The Dream Where the Losers Go (3 page)

“Skey, how ya doin?!” At least a foot taller than Skey, Trevor grinned down at her. He placed a large football hand on her shoulder, and she saw he was still wearing the Rolex watch he had “borrowed” from an uncle’s dresser drawer last Christmas. His favorite joke was that he wore it all the time and his parents never noticed. Behind him, San fluttered her fingers in a wave. A triangle of gold sequins glimmered at the corner of her mouth.

“Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?” Backing against the wall, Skey tried out a laugh. Trevor followed, closing in.

“What they give you to eat in that place?” Taking her lunch bag, he opened it. “Bread and water?” he said incredulously. “Got any Ritalin?”

He was so close, Skey could feel his breath on her face. She could also feel the shakes coming. “I’m not on anything,” she said quickly.

“Tuna fish!” Sniffing one of her sandwiches, Trevor made a face. “No one’s gonna want you if you smell like this,” he drawled.

“Not even Jigger,” added San, pushing past him and
draping herself over Skey’s shoulder. A heavy cloud of Eternity settled around them both.

“Lay off, San,” Skey hissed.

Trevor and San exchanged knowing grins. “Jigger’s still interested,” cooed San. “You haven’t turned into a nun, have you?”

“Give me some air, would you?” Panicking, Skey gave the other girl a slight shove.

“Don’t get pushy,” Trevor said immediately.

“I just want to breathe,” Skey mumbled.

She could feel their eyes on her, watching for changes. Dragons’ eyes. Skey had seen them watch other kids like this, kids on the outside, prey.

“Hey, what’s with you guys?” she asked, smiling weakly.

“We just wanted to welcome you back,” Trevor said. The warning bell rang, cutting him off, and he waited for it to finish. “Wanted to let you know everything’s still the same with us,” he continued easily.

And you, Skey, are you the same?
The question wavered, unspoken, but Skey felt it as if it had been carved into the air between them and she was tracing its meaning with her finger. Then came the answer, also unspoken and carved into the air.

I didn’t tell. I didn’t tell any of the Dragons’ secrets.

Trevor’s lips parted in a wide grin. “Enjoy your tuna fish sandwich,” he said.

San fluttered another wave. “See you at lunch.”

They left, tearing up the stairwell. As Skey watched them go, the hallway began to fade out around her and the dream tunnel moved in. Relieved, she welcomed the darkness. Finally she could be alone, without name, without face, without expectations. Maybe she would find the message
here, the meaning that would explain everything. It would tell her what to do, who she needed to become.

But as she reached out to touch the tunnel wall, she realized she could still see the school hallway. The real world hadn’t completely faded and the two realities overlapped. Several kids walked by, glancing at her. One stopped to stare. With a hiss, Skey pulled out of the dark tunnel and bent to retrieve her lunch from where Trevor had dropped it. Then she gave a cold glare to the kid who stood close by, watching her. A short kid—first year twerp.

“You all right?” he asked.

Skey threw all her focus into staring him down. Reddening, he shrugged and turned away. Alone beside the staircase, Skey paced her breathing until she could no longer hear it coming back at her off the walls. Then she lowered her jacket hood and walked grimly toward what was expected of her.

Homeroom was already in session. She had missed the national anthem and morning announcements. Kids sat talking at their desks, and the homeroom teacher, Mr. Pettifer, was looking over some notes. Hesitantly, Skey stepped through the open doorway and waited. Sensing her presence, Mr. Pettifer looked up. “Skey,” he said with a smile. “Come in. We have a seat for you in the front row.”

The front row. Everyone’s eyes would be on her back. Swiftly, Skey scanned the room and saw several empty seats, the closest by the wall, three desks from the back. She walked over to it.

“How about here?” she asked.

Mr. Pettifer nodded. “Fine.”

A sigh heaved through Skey. Now, finally, everyone’s eyes would let her go. They would stop watching. Quickly, she
slid into the seat, angling her body so the desk caught her butt as her knees buckled. Seated, she was breathing open-mouthed as if there wasn’t enough air, staring at the place where the classroom’s front wall met the ceiling—a thin line of darkness where two planes met, intersected and opened into another dimension. This time Skey let go completely. Instantly the classroom disappeared and the dark tunnel surrounded her. But she kept her head, didn’t stretch out a hand to feel her way along the wall—not with a classroom of kids watching her in the real world. Instead, she slipped her hand into her pocket and closed it around the rock.

Immediately she heard the boy, so close she could have reached out and touched him. It was his breathing she heard first, short and rasping. Not as if he had been running—it was fear she heard scraping at his throat. He was muttering, “Someone’s here, I can feel it. Someone’s close.” A long series of swear words followed. “Someone’s after me,” the boy whispered. “Someone’s going to find me.” Then there was only silence, the two of them waiting each other out in the dark, Skey holding the rock to keep them close and breathing as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t bolt and leave her alone.

She came out of it to find Mr. Pettifer’s face leaning in on hers. “Skey,” he said, observing her carefully. “I’ve set up an appointment for you today with Ms. Renfrew in the Counseling office. It’s at 12:30, so you won’t have to miss any classes.”

Alarm shot through Skey and she asked, “Why do I have to go to the Counseling office?” Staff were already coming out of her ears. The last thing she needed was more therapy.

“We’ve got to figure out what you’ve missed so you can catch up,” Mr. Pettifer said mildly. “Ms. Renfrew will contact your teachers to see where you need the extra help.”

“Oh,” mumbled Skey. Well, it would be a way to avoid her lunch-hour session with San and the rest of the gang. And Jigger—
if
he really wanted to talk to her.

“Are you feeling well?” Mr. Pettifer was still scrutinizing her closely. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” Glancing down, Skey noticed she had pulled the rock out of her pocket and was cradling it on her open palm. Fear flashed through her. Had Mr. Pettifer seen the rock? Would he think it was a weapon, like lockup staff would, and take it away?

“It’s just a rock, nothing important,” she muttered, closing her hand over it and clenching tightly.

“What rock?” asked Mr. Pettifer.

He hadn’t seen the rock. Had he simply not noticed it, or was the rock not real? If it wasn’t real, then she, Skey Mitchell, was completely, certifiably crazy.

But maybe it made sense that Mr. Pettifer couldn’t see the rock. After all, it had come out of her own private dream. It belonged to her mind, her heart. Why would it be a surprise that something that meant everything to her couldn’t be seen by other people?

“Sorry,” said Skey, shoving the rock back into her pocket. “My mind wanders, you know. Sometimes it gets lost, and I have to go looking for it.”

“Aha,” said Mr. Pettifer, nodding as if he understood.

N
OT EVERYONE STARED
. Some of the kids didn’t know who she was—they were new or hadn’t heard. Very few knew all the details. The teachers would have been told she was in a lockup for treatment. Acting out. Behavior problems. Self-destructive.

It helped that the place hadn’t changed. Except for the
tech wing, the school was old, high-ceilinged with dark-framed windows along the outside walls. Classrooms were cavernous and shadowy, filled with small rustling noises, the voices of students, the scratching of pens across paper and chalk on the boards. There were the familiar smells—varnished wood, erasers, pencils, running shoes. Everything still the same.

She could have asked for a different school, but San had been on the phone day after day, bugging her, saying the Dragons wanted her back, just like old times. Jigger hadn’t called once, but San said he was still interested. Over the summer she had come during visiting hours, out of place among other guests in her designer clothing, sun-bleached hair and deeply tanned skin. Visit after visit, she had brought Jigger’s picture and let Skey hold it in her pale sunless hands. Jigger had sent it, San said, because he was at the family cottage for the summer and couldn’t come himself. No, he couldn’t actually give her the photo—he only had one copy and needed it back. But when Skey touched his picture, Jigger said he could feel her. He wanted that connection.

Between Skey’s hands, Jigger’s picture had felt vivid, electric. She hadn’t been able to look at it directly, had skittered her eyes around the edges until San took it back with a sigh.

“He really loves you, Skey,” San had said repeatedly. “He’s waiting for you.”

Jigger was the reason Skey had come back, but she kept running from any place she might come into contact with him, as if seeing him would be too much, just the sight of him would explode her into flames and she would be gone.

S
AN WAS IN SKEY’S
10:30 calculus class. They sat together and emerged for lunch to find Pedro standing nearby in the hall, waiting for them.

“Heading out,” he said.

Fear flicked across Skey, delicate and forked as lightning. “I have an appointment at the Counseling office,” she said quickly.

“Skip it,” Pedro said. “This is more important.”

“I’m supposed to go,” Skey protested.

Pedro’s wiry body stiffened and the friendliness left his face. “I said skip it,” he snapped.

San leaned into Skey from behind, pushing her along. “C’mon Skey,” she purred. “Jigger wants to see you. We’re just along as chaperones.”

Instantly, Pedro splashed a grin across his face and became a different person. “Just as long as Jigger wants us,” he singsonged, unloading Skey’s books from her arms. Alarmed, she reached for them. “You want these?” he teased, walking backward in front of her. “Who’re you kidding? You can’t read.” His straight black hair threw off light, his dark eyes sparkled like the sequins on San’s cheek. Skey gave up on Ms. Renfrew and the Counseling office. She hadn’t really wanted to go anyway. She sure hadn’t asked for the goddamn appointment.

“Can I at least get my lunch?” she said plaintively.

“We’ll buy you lunch,” said Pedro. “We’re traveling in Jigger’s Cafe.”

Then they were running down the hall, barreling through a school entrance and across the student parking lot. It was fate, Skey realized, as they approached Jigger’s car. Destiny had intervened in order to open this particular car door, slip her into this particular front seat and lock her into place.
Next, destiny slipped Pedro in beside her and scooped San into the backseat with Rosie and Balfour. Then Jigger put the car in gear, and they were off, radio blaring, air heavy with cigarette smoke. The car was old, mint condition, no bucket seats. With a grin, Pedro pressed Skey in against Jigger’s shoulder and hip. Jigger yelled a couple of comments to Balfour who let out a howl, his thin face cupping the long sound. On cue, Rosie giggled. Rosie, on the edge of pretty, always trying to make up for it.

Sliding some weed out of his wallet, Pedro lit up.

In the lockup, Skey had quit. The rules said no smoking, legal or illegal. Now she was sucking in the second-hand high like a promise—there was no rule about
breathing
it. But as Pedro moved the weed toward her lips, she pulled her head away.

“What’s this?” Pedro asked. “You gone clean on us, Skey?”

San leaned over the front seat and wrapped her arms around Skey’s neck, kissing her wetly on the cheek. There was the brief scrape of sequins as she pulled away, then lifted the weed out of Pedro’s hand and placed it between Skey’s lips. “Nah, Skey wouldn’t do that,” laughed San. “She wants to die young.”

Pressed against Jigger, Skey’s skin flickered with live wires. She inhaled, focusing on the smoke as it seared in, then out. With her second inhalation, Pedro gave her some room and San dropped back into the rear seat.

“Burger King?” Jigger hollered. “Or McDonald’s?”

“Burger King,” came the backseat chorus.

At the take-out window Jigger ordered a couple of burgers, Cokes and fries, then placed the bag in Skey’s lap and kicked everyone else out. As if it had been pre-planned, the others
headed into the restaurant. “Pick you up in thirty,” Jigger yelled through the window and drove out of the lot.

Skey began to edge away, just a little.

“Where you going?” Jigger asked immediately, his voice running through her like touch.

“Nowhere.” The word locked deep in Skey’s throat, husky, slow.

Jigger turned down the radio. “Pardon?” he asked softly.

“Nowhere,” Skey whispered.

“Good.” He ran a hand over her left knee, stroking it, and Skey played with the Burger King bag, watching nothing as the car turned down a side street that opened onto a deserted park. Everyone home for lunch. Easing up to the curb, Jigger turned off the engine and left the radio on. Carefully Skey stubbed out her barely smoked weed. If she returned to the lockup looking like side effects, staff wouldn’t unlock the doors for her again for a very long time.

The birds were back, flying up her throat and shrieking in her head. What was going to happen now? Would Jigger tell her it was over, everything was over, he could no longer love her after she had done what she had done?

For a long moment they both sat staring straight ahead, watching the emptiness of the park, the bare stripped trees. Then Jigger’s arm went around Skey, and a hand cupped her face. She had one brief glimpse of his blue eyes before he began kissing her mouth gently, again and again. Small cries of loneliness came out of her the way they always did. Setting the Burger King bag on the floor, he pulled her in close, kissing and touching. This was the way she had dreamed it would happen, lying awake nights in the lockup, rolling in her bed, moving slowly against the mattress. Imagining, imagining.