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Carrie gives her a sly smile. “Yeah, well. Anyways, I made yearbook staff, so I’ll be gone a lot during study hall, okay? I gotta go there now for the first meeting.”
Janie waves, distracted by the play she’s reading for English. “Have fun. Play nice.” She slides down in her seat and plops her feet on the chair opposite hers. She’s reading Camelot in preparation for next month’s senior English trip to Stratford, Canada.
Every now and then she peers over the bookshelves to see if anyone is looking sleepy nearby. She figures she can handle anything outside a twenty-foot radius, unless it’s a nightmare, and then the distance jumps dramatically. Luckily, most school-day dreams tend to either be the “falling” dream, the “naked presentation” dream, or something sexual. She can usually get a handle on those without doing a full pass-out-on-the-floor reaction.
It’s the paralyzing, shiver-and-shake nightmares that are killing her.
12:55 p.m.
The book disappears in front of her. Janie sighs and sets it on the table. She lays her head in her arms and closes her eyes.
She is floating. Not the falling dream again, she thinks. She is sick to death of the falling dream.
The scene changes immediately. Now, Janie is outside. It’s dark. She’s alone, behind a shed, but she can hear muffled voices. She’s never been alone before, and she doesn’t know how people can have dreams that they are not in. She is curious. She watches nervously, hoping this isn’t somebody’s nightmare about to explode through the wall of the shed, or from the bushes.
From around the corner comes a hulking, monstrous figure, outlined by the moonlight. It thrashes its arms through the bushes and lifts its hands to the sky, letting out a horrible yell. Janie feels her fingers going numb. She tries to get out. But she can’t.
The figure’s long fingers glint in the moonlight.
Janie leans back against the barn. She is shaking.
The grotesque figure sharpens his knife-fingers on each other. The sound is deafening.
Janie, against the barn, squeaks.
The figure wheels around. He sees her.
Approaches her.
She has seen this character before.
Right before she and Ethel ended up in a ditch.
Janie stands up, tries to run. But her legs won’t move.
The figure’s face is furious, but he has stopped sharpening his knives. He’s five feet away, and Janie closes her eyes. Nothing can hurt me, she tries to tell herself.
When she opens her eyes, it is daylight. She is still behind the barn. And the horrid, menacing figure has turned into a normal, human young man.
It’s Cabel Strumheller.
A second Janie steps out from Janie’s body and walks to Cabel, unafraid.
Janie stays back, against the barn.
Cabel touches the second Janie’s face.
He leans in.
He kisses her.
She kisses him back.
He steps out of the embrace and looks at the Janie against the barn wall. Tears fall down his cheeks.
“Help me,” he says.
1:35 p.m.
The bell rings. Janie feels the fog lifting, but she cannot move. Not yet. She needs a minute.
1:36 p.m.
Make that two minutes.
1:37 p.m.
When she feels the hand on her shoulder, she jumps.
A mile, a f
oot, an inch . . . she doesn’t know.
She looks up.
“Ready?” he says. “Didn’t know if you heard the bell.”
She stares at him.
“You okay, Hannagan?”
She nods and grabs her books. “Yeah.” Her voice is not completely back yet. She clears her throat. “Yes,” she says firmly. “Are you? You have a dent in your cheek.” She smiles shakily.
“Fell asleep on my book.”
“I figured.”
“You too, huh?”
“I, uh, must’ve been really tired, I guess.”
“You look freaked. Did you have a bad dream or something?”
She looks at him as they walk through the crowded hall to government class. He slips his hand onto the small of her back so they stay together as they talk.
“Not exactly,” she says slowly. Her eyes narrow. “Did you?” The words come out of her mouth like gunshots.
He turns sharply into the doorway as the bell rings and he sees the look on her face. He stops in his tracks. His eyes narrow as they search her face. She can see his eyes are puzzled. His face flushes slightly, but she’s not sure why.
The teacher comes in and shoos them to their seats.
Janie looks over her shoulder, two rows back and toward the middle of the room.
Cabel is still staring at her, looking incredibly puzzled. He shakes his head just slightly.
She looks at the chalkboard. Not seeing it. Just wondering. Wondering what the hell is wrong with her. And what is wrong with him, that he has dreams like that. Does he know? Did he see her in that one?
2:03 p.m.
A wad of paper lands on Janie’s desk. She jumps and slowly looks over to Cabel. He is slumped in his seat, doodling on his notebook, looking a little too innocent.
Janie opens the paper.
Smooths it out.
Yeah, maybe . . . (?)
That’s what it says.
September 29, 2005 2:55 p.m.
Leaning against the hood of her car is the lanky, long-haired figure of Cabel Strumheller. The one who dreams about monsters, and kissing her all in the same dream. His hair is wet.
“Hey,” Janie says lightly. Her hair is wet too.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
She sighs. “Am I?” She knows it sounds fake.
He doesn’t answer.
