Over and Over You

by Amy McAuley

  I smile at Emma. “It was great to meet you guys, too.”

  “Maybe we can all go out someplace tomorrow,” Kate helpfully suggests.

  “Sounds good,” Rick says. He leans over Di, and she boosts herself off the couch.

  Rick is well within my field of vision. I’m supposed to look away, but I can’t. Their lips meet in a kiss that declares they’re way beyond the “just friends” stage of the game.

  My heart cracks. Straight down the middle.

  15

  Kate and Di are sound asleep on my bedroom floor. I’m sitting in bed, huddled over my dream journal in near darkness, jotting down my latest dream before I forget it.

  Dear Dream Journal:

  I was in a field, surrounded by sheep. Malcolm walked over in his kilt and I gave him a kiss. Gross black lumps bubbled up all over his body. Di walked into the field, so I ran to her to get help. In a thick Scottish accent, she started shouting something about Malcolm being her husband, and I had no right. She yanked a handful of wildflowers out of the ground and beat me over the head with them, screaming that I never should have come to her farm, that I should go back where I came from. Then the black lumps popped up all over her, too. The flowers in her hand wilted into black ash. Giving me a dead stare, she said, “We all fall down.”

  Kate rolls over in her sleeping bag and tugs the zipper open. Without noticing me, she crawls out, staggers to standing, and heads toward the bathroom.

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  She spins around in a karate-chop pose. “You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing awake right now?”

  “I’m writing a dream in my journal.” I lean over and peek at Di’s face to make sure she’s still asleep. “I think we should go home.”

  “What for? We just got here. And besides, you are home.”

  “I know, but I have a bad feeling about being here now. I think we should leave.”

  “We’re only staying for two days, Pen. Don’t worry about it.” She takes a seat on the bed next to me. “Sorry, I know you think Rick is the same person you’ve been in love with for a thousand years. It must have freaked you out to see him.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “He might not feel like a stranger to you,” she says, “but you are a stranger to him.”

  The truth hurts. In my dreams, I’ve felt the most intense love for a person who has no idea who I am. He has no knowledge of any of it. I’m the one who’s burdened with all those feelings, all the experiences from the past.

  “What are you planning to do, now that you know who Rick is? Stake a claim on him and take him away from your best friend? I haven’t known you long, but I know you wouldn’t do anything to make Di unhappy. You have to accept that he’s her boyfriend.”

  I stare at the dream journal in my lap. I didn’t understand what was happening before, but things are even foggier now. My brain hangs out a Do Not Disturb sign.

  After using the bathroom, Kate gives me a reassuring smile and crawls back into her sleeping bag. Within minutes, she’s conked out again.

  Exhausted, I tilt my head back and rest it on the headboard. I won’t go to sleep; I have too many things to make sense of. I’ll just rest my eyes …

  I’m sitting in the school cafeteria across the table from Valerie. If anybody can help me with my lucid-dream problem, it’s Val.

  She slaps a spiral notebook on the table between us, the typewritten word Script the only thing on the cover. “I think dreams are a way for our brains to tell us things we don’t or can’t normally think about. What are your nightmares trying to tell you?”

  “That I’ve been in love with the same person for a thousand years.”

  Val’s eyebrows lift, questioning my answer.

  “What? That’s what they’re about. He’s been in each of my past lives.”

  Val shakes her head. “I’m disappointed in you, Penny. You’re not thinking hard enough. I was sure you’d use this opportunity wisely.”

  What is Val talking about? What opportunity? I think now’s a good time to wake myself up from this dream.

  “You wrote the answers,” Val says. “But did you read them?”

  She flips her notebook open. On the first page is the word Rewrite.

  It’s a gorgeous morning, but I’m too wound up to enjoy it. All my muscles are tensed, and a troop of pimples decided to make camp on my face sometime during the night. A pretty picture I am not.

  We’re on our way to have a picnic in a huge nature park near Rick and Emma’s old town. Kate keeps taking off her seat belt to turn around and join the backseat rowdiness. I hate when people don’t wear seat belts. Don’t they realize I’m trying to drive?

  For the hundredth time, Kate leans over the back of her seat, this time to share her insights on whether or not Bigfoot is real. Personally, I’m not sure about Bigfoot, but I can testify that Bigmouth is no mythical creature. It’s taking all my strength to keep from smacking her butt as it waggles around beside me.

  A shrill laugh from Emma sends a major déjà vu vibe through me, and my hands squeeze the steering wheel. I knew she was going to do that.

  Plopping down in her seat, Kate says, “Rick, you’re crazy.”

  This announcement sets off a debate that sounds eerily familiar, as if I’m listening to a recording of a conversation they’ve already had. And it’s not a conversation I want to hear twice. I try to tune them out.

  Turn right at the fruit stand, I think, taking my foot off the gas pedal.

  Di taps me on the shoulder. “Pen, make a right turn at the roadside fruit stand.”

  I turn onto a bumpy gravel road. A shiver goes down my back as we shimmy past the fruit stand, and I take a deep breath, hoping this strange déjà vu feeling will go away. Thankfully, it does. The conversation bouncing around the car quickly loses all familiarity, and Emma’s shrieks bore through my skull with no warning at all. I drive down the winding road, find the park on my own, with no help from the chatty bunch, and pull into the empty parking lot near the hiking trails.

  All I heard this morning was nature park this, nature park that. If this place is so damn great, why are we the only people here?

  We grab the backpacks from the trunk.

  “We’ll lead the way,” Di says, smiling at Rick. “We’ve been here lots of times.”

  What’s that mean? Is this their favorite get-busy locale? Ewwww.

  Holding hands, Di and Rick take the lead and march us into the woods. Surprisingly, the forest isn’t dense and dark like I was expecting. It’s airy, colorful, and full of sunlight. Bright wildflowers line the trail and the forest floor beyond is green with plants. A chipmunk darts across the path in front of us, a fuzzy ball of speed.

  “Too bad I didn’t bring my camera,” Kate says to me. “I’d get some great shots here.”

  “Definitely.” I smile at Kate and go back to watching Di and Rick hold hands.

  Just when I’m working up a good sweat, Di and Rick take a detour and lead us into the woods down a small path that’s barely visible. Branches slap my legs and scratch my arms. After a few minutes, the trail opens into a secluded clearing by a lake.

  “Whoa, it’s beautiful here,” Kate says. “Look how sparkly the water is.”

  Di smiles proudly. “This is our secret spot. We found it ourselves.”

  The lake is puny, nothing like my lake at Dad’s. There isn’t even a sand beach.

  “It’s great, Di,” I say.

  “I knew you guys would like it.”

  Rick drops his backpack and pulls out a folded blanket.

  “Shit,” Rick says, rifling through the backpack. “I forgot my inhaler at home.”

  “Yeah, I saw it in the bathroom,” Emma says.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She pulls a cellophane-wrapped sandwich from her bag. “I assumed you’d grab it.”

  “Look at all the trees and pollen and dust around me. It’s hot and I’m hiking,” he says,
jumping to his feet. “What if I have an asthma attack out here? I could die, Emma. You know that.”

  Not even flinching, Emma says, “Don’t flip out on me because you forgot something.”

  Di scrambles to her feet. “It’s okay, don’t worry,” she says, soothingly, like a mom would. She grabs his hand. “I’m sure Pen will let us borrow her car, we’ll drive back into town, get the inhaler, and be back here in no time.”

  I’m not sure about the “no time” part of that sentence. It took half an hour to drive out here. “No problem,” I say. I unzip the front pouch of my backpack and fish out the car keys. I’m too afraid to walk over and hand them to Rick. Instead, I toss them to him. Unfortunately, I throw with the skill of an infant. The keys zing through the air and miss his outstretched hand. If I’d been aiming for his crotch, I’d have hit a bull’s-eye.

  Rick bends at the waist to grab the keys from the ground, saying, “Ooooph,” but he’s laughing at the same time. I couldn’t be any more mortified.

  “Hey, since you’re going back into town,” Emma says, “could you grab my towel? I forgot it in the bathroom. And buy a couple of bags of chips while you’re out.”

  Ignoring his sister, Rick turns to face me. “Thanks for letting us use your car, Penny. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” I say, giving a warm smile to the picnic blanket.

  I hear branches cracking and evergreen bows rustling. Assuming that Rick and Di have left, I look up. Rick’s gone, but Di’s walking over to me. She squats beside the blanket. “Pen, you’ve been acting different since you got here. You don’t have to be shy around Rick and Emma, okay? They’re great. They’ll like you no matter what.”

  Di thinks I’m acting strangely out of shyness. Should I tell her the real reason?

  I haven’t known you long, but I know you wouldn’t do anything to make Di unhappy, Kate whispers inside my head.

  “Di, I just pegged him in the nuts.”

  “Don’t worry about that, either.” On her way to the path, Di turns around. “Bye, guys, see you in an hour.” She disappears into the brush.

  “What do you do when you come out here, Emma?” Kate asks.

  “Well, I smoke lots of weed and lie on a rock near the lake.” Emma pulls a plastic Baggie from her backpack. “I’m heading down to the rock. Are you guys coming?”

  “That’s okay,” I say. Thank goodness, I stuck my journal in the backpack before we left. I pull it out and hold it up for Emma to see. “I’ll stay here and write for a while.”

  “And I’ll stay here and watch her write,” Kate says. As Emma’s leaving the clearing, Kate shouts, “Hey, Emma, does your brother’s name start with U?”

  “Yeah, it’s Ulrich, but don’t tell him I told you. He’d kill me.”

  Kate turns to look at me. I’ve never seen anybody’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Until now. “By any chance, is he a lion?” she asks.

  I expect that question to elicit a funny look from Emma. But it doesn’t even faze her.

  “He was, before we moved. He played soccer for the East-lawn Lions.”

  “He plays soccer with bad asthma?” I ask.

  “He does all kinds of sports. His asthma’s not that bad, he’s just a big baby about his inhaler,” she says, strolling toward the lake. “I’ve only seen him almost die twice.”

  And the winner of the Sweetest Sister in the World is.

  “He played for the Lions?” Kate whispers to me. “Think that’s what the psychic meant?” Before I have the chance to answer, she calls out, “When’s Rick’s birthday?”

  “August fifth.” The trees close around Emma. “We had his party last week!”

  “That makes him a Leo, like my mom,” I say. “He’s a lion in more ways than one.”

  Kate slaps her thigh. “Okay, I lied about believing you before. But I definitely believe you now. He’s the guy all right.”

  “Told you so.” I know Rick is the guy, but to hear Margie’s reading confirmed by Emma freaks me out.

  Kate grabs my journal. It flaps open and my pen falls out. “So, what are we writing?”

  “Nothing,” I say, grabbing it out of her hands. “I think I’m supposed to figure out the dreams that are already in my journal.”

  “You mean, take the important parts and organize them into an easy-to-read and informative list? I’ll help you alphabetize.”

  “Kate, you’re a genius!”

  “That’s what they’ve been trying to tell me for years.”

  I wanted to keep my dreams secret, but I’d be stupid not to let someone as smart as Kate help me figure them out. “I’m going to let you read my journal.”

  “Excellent,” she says, rubbing her hands together.

  I open the book to the first entry. “In the first few dreams, I was Marie Antoinette.”

  Kate’s lips sputter and she falls over backward, screaming with laughter.

  “Are you gonna help or not?”

  She gets ahold of herself and sits up. “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Listen, Kate,” I say in a stern teacher voice. “You must take this seriously. If you can’t behave, I’ll send you to the rock to get stoned with Emma.”

  Kate hangs her head sheepishly. “I’ll be good.”

  I hand off the journal, already wincing in embarrassment.

  Her eyeballs zigzag as she speed-reads. “Vikings. Cool,” she drawls. Finger-lick and flip. “Penny, you poison-wielding femme fatale, you.” She goes back to reading. “Ahhh, the Plague. What a way to go.”

  “The Plague? Who had the Plague?”

  “Malcolm. Hence the black lumps and the ring-around-the-rosy reference. We’re talking Symbolism for Beginners, here.”

  I take a swing at her head, but she weaves out of the way, chuckling.

  When she finally sets the book on her lap, I say, “So what did you get from all that?”

  Kate takes a deep breath, and a look of complete seriousness wipes the joking and fun right out of her face. “You didn’t tell me that Di and the millennium guy died every time. Hasn’t that set off any alarm bells in your head?”

  My mind whirrs, burrowing out a memory. I think I said something strange to Ryan at the end-of-school party, when I was drunk, and he had no clue what I was talking about. What did I say? It’s on the tip of my brain.

  … She’s died a horrible, violent death … I always feel so guilty … like it’s my fault.

  “I also noticed,” Kate pauses, “that in almost every life Di likes the millennium guy.”

  “Huh?”

  She flips the book open. “Let’s see. Di’s engaged to him when he’s Raphael. Di’s married to him when he’s Malcolm. They committed suicide to spend eternity with each other.” Staring me straight in the eye, she says, “Did you ever consider that maybe Di’s the one who’s meant for him … and not you?”

  “Omigod.” I shake my head. “Then I come along and everything gets screwed up?”

  Kate shrugs sympathetically and flips through the journal entries. “Okay, I get who you, Di, and Rick are in the dreams. But who’s Raven?”

  She stares at me while I struggle to come up with an answer. I don’t want to lie to her.

  My voice jumps all over the place, but I get an answer out. “You’re gonna think I’m too insane to be friends with anymore, but Raven is you, Kate.”

  “Whoa,” she says.

  I can’t gauge her reaction by her expression, I’m too afraid to look at her face, but judging by her deep “whoa,” I’d say she’s astounded.

  “Raven is me? For real? I was in your Viking dreams?”

  I nervously glance at her face and nod.

  “Well, if that isn’t the coolest thing ever, I don’t know what is!” she says, and my tensed cheeks relax. “Boy, the gang’s all here—me, you, Di, and Rick. You should have told me I was coming to our thousand-year reunion!”

  Kate laughs and starts to say something, but I cut her off, suddenly anxious about t
he comment she made about us all being together again.

  “Wait, I just remembered two dreams that I didn’t write about. You know about the car dream I had on the way to Dad’s house, but I only told you part of it. My car was on fire. Di turned to look at me, and her face was dead and rotting. She told me I had to leave to get away from her. And in the other dream, a friend told me I’m not using the opportunity I’ve been given, wisely. What opportunity?”

  “I don’t know. Your psychic powers?”

  I sit rigid on the blanket and stare at the towering evergreen tree over Kate’s shoulder until it melds into a fuzzy green blob. All this time, I’ve been concerned with the weirdness of having the past-life dreams and the visions. I was so wrapped up in me, me, me, and how strange my life had become, that I never stopped to think about why those things were happening to me. If I’ve been screwing up for the last thousand years, maybe this is my chance to fix things. Maybe I’ve been given an amazing opportunity.

  “Val also showed me a book with the words Script and Rewrite on it.”

  “Rewrite script?” Kate says. “What’s that mean?”

  I swallow hard, feeling queasy. What if the script says I’m supposed to tie my shoe, but I decide against it? The whole movie would have to be rewritten from that point on.

  “It means I shouldn’t tie my shoe this time,” I whisper, staring at the smudgy evergreen tree.

  “Um, Pen? Didn’t you say your car was on fire? And Diana was dead?”

  Kate continues on, but her words blur like the tree. Invisible fingers creep up the back of my neck. Against the green screen, I see a road stretched out ahead of me. I’m high above the road, as if I’m sitting in a truck. In the distance, a car speeds down the road toward me. My view of the road shudders violently, as I swerve into the other lane. The car is closer now. It’s my car. I can’t move or look away. I can only watch the road. The car approaches the fruit stand. The sound of tearing and grinding metal peels through my head. Fire flares up before my eyes. The fruit stand blows apart.

  “Penny, are you okay?” Kate’s shaking me. Urgently. “What’s wrong?”

  I look at her, feeling drowsy like I’ve just woken up. My shoulders lurch forward. On hands and knees, I scramble to the edge of the blanket to throw up onto the grass.