know I can.”
Shivers racked her body while her heart thumped out a marathon. Somewhere in her icebox was a boy who’d been shot. Was that right? Was that remotely right? Her brain trudged through numbness.
She needed to get to him. She needed to know how to get to him to … to end his suffering. No, not that. Was he beyond help? Was that her fault? Whatever led her, memory, intuition, straight logic, grew weaker with each moment she stood there.
“Wyatt,” Edy said. “Tell me where you are.”
Could he hear her? Was he still capable of responding? A rasp of wheezing drifted over.
Edy knew that sound and feared it. She bit her lip and reeled back the tears. “Wyatt?”
Heavy hands grabbed her from behind. She went wild, arms and legs pitching for her life.
“Edy! Edy, stop it!” The command came sharp, disembodied, warped.
“Wyatt, help me!” Edy screamed, head swiveling for a sign of help, for a sign of him.
The arms disappeared in a shock of emptiness. Edy gasped and opened her eyes.
She stared up at Hassan.
“You’ll be late for school if you don’t hurry,” he said and glared down at her, Adam’s apple dipping. Hassan opened his mouth as if to say more, shut it, and evaporated.
No. Edy swiped at her cobwebbed mind and fought to separate dream from reality.
“Hassan?” she ventured and got a slammed door in response. “Hassan? Come on, wait up!” Nothing.
In the shower, with the comfort of hot water and creamy suds, Edy’s mind kicked up a notch. She’d always heard of people who could drop into a dream and call b.s. on sight. Her dad, ever the ultra rational soul, was one of those people. All it took, according to him, was a once over of his surroundings. From there he’d deduct the likelihood of certain circumstances existing. Low likelihood equaled high probability of dreaming and therefore time to pinch oneself awake. Simple.
Why hadn’t Edy pinched herself awake?
She imagined Hassan’s jade-spoked and fire lit eyes staring back at her, pissed beyond all earthly redemption. She’d yelled ‘Wyatt’ first because she’d been trying to help him, second because she’d needed help herself. But what had that sounded and felt like to Hassan with his arms around her as she screamed for another guy? Why did other guy have to be Wyatt?
Edy’s head thudded against the back shower wall, her backside punished with cold tile. She watched as water chased the suds from her body in a whirl down the drain. The measure of the tiles, the pattern of the shower curtain, staring them down gave her no clue how to fix this.
She found Hassan at the kitchen table staring at his clasped hands in the dark. Thin streams of sunlight broke through to illuminate the room only just.
“Ready?” he said.
Edy hesitated. “Yeah, but Hassan—”
“Not now, Edy. Let’s just…” He looked at her and then away, as if the sight of Edy pained him.
What did he think? The worst of her? That she’d been in the throes of some hot dream about Wyatt? That he’d caught her enjoying herself, living vicariously, or worse, remembering?
He had to know better.
“It was a nightmare, Hassan. You know do that, don’t you? You scared the crap out of me when you grabbed me,” she said.
Seconds ticked by to the thrum of her heartbeat. He said nothing and she waited.
“Why would you call for Wyatt to help you? Even in a nightmare. You’d call him?” Pain slashed his every word. The hands that he studied became fists.
Edy pulled out the chair across from him and set her backpack on the floor. They could be nothing but late at this point, but she couldn’t fathom going to school with this between them. With Wyatt back between them. It had to be fixed. Now. Yet, they had no time. No time until Rani looked out the window and saw his Mustang sitting in the drive. No time before she came to Edy’s house and made a bad problem infinitely worse.
“Please listen to me,” Edy said and placed a hand over one of
Shivers racked her body while her heart thumped out a marathon. Somewhere in her icebox was a boy who’d been shot. Was that right? Was that remotely right? Her brain trudged through numbness.
She needed to get to him. She needed to know how to get to him to … to end his suffering. No, not that. Was he beyond help? Was that her fault? Whatever led her, memory, intuition, straight logic, grew weaker with each moment she stood there.
“Wyatt,” Edy said. “Tell me where you are.”
Could he hear her? Was he still capable of responding? A rasp of wheezing drifted over.
Edy knew that sound and feared it. She bit her lip and reeled back the tears. “Wyatt?”
Heavy hands grabbed her from behind. She went wild, arms and legs pitching for her life.
“Edy! Edy, stop it!” The command came sharp, disembodied, warped.
“Wyatt, help me!” Edy screamed, head swiveling for a sign of help, for a sign of him.
The arms disappeared in a shock of emptiness. Edy gasped and opened her eyes.
She stared up at Hassan.
“You’ll be late for school if you don’t hurry,” he said and glared down at her, Adam’s apple dipping. Hassan opened his mouth as if to say more, shut it, and evaporated.
No. Edy swiped at her cobwebbed mind and fought to separate dream from reality.
“Hassan?” she ventured and got a slammed door in response. “Hassan? Come on, wait up!” Nothing.
In the shower, with the comfort of hot water and creamy suds, Edy’s mind kicked up a notch. She’d always heard of people who could drop into a dream and call b.s. on sight. Her dad, ever the ultra rational soul, was one of those people. All it took, according to him, was a once over of his surroundings. From there he’d deduct the likelihood of certain circumstances existing. Low likelihood equaled high probability of dreaming and therefore time to pinch oneself awake. Simple.
Why hadn’t Edy pinched herself awake?
She imagined Hassan’s jade-spoked and fire lit eyes staring back at her, pissed beyond all earthly redemption. She’d yelled ‘Wyatt’ first because she’d been trying to help him, second because she’d needed help herself. But what had that sounded and felt like to Hassan with his arms around her as she screamed for another guy? Why did other guy have to be Wyatt?
Edy’s head thudded against the back shower wall, her backside punished with cold tile. She watched as water chased the suds from her body in a whirl down the drain. The measure of the tiles, the pattern of the shower curtain, staring them down gave her no clue how to fix this.
She found Hassan at the kitchen table staring at his clasped hands in the dark. Thin streams of sunlight broke through to illuminate the room only just.
“Ready?” he said.
Edy hesitated. “Yeah, but Hassan—”
“Not now, Edy. Let’s just…” He looked at her and then away, as if the sight of Edy pained him.
What did he think? The worst of her? That she’d been in the throes of some hot dream about Wyatt? That he’d caught her enjoying herself, living vicariously, or worse, remembering?
He had to know better.
“It was a nightmare, Hassan. You know do that, don’t you? You scared the crap out of me when you grabbed me,” she said.
Seconds ticked by to the thrum of her heartbeat. He said nothing and she waited.
“Why would you call for Wyatt to help you? Even in a nightmare. You’d call him?” Pain slashed his every word. The hands that he studied became fists.
Edy pulled out the chair across from him and set her backpack on the floor. They could be nothing but late at this point, but she couldn’t fathom going to school with this between them. With Wyatt back between them. It had to be fixed. Now. Yet, they had no time. No time until Rani looked out the window and saw his Mustang sitting in the drive. No time before she came to Edy’s house and made a bad problem infinitely worse.
“Please listen to me,” Edy said and placed a hand over one of
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