The Dreamcatchers

Prologue

The arcade still smelled like the 1980s.

Cory Arcane unlocked the front door of Arcane's Vintage Arcade at 6:12 a.m. on the first Monday of September, the same way she had every summer morning since she was fourteen. The neon signs hummed awake one by one—Pac-Man's blue maze, the Dig Dug dragon, the flickering "INSERT COIN" above the old Street Fighter II cabinet. Dust motes floated in the early light that leaked through the big front windows. Outside, the small town of Hollow Creek was still mostly asleep. Inside, the machines waited like old friends who never asked questions.

She was the only girl who worked here. The only girl who knew which of the pinball machines tilted if you leaned too hard on the right flipper, and which one of the Skee-Ball lanes had a soft spot that always gave an extra ticket. Her parents owned the place. Her grandparents had opened it in 1979. Cory had grown up between the blinking lights and the smell of popcorn oil and warm circuit boards.

She was also the only girl who was about to walk onto a football field in full pads and hope nobody noticed how badly her hands were shaking.

The dare had been stupid. It still felt stupid. But stupid things had a way of sticking when you were eighteen and tired of being the quiet girl who only ever joined band and clubs. Tired of watching from the sidelines. Tired of people assuming the girl with the curly dark hair and the arcade keys didn't have anything else in her.

Cory locked the arcade back up, slid into her old truck, and drove toward Hollow Creek High. The sun was just starting to climb. Practice started at 6:45. She had eleven teammates waiting for her, most of them already certain she didn't belong.

She told herself it was only six months. Football season ended in February. She graduated in May. How bad could it be?

She already knew the answer. Bad enough that her stomach felt like it was full of cold coins.