Yesterday had seemed so impossible, but it was only a rehearsal for the real tribulation. When Freya shut her eyes, she saw flashes of distant lightning, and everything slid away. She jolted awake, her elbow slipping off the desk.

“When you’re tired enough, you’ll sleep,” Lassa had said.

Freya couldn’t focus on anything. Her classes were just echoes in the background. She was certain the only reason she hadn’t been kicked out was people felt sorry for her. Three different teachers asked her if she was okay. She told them she was having a hard time sleeping. Every one of them told her to try to get to bed earlier and, each time, she wanted to scream, but she forced a smile and told them, “I will, thanks.” Her eyes felt like there was grit in them all the time, and she kept remembering the sand spilling from the lockers into the flooded hall and sticking to her bare feet.

The dreams kept running through her head, new details emerged with each remembering. Bodies caught in the trestle-teeth of the broken bridge, Saria’s mouth opening impossibly wide the moment before she disintegrated, agony in her palm as the Starball went nova. Everything was backwards. Her dreams grew more tangible while the world faded away.

She wished it was Thursday, so she had someone to talk to, even if it was just Dr. Garbuglio. He’d said she could call him whenever she wanted, but Lassa would hear about it and there would be questions. Class ended at last, and she told herself she didn’t have to come back tomorrow. If tonight was another nightmare, she might not even be capable of returning. It felt like another sleepless night might finish her.

Freya still had Krav Maga. She desperately wanted to skip the class. It didn’t even matter if Lassa got mad. She just didn’t want to disappoint Vitko.

She was lightheaded as she biked down the hill to Renanin and decided she should eat something. Freya had twenty minutes until class started, so she stopped in Bella Reña and ordered a slice. She ate slowly, trying to kill time. She was hungry enough to eat another but was afraid she might throw up in class. She waited until exactly one minute before Krav Maga started to get up and walk over. That way no one would have time to talk to her.

It was worse than she’d feared. Freya soldiered through the class, trying her hardest to look like she wasn’t exhausted. It felt like everyone was looking at her. Each time she did something clumsy, she expected Vitko to come rushing over to her, yelling “No, no, no!” but he didn’t. When she tried to escape at the end of class, Vitko called out her name. She was sure he was about to tell her not to come back.

“What’s wrong? Why are you not sleeping?” he asked, pointing to his eyes with his index and pinky fingers.

“My medication changed. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping. I’m really sorry if I didn’t do well, I was trying,” Freya apologized.

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“I can see that. You did fine, I only want to make sure you are okay,” he said, holding up a thick palm. It was the same thing all her teachers had done, but she didn’t mind as much from Vitko somehow.

“I know a secret,” he said, dropping his voice even though they were the only ones left in the gym. “How to get to sleep anytime, anywhere. Do you want to know it?”

“Yes!” Freya said, too eager.

“Running,” Vitko said. “Running until you cannot run any more. Maybe you cannot outrun your problems but, if you run fast and far enough, you can get a big lead. Your problems will be out of breath, and while they are trying to catch up, you will sleep soundly. Try this tonight. Tell me if it helps and how far you can get.”

Freya sighed. She hoped it was a drug or something.

“Okay, I will,” she lied. She had nothing left to give. Next class, she would just tell him she’d run some believable amount, maybe a mile.

“Good luck! Run hard, Freya!” Vitko set his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. It was another gesture she would have hated from anyone else, but he really seemed to care. She turned to leave but caught herself with her hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Vitko.”

Freya left before she cried.

She’d locked up her bike on the other side of the strip mall so she didn’t have to walk past the pizza place. The whole class would be hanging out there, and she just couldn’t tonight. She fumbled with her bicycle lock for too long before she finally got it open. Everything was so hard today.

She felt her head clearing a little as she pedaled home, and as she biked past Nading Hill Park, she realized Lassa might be waiting for her at the house. That would be truly unbearable. She squeezed her brakes and squealed to a stop, then turned around and biked back to the park.

Nading Hill had a running track surrounding its soccer field, and Freya dropped her bike on the damp grass and ran. She felt so wobbly she expected to only make it a single lap, but when she passed her bike, she kept going. Four laps vanished into the night. One mile gone. It hurt, but the pain in her side drove out everything else. The wind had died, and there was only the sound of heavy breathing and sneakers hitting synthetic rubber.

After the first four laps, she did another four, and then another and, somewhere around the fifteenth lap, she started crying, just sobbing as she ran, but she didn’t stop. On the nineteenth lap, she had to slow to a jog, and then after the twentieth, she made it to her bike and sank to her knees. She had to lie down with her back against the damp field. Orange light flared behind her eyelids with every heartbeat.

If it hadn’t been so cold and damp, she might have fallen asleep right there. She was too sore and shaky to ride. She had to push the bike almost halfway home before she could get back on it and pedal.

Lassa wasn’t there. She’d returned and left again. Freya wanted to take a hot shower, but she slumped into her bed with her clothes on and had the sensation she was falling through it, plunging into dark water.

When she woke up, she had slept for more than fourteen hours and missed the first half of school. Her mind was a jumble of strange dreams, and everything ached, but it was a different kind of tired than the awful weariness of the night before. This was just regular pain. It was welcome. She’d run almost five miles in the park, she wondered if Vitko would be impressed.

The half Lunesta was still on the nightstand.