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Janie is quiet.
“He’s going to jail for a long time, Janie.”
“What about Wang?”
“Him too. Sadly, he raped Stacey before Baker and Cobb got there. They found his DNA. She asked for the morning-after pill. She doesn’t remember anything that happened last night.” Cabel’s hands grip the steering wheel. His knuckles are white.
Janie’s quiet. “Fuck,” she says.
She should have done better.
Done better for Stacey.
Janie’s headache dulls by evening. She eats everything Cabel gives her, and then declares herself fit. “Stop babying me already,” she says with a cautious grin. She knows Cabel hasn’t slept.
Cabel gives her an exhausted, lost look. Sucks in a breath as his face crumbles. He nods. “I’m done,” he says. “Excuse me.” He walks out of the room, and Janie hears him in his bedroom. Yelling into his pillow.
Janie cringes.
Realizes now she was in way over her head. And, maybe, so was Cabel.
After a while he is quiet. Janie ventures a peek into his bedroom, and he’s asleep on his stomach, fully clothed, glasses flung on the nightstand, his arm and leg hanging off the edge of the bed, tears still clumping his eyelashes, cheeks flushed. Not dreaming.
Janie kneels next to the bed, smoothes his hair from his cheek, and watches him for a very long time.
March 9, 2006, 3:40 p.m.
The uproar at Fieldridge High School has settled, some. Janie’s three substitute teachers are less than exciting. Which is okay, because Janie’s having trouble concentrating, anyway. Not because of Mr. Durbin’s party. But because of what happened after, with Cabel.
After school Janie’s at home, lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, when Carrie pops her head inside Janie’s front door.
Janie sits up and forces a smile. “Hey. Happy, happy. Did you do anything fun for your birthday?” She hands Carrie a small gift bag that’s been sitting on the coffee table for days.
“The usual. Nothing fancy. Stu thinks I should go register to vote, of all things. I hope he’s joking.”
Janie attempts a laugh, even though she feels numb. “You should register to vote. It’s your right as an American.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god!” Carrie exclaims, slapping her hand to her mouth. “Did I miss your birthday?”
Janie shrugs. “When have you ever remembered it?”
“Hey! That’s not fair,” Carrie says, grinning sheepishly. But Janie knows it’s true. So does Carrie.
Not that it matters.
That’s just the way things are with them.
Carrie ooohs over the CD Janie bought her. And they are okay. But Janie knows that things are changing rapidly.
Carrie doesn’t stick around long.
Janie has no plans for the evening.
Or for the rest of her life, it seems.
She calls Cabel.
“I miss you,” she says to his voice mail. “Just . . . had to tell you that. Um, yeah. Sorry. Bye.”
But Cabel doesn’t call back.
She knew he wouldn’t.
“I need a break.” That’s what he said that Monday after the hospital, when he tried to touch her but couldn’t.
NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE
March 24, 2006, 3:00 p.m.
Janie is in a daze now. It’s been nearly three weeks. She goes through her classes like a zombie. Goes home after school. Every day, alone.
Alone.
It’s fierce. There’s so much more to miss now. Being alone before Cabel was much easier than being alone after Cabel.
He doesn’t sit nearby in study hall anymore, either. Doesn’t call. Doesn’t check on her when she gets sucked into dreams.
He can’t even seem to look at her. And when it happens by accident—in the hallways, the parking lot—his face gets a stricken look, and he hurries on, without a word.
Away from her.
Even at the follow-up meeting with Captain, she was alone. Cabel met with Captain separately.
Janie drives home, windows open on this fresh spring day, with nothing to lose.
3:04 p.m.
She stops for an elementary-school bus whose red lights are blinking. She looks at the children, crossing the street in front of her. Wonders if any of them are like her.
Knows they probably aren’t.
And then.
She’s taken by surprise. Blind, sucked into a little kid’s dream.
Falling, falling off a mountain.
Janie gasps silently.
Her foot slips from the brake pedal.
The bus horn wails and screams.
She grips the steering wheel frantically and struggles with her mind to focus. Pulls herself out of the dream as Ethel strays dangerously close to the street-crossing children.
Slams a numb, heavy foot on the brake and blindly reaches for the keys in the ignition.
Ethel conks out and dies as Janie’s sight returns.
The bus driver gives Janie a hateful look.
The children scurry to the side of the road, staring at Janie, eyes wide in fear.
Janie, horrified, shakes her head to clear it. “I’m so sorry,” she mouths. She feels sick to her stomach.
The bus roars away.
While the drivers who are lined up behind Janie begin honking impatiently, Janie struggles to start Ethel.
Bawling her eyes out.
Hating her life.
Wondering what the fuck is going to happen to her, wondering how she’s going to get through life without killing somebody.
She makes it home.
Wipes her face with her sleeve.
Walks determinedly into the house. Goes directly to her bedroom, tossing her coat and backpack on the couch without stopping.
Until she gets to her closet.
Janie pulls out the box and sits on her bed. Dumps it all out in a pile and picks up the green notebook. Recklessly opens it up. Reads the dedication again.
A Journey Into the Light
by Martha Stubin
This journal is ded
icated to dream catchers. It’s written expressly for those who follow in my footsteps once I am gone.
The information I have to share is made up of two things: delight and dread. If you do not want to know what waits for you, please close this journal now. Don’t turn the page.
But if you have the stomach for it and the desire to fight against the worst of it, you may be better off knowing. Then again, it may haunt you for the rest of your life. Please consider this in all seriousness. What you are about to read contains much more dread than delight.
I’m sorry to say I can’t make the decision for you. Nor can anyone else. You must do it alone. Please don’t put the responsibility on others’ shoulders. It will ruin them.
Whatever you decide, you are in for a long, hard ride. I bid you no regrets. Think about it. Have confidence in your decision, whatever you choose.
Good luck, friend.
Martha Stubin, Dream Catcher
Janie ignores the rush of fear and turns the page. And then turns the blank page. And she reads.
You’ve read the first page by now, at least once. I imagine you spent some time on it, perhaps days, deciding if you wanted to continue. And now here you are.
In case your heart is thumping, I’ll tell you that I’m starting with “Delight.” So you can change your mind if you wish to go no farther. There will be a blank page in this notebook before you reach the information I’ve titled “Dread.” So you’ll know and not turn the pages with fear.
I am sorry to have to place this fear in your heart. But I do so for my own reasons. Perhaps you’ll understand when you are through reading.
But for now, there is still time to go back and close this notebook. If you choose to go on, please turn the page.
3:57 p.m.
Janie turns the page.
Delight
You have experienced a bit of this already, I imagine. If not, it will come.
With time comes both success and failure. Some of your best successes as a dream catcher will not be realized for many years.
By now you’ve discovered that you have more power than you once knew. You have the ability to help someone change a dream to make it better. Less frightening, perhaps. Or even a complete change, such as turning a monster into a cartoon.
What you need to know before you assist in altering someone’s dream is that not all dreams can be altered. Your power is strong, but there are a few dreams stronger than you. Please don’t expect you can change the course of the world.
