Dream Boy (18 page)

The bleachers had been pushed back, so the gym seemed larger than usual. Even so, it was packed with bodies. Tables had been set out on one side of the room, with bits of ivy around candles that weren’t lit because the powers-that-be didn’t trust a bunch of high school kids around fire, even if it was the kind of fire that was kept in bowls. The basketball goals had been pushed up in the air, and the posts were wrapped with ivy, too, as if we wouldn’t know they were still posts.

Everyone was there.

Billy with Stephanie, who was not wearing a frothy pink dress, but something green and venomous. Macy White, in cobalt blue. Daniel, grinding with Tami Newton, who could have been Stephanie Gonzales on a bad hair day—if Stephanie ever
had
bad hair days. Paolo, by himself and sporting a camera, like Will’s. And Coach Masterson, talking to Ernshaw with the chaperones, which I didn’t think was just a coincidence. There was confetti on the floor, like in my dream. But I didn’t see the girl.

We had a plan. Not a great plan, but still. Find the girl. Tail her, corner her, but
not
alone
. Martin had stressed that part. “Nightmares aren’t like us. They can
do
things. She’ll be stronger than any one of us alone, but maybe together…” he’d let the thought finish itself. Then we all—Martin, Paolo, Will, Talon, Stephanie, Macy, and I—were going to “contain her” (this is the part that got a bit hazy for me, though Martin had brought ropes) and “transport her” to the tree. (“Like how, in the trunk of Paolo’s Impala?” I’d asked, but hadn’t gotten an answer.)

I wasn’t sure why Stephanie and Macy were willing to risk it. They weren’t exactly good Samaritans, despite their membership in Devils Are Angels. When I asked Martin, he said, “They know better than anyone what Chilton could become if nightmares start creeping in.
Nightmares
, Annabelle. They’re not nice.” But he made “not nice” sound like it burned his throat. “There’s this thing they chant,
kill
the
dream, kill the dreamer; kill the dreamer, kill the dream
.” The words clicked in my brain. Familiar, inevitable.

“Well, when you put it that way.”

I scanned the room, my eyes jumping every time I caught a snatch of white. Will took his camera and began shooting everything on one side of the gym. Paolo took the other. Talon clutched her purse tightly and occasionally whispered to it.

“Come on,” Martin said. “We may as well dance.”

“How romantic.”

“Let me rephrase it then: my beautiful Annabelle, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

Scared or not, my heart flipped. “Of course.”

He grabbed my waist and pulled me in. I wanted to put my head on his shoulder and block out everything except the sounds of Harmony Tyler, who was singing a song about slow dancing. I wanted to think, as I would have thought a week ago, how totally meta it was to be dancing to a song about dancing. I wanted to think about how my head felt against Martin’s shoulder, and how I might like his sweatshirt better than his suit. But every time I started to think about something normal, I reminded myself that nothing was normal, least of all my dancing partner.

The song stopped and the next one started.

Maybe my dream was wrong. Maybe the girl wasn’t at homecoming—or even in Chilton. Maybe she was still in my head.

I saw Will reach out for Talon’s hand, and the two of them pressed together, with Spice between them, and Paolo beside them like a sentry. I saw Billy kiss Stephanie on the forehead, and for a moment, I imagined not hating her so much. Then the music stopped and Martin said, “I’ve got to talk to Steph. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” I said. But when the two of them started dancing and whispering, the hate feelings came back.

“Excuse me, Miss,” said a voice behind me. Will, of course. “May I have this dance?”

“Thanks for rescuing me.”

He held out his hand and I took it.

“Just seeing them over there makes me—”

“I don’t want to talk, Annabelle,” he said. “If that’s okay?” He gave me a smile to show he wasn’t mad or anything.

“Okay,” I said. Will didn’t want to talk? Will
always
wanted to talk. Or maybe he meant he didn’t want to listen. To me. Talking about Martin. Or maybe he just wanted to dance. He’d proven himself a decent dancing partner at my cousin Heather’s wedding last summer, which he’d been forced to attend when I’d beaten him at poker; he started betting favors after he’d run out of dimes. Just like then, he’d cleaned up nice, even in seventeen minutes. His hair was combed, his tie was straight, and he smelled like a mixture of soap and sea, so I felt like we were swaying together in the sand instead of on the planked floor of the high school gym.

I stole another look at Martin. He and Stephanie were deep in conversation, but he looked up at me and winked.

Where was the girl? I thought about asking Will to take me on a tango through the gym so we could cover more ground. But we stayed in one place as the song played on.

Spinning
round
in
circles

Tried
so
hard
to
find

Another
girl
like
you

Someone
to
read
my
mind

Hiked
through
Colorado

Spent
a
long
night
in
Tibet

I
was
looking
for
the
perfect
love

I
hadn’t found her yet

’Cause it was you

It
was
always
you

“Seriously,” I said to Will, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to talk. “Could this song be any cheesier?”

“I like it.”

“And mind reading. Do you think real people can read minds?” As in people who weren’t Martin Zirkle.

“It’s not a question of reading minds,” Will said, resigning himself to conversation. “It’s more about reading people, don’t you think? You, for example, are a billboard.”

“I think I’ve just been insulted,” I said.

“All I’m saying is I don’t have to read your mind. I just have to look at your face and I can get a pretty good idea of what’s going on in there.”

“Such as?” I asked.

“Such as the fact that while you’re dancing with me, you’re thinking about Martin over there talking with Stephanie.” Will’s camera hung around his neck, but he had shifted it to the side so it wasn’t between us. Now it clunked me in the armpit. “You’re jealous and you’re dancing with me because you think it might make Martin jealous back.
Now
can we stop talking?”

“I’m not jealous,” I blurted.

“Look, Annabelle. It’s not rocket science.”

“How can you stand there and judge me?”

“I’m not judging,” he said. “I’m not standing; I’m dancing. I told you we shouldn’t talk.”

“I’m not dancing with you because—” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish, so I just buried my head in his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind making Martin jealous.” His voice had that extra something it had had in it whenever we’d talked lately, like a little piece of flint that wouldn’t catch.

We danced for a minute in silence, those insipid lyrics going on and on. And then Will stopped moving. He lifted the camera back to his eye and clicked. His left arm gripped me tighter as he let the camera fall.

“What?” I said. But this time, Will was the billboard. I followed his gaze, just in time to see the swish of a white dress and a wisp of yellow hair disappearing across the dance floor.

I whipped around to where Stephanie and Martin had been dancing. Had they seen her, too? They must have; their little spot on the dance floor was empty.

Will took my wrist, and together we ran in the direction the girl had gone, squeezing past swaying, sequined bodies. We spotted Paolo with Coach Masterson near the table with punch and snacks. Will changed our course straight for them. “She’s here,” he said. “The girl.” No introduction, no small talk.

Masterson put on that concerned face that adults sometimes get when they talk to confused little kids. “What girl, Will? You know there aren’t any children—”

“I saw her, too,” Paolo interrupted. And to Masterson, “He knows; it’s cool.”

“Did anyone else go out there?” I pointed to the hallway beyond the gym.

“Only about half the school,” Masterson said, frowning. “You all have bladders the size of peanuts.”

“What about Martin?”

“He blew past with Stephanie a minute ago.”

“Which way did they head?” I asked.

Masterson gestured toward the end of the hallway, past the locker room, to the gray double doors that led outside. “I didn’t see where they ended up, though.”

“This is it, then. We need everyone, right?” I looked at Will. “Where’s Talon?”

“She went to the bathroom before I came to dance with you,” Will said. “Spice needed a drink.”

“We’ll get her on the way,” I said.

Masterson started, “Maybe I should come—”

“No,” Paolo barked, like he was the coach. “We stick to the plan. You cover the gym. Text me if anything comes up.”

I hustled down the hall, Will and Paolo trailing behind, twin satellites.

“So she’s here?” As Macy ran to catch up to us, she stumbled a bit, unsteady on her heels.

“She’s here.” My throat tightened, like someone was turning the tuning peg on a guitar string.
Sharp. Sharper. Sharpest.
I moved faster, my eyes focused straight ahead, so when a hand reached out from the side and held on to my arm, I gave a small gasp.

“Easy, Annabelle.” It was Daniel. “Where’s the fire?”

“I don’t have time, Daniel,” I said. “Macy, talk to him.” After all, Daniel had brought her to Chilton. And he’d had that dream. Someone needed to tell him what was going on, that he could be in danger, too, but it didn’t have to be me.

“Macy? What are you girls up to?” He seemed suspicious. Like this was the opening scene in
Attack
of
the
Ex-Girlfriends
.

“Just talk to each other,” I said. “Or Paolo. Or Masterson. Whoever.”

He was still holding on to my arm but I pulled it away.

“You look great, by the way,” he said, but I kept on walking without even turning around to call him a liar. There was no sign of the girl in the hall. I slipped into the bathroom to grab Talon. Will and Paolo waited on the other side of the door. “You have ninety seconds,” Will said.

A couple of senior girls were at the sinks, checking their mascara and talking about how they were going to rock somebody’s world later at Pandapas Pond. I saw one of them give my dress the once-over and smirk. I ignored her and bent to look beneath the stalls. A pair of purple sandals and a pair of neon orange pumps. No sign of Talon’s spiky silver heels. In fact, there was no indication Talon and Spice had been there at all…except, wait, in the corner beside the sinks, a small Tupperware bowl, half full of water.

“Talon?” No answer.

“Annabelle?” Will half-opened the door, and the mascara girls shrieked.

“She’s not here.” I went back out into the hallway. “But I found Spice’s dish. I’m going to try her cell.”

I dug around in the little clutch purse I’d borrowed from my mom. When I pulled out the phone, there was a new message.

“It’s from Serena.” Will and Paolo looked over my shoulder as I read.

Got your text. Coverage sucks. What’s up?

I dialed her back but it went straight to voice mail again.

“Text her,” Paolo said.

“I can’t explain this in a TEXT.” My voice bounced off the lockers in the hall.

“You don’t have to explain it all,” Will said. “Just find out where she is.”

I typed quickly, distracted, hoping I was making sense. As I hit send, Will said, “Oh good. Company.”

It was Macy, who was smiling a little, with Daniel, who was not.

“I guess you told him,” I said.

“He doesn’t like thinking that someone else is in control,” Macy said. “Or you know, that a slew of new nightmares might show up in the cafeteria on Monday.” At that moment, Macy seemed almost human, like someone I could be friends with.

“No Talon?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Any sign of Steph? Martin?”

More head shaking as Billy Stubbs came down the hall and headed toward the bathroom.

“You’re a girl,” he said to Macy. “Go in there and see if Stephanie’s inside.”

“She isn’t,” I spoke up. “I was just in there. I think she’s someplace with Martin.”

Billy’s face went from
huh?
to
I’ll-rip-his-head-off
in two seconds.

“It’s not what you think.” I wondered how much Billy knew. Not much, by the looks of it. “I’m going to check outside—”

“If he lays one hand on her, I swear, I’ll kick Zirkle’s ass.”

“He isn’t making out with her, you Neanderthal.” He’d better not be, anyway.

Billy looked at me like he’d never seen me before. And I guess it was entirely possible he hadn’t. “Something’s going on,” he said.

Will did his sideways Will thing. “You noticed.”

“Are we leaving?” Macy asked.

“We are,” I said. “We have to get Talon. Maybe she just took Spice for a walk.”

“And maybe the Phillies are going to win the series,” Macy murmured.

“No way, they’re already out of it,” Daniel said, a reflex action.

I pushed open the side door to the school and paused. I was ready. I knew the plan.
Get
her
before
she
gets
us.
My whole body seemed to vibrate as I scanned the darkness for that flash of white.

And here’s the thing about being scared: When it’s actually happening, and you’re not just thinking about how it
might
happen, the fear does something strange. It’s almost like it sets you free.

I don’t mean it disappears. It’s still there, crushing your lungs, tangling your stomach into knots. But you can see it for what it is. You can see how little it matters next to what needs to be done.

I knew they were out there—Talon and Martin. Even Stephanie. That gave me the courage I needed.

Sure, I knew the little girl was out there too. And I wasn’t sure I could face her, but I had to try.

Ready or not, I had to put my game face on.

Ready or not, it was time for me to play.