She didn’t even mind the stain.

Lucas’s face went white. He hadn’t expected it to actually work . “I—I wish for—”

“You should have remembered,” Megan said, wiping her pen clean on his letterman jacket. “I’m the one who draws the lines.”

“I protected myself,” she replied. “And you. That thing wasn’t a wish-granter. Your great-grandfather just drew a nightmare and got obsessed with it. I read his notes while you weren’t looking. The ‘wish’ part? He made that up. The only thing The Hollow would have done is eat.”