kind.
I breathe in cycles of four until my pulse returns to normal and my hands stop trembling.
Opening my eyes, I look up at the house. In there is a blonde who has a key to the dreamworld. If I play it right, all the answers I need may be here.
“Should I grab my sunglasses?” I ask.
It takes a second, but then Horace shakes his head. “They’re gonna have to see you without ’em sooner or later. Might as well ease them into gettin’ used to you.” He takes a breath. “Just don’t be stupider—”
“Than I need to be,” I finish for Horace. I glance at him, but his eyes are on the house. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We start up the paver-stone path leading to the front porch. The daylight is disappearing faster now, but the warm yellow glow pouring from the windows lights the place up like a beacon. Horace knocks on the door, and we wait a couple of seconds before a woman opens it.
“Hello!” She smiles wide and steps aside to let us in.
In low heels, she’s Horace’s height. Her golden-blonde hair hangs straight past her shoulders, and her wide eyes are honey-brown. She looks exactly like the girl in my dream, just twenty years older. If she hadn’t spoken, I’d think this was Mariella and I’d just underestimated her age.
“You must be Mr. Lawson.” Grinning, she holds her hand out to Horace. “Frank has told me so much about you. I’m Dana.”
“Horace, please,” the old man says as he shakes her hand. “Never did get used to being called Mr. Lawson. This here is Hudson.”
Dana looks at me— really looks at me—for the first time and jumps. It’s a tiny hitch in her shoulders and a widening of her eyes, a catch in her breath and a slackness to her jaw, but it’s there. The shock of looking at something impossible. Scarily demonic. Black eyes belong on obsidian statues and in horror movies, not on a teenage boy standing in a well-lit, comfortable entryway.
To her credit, Dana recovers fast. She smiles shakily and holds out her hand. Would she let me in her house if her husband wasn’t such a fanboy of Horace’s?
“Horace!” Frank’s grin is as wide as when he stopped by the house. “So glad you both could join us!”
“Frank, you remember Hudson?” Dana asks. The slight tremor in her voice gives away her fear.
“Of course!” He turns to extend his hand to me and freezes mid-gesture. He flinches, swallows, and his movements slow, like he has to literally force himself to complete the motion. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you again, Hudson.”
“Thanks for inviting us,” I say. I need to play nice. I can’t do much about my eyes, but I can hope Horace’s influence will make them give me a chance.
“Is Hudson your grandson?” Dana asks as her husband quickly steps away from me.
“Nah. Hudson here saved my life a few years back.”
I tense and glance at Horace. What the hell? That story isn’t really dinner-conversation material. But Dana’s eyes widen, this time with interest.
“Really?”
As we move into the living room, Horace tells Dana and Frank all about my daring rescue four years ago. The way he tells it, I sound like some sort of superhero. It’s ridiculous. Or so I think until I notice that, the more they listen, the longer Frank and Dana can look at me without wincing when they meet my eyes. Maybe the old man isn’t as crazy as I thought.
“Hudson fell on hard times recently, so I basically adopted him,” Horace says when he finally wraps up his exaggerated tale. “My own grandkids are scattered, so it’s nice havin’ someone around to help me out.”
I shake my head. “You’ve helped me out a lot more than I help you, Horace.”
The old man glances at me and winks, but otherwise he ignores me.
“That was very brave of you to do, Hudson,” Dana says, smiling at me without fear or hesitation for the first time.
An alarm starts beeping somewhere, and Dana looks toward the noise. “Sounds like dinner’s ready. Frank, will
I breathe in cycles of four until my pulse returns to normal and my hands stop trembling.
Opening my eyes, I look up at the house. In there is a blonde who has a key to the dreamworld. If I play it right, all the answers I need may be here.
“Should I grab my sunglasses?” I ask.
It takes a second, but then Horace shakes his head. “They’re gonna have to see you without ’em sooner or later. Might as well ease them into gettin’ used to you.” He takes a breath. “Just don’t be stupider—”
“Than I need to be,” I finish for Horace. I glance at him, but his eyes are on the house. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
We start up the paver-stone path leading to the front porch. The daylight is disappearing faster now, but the warm yellow glow pouring from the windows lights the place up like a beacon. Horace knocks on the door, and we wait a couple of seconds before a woman opens it.
“Hello!” She smiles wide and steps aside to let us in.
In low heels, she’s Horace’s height. Her golden-blonde hair hangs straight past her shoulders, and her wide eyes are honey-brown. She looks exactly like the girl in my dream, just twenty years older. If she hadn’t spoken, I’d think this was Mariella and I’d just underestimated her age.
“You must be Mr. Lawson.” Grinning, she holds her hand out to Horace. “Frank has told me so much about you. I’m Dana.”
“Horace, please,” the old man says as he shakes her hand. “Never did get used to being called Mr. Lawson. This here is Hudson.”
Dana looks at me— really looks at me—for the first time and jumps. It’s a tiny hitch in her shoulders and a widening of her eyes, a catch in her breath and a slackness to her jaw, but it’s there. The shock of looking at something impossible. Scarily demonic. Black eyes belong on obsidian statues and in horror movies, not on a teenage boy standing in a well-lit, comfortable entryway.
To her credit, Dana recovers fast. She smiles shakily and holds out her hand. Would she let me in her house if her husband wasn’t such a fanboy of Horace’s?
“Horace!” Frank’s grin is as wide as when he stopped by the house. “So glad you both could join us!”
“Frank, you remember Hudson?” Dana asks. The slight tremor in her voice gives away her fear.
“Of course!” He turns to extend his hand to me and freezes mid-gesture. He flinches, swallows, and his movements slow, like he has to literally force himself to complete the motion. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you again, Hudson.”
“Thanks for inviting us,” I say. I need to play nice. I can’t do much about my eyes, but I can hope Horace’s influence will make them give me a chance.
“Is Hudson your grandson?” Dana asks as her husband quickly steps away from me.
“Nah. Hudson here saved my life a few years back.”
I tense and glance at Horace. What the hell? That story isn’t really dinner-conversation material. But Dana’s eyes widen, this time with interest.
“Really?”
As we move into the living room, Horace tells Dana and Frank all about my daring rescue four years ago. The way he tells it, I sound like some sort of superhero. It’s ridiculous. Or so I think until I notice that, the more they listen, the longer Frank and Dana can look at me without wincing when they meet my eyes. Maybe the old man isn’t as crazy as I thought.
“Hudson fell on hard times recently, so I basically adopted him,” Horace says when he finally wraps up his exaggerated tale. “My own grandkids are scattered, so it’s nice havin’ someone around to help me out.”
I shake my head. “You’ve helped me out a lot more than I help you, Horace.”
The old man glances at me and winks, but otherwise he ignores me.
“That was very brave of you to do, Hudson,” Dana says, smiling at me without fear or hesitation for the first time.
An alarm starts beeping somewhere, and Dana looks toward the noise. “Sounds like dinner’s ready. Frank, will
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