But the weight of two lives resting on my shoulders kept my mind too preoccupied to think of his eyes staring at the back of me. All double lesson I played with the jet bracelet around my wrist and pictured the mother and child; I even accidently drew their faces a few times. It was always hard to draw such young and beautiful faces. Faces that no longer were. The ache in my heart grew heavy at the thought of lives gone at such a young age, at the child who would never grow old.
I didn’t know them and yet the loss seemed too heavy. I had to remind myself that what was done was done, and my imagination, my dreams, had only created a version of reality. I made up the likability of them, the cuteness of the boy, their age. I didn’t know the details; I didn’t want them. But if I could stop dreaming up nice people I might be able to find it a bit more agreeable.
Unfortunately, I’d imagined an amazing mum who tried her best, who dreamed of the future for her and her child. Heartbreakingly, my dream signalled the end of hers and, hand on my heart, I wished I could take it back.
If only she’d been like half the population and hit the snooze button, rolled over and fallen back to sleep, she’d still be alive. Now, all her seconds were gone; all for the sake of a few minutes.
Morning break came straight after Geography, and although I would’ve preferred to walk in quiet contemplation, Tyler strode beside me. His silence tangled uncomfortably with mine, until at last we reached the protection of our noisy friends.
We sat across from each other, and he flashed the tiniest hint of a smile. Could he see my pain like I saw his?
I shifted my attention to Amber as she rummaged in the floral backpack on her lap. ‘What are you looking for?’
Her eyebrows rose, and a ‘you’ll see’ twinkle shone in her eyes. She dumped a water bottle, a tattered novel, workbooks, a bag of carrot sticks, and finally a container on the table. ‘Salted caramel or cherry?’ She removed three cakes from the container. ‘Sorry, this was all the leftovers I could steal today, I’ll share with Cal.’
Max held up a hand. ‘None for me.’ A true gymnast, always conscious of what she ate.
‘Tyler?’ Amber held up each of the flavours. ‘I hope you like cupcakes.’
‘I have a feeling I’m gonna like these. Either’s fine. Whatever’s left.’
Cal laughed. ‘Don’t say that, dude. There won’t be anything left.’
Amber held up a knife – you know ’cause everyone carries a knife in their bag. She cut the cakes in half and slid them into the centre of the table. Tyler chose the caramel and before Sean could steal the other half, Amber passed it over to me with a smile. She knew me far too well. I held up the cake and nodded my thanks.
I savoured the taste of Laurie’s little pieces of perfection, drifting away from the chatter. A cool breeze blew my hair around my face and images of the little boy’s bouncy curls and his mum’s dreadlocks crept into my vision, followed by the crumpling of the car beneath the train.
‘Luce?’
Sean’s voice startled me. I sucked in a breath. ‘Huh?’
‘I was asking if we’re good to catch a lift with you on Friday. Jake taking you?’
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the stills from my head and concentrate on the conversation. ‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Spill.’ Max raised her brow.
‘What?’
‘You’re daydreaming, and we all know what that means. What was it?’
I loved that she cared, but when you can only share half-truths is it even worth it? It’d be different if I could be like, ‘You know that mum and kid who died in the train wreck yesterday. Yeah, that’s what it was, I was there’.
Um, no.
I’d learned I was there crossed over the fuzzy lines of what my friends could accept about me and my dreams. And with Tyler here, I really couldn’t say that. But with all eyes on me waiting for an answer, what remained was the choice to lie or dull down the details.
‘Train accident, two dead,’ I said matter-of-factly.
‘Ew.’ Max scrunched up her face and swallowed a large gulp of water.
‘You mean that mother and her kid in Wollongong?’ Tyler asked. I jerked my head in his direction, surprised at the question.
‘Um, no, just a dream I had.’ I picked off a piece of the cake.
‘Of the same thing?’ he pressed.
No way would I make that mistake again. I laughed it off and brushed my hand in the air. ‘Nah, only a dream. But, gee, talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘Can say that again,’ Cal said.
Max popped her water bottle on the table. ‘Isn’t that how most people die? Freak accidents?’
‘Guess so. But don’t you think sometimes they’d be avoidable, like if she slowed down instead of rushing to beat the clock.’
‘Says the girl who runs for fun,’ Amber said.
Tyler propped his elbow on the table. ‘How do you know she was rushing?’
Damn it, why was he so observant? ‘I…I don’t. I just think that’s how a lot of people die, carelessness, speed.’
‘What, and if she slowed down she wouldn’t have been in the way of the train?’
‘Exactly.’
‘But you could argue if she was faster, she also wouldn’t have been in the way.’
I pursed my lips. He was right. Speed up her morning by five minutes and she would’ve been well out of the way, but she was already rushing and that hadn’t worked. If she could’ve changed anything to prevent their deaths, she’d have needed to slow down.
‘True.’ I cast my eyes down. ‘But I still think they should’ve slowed down.’
I hoped he wouldn’t argue more. It wasn’t as if the alternatives hadn’t already been careening around in my head since I woke. Especially the how. It had to be one simple change from the morning, which had to exclude her alarm because it was likely set to the same time every morning. The little boy’s tear-filled eyes came to mind, his sniffles as she rushed him out the door. If he’d pleaded to have his laces tied, or simply held on for a longer hug over breakfast, it would’ve given them at least one more minute. That’s all they needed.
Max’s elbow landed in my side.
I glanced up, giving my mind whiplash as I propelled my thoughts back to the here and now.
‘Tyler was talking to you.’
Crap.
‘You’ll get used to it, mate.’ Sean chuckled, and I scrunched my face in a sarcastic thanks smile.
‘Sorry, what were you saying?’
Tyler frowned, but the slight concern under his scrutiny helped ease the thundering in my chest. The bell sounded and his focus shifted. We clamoured out of the bench seats and gathered our bags, the bustle muffling any answer Tyler might’ve been about to give.
Cal and Sean shepherded him away, and I made my way to the library, my relief and curiosity battling it out with every stride.
I dreamed again of the train crash that night. It wasn’t unusual for me to see the stories over and over again. Sometimes they stayed the same, but other more favourable times I managed to change small details. And those what-ifs meant I slept soundly for a night or two. At least until I saw, read or heard a news story and it all started again.
But those few nights of deep, impenetrable blackness were my Bahamas vacation.
Before sleeping, I sketched their faces again, better than I’d done earlier, and without distraction, with the time and effort they deserved. My pencil circled back and forth for each frizzy dreadlock, pushing firmer into the paper to capture her painted nails. And her son, those blue, blue eyes tempting me to pick up a coloured pencil. A stray tear dropped onto the page, and I wiped my eyes so I wouldn’t further damage the paper. Why did young people have to be taken so soon?
I carried the injustice into my sleep and back to the dream. This time the little boy did what I’d contemplated earlier. He tugged on his mum’s hand, spoke three simple words that made her pause, look into his eyes, and tie his laces
. Instead of reaching the track before the SUV, she arrived afterward – after the drunk driver barrelled through the boom gate into the train. It was still horrifying to see unfold, but I rarely expected anything pretty when I closed my eyes.
When I woke, I leaped out of bed and fired up my laptop. After what Granny Tess said on the weekend, about being able to change the ending, I couldn’t help crossing my fingers and holding my breath as I waited for the images to appear in front of me. Could it really be possible?
A small cry escaped my lips even before I knew what I was seeing. Nothing had changed. They were still dead – I fixed nothing. I slammed my fist onto the table, the agony twisting in my guts and gathering behind my eyelids.
The plunge back to reality hit hard. My Bahamas vacation just got crapped on big time.
*****
On Wednesday, I spent morning break in the art room, earphones in, avoiding what I expected would be a repeat of the day before. The way Tyler looked at me like he knew what was going on. As if it were remotely possible he had any idea what my night had been like.
I had a double free lesson straight after break and headed for the library. Meg Mac’s ‘Every Lie’ played in my ears. I turned up the volume and settled into my favourite back corner table.
I lifted out my laptop and books, spreading them wide, making myself both comfortable and unsociable. I signed into the dream forum, @LucidLucy. Surely after five days someone would’ve responded to my question. They had. Three times.
@nightwalker suggested I was manifesting my dreams into my real life. So, when I saw Tyler I decided his must’ve been the face I’d seen in my dream. Um, no.
@lostatsea said the same thing as Max, that I’d likely seen him subconsciously first.
And @dreamtripper wanted whatever I was on.
A shadow crept in front of me, and I lifted my head. Tyler stood on the other side of the table, hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably. His lips moved. With my long hair over my ears he had no idea I couldn’t hear a single word. I pressed my lips together, fighting hard not to laugh. I enjoyed the charade for a moment longer, before I tilted my head to the side and unplugged the sound from one ear.
‘Sorry,’ I said, raising my eyebrows. ‘Can you repeat that, I didn’t hear you?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘I just asked if anyone was sitting here.’
‘Uh…’ I fumbled. ‘No, but–’
‘Great, you won’t mind if I join you then?’ He threw his bag on the table.
‘That might be going a bit far,’ I mumbled, peering back at the laptop screen – fat lotta good those guys were – and closed the tab.
Tyler cracked a smile as he dragged out a chair. ‘How’d you go with your art homework? Caught up yet?’ His voice held a slight mocking tone.
I frowned. I couldn’t tell if he was having a go at me or not. His expression told me he knew more than he was letting on, like my friends had outed me. Brilliant.
I ignored his question.
‘I didn’t realise we shared a free,’ I said, grudgingly dragging some of my books back.
‘Neither did I until now.’ He reached into his backpack and heaved a large text book onto the table, followed by his laptop.
‘But you haven’t been here all week.’ I would’ve noticed if he had.
‘You’re very observant.’
I huffed through my teeth. ‘It’s a small library.’
His smile slipped away. ‘And you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.’
I opened my mouth to argue, but his eyes dared me to lie, to pretend I hadn’t been wary of him all week. He’d already seen straight through me. ‘Well,’ I said with a straight face, ‘you can never be too careful.’
Tyler coughed out a laugh and his rumble teased out my own giggle.
‘Ssh!’ Ms Oliver’s scathing glare speared us from the other end of the room. I covered my mouth and tried to suppress the giddiness gathering all the way to my toes.
I lowered my gaze to the screen and popped my earphones back in. Tyler placed his own over his head, and we settled into a bumbling but pleasant working rhythm. Pages turning, mouses rolling, eyes meeting. We lasted without speaking for nearly the entire first lesson until I pushed back my laptop to heft a text book in front of me and sent one of Tyler’s careening to the floor. I felt the thump in my chest as it landed on the carpet, not daring to turn in case I was impaled by more daggers from Ms Oliver.
I ripped out my earphones. ‘Sorry,’ I mouthed to Tyler.
He retrieved the book and shook his head. ‘It’s fine.’ Then pointed to my earphones. ‘What ya listening to?’
I looked down. ‘Uh…Meg Mac.’
‘Nice.’ He shifted in his seat.
I nodded to the headphones hooked around his neck. ‘You?’
‘Arctic Monkeys.’
I grabbed my phone and scrolled down my Spotify list. ‘Think I’ve got one of theirs on a playlist.’
He slouched in his chair. ‘Let me guess, the one everyone likes? Is it ‘Do I Wanna Know’?’
‘Does that make it bad?’
‘No way. It’s just the one most people like.’
I pursed my lips. ‘Glad I could be predictable.’
Tyler flicked his eyes down to his laptop and mumbled, ‘You’re anything but that.’
What does that mean? I straightened in my seat, about to ask.
‘Do you often dream of real life events?’ He said it so casually it took me a few seconds to comprehend, but when I did the question landed right in the centre of my guts.
Taken aback by the blow, my instincts took over. ‘I don’t.’
Tyler’s eyebrows rose. He held up a finger, then another. ‘Plane crash the night after we talked about my dad’s crash. Train accident the night after an actual one.’
My pulse beat like a drum. ‘Wouldn’t those things give most people nightmares?’
‘Yeah, maybe, but I was just curious if it was normal for you?’
I half laughed, half whelped. It was so much my normal I barely knew a life without them. But to admit that to an almost stranger felt far beyond any kind of normal. I sat on my hands to stop them shaking.
‘Sometimes.’
‘Désole – sorry – we don’t have to talk about it.’
But I did want to talk about it. He was the first person, aside from Granny Tess, who’d shown any interest. Everyone else told me to stop because it made them uncomfortable, but he offered an out after sensing my uneasiness. But it wasn’t my dreams that made me so nervous, it was him.
‘No, it’s all right. It’s nothing exciting.’ Unless you were into crashes, drownings, blood, guts, and death.
He ran a hand through his hair, brushing the tangle from his eyes. ‘Does your mind dull it down then? You see the boring parts too?’
I let out a small burst of laughter even though there was nothing funny about it. ‘No, not at all.’ I shook my head. ‘All I see is death. In all its spectacular gore.’
He scrunched his face. A perfect depiction of how I felt about my dreams.
‘Are your dreams ever so horrible, you’d die to wake up?’ If he was like me he’d pick up on the double meaning.
He regarded me, his eyes projecting warmth. ‘No, my dreams are amazing.’ His expression took on a hazy longing, and boy, would I love some of those kinds of nights. ‘I’d die just to stay in them a little longer.’
‘Lucky you.’ I didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic, and perhaps slightly bitter, but the hope I’d clung to that he might be anything like me had crumpled into a heap. It landed alongside the hope from last week that he’d seen me in the dream. I guess that’s why I never hoped. All it did was lift me too high for the fall not to hurt. I blinked from the sting.
But it wasn’t about me – one thing my dreams reminded me of constantly. It never was.
My eyes flicked to the book in front of him, the words indecipherable. ‘What language is that?’
Tyler’s head bobbe
d up and down – me, book, me. ‘Mandarin.’
I frowned. ‘Mandarin?’
‘Chinese.’
‘Yeah, I know. I didn’t think they taught that here?’
‘They don’t. I take it externally.’ He leaned his elbow on the table.
His relaxed posture and the change in conversation drew me in. ‘Why?’
‘Because they don’t teach it here,’ he said slowly, with a glimmer of a smile.
I huffed out a small laugh. ‘Yes, but why do you bother? Why not do one of the ones in the curriculum?’
‘I do. I also learn French.’
‘Ah, that explains things. You like languages?’
He shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘You guess? Why do you do it then?
His smile disappeared. ‘My dad always wanted us to learn more than one language. He said the world would be more open to me, and me to it, if we could talk to one another.’
The mention of his dad was sobering, but he wouldn’t want me dwelling on it. I ignored the fleeting pain in his eyes, pretended it meant nothing that he’d lost his dad and I didn’t possess a shred of sympathy for his loss. ‘You planning on travelling a lot, then?’
‘I’m outta here the moment that final bell rings next year.’ He paused. ‘What about you?’
I dropped my eyes to the book in front of me. ‘European Art.’ I brushed over the crisp pages beneath my fingertips.
‘No, I meant the travelling. Do you want to travel when you finish school?’
‘Oh…uh…’ I shifted in my seat and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘No…not really an interest of mine.’ Actually, my interest was so big it almost scared me, and the thought of leaving Antil…even more. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.
‘Really? I can imagine you travelling.’
I laughed nervously. I couldn’t. ‘How? What does that even look like?’
He chuckled a little, a slight glow in his eyes. ‘I dunno, I can just imagine it.’
I wished I knew exactly what he imagined, but I was satisfied that whatever image I conjured up for him helped to erase the sad memories of his dad, even for a moment. Our words drifted away and allowed for silence to surround us again, both comfortable and uncomfortable. I lowered my gaze back to my book.
Lucid Page 7
