Life Is but a Dream (19 page)

It started during last period. Sitting at my desk, the teacher’s words changed into a humming noise that mixed too easily with the fragments of conversations passing from desk to desk. It all came together to form a ringing sound in my ears that I can’t shake off. This happens more and more, it seems—happens closer together, day after day. It used to feel like forever between episodes. Now it feels constant—like the storm is getting nearer and I need to get away.

I should have gone straight home. I would have but Kayliegh begged me to stay after. She said she wants us to be close again—that she’s sorry for not sticking up for me against the rumors Skylar has been spreading. Really I think she only wants me here to distract Scott. Whatever her reasons are, it’s okay because I want Kayliegh back. I’m tired of being alone. Everything will go away then, I’m sure of it.

—
Hey, ’Brina? When did Kay say she was coming anyway?
— Thomas asks. He has a habit of shortening every name that Kayliegh is crazy about. She says it makes him dangerous because it means he’s always pushing ahead.

He pushes his face nearer my neck.

His breath is the beginning of a hot wind approaching from somewhere far off beyond the parking lot where cars are twinkling like metallic stars—coming from farther than that even, from out past where the lawn turns into soccer fields and football fields and baseball diamonds that fade away into thousands of houses, all looking identical in the hazy distance. The wind begins there. Thomas is merely borrowing tiny bursts of it from a reservoir of static that blows in from the deserts that swallow up the landscape behind the mountains on the horizon. The cell towers rising above the trees pull it forward like magnets. A tornado is on the way and I make my hands into fists to be ready for it.

Kayliegh is supposed to be here with me.

She is supposed to meet us here after she’s done talking to her geometry teacher about getting extra credit. Then the four of us are going to walk the two miles back from school to her house, stopping at the pizza place on the way to rest. Thomas keeps looking over his shoulder in the direction of the school so that he’ll know when she comes. I know he won’t stop touching me until she does.

The longer she takes, the closer the wind gets. It’s already so close that I feel it in the soft center of my bones—feel it warming the inside of my soul in a rush of heat that floods over me. If Kayliegh were here, it would settle down.

—
She can take her time for all I care
— Thomas whispers as I watch a parade of kids hurrying off toward the traffic of buses parked in front of the school. Some of them glance down at us in the grass and watch Thomas’s hand fumbling with the top button of my shirt. I stare anxiously at the sea of faces—all of them are like the living dead.

I look toward Scott as he tries to stare in the other direction. His head is turned, but his eyes don’t go along for the ride. They stay focused on each inch of my bare skin being revealed, button by button.

The longer strands of Thomas’s hair tickle the nape of my neck—wayward bangs that hang below his cheek like streaks made from a black marker. It’s one of the things about him that makes Kayliegh write his name on her hand with a heart drawn around it.

—
You’re cuter than Kay, you know that?
— he whispers to me. —
I know you think she’s prettier, but she isn’t.
— His left hand moves up the back of my shirt as his right hand moves down the front where the two sides are no longer connected. My ribs soak up the sunlight and the few freckles on my stomach stand out against my pale skin. I’m staring down at my belly button when I feel his lips touch the place under my jawbone. His tongue escapes like a wandering snake between rocks. When it presses against my skin, I feel as though I’ve been stabbed. —
You taste better too
— he says and I feel his words hissing in my ear more than I hear them.

It’s not that I’m letting him. I just can’t seem to bring myself to do anything to make him stop. I keep telling my arms to shove him away but they won’t listen. I’m paralyzed until the wind reaches me.

His fingers dig under the strap of my bra and slide it over my shoulder so that there is space between me and the fabric—a space just large enough for his hand to creep in like a burglar through a basement window.

His palm covers my breast, pressing me flat.

My mom says the women in our family develop late. She tells me this as if she’s apologizing—as if there is something wrong with the shape I am. The way Thomas smothers me makes me think he doesn’t care so much. Whatever I am right now, right at this second is enough for him—at least until Kayliegh joins us.

He must be reading my thoughts because his hand goes limp as he glances at me. —
We don’t have to tell her anything about this, right?
—

With all of my strength, I force myself to swallow in order to speak. —
Don’t
— is the only word I manage to get out and even I know it sounds like I really mean for him to keep going.

—
I know you like me, Sabrina
— he says. He undoes my bra and it falls across my body like the strap of a backpack. His fingertips barely touch my skin, moving in small circles over the pinkest part of me. —
You’ve liked me since fifth grade, just admit it
.
I’ve always thought you were kind of cute too, in that shy girl sort of way. But that’s just an act, isn’t it? You’re not as shy as you pretend to be.
—

He takes his hand away and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone and smiles at Scott. Scott has been watching jealously until then. Now he’s jealous but he’s also excited as the blinking red light tells him Thomas is filming me.

Static hovers over me like a vulture.

The sky fills with screams that only I seem to hear.

I close my eyes and look up at the sun. It becomes a white spot dancing on my eyelids. The wind comes and moves my hair. It passes over and finally I can move again because it pushes the static away and holds it back.

I don’t say anything as I slide out from under Thomas’s arm. I simply stand up and start to walk away. My shirt hangs open behind me like fabric wings, leaving part of me naked to the sun. He keeps the camera phone pointed at me but it doesn’t matter. It can’t see into my dreams—the static can’t record that.

The scenery begins to fade into something resembling a blurry shadow as I head toward the area near the tennis courts where the grass is thin and the pebbles in the dirt dance like fireflies on the ground. The colors change with every step I take. With my head tilted to the sky, I spin in circles watching the blue change to gold—spinning so that I can see rainbows form perfect circles around my eyes. It feels good to be in control of the universe in this way.

*   *   *

Through the windows of the examination room, I see the bleached outlines move against the golden afternoon sky. They are just shapes and shadows. Ghosts more than people. None are Alec, that much I know.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting and staring at them without talking. It could be hours or it could be minutes. The way Dr. Richards studies me as I turn my head away from the glare suggests it’s been longer than what she considers healthy.

I rub my eyes. They are dry and sore.

It feels like forever since I blinked last and it frightens me a little.

—
Sabrina? How are you feeling?
— she asks. —
You were mumbling and seemed agitated.
—

—
No I wasn’t.
—

Dr. Richards looks concerned. —
Can you tell me why you wanted that doll?
— she asks. I look down and discover the doll in my lap—the one that resembles me.

I let go of it—let it fall as if it were on fire.

—
I didn’t. I have no idea where it came from
— I tell her.

—
You got up to get it
— Dr. Richards says, but I don’t believe her. —
Wait here one second
.— She gets up and leaves the room. When she returns, she’s carrying a laptop. A few seconds later, a video appears of me in the examination room dressed as I’m dressed now. It shows me standing up and walking over to the bookshelf with the sleeve of my sweatshirt tucked into my mouth. I grab the doll and bring it back with me. Then I sit down and stare out of the window as Dr. Richards watches.

—
What is that?
— I ask in a panic. —
Where did that come from?
—

—
I’m not sure what you mean?
—

—
Liar!
— I scream, lashing out and knocking the computer onto the floor. —
You’re a liar!
—

—
Sabrina? Calm down and tell me what’s got you so upset
— Dr. Richards says in a steady, slow voice.

I stand up and ball my hands into fists. I keep them by my side and roar at her like a lion—my face burning red with anger. —
You recorded me! This whole time!
—

—
We record every session here
— she says. —
I’m sorry if you didn’t realize, but …
—

—
Liar!
— I start to rock back and forth on the heels of my feet. A headache swells behind my eyes and I feel as though my brain will explode. —
You tricked me! You all did!
—

Two nurses rush into the room then. I swing my arms out at them, but they are able to grab hold of me. I feel weak—almost invisible—thinking about all of the hours and all of the pieces of me that have been stolen. I wonder how much of me is even left.

The needle glides through my skin without much effort.

There is a rush of pressure in my arm before the lull. I tingle all over for just a second before my senses dull. Then I’m easy for them to maneuver back into the chair—as easy as posing a doll.

Dr. Richards takes a medical pad from her coat pocket. —
Sabrina, I’m going to prescribe another medicine for you
— she says. Then she hands the script over to the nurses and instructs them to take me back to my room.

—
I don’t want any medicine.
— I try my best to yell, but the words come out deflated.

—
It’s just something a little different than what we’ve been using
— she explains, scribbling away on the pad. —
Given your behavior over the last few days, I’m worried the current prescription is losing its effectiveness.
—

—
I’m fine. I don’t want any more medicine
— I repeat.

Dr. Richards pauses and looks at me. I can see the beginning flurries of static in her eyes. —
Can you tell me what day it is?
—

The question hangs in the air like a sickness.

I rub the back of my hand over my mouth and try to look everywhere but at her. I know it was Friday at some point but I can’t remember if that was today or the day before yesterday.

—
What does that matter?
— I say.

Dr. Richards presses her lips together tightly. —
Hopefully this new drug should make things a little clearer for you again
.—

My hand starts to tremble as my mouth searches for the comfort of my sleeve. Before I can reach it, the nurses gather me up and place me in a wheelchair. I am asleep before we ever get back to my room.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

They finally let me resume my schedule two days after Alec and I were brought back. When I leave my room, the sun is on the right side of the building and hasn’t passed over to the left side yet. At this time of day we are always in the common room and I have to count one second between my steps to keep from running all the way there. If they see me run, they will put me back in my room. They will give me another needle.

When I walk into the room the sunlight through the windows is blinding. For an instant before my eyes adjust, everything evaporates in the excessive color. Then shapes start to form and I identify the outline of the sofas and tables and the many silhouettes moving around. I focus on them.

A panic builds and I’m not as good as I should be at slowing it because Alec should be here. If they’ve let me back into my routine, they should’ve let him back too. He would come here too. He’d want to see me just as badly.

I search everywhere with my eyes, turning my head like a lost child in a store. One of the nurses sees me. From across the room, she is watching me sway like the last leaf on a tree, clinging to its branch and trying not to fall.

—
Is something wrong?
— she asks, suddenly standing next to me. Without waiting for an answer, she places her hands on my shoulders and leads me away from the door.

The nurse guides me to a chair. Pulling it away from the table, she expects me to sit down but I shake my head. —
I’m okay
— I say, and I have the feeling I’m telling myself more than her.

I don’t want them to send me away for an examination or back to my room. I remember my breathing and about taking deeper breaths.

It helps.

—
I was just … I was looking for somebody, that’s all
— I explain. —
You don’t happen to know where Alec is? He’s usually in here at this time.
—

The corners of her mouth turn down as she gives a small shake of her head. —
I’m afraid I can’t really give out information on another patient.
—

—
But he’s always here! Don’t you need to know if something is wrong?
— I can tell she’s about to repeat the same answer. That she’s going to say it’s the policy of the hospital. So I put my hands together and say —
Please
— before she can. —
You don’t have to tell me anything, I just want to know if he’s okay.
—

She sighs and hesitates before going over to her station to look at the patient log. —
He’s fine
— she says once she returns. —
But he’s going to be with the doctors most of the day.
— Then the soles of her sneakers squeak as she leaves to take her place at the other end of the room where she was when I first walked in.