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Her palm is smooth. Her fingers are soft.
That’s flesh.
That’s bone.
I squeeze harder.
Catherine grimaces. “Um…”
I drop her hand. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” She smiles sweetly even as she massages her fingers.
Okay. So… the people in my dream can feel pain.
That’s totally normal.
I chew on my bottom lip in thought.
So how can I prove that I’m me?
My reflection!
I snap my fingers. “Catherine, do you happen to have a mirror?”
“Sure.” She rummages through her bag. “I have so many things in here.”
I restlessly shift from one foot to the next. As soon as she sticks the compact mirror out, I snatch it and hold the reflection up.
That’s my face—dark skin, big brown eyes, big nose with a perky tip and thick, brown lips.
I’m not Kaz.
I’m me.
How is this possible?
My panic inches up another notch, moving from amused disbelief to something a little more disturbing.
I turn to Catherine. “You’re not real.”
“What?”
“You’re a figment of my imagination.”
She barks out a laugh.
“So if I slap you…” I raise my hand.
She ducks away from me. “Whoa. Stop.”
I lift my crazed eyes to her. “I’m dreaming.”
“Shanel, are you okay?”
No.
No, I’m not.
