Insomnia (3 page)

Three

The sporting goods store always smelled like a gigantic rubber ball dipped in pine-scented cleaner. The store was pretty empty, but I noticed Jeff Sparks flipping through an issue of
Sports Illustrated
at the checkout line across from me. He was our senior class president. Everyone got along with him and he got along with pretty much everyone. He was definitely top dog, and had been the soccer team captain since junior high. There was a moment, when the team voted me co-captain of the soccer team this year, that I thought Jeff might not be down with sharing the spotlight, but so far he’d been cool.

“Any good?” I asked.

Jeff glanced up and smiled when he saw me. “Hey, man. Nah, my team sucks this year anyway.”

“Dude, the Broncos suck every year.”

He laughed, put the magazine back on the rack, and placed a new pair of shin guards in front of the register. “And the Packers are any better?”

I shrugged and walked over to Jeff’s register. My line wasn’t moving anyway and I didn’t like shouting across the girl ringing him up. “Always.”

“Never took you for a liar.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

Jeff paid and grabbed his shin guards. He walked backward toward the door and pointed one finger at me. “Soccer team meeting tomorrow after the assembly. Don’t forget.”

“I’ll be there,” I said as he left.

Jeff and I used to hang out all the time, but he was a year older so when he went to high school and I didn’t, things changed. Sometimes I missed hanging out with him, but I’d been a little too distracted and tired to make an effort over the past couple years, and now I wasn’t sure how to try again.

I hadn’t watched his dreams in at least two years, but he used to dream a lot about hanging out with his mom. It seemed to make him oddly happy. Hard to look at our school’s star soccer forward, not to mention my co-captain, in quite the same way when you know he’s a serious momma’s boy.

After buying my cleats, I glanced at the clock above the door and walked out into the damp night air. It was just after six. Not that I wanted to avoid Jeff’s dreams, but I was glad Finn was waiting for me outside. His dreams were comfortable for me now. Besides, even his nightmares were too freaky to be considered scary.

He was sitting on a bench talking on his phone. The air around us was thick and moist, but it hadn’t begun raining yet.

“Yeah, we had to stop by the mall after the movie,” he said.

I recognized his mom’s muffled voice coming through the earpiece. He shrugged and said, “Fine, I’ll ask him.” He held the phone away from his ear. “Can we pick up Addie from the pool on the way home?”

I ignored his shaking head and laughed. “Sure, no problem.”

He scowled and said goodbye. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell Mrs. Patrick no. Besides, Finn’s fifteen-year-old sister Addie was the coolest girl I’d ever met—although I’d never tell Finn that.

I’d avoided most girl Dreamers since the end of junior high, when girls got all weird. Addie was the only girl I’d ever been curious about, but I’d never watched her dreams. For some reason it felt like an intrusion with her. It didn’t help things that last summer she’d turned ridiculously hot pretty much overnight. She even went to our school now that she was a sophomore. Too bad sisters of friends were off-limits. It didn’t really matter, though—girls were so much work. It wasn’t worth wasting the time I had left on them.

“Fine, we can pick up Addie.” Finn gave an exaggerated sigh and got to his feet. As if we hadn’t already agreed. “But I want to stop at a gas station for a drink on the way home.”

“Okay.” I shrugged and decided to change the subject. “Did you know about the soccer meeting after the assembly tomorrow?”

Finn nodded and tucked his phone in his pocket. “Yeah. Aren’t we starting practices a little early this year? Spring’s a long way off.”

“Yeah, it’s early. I think we should wait a few more weeks, at least until after Halloween, but it isn’t worth arguing with Jeff about it.”

“I don’t understand half the stuff Jeff does, but it seems to be working for him.”

“Guess so.” I walked around to my side of the car, then cursed under my breath when my hands shook so hard I dropped the keys twice before managing to open the driver’s-side door. The sky around us rumbled as it started to rain. Clumsy, dying,
and
soaked. Awesome.

“No rush,” Finn muttered, pulling his jacket closed around him and glancing at the sky.

“I’d hate to get you wet, Princess,” I joked as I reached a shaking hand over the center console to unlock the passenger side for Finn. The tremors always got worse near the end of the day. The way my coordination was slipping, but only in certain areas, freaked me out. In biology, they’d taught us about muscle memory—the difference between movements your muscles do out of instinct and movements you have to think about. I wondered if this was part of it. My brain was failing faster than my body.

“Good thing you picked soccer instead of football,” he laughed. “Much better with your feet than your hands.”

It was pouring before I even got the car in gear. Typical Oakville. Tremendous sheets of rain came on in an instant and made my car creak in unnatural ways. Like there was some kind of timer in the clouds, and every time it dinged, the sky exploded.

“When is your car getting out of the shop again?” I tried not to smile.

Finn glared out the window. “Actually, I’m supposed to get it back next month, but my parents are making me chauffeur Addie around until she gets her license in May.”

I chuckled. “Maybe you’re better off with it in the shop.”

“Yep.”

My car hadn’t even stopped in front of the Oakville rec center when Addie ran out of the building. She looked up and grinned at the rain falling on her face, her auburn hair dripping wet. She climbed into the back seat and immediately dumped the rain water that had collected on top of her bag onto Finn’s head.

“Oops.”

Finn rubbed the water off his neck and scowled. “Are you sure we can’t leave her here?”

I laughed as I pulled away from the curb.

Addie buckled her seat belt and leaned back. I tried to ignore the scent that always reminded me of her—oranges—this time with a hint of chlorine.

“How’s the swim team this year?” I glanced in the rearview mirror and met her eyes. She gave me a smile that said she knew I didn’t care at all but was glad I asked anyway.

“Pretty good. We might make it to Regionals this year if Gwen can learn to stay in her own lane.” She sighed and leaned forward.

“She’s not the only one who should learn to stay out of other people’s space,” Finn muttered before running his hand through his hair and flicking a few water droplets at his sister.

Addie held up the side of her jacket and ducked behind it. Her voice came out a little muffled. “What did you guys do today?”

Finn was still busy with his water revenge, so I answered. “Not much, really. Watched some kung fu. Got new soccer cleats. Ran into Jeff.”

“Mr. Class President himself?” Addie grinned when Finn nodded. “That’s always fun.”

I glanced at Finn.

He shifted in his seat and turned to face her. “You know he’s a total man-whore, right?”

Addie slapped his shoulder. “I’m smart enough to watch out for myself. Besides, it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.”

I stared out the window in front of me, wondering why I felt so angry. But Finn was right—Addie should keep her distance. Jeff was a decent guy to his teammates, working hard and playing hard. Clean-cut, with his blond hair and brown eyes, he was your typical all-American jock. Unfortunately, with girls, he played the part. He always had more than one girlfriend at a time … usually more than two. Addie was way too good for him.

It was quiet for a minute. Finn shook his head. “Any girl who’s okay with sharing their guy is crazy.”

“Well, when it comes to Jeff, you realize that’s half the girls at school, right?” Addie twisted her hair up into a clip on the back of her head.

“You better not be in that group. And that’s just one of the many reasons girls don’t make any sense.” Finn turned to face me. “You know he took Emily out last week?”

“Emily who?” I knew a few girls named Emily, and I’d never seen any of them with Jeff.

“Matt, from the soccer team—she’s his little sister. Can you believe that?” Finn leaned back and shook his head. “Not cool, dude. You don’t date your friend’s sisters. I’d be pissed if Jeff tried to date Addie.”

“Like I said”—Addie met my eyes in the rearview mirror for an instant before looking away—“I can take care of myself.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying it’s a fast way to ruin a friendship. You don’t break the bro-code.” Then he flipped on the radio. I couldn’t decide if I wanted him to keep arguing with her about all the reasons she shouldn’t date Jeff, or if I was just glad the bro-code conversation was over.

I pulled into the gas station parking lot and Finn hopped out. “You guys want anything?”

Addie shook her head and I said, “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

I put the car in park and turned in my seat to face her. We were just friends, always had been, always would be … but that didn’t change the fact that my heart sped up these days every time I was around her.

“So, how is your schedule this year?” Yes, it was lame, but it was still a conversation.

“Okay. I’ve been doing some training on sports medicine for the girls’ soccer team and Coach Carter, just during gym and wherever else I can fit it in.” Addie’s eyes lit up and the gold flecks in the hazel seemed to glow. “Coach Carter says I’m pretty good at it.”

“Sweet.” I propped my elbow up on the seat. “You think you might want to do something with sports?”

“Doubt it.” She leaned forward and we were suddenly closer than I could handle. I sat back, regretting every inch I was giving up. “But I’d like to do something with medicine. I’m also a nurse’s aide this year.”

“That’s really cool, Addie.” I glanced over at the store. Finn was paying at the counter. “I think you’d be great at something like that.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart and kind and … ” I watched Finn walk to the door. “And pretty.”

I heard myself say the words, and I clamped my jaw shut as I saw Addie’s mouth drop open.
Seriously? Why did I say that?
I mean, it was obviously true, but still—
idiot
.

“All very important things in medicine.” Addie winked and squeezed my arm. “Thank you.”

Finn climbed into the car and I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

“What’d you get?” I put the car in reverse and did my best to avoid looking at Addie as I backed out of the parking space.

“A new concoction—might call it the Finn Supreme.” Finn took a sip and smiled. “Sprite, cherry syrup, and vanilla syrup.”

“Wow.” I nodded, trying to keep from laughing. “High marks for creativity.”

“Why do your drinks need names?” Addie looked out the window as she spoke, but in the rearview mirror I could see a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Finn turned around to face her, looking surprised. “Why not?”

My headlights shined on Finn and Addie’s yard as I pulled around the corner. The red-brick, two-story house sat on the edge of the cul-de-sac with a white picket fence around the backyard. Mrs. Patrick built little flower boxes under all the windows. The rain had eased a little, and mini-rivers ran down the gutters on the sides of the street.

Addie poked her head into the space between my headrest and the door. “Thanks for the ride.” She smiled, then opened her door and got out.

I tried to ignore the bumps on my neck where her breath had warmed my skin. “See you, Addie.” I watched her walk into the house.

“You want to play some PS3?” Finn asked.

I rubbed my palm against my right eye. I’d already been out too long and my eyelids were sagging. It was only eight, but definitely past time for bed. My brain was starting to freeze up, like an engine without enough oil. It wouldn’t be real sleep, but at least the peaceful nothingness I hung out in before most Dreamers fell asleep would help smooth out my lurching thought-process a bit.

“Nah, need to get home. I’ve still got a few chores to finish before I can head to bed. Plus I should probably at least start the homework I’ve been stalling on all week. See you tomorrow,” I said as Finn grabbed his backpack and jumped out of the car. It was a lie, of course. I never brought homework home. If I couldn’t finish it during school hours, it wasn’t getting done. It was hard enough trying to maintain any kind of social life when I felt like crashing by eight p.m. most nights; homework wasn’t a priority. Especially now that I knew I probably wouldn’t even make it long enough to
apply
to college.

After shutting the door, Finn bent down by the window and I could look him straight in the eye. “See you at the assembly,” he said.

“Sure. Later.”

As I pulled out, Finn pounded his shoulder with one hand, saluted, and then waved. I returned the weird farewell. He definitely kept things interesting.

The rain continued in a strange circular pattern on the way home: heavy, medium, light, then heavy again. The rhythmic thrumming made it difficult to focus on the road. My mind kept leaving the car. Alone again, I couldn’t stop thinking about my future—or lack of one. As Mom would’ve put it, I was zoned—until I noticed the stop sign and the purple truck that was about to meet the front end of my car.

four

I slammed my foot on the brake so hard my knee felt like it might bend the wrong way. I jerked the wheel to the left to avoid smashing into the little pickup directly in front of me. When my car finally screeched to a stop, I rested my head on the steering wheel for a moment. My breath fogged up the speedometer.

Leaning back, I glanced through the drizzling rain at the purple pickup and blinked. The seat was empty. Maybe it wasn’t my fault after all—maybe the truck had broken down and was abandoned here or something. I considered leaving; there wasn’t actually an accident, anyway. I didn’t hit the truck.

A black motorcycle swerved around us. Correction, there wasn’t an accident
yet
… but if I sat here in the middle of the street for much longer, there would be. I leaned across the passenger seat to get a better look, but I still couldn’t see anyone in the truck. When I reached over to put my car in gear, there was a sharp knock on my window.

I glanced up, and there was a girl standing next to my car. Her eyes met mine. They were such a deep blue they reminded me of the evening sky during a storm. Her hands pushed against her hips so hard she seemed to be using them to keep herself from exploding. She obviously wasn’t hurt, but she looked extremely angry—and kind of like my mom in that pose. No need to check the clock this time; it was too late and I was too exhausted. I knew that unless I wanted to watch Mom’s dreams for the zillionth time, I’d be watching this angry girl’s dreams tonight whether I liked it or not.

I sighed, turned off the car, and climbed out. The ends of her long, dark hair curled out from beneath the hood of her jacket and her eyes felt as dangerous as a loaded gun’s barrel. Dragging an umbrella out of the back seat, I held it over our heads.

“Hey, umm, that your truck?” I ran my hand through my hair, shaking away some of the water, and tried to charm her with a grin. She looked stunned for a minute, and I thought I might get away with it, but then she clenched her teeth and growled.

“A genius, huh? I half expected a stuntman from the way you were driving, but apparently you’re a rocket scientist. Why is a prodigy like you driving a piece of crap like this?”

There was a hint of southern drawl in her voice that threw me off, and it took me a minute to realize she had insulted me
and
my car in under ten seconds. That had to be some kind of record. She kicked my tire with the pointy toe of one black boot.

“Come on. Leave the car out of it. You didn’t even get a scratch,” I said.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No, but in your hands I’d consider even this oversized roller skate a lethal weapon.”

I had a knack for “maneuvering” people, at least that’s what I called it. Kind of like manipulation but not. It wasn’t a separate ability, more like a side-effect from spending my nights watching people’s expressions while feeling their emotions. It made it pretty easy to read people.

Most of the time, I used it on my mom. If I could tell her mood from her movements, her minute facial expressions, it was much easier to choose a good time to ask for things. One night, when she was feeling particularly guilty for working so much after my dad left, I ended up with a car. Not a great car, but a car. Considering I was only fifteen at the time, I didn’t complain.

I tried not to maneuver people too often, but this seemed like an appropriate time. The girl’s anger was getting us nowhere. This was a residential road that didn’t see much traffic, but one motorcycle had already passed and I didn’t want to be sitting in the middle of the intersection, in the rain, when the next car showed up. I opened my free hand, palm up, rolled my shoulders back, and focused on keeping my face calm and honest.

“Listen, I’m sorry—um, what’s your name?”

After glaring at me in uncomfortable silence for a full ten seconds, she finally answered.

“Megan.”

“Okay, Megan. I’m Parker, and I’m really sorry I ran that stop sign. I had a long day. I’m really tired, and it was totally my fault. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I kept my voice soft and level to show sincerity, then extended my hand to her, hoping the little hothead would accept my apology.

She seemed slightly mollified, took a deep breath, and glanced back at her pickup again before sticking her small hand into mine. When she finally relaxed and all the little angry lines on her forehead went away, I noticed a bruise and a few scratches near her temple.

“Oh, hey, are you okay?” A wave of guilt swept me and I reached a hand toward her face, but she flinched away from my fingertips. Her body language shifted so fast it nearly made me dizzy.

“No, that’s a few days old. I’m fine. Anyway, I’ve got to go.” Megan stumbled back around my car, but stopped when she got to her door. “Pay a little more attention, okay?”

“I will. Are you sure you’re all right?” Something in her expression made me uneasy.

With a dismissive wave, she climbed into the truck and was gone before I could even get my car started.

I groaned and hit my head against my headrest a few times. I’d managed to do it again. No matter how I tried to avoid making eye contact with strangers right before going to sleep, it was impossible sometimes. At least Megan seemed fairly normal and about my age, instead of some creepy old man.

I drove down the last three blocks of cookie-cutter houses in a state of paranoid awareness. By the time I pulled into the driveway of our blue-brick split-level, every blink grated on my dry eyes. For a few minutes I sat alone in the cool stillness of our garage. Our house felt like a tomb, or maybe it was just like me—a dark life with a silent death waiting in the wings. Maybe it would be better to embrace it now. Give up and face what was coming on my own terms, by my own choice.

I shook my head and climbed out of the car. No matter how good it sounded, how much easier it seemed than this never-ending fight my life had become, it still wasn’t what I wanted. There was so much more out there that I hadn’t done yet. I wasn’t ready to give up. I was just running out of options.

The kitchen was dark and silent. I could see a white note sitting on the dark green countertop like a small boat in a vast sea, but I didn’t even glance at it. I already knew what it would say; I could find the leftovers without a note telling me how. I wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Pain stabbed behind my eyes, as if I’d bruised the spot where they connected to my brain. I knew Dad used to get migraines. He always blamed it on fumes from the lab at the university—the hazardous life of a chemistry professor. I wondered if his headaches felt like this.

Sometimes I wondered if he might’ve been a Watcher too, but since he ditched us a month before I became a Watcher myself, I’d never know. He probably wasn’t, but I wished I’d gotten a chance to talk to him about it. I could always talk to him, about anything. You’re supposed to be able to talk to dads about crazy stuff—but they’re not supposed to walk out the door and never come back.

Crash, that was my plan. If I hurried, I might be able to catch a couple hours of nothingness before Megan went to bed and I joined her dream. Dr. Brown didn’t exactly give me a time frame for this whole sleep deprivation/dying thing, but if I was brutally honest, I knew I didn’t have much time left. My body couldn’t take this much longer.

The quiet dimness of my room eased the throbbing in my head. The curtains were super heavy and dark gray, so even during the daytime, if you turned off the lights and closed the curtains, it was pretty dark. At night, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face—total blackness.

I collapsed on the bed. Who knew how much longer I could survive this way? It could be a year, but I doubted it—more likely less. Would I have time to explain, or at least say goodbye, to the people I cared about? How would my mom handle it? Or Finn and Addie?

I rolled over on my side and punched my fist into my pillow. I’d find a way to tell them goodbye. I wouldn’t leave them wondering, the way Dad had left me.

The familiar rippling sensation came as I moved from my own dreamless white void into Megan’s dream. A warm awareness slipped over me and I hoped the rest of her dream stayed this calm. Too bad I couldn’t thank her for staying up late and giving me a couple hours of this peaceful solitude. I’d probably never see her again, and even if I did, that would be a really creepy thing to thank someone for.

I listened for a long moment to the thrumming inside my head. I used to wonder if it was my actual heartbeat that I heard or just some part of the dream that even the Dreamer wasn’t aware of. I decided it must be mine. The Dreamer didn’t even know I was here—why would they bother giving me a heartbeat?

Besides, I liked it better this way. It was the only thing I had control of in the dreams. If I breathed quickly or got excited, it would speed up; if I relaxed, the gentle cadence would slow. My heartbeat was my tether to reality.

I braced myself for the sound of her dream to come, waiting for it, but when it hit, I barely noticed.

Birds were chirping in the distance, and there was water sloshing around somewhere.

Smell hit next, sweet and earthy. It reminded me of a wheat field on a warm day. When sight arrived, it didn’t disappoint. There were vivid colors everywhere. I sat in a wide pasture at the base of a tall purple mountain. The ground was covered with soft red grass. Nearby, a stream wound down to a wide silver lake. The sun hung high in the sky, but a soft breeze cooled my face and moved my hair.

Her emotions jolted me when they hit. A deep sadness, but it was less disturbing than it should have been—as though it was thinned by water, diluted to make it less painful. Still, I ached with an unexpected emptiness. It echoed my own day-to-day feelings in a strange way. Megan and I had much more in common than I’d have guessed.

Something felt different in her dream, though. Not bad, just different, unlike any other I’d watched. It nagged at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it.

I turned, and froze when I saw her.

She stood a few feet behind me, wearing a white sundress and standing before an easel. Her left wrist twisted in circles, winding one dark curl tight around her pinky. She studied the canvas before her. She lifted her other hand and I expected her to paint, but instead she chewed on the end of the paintbrush. I had to admit, she might have acted a little psycho but she was also pretty cute.

I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I’d learned a long time ago that physical contact while watching wasn’t possible. Whether it was the Dreamer or some other person in the dream, we just passed over each other. I couldn’t interact. When I was twelve, the first year I started watching dreams, I must’ve tried to touch my mom a thousand times, begging her to help me understand what was happening. I’d tried to hold her hand, hug her, hit her, anything to make her see me, make her hear me.

It was probably better that it never worked. Just being here felt like a violation of the Dreamer’s privacy—touching them was a line I didn’t think I should cross.

I hopped to my feet and walked over to see her painting. The canvas was blank, not even the slightest dot marred the white sheet before her. It was peaceful in her dream, but she was so focused she looked almost frustrated. She kept shifting her weight back and forth between her bare feet.

Strange. If there was any dream-world built for painting, this was it. And her deep sadness felt almost foreign in this place. Everything around us was so quiet, calm, and beautiful. This wasn’t a memory, but it probably wasn’t a fantasy either.

I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my face; a feeling of serenity soaked through my skin. What was so different?

In that instant, it hit me. This dream had only one layer.

I didn’t think it possible: a single-layer dream. But it was so calm and real. It was like life, but enhanced somehow. Everything felt more vibrant.

But it wasn’t just what was happening in her head that was different; it was what was happening in mine. I could feel it in some inexplicable way, a freedom in my thoughts—a flexibility in the way my mind wandered.

Hope seeped through the cracks of my carefully constructed wall. At that moment, Megan could’ve been Picasso and I still wouldn’t have watched her any longer. If there was any dream I could sleep in—the true deep sleep I needed—this would be it.

I walked to a shady spot nearby. Rubbing my hands together to still their shaking, I took a deep breath. I could handle the disappointment if this attempt failed like all the others. It wouldn’t hurt me anymore. Forcing my muscles to move, I reclined on the soft red grass, closed my eyes …

And slept.