endearing or teasing. So instead, I ask, "What's the point of the organization?"

"There's some people with our powers who want to use it for bad. Manipulate people, control things, you get the point. We're trying to stop them."

"You're running all that from an apartment?" I ask.

The limousine grinds to a stop, the wheels smoothly halting against pavement. Then the chauffeur opens the door and beckons for us to exit. Asher doesn't respond; he just follows Nathan onto the sidewalk.

We're near Madison Square Park, right in the middle of the Flatiron District. I've been to this part of Manhattan several times, but I've never noticed the white complex that rises between two much older buildings. Its front is made almost entirely of sleek glass panels, and white lettering spells 21W20 Flatiron in several places.

As soon as we step inside, I smell the wealth. Air conditioning blasts my face and I look down to see what I think are dyed bamboo floors. The lobby is darkened by modern wood paneling, complete with white roses that I assume the staff changes daily on a black marble coffee table.

Beside me, Asher looks out of place in his worn-down sneakers and tattered backpack, and even though my clothes aren't hand-me-downs I still feel like an outsider. Though the lobby is empty other than an attendant at the concierge desk, I'm sure it bustles with businessmen and socialites after work hours.

We walk through the lobby, passing a larger lobby with enormous candles in tall glass cylinders, to reach the elevator. Nathan doesn't say anything, but every once in a while he glances at me with twinkling eyes as if he's enjoying every minute of my gaping.

"We're heading up to the twelfth floor," he says, gesturing for me to step in the elevator first.

Nobody speaks on the ride up. I tap my combat boots against the pristine black marble, wondering what it would look like with a scratch or two. It looks too perfect, like all the originality was buffed and polished right out. And that rich aroma follows me into this tiny box, suffocating me with a mix of flowers and air fresheners and what's probably Tom Ford cologne.

The doors slide open. Asher, Nathan, and Willa all walk inside like they live here—maybe they all do—dropping backpacks on white settees and black fur rugs. I stand in the foyer facing a gold and grey dining room set, completely still, almost afraid to move. Everything looks so clean, so untouched.

"And now your obligatory five seconds of gawking are up." Nathan presses his hand to my chin, shutting my mouth for me. "Willa, show her to her room, can you?"

"I have a room?"

Willa rolls her grey eyes. "You get to share with me. Great, right?"

Before I can ask more questions, she takes me by the elbow and leads me further into the apartment. My shoes squeak on the freshly waxed floor as she guides me behind the elevator, where the wood floors turn to a plush white area rug. We're at the entryway to a spacious bedroom with two queen beds, adorned in matching white comforters and almond-colored pillows.

"I know it's overwhelming at first," Willa says, in a rare show of sympathy, "But you get used to it. The food's great here."

This is too much to handle. Leaning against the eggshell white wall, I squeeze my eyes shut to ground myself. I need to take this one step at a time, and the first thing to worry about is my living arrangement. "I'm staying here?" I ask.

"Obviously we're not going to kidnap you. But the offer is there. It'll be easier for us to work together."

"What about my mom? And school? We're far away from the Bronx." Now that I think about it, I doubt Nathan and Willa are even planning on staying at school. Maybe they just wanted to spend a few days observing me, to see if they could trust me. And obviously I passed the test. After all, I'm here, aren't I?

Willa opens her arms as if she's embracing the house; her lean fingers seem to reach from one end of the hallway to the other. "It's your choice," she says. "If you choose this, then it's your life now. School is on the back burner. It's a life of luxury and you get to live in the swankiest part of town, but there are risks. Your life, for example.

"It's not all fun and games. There's training and then after that, it's tough work. Things never get easier. We all have to rely on each other so much, and you never know when you're going to lose someone."

I want to ask what we're fighting against but sense that now isn't the time. That knowledge is overhanging and feels unspeakable, like I haven't earned that privilege yet.

"It's up to you, Gabi. If you want, Nathan's chauffeur can drop you off at your house and we can pretend none of this ever happened."

My stomach thuds. In the living room I imagine Asher and Nathan talking about me: about my potential, if they think I'll rise to the challenge. There's a burning desire searing through my insides that convinces me I want to do this. I think about Asher and how distant he seems from me. Maybe this is a way to bring us back together. But most importantly, I realize I have questions—so many unanswered questions that swarm around in my head. I need answers, and I need to find a bigger purpose for my dreams than a few hours each night of living a perfect, unattainable life.

This is what my dad always wanted. I can see him now, rubbing his hands together and leaning forward, urging me to take this chance. To record everything, to watch the world and my dreams with his scientific mind. To explore what he'd never been able to explore.

Willa props the bedroom door open further with a graceful swish of her wrist. I know that if I step over the threshold, I am accepting her offer. Her eyes lock on mine, challenging me like she doesn't believe I'll do it. I want to prove myself to her, especially now that she seems to have everything I want. I review all the reasons I choose to stay. Asher. Questions. Purpose. My dad.

Then I step inside.

A/N: Want to binge-read Ellucid (and all my other summer 2018 books) without waiting for Wattpad updates? It's all posted on my new website, https://selenabrookssbb.wixsite.com/justsel (also linked in my bio).