I almost drop the beers in my hand.
“N-n-nope,” I say. “Co-dreaming? Doesn’t sound like a thing.”
I don’t know why I say it exactly. Maybe because it doesn’t sound like itshouldbe a thing. Maybe because Kari is with us and there are a million people around, and it sounds really freaking weird that Marcus and I would have the same dream.
I want to end this discussion, but Marcus won’t let it go.
“You don’t think sometimes there’s, like, something that happens between two people? Like thinking the same thought? Mind overlapping?” The crazy thing is, he sounds completely earnest.
“What if we don’t just have to be stuck in our own minds all the time,” he’s saying, spiraling, “but we can like hop between…I don’t fucking know, Cartwright. I just…”
“Marcus, you silly goose,” Kari says, whispering like she’s telling a secret. “We’re all alone in the universe.”
I point at her. “Yep. What Kari said. We’re all alone in the universe,” I say, and then I turn and practically sprint back to my friends.
Naturally, they are talking about—what else?—Marcus.
“What I heard is that Coach Kyle wants him to play Jason’s position,” Amber whispers to me, Mo, and Talon, who has since joined our group. “But Marcus is being, like, the biggest slacker. Turning up late to practices or not showing up at all. Playing like crap. It’s like hewantsto stay on the bench.”
“Big surprise there,” I mutter to myself, looking over my shoulder to find him still laughing with Kari. When he glances up, our eyes clash and I quickly swivel back to my friends. From then on, I feel Marcus’s gaze on and off, and it’s stressing me out. I don’t know what the hell the conversation we had was about. Was Marcusreally hinting at having had the same dream I did? That’s impossible. Sure, something bizarre happened in between the lunch at Jason’s house and me waking up in my bed hours later, but it’s because I have a head injury. That’s why my memory is fuzzy.
***
Hours later, when I’m lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, my head calls my bluff.
Before I know it, I’m heaving over a bucket, throwing up everything I’ve eaten today. I’d think it was a hangover if I had even a lick to drink, but I listened to Mo. Every sound is grating to me just like it was when I went to Nurse Diamond last week at school. The buzz of electricity humming through the walls, my clockticktocking, all of it makes my brain feel like it’s under siege, being scaled by very loud, very bright enemy forces.
Between bouts of nausea, I groan and cover my eyes with my pillow, wanting only peace and relief. I call for Mom, but she must be fast asleep or not home yet, dealing with some overnight crisis, because she doesn’t respond.
I can’t even cry about this everything-everywhere pain because the crying itself would make things worse. Even the skin over my eyes hurts.
But in a split second, the blackness behind my lids disappears, and the kind of light I’ve been hiding from all night shines into my room. I pry my eyes apart just in time to see my side table crumble, my door dissolve, my walls vanish.
And then everything begins again.
Eleven
I open my eyes in a stuffy gymnasium where the entire population of Sterlingwood High is screaming a fight song. Next to me, one shouting voice stands out from the rest.Sterlingwood, Sterlingwood, who are we? Champions, champions, ’cause we win!
The volume and intensity should make my head want to explode, but they don’t. My pain is gone.
I don’t understand how. Or why I’m suddenly…
A dream.
Holy shit, I’m in another dream. And it’s another day I recognize.
The Sterlingwood High Homecoming pep rally. I’m in the stands watching as the entire soccer team bulldozes through the gym in their uniforms, slapping hands with other students, dabbing and dancing and taking dramatic bows like they do at the start of every season.
I have no idea how I got here, because I certainly haven’t done anything but upchuck in the last hour in real life.
Right now, though, the person beside me is roaring, and I cover my left ear as I turn to see who has this much team pride.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Marcus?” I shout over the noise to be heard. “What the hell?”
He looks just as stunned to see me, then a little embarrassed.“You’re here,” he says. “I thought I was just having a random-ass dream.”
Our conversation at the bonfire immediately flies back to me.
