Tomas has never been very good at telling the difference between real and not real, so he keeps a list to help him remember. There were eight candles on his last birthday cake. That's real. He lives in a house in the country with his Mama, little sister, and big brother. That's real. His mama is the most beautiful lady in the whole world. His sister's favorite song is Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. His brother keeps him safe. That's real, that's real, that's real. His family loves him, even though he's a dangerous freak. That's real, too. But the voices in his head aren't real. The visions of places outside of their pine-lined yard aren't real. The people in hospital gowns that wander around his house aren't real. The sensation of straps on his wrists and bright lights in his eyes and the feeling that he's done this all before, lived this all before. Not real. Until it is. Until they are. Or maybe not. Tomas has never been very good at telling the difference.