by C. M. Fenn
She smiles warmly at me. “Addy, I know you better than that. Tell me and we can work it out together.”
I recount my dream from start to finish. I tell her about Jordan’s party and the Tori-imposter. I describe how I fell through the bathroom door and plummeted toward the neighborhood. I try my best to explain getting pushed through the barrier. I tell her how I cut up my hands and knees on the street and hurt my ribs. I explain how Mel rescued me and how she and Crank insisted I wasn’t dreaming but actually in another realm of existence. By the time I finish saying it aloud, I realize how impossible it all sounds.
“Well that is definitely strange, Addy, but you shouldn’t have been afraid to tell me. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this.” She chews on her bottom lip. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I know what happened.”
Already I’m relieved. I knew I could count on my mom to bring me back to reality, so I wait eagerly for her theory.
“A few years before Dad died, there was an awful leak in our bathroom sink.” She points to the open door leading into her bathroom. “It would drip, drip, drip all night and drive us crazy. The night before I finally made your dad fix it, I was listening to it drip as I was falling asleep. That night I had all kinds of dreams that had that noise in it. In one dream, I remember I was trying to finish a résumé for an interview. The interviewer was standing over me, waiting and tapping her foot with impatience. The beat of her heel was the sound of the sink dripping. In another dream it was the turn signal in my car.”
I look at her confused. “I’m not sure I understand. How does that explain my hands and knees?”
“Well, I’ve never known you to sleepwalk, but what if all this mess with finals and graduation has stressed you out enough to change your sleeping habits? What if last night you went sleepwalking?”
I give her a disbelieving look. “I don’t know, Mom. That’s kind of a stretch. I mean, you’re saying I hurt myself in my sleep, and instead of waking up, my mind worked it into a dream?”
“It’s not unheard of, sweetie. There are all kinds of sleep disorders. I saw a news show a few years back where they covered a story of a man who murdered someone while he was asleep.”
“Oh, get out of here!” I exclaim. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Killed someone? And didn’t wake up?”
“Yes, I’m serious! They proved it scientifically and he was found innocent. Since then there have been all kinds of studies done to see how much a person can do in their sleep without knowing it. One woman would get up every night and eat food out of her refrigerator, not knowing why she couldn’t lose weight. Think about it, Addy. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. You must have tripped over something and hurt yourself.”
Just then, the doorbell chimes, so Mom goes to let Ronnie in. I get up carefully and check myself in the mirror to make sure I’m decent before following her down the hall. As I sit at the kitchen table, I look around for any signs that I might have been out here last night. Nothing appears unusual or out of place. How violent an accident would I have had to have to hurt myself badly enough to shred the flesh on my hands? And how could that not wake me up?
“Good morning, Maggie, you’re radiant as usual.” Ronnie kisses my mom on the cheek.
“Oh nonsense, I just woke up. Anyway, please come take a look at Addy.” They come into the kitchen and Ronnie sets down a bag he brought with him on the counter behind me.
Ronnie’s a middle-aged man of average height and average weight. In fact, he’s pretty much average in every way. He’s the most average person I know. He’s kind and was a good friend to my dad, but place him in a crowd of people and he would be the last person to get noticed—though I bet the people whose lives he saves don’t think he’s average. That’s what’s so neat about Ronnie. He’s a quiet hero. I really like him.
“So, Missy, what have you gotten yourself into?” He asks with a smile and a wink. He pulls a chair over so he can sit and face me. Noticing my bloodstained pajamas, he whistles. “How’d ya do that?”
“I’m not really sure ….” I show him my palms. He takes my hands in his and examines them closely.
My mom is leaning on the wall behind Ronnie chewing her thumbnail. “We think maybe she went sleepwalking last night and hurt herself somehow. When she went to bed, she was all in one piece, but this is how she woke up this morning.”
“I think I would call that sleep-adventuring,” Ronnie chuckles. He examines my wounds and determines that my ribs are only bruised, not cracked. He wraps my hands and knees in simple bandages. “I suggest you take Tylenol or Ibuprofen for the pain. If you find that’s not enough, then you’ll have to go see a doctor for a stronger prescription. I also recommend you rest. Stay in bed today. Be lazy.”
Mom is nodding her head, but I speak up before she can agree. “Mom, I have to go today. I have my oral presentation.”
“I’m sure your teacher will understand if you explain it to him. If you like, I can call and leave him a message. You can stay home and rest the whole weekend and then do your report first thing on Monday.”
I consider this while Ronnie packs up his bag. My mom gives him a hug and thanks him. He waves and tells me to take it easy as he leaves. When Mom comes back, I’ve made up my mind.
“Mom, I’m really not hurting that bad. Honestly. This is nothing that Tylenol can’t fix. Let me go and give my report. I’m pretty sure that I’m one of the first to go. If I’m feeling yuck after that, I’ll come home. Okay?”
I know she would much rather have me home for the day, so I’m surprised when she says, “All right, Addy. If you’re certain you’ll be okay, then you can go. But I want you to let me or Jana drive you there and pick you up afterwards. If you feel it’s too much for you, call and we’ll come get you. Understand?”
“It’s a deal,” I say.
I take the pain relievers Mom hands me and head back to my room to get ready for school. I look for something to put on my hands to cover the bandages. I don’t want people asking me what happened. It’ll get to over one hundred degrees by lunchtime, so mittens won’t fly. I can’t find anything and I’m running out of time when Mom calls me for breakfast. Jana is sitting at the table, talking with Mom.
“Well, I always knew you were a world-class klutz, but this really takes the cake!” Jana laughs. I make a face at her as Mom reaches over and swats the back of her head with the morning paper. By the time I finish eating, I only have time to grab my stuff and go. Jana gets her keys, so I gather she’s taking me, which worries me a little. Jana doesn’t have the best driving record—and that’s putting it nicely.
“Try to get me to school in one piece please,” I quip.
“You’re not worried I’ll hurt you, are you? You seem to be handling that pretty well yourself.”
“Hardy-har-har,” I say lamely.
As we back out of the driveway in Jana’s little car, she nearly backs into a dark truck driving past. It was such a close call I’m surprised when the driver doesn’t honk or give us the finger. They do, however, slow down a little to check us out through their tinted windows. I’m unable to see who’s behind the wheel, but the license plate is from California.
That makes me think of my dad’s mom, Gram, who lives in Glendale, California. Summer is almost here, which means it’s almost time for my annual trip to see her. I’m really close to Gram, and I look forward to my visits with her all year.
Jana is surprisingly quiet the entire trip to school. As we pull into the parking lot, she stops next to the curb and gets out of the car. I’m shocked as she opens the door for me. I gather my stuff and climb out of my seat. I’m about to deliver some witty remark about her managing not to kill me when she spontaneously hugs me. She’s gentle so she doesn’t hurt my ribs.
“Please try to be careful with yourself. You’re my only sister, and even though you can be a twerp, I kinda like ya,” she grumbles.
A show of affection like t
his from Jana is rare. “Thanks, Jana. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Have a good day, sis.” She gets back in her car and pulls out to leave, narrowly missing another car driving by. It’s so typically Jana that I can’t help but laugh.
I make it to first hour without anyone asking what happened to my hands. Once I’m called to give my presentation, I grab my visuals and charts and head to the front of class.
Mr. Perry immediately notices my bandaged palms and says, “Good gracious, Addy, what did you do to yourself?”
Because I’m not even sure what did happen, I decide to stick close to the version of events in my dream.
“I fell in the street last night and skinned up my palms,” I mumble, hoping to avoid further questions.
“Bummer. All right, well, good luck.” He smiles and motions for me to begin.
My presentation goes off without a hitch, and when I’m finished, I feel pretty good about it. Technically, I could go home now and sleep the rest of the day, but as I take inventory of my injuries, I find they really don’t hurt so much. The medicine must be doing its job. I use Mr. Perry’s phone after class to call my mom and tell her I’m doing fine and that I’m going to stay and get a ride home from Tori.
I’m a little apprehensive about seeing Tori after last night’s dream with the fake Tori. But when I see her in third hour, it’s reassuring to find my worries are unfounded. Tori is still her normal, shallow self—the first thing she says upon seeing me is how much my bandages make me look like a leper. She doesn’t even ask why I’m wearing them. Some things never change.
“Let’s go out for lunch today,” she says as we walk to our lockers after class. “I’m in the mood for a big, fat juicy burger.”
“Did you and Jordan get in a fight again?” Tori always craves junky food when she’s upset with her boyfriend.
“He tells me,” she puts a finger in the air, “that I’m supposed to stay here in this dumpy dairy town and wait for him to decide what he wants to do with his life. I told him, hell no! I’m leaving for college as soon as I can. I’m not going to get stuck here waiting for him while he wastes his life away and miss my chance at a real college experience.”
“If you go to ASU, you’ll only be in Tempe. That’s a twenty-minute drive. What’s his deal?” I ask.
“His deal is he doesn’t want me going to a real college filled with smart guys getting a real education and doing something with their lives. That’s his problem,” she snaps.
I let her vent at me as we drive to a nearby burger joint. It’s the kind of place where you park, order out your window, and they bring the food out to your car. There’re a few picnic tables on an island in between the parking areas and shaded by a large awning with misters around the edges of it. We see a few other students sitting at one of the tables, so we sit at a table next to them. We use the intercom on the order box by our table to order some food.
As we’re waiting for our meal to arrive, Tori says, “Oh my gosh, that guy is totally checking me out. Can he be any more obvious?”
I follow the direction of her gaze. She’s looking at a guy sitting behind the wheel of a black pickup. The driver’s window is down, so we can see he’s looking in our direction. He’s wearing sunglasses, so we can’t see his eyes, but he’s clearly watching the two of us. I half expect him to turn away now that we’ve caught him, but his gaze never falters. Something about his intensity is a little off-putting. It’s very direct, as if he doesn’t care that we know he’s staring.
“He’s certainly not shy, is he?” I mutter and turn back to the table. There’s nothing new about a guy checking Tori out.
“Well, I don’t mind. He’s actually really cute. I wonder how old he is?” she says thoughtfully. She starts twirling her hair around her finger and flashing coy smiles in his direction.
“Oh, never mind,” she says as a waitress on roller skates brings us our food. “He’s not even from here. I wonder if he’s moving here or only visiting,” she muses. “Hey, maybe he’ll take me back with him! I wouldn’t mind some California weather about now.”
“California?” I ask, puzzled. I turn and look at the guy in the truck again.
“Yeah, his license plate.”
Sure enough, the plate on the front of his truck says California.
“Whoa, that’s creepy,” I mutter under my breath.
“What is?” Tori asks around a bite of hamburger.
I study the truck closer. It has to be the truck Jana almost backed into this morning. Same dark color, same make and model. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be. And here he is, sitting here, staring at Tori and me.
I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s not Tori he’s been checking out. I try to decipher his expression. Is he angry? I wouldn’t be so bothered by him if I hadn’t noticed he’s not eating anything. Well, maybe he ordered something and it hasn’t come out yet.
“What’s creepy?” Tori demands impatiently.
“Oh, nothing really. It’s just, Jana almost crashed into that guy this morning. And here he is. A weird coincidence, I guess.”
“There’s nothing weird about that at all,” she says. “The way your sister drives, we probably come across her victims more often than we know—there are so many of them. Besides, a guy’s gotta eat.”
Tori’s right. I try not to think about it as I finish my lunch, but I can’t keep my eyes from flicking in his direction every few minutes or so. He never takes his eyes off us, and the whole time we’re eating, no one brings him any food. Maybe he finished before we got here, but I don’t remember seeing his truck when we parked.
“This is so awesome!” Tori’s thumbing through some bills the waitress brought back as change. “I paid with a twenty, and that idiot brings back my change, PLUS the twenty! Guess it’s my lucky day!”
I snatch the twenty from her hand as she’s waving it around like she won the lottery and start to get up.
“What are you doing? That’s mine!” she says, sounding a little too much like a bratty three-year-old for my liking.
“Come on, Tor. That waitress could get in trouble for this. Besides, it’s not like you need the money.” I head up to the order window at the front of the restaurant, tell the girl there what happened, and give the twenty back. She seems a little surprised that I actually returned it, but she’s really grateful. When I get back to the table, Tori’s sitting with her arms crossed, pouting.
“If it really bothers you that much, I’ll give you a twenty myself,” I say as I dig into my pants pocket.
“Oh forget it. I’m not upset about the money,” she says grumpily.
“So, what did I do?”
I can tell she’s having a hard time getting the words out.
“When you went up to the counter, I was watching ‘Mr. Hottie’ over there.” She pauses, reluctant to go on. I look at her expectantly and wait.
“When you got up and left, he watched you the whole way there and back. All this time I thought he was into me, and it’s you he’s been watching.” She seems so offended that someone might show interest in me rather than her.
“Lucky you,” she says.
Only I don’t feel so lucky. I’m worried that this guy is some kind of psycho who wants revenge for this morning’s near accident. He’s obviously trying to intimidate me. What other reason would he have for staring at me like this? The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I wasn’t even the one driving Jana’s car.
Tori and I gather our trash and toss it into a nearby bin. We head back to her car, which is parked about ten spaces away from the truck, and his gaze follows us all the way there.
I wonder if he plans on keeping this up all day. Will he follow us? Will he be there in the parking lot after school? Will he follow me home? All of a sudden I’m furious. I didn’t do anything to this guy, and I won’t put up with him harassing me.
“You know what?” I say angrily when we get to the car. “This is ridiculous. If he thinks he
can frighten me, he’s got another thing coming.” I slam my bag down on the passenger seat and turn around.
“What are you doing? Addy! Are you crazy?”
I ignore her and march purposefully toward the truck.
I’m thinking of some very choice words to say to this guy when he surprises me by unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the truck. He shuts the door, turns around, and leans on it, arms crossed. He stares at me expectantly. My steps falter and my resolve begins to fade.
This guy is scary! He has a definite militaristic air about him. His posture displays that rare kind of quiet confidence, the kind you get only after years of being in charge. He looks about six feet tall with short brown hair and is obviously in great shape.
Though his posture is relaxed, I get the feeling that underneath he’s coiled like a snake, ready to strike in an instant. Something about the set of his face tells me he isn’t someone to be messed with. His eyes still hide behind the shades.
By the time I’m ten feet away, I’ve lost all my confidence and am questioning my own sanity. At least we’re in public.
I stop walking and find myself staring at him stupidly as I try to remember the angry retort I had planned on saying only a few moments ago. We just stand there, silently watching each other. As much as I would love to turn around and run back to Tori’s car, I can’t do that. It would show him that I am, in fact, scared. If he really is a psycho, that would probably only encourage him.
I fidget with the bottom hem of my shirt as I think of how to salvage this. I decide to take the high road and hope that kindness can defuse him.
“Um, hi,” I say rather pathetically. He raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing. I walk a few steps closer, stand up tall, and clear my throat. “If you’re upset about this morning-”
“Are you Adelaide Shepherd?” he asks quietly. His tone is surprisingly calm and absent of hostility.
“What did you say?” I take a step closer.
“Are you Adelaide Shepherd?” he asks again. There’s something vaguely familiar about his voice. His whole demeanor drips with authority, and I choke down the urge to answer “Yes, sir.”
