"He's really doing it, isn't he? He's breaking into my dreams." Kylie's heart filled with resentment.

Holiday slowly shook her head. "I don't think ... I mean. I'm only guessing, but it's probably not him."

"Oh, it's him. I saw him." She put her hand in front of her face about an inch away from her nose. "He was this close to me." And closer. She recalled how he'd kissed her.

"No, I didn't mean it wasn't him in the dream. I mean, it's not him coming into your dreams."

Kylie tried to wrap her head around what Holiday was saying to her. Holiday continued. "What you're talking about is what we call dreamscaping, and I've never heard of a werewolf with this gift."

"Well, you've heard of one now." Kylie felt herself getting angrier, remembering the dream with them swimming. "And the thing he's doing ... he shouldn't be doing."

Holiday held up her hand. "However, it is a very common gift with those of us who share the gift of ghost whispering."

Kylie sat there, staring at Holiday, not wanting to believe the camp leader. "Are you saying that ... I'm ... I'm doing this?"

Okay, Kylie had put her foot in her mouth before, but she'd never had it in there so deep she felt her toes wiggling against her tonsils.

Holiday leaned in, her expression almost one of apology. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying, Kylie."

Kylie nearly choked on a big breath of air. "So the person I'm dreaming about, do they ... I mean, can they remember the dreams?" Her heart stopped as she recalled the first dream, the one of them swimming, the one where she'd practically flashed the girls at him.

Okay, so she'd totally flashed the girls at him.

"Some do," Holiday said. "Some don't."

Thank you, Jeeessus! She was definitely going with the "some don't." Holiday continued, "However, supernaturals would remember."

Okay, I take back that thank-you.

Kylie really wanted to die now. Then she recalled Lucas saying, You're the one in the driver's seat.

"So ... whatever happens in these dreams ... Am I, like, in charge of it? Am I responsible for what happens in the dream?"

From Holiday's expression, she must have just realized what kinds of things Kylie was eluding to. "Our emotions often guide our dreamscapes just as they do our dreams."

"Our?" Kylie asked. "Do you ... do this, too?" Hey, misery loved company.

Holiday held out her right hand, her thumb and index finger pinched close together. "I'm slightly gifted in this area, but yes, I've experienced it some." She waited a few seconds before continuing. "Ultimately, you are the one in control-if you are in control of your emotions."

Well, that pretty much left Kylie in the dark. How many times had she admitted feeling no control when it came to boys and kissing, let alone...

Holiday continued, "The dreamscaper sort of sets the stage for the dream. You offer a script to the person you are dreaming about and, depending on the strength of your abilities, and the person you are dreaming about, he or she can either refuse the script or attempt to alter it."

Kylie's head started to throb. No doubt from stress. "But it feels so real."

"It is real, but it's not." Holiday reached over and took her hand. A lot of Kylie's stress began to fade. "Think of it as going to see a movie. If you go see a movie with someone, you both share the experience. You live through the emotions, but it didn't actually happen."

Holiday released Kylie's hand, and then leaned back in her chair. "I'm impressed by this new ability of yours, Kylie. Really. If someone is highly skilled in dreamscaping, it's considered a very powerful gift. You can learn a lot from it and even teach others through the use of dreamscapes. And very few of us are lucky to have it."

"Lucky me," Kylie said with zero enthusiasm. "I don't suppose it's one of those returnable gifts?" she asked, feeling overwhelmed.

"Not returnable. I'm afraid the time has already passed to refuse your gifts. When you accepted your role as a ghost whisperer, you pretty much accepted it all." Holiday smiled. "But believe me, in time you will probably feel more in control of it. Seriously, Kylie, this is a very special gift."

Kylie crossed her arms over her special extra-size breasts and tried to take it all in. Holiday's words replayed in her head. I've never heard of a werewolf with this gift. "So ... if I am gifted with this, does it mean I'm not going to be morphing into a werewolf this Monday?"

Holiday didn't say anything, but Kylie saw that look on the camp leader's face again. The one that said she was either trying to figure out if she should say something, and if she did, how to say it in a way to soften the blow.

"Just spill it," Kylie told her. At this point, she might as well hear everything.

Holiday wrinkled her brows. "You are good at reading me," she said. "Really, too good," she said as if that could mean something, too. But Kylie was too focused on the werewolf issue to care what other things Holiday was thinking. "What are you telling me now?"

Holiday shook her head. "I was going to talk to you about this later. But first, I want to say up-front that it's still surmising." She paused. "Okay..." Kylie waved her hand to hurry Holiday along.

"After our talk yesterday where you mentioned the wolf ... Well, Selynn and Burnett told me that ... there's an old legend about real wolves being drawn to weres who are supposed to be in the hierarchy of the pack."

"So, I'm like an important werewolf?" Damn, she didn't even want to be a regular werewolf-she for sure didn't want to be an important one.

"I said it was just surmising on our part. Because frankly, Kylie, all the other stuff, the fact that you've never turned, that your other gifts aren't those common with weres, it doesn't line up. Especially when you realize that most all hierarchies in a were group are full-blooded. No human blood. So, you see, I don't want you to start thinking this really means anything. Because frankly, I'm not sure it does."

"Or it could mean a really big something," Kylie said, and wondered if she'd ever figure it all out. Or if she was destined to go through her life not knowing who or what she really was.

Before Kylie left Holiday's office, the camp leader asked Kylie to help her greet the visitors, deliver cold water and hot coffee, and keep peace in the dining hall during parents day. She got the feeling Holiday didn't need her help as much as she worried Kylie would go back to her cabin, fall into bed, and crawl into a deep state of insurmountable depression. Since Holiday could actually read Kylie's emotions, that was a big possibility. Now, prepared to play the part of a greeter, the door to the dining hall opened and several parents came rushing in and looking around for their kids.

Kylie realized a problem with Holiday's no-depression plan. Seeing eager parents walk in and embrace their kids wasn't exactly cheering her up. Remembering the call with her mom and how upset her mom was about having to miss the visitation helped chase away some of her melancholy. But then her mind shot to her stepdad and the reasons he wasn't going to show up. Too busy bumping uglies with his skanky girlfriend!

Kylie turned around and went to the table to start pouring glasses of iced water.

Ten minutes later, the noise in the dining hall rose as more parents arrived.

Kylie looked around and her thoughts went to her mom again. Not that her mind lingered on Mom too long. Nope. She had better things to knock around in the batting cage of her mind. Like the realization that Kylie had been barging into Lucas's dreams and handing him a dream script that read: let's get naked, go for a swim, and make out. Not that he'd exactly been complaining about it.

Oh, and the best part, according to Holiday, was that Lucas would remember these dreams, too. So when he came back to the camp-if he came back-she'd have to face him.

Nope. She definitely didn't want to think about that.

She grabbed another tray and started lining up glasses to fill with water.

"It's Kylie, right?" A soft voice spoke beside her.

Kylie glanced up from the tray. The woman appeared to be in her early fifties. She wore her dark hair short in a classic older lady cut, and her soft green eyes studied Kylie with a smile.

"Yes, it's Kylie." She forced herself to smile back and she was glad she did. It took her only another second after noticing the eye color to recognize the woman. "Hi, Mrs. Lakes."

Kylie looked around to see if she could find Derek, thinking his mom was obviously looking for him. "I haven't seen him, but I'm sure-"

"Oh, he's right over there." She pointed in the opposite direction from where Kylie looked. Kylie was tempted to turn around and find him, but something kept her from it. She recognized the emotion right off the bat.

Guilt. Guilt about her dreams.

Please don't break my heart. Derek's words echoed in her head and she realized it would break her heart if she knew Derek was skinnydipping in his dreams with some other girl.

Staring back down at the plastic glasses lined up like dominos on the tray, she hoped Derek wasn't close enough to read her emotions.

The woman put a hand on Kylie's arm and leaned in. "I told him I wanted to snag a glass of water."

"Oh, here," Kylie reached down and picked up a glass.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Lakes said, but she winked. "Actually, I just wanted to say hello and tell you..." She leaned in again. "You are practically all he ever talks about."

The guilt in Kylie's chest doubled, but this time she couldn't stop herself from looking over the woman's shoulder at Derek. He made a face at her as if he was worried about what his mom might be saying.

"I think my son is sweet on you," Mrs. Lakes said.

Kylie shifted her focus back to Mrs. Lakes but she didn't know how to answer. "I..."

The woman smiled. "I'm so glad he found nice friends here." She looked down at her glass. "Now, I'll leave and stop embarrassing you. Thank you for the water."

As Kylie watched the woman walk away, she muttered, "I'm sweet on him, too." And she was. What wasn't to like about Derek? She liked him for his easygoing ways, she liked the way he was nice to everyone and didn't think he was better than anyone else. She liked him in other ways, too.

The vision of him standing naked in the shower filled her mind. She was really, really sweet on Derek.

So, why hadn't she barged into his dreams? Why wasn't Derek the one whom her subconscious went to for fulfilling some kind of naughty fantasy? Feeling her face heat up just thinking about this in public, she looked back down at the glasses of ice water.

"Hi, Pumpkin."

Thoughts of fantasies immediately took flight. Hi, Pumpkin. Hi, Pumpkin. Realizing who stood right behind her, she froze. Even if she hadn't recognized the voice, only one person called her pumpkin.

She turned and lifted her eyes to her dad ... stepdad. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out, and damn it if she didn't want to drop to the floor, curl up in a ball, and start to cry.

"What do you think I'm doing? I came to see my girl." He smiled and looked at her the way he used to when she did something cute, or when she showed him a good report card.

Yup, she wanted to cry all right. The tightness in her throat made that crystal clear. "You didn't tell me you were coming." Was that enough of a reason to walk away? "You should have told me."

The loving father look on his face quickly changed to an unhappy father look. "I would have told you if you'd taken my calls," he said in a disgruntled voice. It was a voice he didn't use a lot, because her mom had always been the heavy.

"I've been busy," she answered.

His eyes tightened. "We both know I left you about seven voicemails, two texts, and a couple of e-mails. And I don't think you've been so busy that you couldn't have returned just one of them. I even called your camp leader."

The tears she didn't want to come started filling her eyes just as anger started filling her chest. But she welcomed the anger, because it crowded out the hurt. She looked into his eyes. He had no right getting angry at her. No right to tell her what she'd done wrong when his wrongs had totally ruined her life. Ruined her mother's life, too.

"Do you really want to talk about right and wrong?" she asked.

To his credit, his expression went from annoyed to ashamed in zero flat. "I guess your mom's been talking to you. Damn it! She really shouldn't have told you about our problems."

"What? Are you kidding me? Are you seriously going to stand here and blame this on Mom?"

He blinked. "I just ... I don't think she should have said any-"

"Stop." Kylie gripped her hands to keep them from trembling ... or from punching him in the nose. Right then, she wasn't sure which was more likely to happen. "Mom didn't tell me anything." Tears spilled down her face. "Mom didn't have to tell me anything. You told me. No, wait.

I misspoke. You didn't tell me anything. You showed me."

"What are talking about, Kylie?" He leaned in and lowered his voice as if hinting she should do the same.

But she was too mad, too hurt to care who heard their argument. He'd left her. He'd left her and her mom for some bimbo. The vision of him and his slutty little intern making out in front of the downtown B&B filled her head.

"Well, first you hit on Holiday when you came to visit me," she said. "That was embarrassing enough, but then I saw you in town later that day. You hadn't come alone. And I saw you and your intern standing in the middle of downtown Fallen. You want to know why I remember it so well, Dad?"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. So she continued, "Because you had your tongue shoved down her throat while she had her hand jammed down your pants." Kylie blinked and felt more tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "Lovely," she seethed.

"It was such a lovely sight, seeing your dad practically get a hand job in public."

Instantly, she realized that the entire room had gone deadly silent. Damn! Had she really screamed that out in the middle of the entire camp and their parents?

She glanced out at the crowd. Staring at her and her father. And from the look on everyone's face, yeah, she had.

Okay, now she really, really wished she'd taken her dad's hint about lowering her voice. Turning around, not looking at her dad, not looking at the crowd, she walked out of the dining room, hoping she could get outside before she started crying in earnest.

She would have run, but exhibiting her superfast supernatural running skills would have caused even more of a scene.

So she walked slowly toward the exit and pretended she didn't feel the tears gliding down her cheeks.

She pretended her heart wasn't breaking.

She pretended that she didn't know that about one hundred pairs of eyes were watching her go.

But pretending could only take her so far.

This ... this was too damn real, and it hurt her too much.