Lucid

by Kristy Fairlamb

  ‘Geography. G9.’ He slid the scrap of paper in his pocket and looked up the stairs. ‘God, I’m so lost.’

  I couldn’t help smiling at his awkwardness. ‘I can show you both.’

  We trudged up the stairs, their presence sending my breath into uneven flurries. Thank goodness for the distracting clang of locker doors and taunting kids scurrying into classrooms.

  I stopped at the top of the stairs and pointed down the corridor. ‘You’re that way, Jada. Turn right at the end, it’s the first classroom on your left.’

  Shoulders hunched and head down, she muttered a thank you and shuffled away. I led Tyler in the opposite direction.

  ‘Here we are. Mr Beck’s great. One of my favourites.’ I stepped into the room, Tyler bumbling in behind me.

  I slid into a seat at the back of the class. My bag fell heavily off my shoulders to the floor, and I pulled out my books, glancing back to the front of the class where Tyler chatted with the teacher. With a small nod, Mr Beck offered a sympathetic look and patted him on the upper arm.

  Tyler walked toward the back of the room. I shifted my gaze and glimpsed the empty table beside me. Crap.

  My poor chest endured another pounding from the heart I was beginning to hate. Anyone’d think I’d never seen a good-looking boy before. Traitor.

  I dropped my eyes to my books and opened to a page, any page. The words blurred, my eyes unable to focus. They couldn’t, not when everything had tuned into him. He eased past the desk next to mine, and I concentrated on keeping my head and eyes down, though still unfocused. The chair grated against the floor, and my spine shuddered. I jumped as his bag landed with a thud at his feet, and then, as though he meant to punish me for ignoring him, scraped that damn chair again as he sat himself down.

  Shoulders lifted high, eyes focused straight ahead. Geography was my life; it meant nothing that he sat within arm’s reach. Yeah, right.

  My appearance showed little of my racing heart, with no one aware how desperately I needed to take a huge gulp of air. If it weren’t for the heat on my neck I’d have let my hair down and created a thick black curtain to hide behind. I’d never been so conscious of anyone’s presence before and grew acutely aware of every little move I made, the ringing in my ears, the jackhammer in my chest.

  ‘Righteo, everyone.’ I nearly fell off my seat at the boom of Mr Beck’s voice. ‘Let’s continue where we left off last lesson, you’ll get an opportunity to work on your assignments later.’ Muffled utterances and groans filled the room. ‘Lucy, I’ll get you to explain to Tyler where we’re at.’ Jeez, could this day get any better?

  Breathing in, I shifted to face Tyler. I avoided his eyes, instead looking past him to Jason and Zack, the jerks who’d driven Daniel Bonheur to suicide two years ago. They were the two biggest tools in school. My hatred for them boiled over. With a glare I repelled from the foul sight. Tyler glanced over his shoulder and swept back to me, a slight frown on his face, a question.

  ‘Biggest jerks this side of the equator.’

  He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t ask.’ It wasn’t a story I liked to repeat, especially when I hadn’t been able to prevent the outcome.

  I filled him in on the class details instead, what to expect, what to read up on. ‘You do this class at your old school?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He tapped his thumb on the desk and shifted in his seat.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘Huh? Yeah, sure.’ He stilled his thumb, and his voice steadied. ‘Just getting used to all the changes.’

  My chest constricted at the obvious pain I sensed in him. ‘Give it one game with Cal and Sean and you’ll wonder what you ever missed from home.’ I clapped a hand over my mouth. ‘Crap, sorry.’

  He lowered his eyes. ‘See now that’s why it’s better if people don’t know.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I screwed up my face.

  He peered up at me from his hunched-over position. ‘That’s what I mean. I don’t want you to be sorry. It’s uncomfortable for everyone. Think you can do me a favour and pretend you don’t know anything?’

  I let out a mini huff and nodded. ‘I’m good at pretending.’ I returned to my work and focused on evening out my breath. Get a grip. He’d been here one day, I’d known him for less than two hours and already the struggle to control the pull felt as large as the Louvre.

  But maybe if I understood why the dream had come back, or how in hell the details were as accurate as a security camera, I’d feel a fraction less freaked out by my lack of control around my dream apparition. I needed to see Granny Tess. Maybe she could help decipher the questions buzzing in my brain. But until then, yes, I could pretend.

  — 5 —

  Mum slumped into her chair at the table, makeup smeared around her eyes, and wisps of hair fell from her once tightly pulled back bun, evidence of an attempt to catch up on sleep after her night shift.

  Jake and Ollie galloped down the stairs, bustling shoulders as they whirled into the room. Jake was almost a foot taller than our younger brother. A lot skinnier too. Ollie still had that teen tubbiness he’d lose once he eventually had a growth spurt. They jostled for a seat, Ollie taking a swipe when Jake rubbed him on the head like a dog.

  ‘When you gettin’ a haircut, Shaggy?’

  ‘When you stop bein’ a toss bag.’

  Dad settled into his seat, placing the remote control beside his fork. The TV hummed quietly from the other end of the room, which he’d barely taken his eyes off because, of course, the news was on.

  I couldn’t understand Dad’s desire to read and watch the news, or his persistent urge to ram it down our throat, as he so often did, but maybe it ran in his blood. As a reporter for the Antil Springs Newspaper, he was your regular Clark Kent, complete with suit, tie, and black-framed glasses – although no heroics or cape, and with a slightly broader frame.

  Dad and I had identical black hair and pale skin, but when it came to the news we were like opposite ends of a magnet. Where he was drawn to the dramas around the world, I was equally repulsed by them.

  Still, it was a struggle to ignore the flickering light behind Jake and Ollie’s heads. I pushed the food around my plate; the peas rolled past the carrots and popped as I caught them under my fork. I felt as fragile as the peas, that in any moment, with barely a prod, I might burst too, explode even.

  ‘Aren’t you hungry, love?’

  ‘What?’ I jerked my head up. Mum slid a fork of chicken into her mouth. ‘Uh, no not really. Hey, can I go to Granny Tess and Pop’s for the weekend? I don’t have any shifts, thought I could go hang with them for a bit.’

  ‘They’re already coming here for lunch on Saturday.’

  ‘They are?’ That’d save me a bus fare. I shrugged. ‘Guess I’ll just see them then.’

  ‘You okay?’ Mum asked slowly, her curiosity coated in disinterest as her eyes stayed fixed on the cutlery in her hands. I knew what she was thinking.

  My dreams had once been the epicentre of our family; they’d demanded attention and vied to be heard. Mum had never been comfortable with that though, so we played a continual game of pretend. I pretended I no longer had them, and that she didn’t know I still did, and we both pretended I was perfectly fine.

  Mum glanced at me, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Strange day at school. I’m fine.’ I pronged some peas.

  ‘Hey, Mum, can you take me into May on Friday night?’ Ollie conveniently pulled her attention away. He was good at that, and I loved him for it. ‘Eddy and Fletch wanna go to the movies, but they’ll already be there so I need a ride.’

  Mayfield was a fifteen-minute drive from Antil Springs. It lacked the beauty of Antil, but we couldn’t knock it. It had all the things we didn’t: a cinema, the hospital where Mum and Cal’s mum, Marie, worked, and the rival soccer team.

  ‘I’m on a late on Friday, I won’t be heading there until later. Jake, honey, can you take him? Maybe you can take Sarah to the movies at the same time?
’

  ‘Ew, gross,’ Ollie groaned. ‘And have ’em smoochin’ behind us in the back row, no thanks.’

  ‘But if you need a lift,’ Jake said with a grin, ‘I’d be happy to help.’

  A smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

  ‘Dad, can you take me?’ Ollie’s voice pleaded.

  Dad dragged his eyes away from the TV and joined in the teasing. ‘How much’s it worth to you?’

  ‘I’ll do the front lawns on Saturday?’

  ‘You’re on, kiddo.’ He was easily swayed when distracted. His eyes flitted back to the TV and he lifted the remote to increase the volume.

  ‘Dad, seriously?’ I gripped the edge of the table.

  ‘It’ll only take a minute, I wanted to hear the latest on that young couple–’

  ‘Tom.’ Mum shot Dad the look that, combined with her tone, meant she didn’t need to say any more.

  Relief washed over me. I put my fork down and turned to her. ‘Do you mind if I go to my room?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Her worry was evident in the slight hesitation of her words.

  Once upstairs, I sat on my bed and removed my blue Converse. My phone beeped from the top of the tallest paper mountain on the table. Grabbing it, I brought up a message from Max.

  Max: Forgot to ask at lunch if you were feeling better, did you see the boy again?? Remember where you saw him??

  Me: Yeah, all good, pretty sure I stood behind him in the canteen last week

  Lies, always lies. I changed into my pyjamas and threw my clothes into the washing bag behind the door.

  Max: See told you, although it wouldn’t be so bad to conjure up guys from our dreams hey??

  I smiled.

  Me: Depends on the kind of guys you’re dreaming of

  I’d dreamed up plenty of unsavoury types and, come to think of it, I had no idea which type Tyler was in this scenario. I climbed into bed and waited for the impending reply.

  Max: Lol true. See you tomorrow, night hon x

  Me: Night Max x

  I set the phone down and scanned the postcards tacked on my wardrobe, sent to me by Granny Tess and Pop from places they’d visited around the world, and above my bed, at my favourite piece of artwork. Granny Tess had painted it for me – an oil-painted canvas of the Canadian mountains covered in soft powdery snow. It beckoned me, called to me, showed me some of what lay beyond the edges of our small town – if I’d ever be brave enough to leave. But each night, my fantasy of a winter on the other side of the world got trampled with blood-splattered boots, when I’d close my eyelids and witness the horrors of the ugly world beyond the window panes of my room.

  I flicked off my lamp and twitched with the impossibility of sleep. Over and over, my mind replayed the events of the day in sickening vibrancy. It was like being forced to watch reruns of a bad TV sitcom you didn’t enjoy the first time.

  I willed my eyes to close but couldn’t quiet my thoughts as images of Canada, airports, and chiselled cheekbones remained. But it was the lady from two night’s previous who I saw in my dream when I eventually nodded off. This time she reached onto the passenger seat and dug into her handbag for her water bottle. Her foot lifted off the accelerator, and the car swerved slightly to the left. As she straightened and lifted the bottle to her lips, the rock that’d previously brought her death sailed past her side window.

  *****

  Max and I strolled through the school to our table for morning break. The two-storey building loomed ahead, its dull orange brick a harsh contrast to the surprisingly beautiful day of blue skies and a scattering of cotton clouds. We were a winter town, but the mountains were selfish buggers and although it rarely snowed in town we expected more wintry grey than this perfection in the lead up to winter.

  It sweetened the palate for what waited around the corner. My stomach lurched. And the moment Tyler came into view my feet hesitated. It didn’t matter that I’d dreamed something else in the meantime. Seeing him made the plane accident slap me in the face all over again.

  Max looped her arm in mine, easing the way forward. ‘What’s up, hon?’

  ‘Huh, uh nothing.’ I shook my head.

  ‘Really? My guess’d be a nightmare.’ She angled her head, knowing me too well. My shoulders sagged and she squeezed my arm. ‘What was it this time? You can tell me.’

  I knew I could tell her, and I desperately needed a listening ear. ‘Plane crash, but can we not talk about it?’ Not when we were five steps from Tyler.

  She let go of my arm and we slid onto the bench. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Say so, what?’ Sean asked.

  ‘Noth–’

  ‘Luce had another dream. Doesn’t want to talk about it.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘And yet we are.’

  Max laughed. ‘I am, we’re not.’

  ‘Nice try.’ I looked down, hyper aware of Tyler’s presence at the table. I rubbed my hands over my pants before lifting my head. He studied me, and almost as if he knew my inner turmoil, lifted his lips in sympathy. Shit. The dreams could be the least of my worries.

  ‘What about?’ Sean ignored me and peered at Max, waiting for her to answer.

  She shrugged. ‘Can’t say. But it did involve a flying metal object crashing to earth.’

  Tyler’s eyes widened, flickering in defeat. Damn it. I elbowed Max in the side. ‘You’re a shit sometimes.’

  She wrapped her arms around me, and whispered in my ear, ‘Sorry.’ Then louder for everyone to hear. ‘But you love me.’

  ‘Unfortunately.’ I tried to smile, but Tyler’s flat expression unnerved me. I was the girl who couldn’t keep her mouth shut, who couldn’t pretend at all. Dream or no dream, I’d been talking about a plane accident.

  Cal’s eyebrows creased. ‘You had a dream about a crashing spaceship? Why can’t I have sick dreams like that?’

  I didn’t answer him.

  I settled into the back corner table, determined to talk to Tyler before the lesson was over. I lined my pen up with the opened book on the desk, left side; no, right side. Damn it, just leave it alone. I twisted my fingers together in my lap, wishing I could wring the nerves out of me like a damp cloth. I’d been thinking about Tyler for most of the day, about what he must think of me snitching on him. I couldn’t handle the guilt, even if it wasn’t true. But the moment he walked into the room I froze. His eyes flitted to mine and then lowered to his phone, and all the words I planned to say clamped together in my throat.

  He sauntered up the aisle, impossible to ignore with his lean figure and strong stride. His bag hung off one shoulder while he fidgeted with his phone. A set of bulky headphones sat over his head, and he slid them around his neck as he dropped into the chair at the table beside mine.

  I cleared my throat and returned to my book, wiping the pages as if straightening them. My fingers brushed at the pen, sending it flying off the desk, and as it hit the floor, the chink echoed painfully behind my temple.

  Crap. I sensed Tyler’s movement from the corner of my eye and eased around in my chair to finally look at him, I could do this. He held the pen out for me but didn’t say anything. His smile seeped with humour, as if the mere fact I’d dropped my pen was worth enjoying, or perhaps he found my discomfort amusing.

  I plucked the pen from his grip. My apology could wait.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said almost inaudibly, before returning my eyes to the front of the room.

  ‘Il n’y a pas de quoi.’ He paused and clarified, ‘You’re welcome.’ What was that? Spanish, French, Italian? They all sounded the same, but my stupid disloyal heart didn’t care what language it was. Spoken so smoothly, it sounded like magic. It took every ounce of willpower to maintain an even breath, but then he leaned closer and spoke again. ‘Why were you dreaming of a plane crash?’

  I stiffened, knowing the moment of impact had arrived. ‘I’m sorry. I know it looks like I said something, but I didn’t tell her about you…about your dad.’

  ‘I didn’t think
you had.’

  My shoulders slumped. So I apologised for nothing, great.

  He continued, ‘But you did dream of a plane crash.’

  Fight or flight, I tried to back out of the conversation. I didn’t want him knowing what a freak I was right off the bat. ‘Yeah, so?’

  Lines etched along the length of his forehead. ‘You don’t think that’s weird?’

  I shrugged. ‘I have dreams. Very lucid dreams.’ I shifted in my seat, back straight, eyes on my book, taking on the perfect charade as if my heart hadn’t just skipped a few beats.

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  I exhaled, and Mr Beck’s boom from the front of the room conveniently grabbed my attention. Give me the weekend. A little time to let the events of the last two days sink in, to come to terms with Tyler jumping out of my head and into my life. Then maybe I might be able to have a conversation without freaking the hell out about what he knew, or didn’t know, if anything.

  I did have an overactive imagination, after all.

  — 6 —

  I waltzed into work later that night wearing a grin like the makeup at a beauty contest – thick and flawless. I welcomed the distraction work always brought to my ceaseless thoughts, but Amber was rostered on with me and I needed to avoid the inevitable questions.

  We worked for her mum, Laurie, who’d started up a catering business when they moved to Antil. I began working for her eighteen months ago when she was short a waitress for a wedding. It was a dream job – smile, pass out food, repeat. No one ever paid attention to lowly waitresses and that suited me perfectly fine. And the food at the end of the night – to die for.

  But my brain activity had reached seismic proportions, and no amount of work could distract me from my thoughts. My foot caught on the strip between the kitchen and the hall, and I stumbled into the room where crowds of middle aged couples mingled in stiff celebration of someone’s fortieth birthday. The tray of pulled pork sliders wobbled on my unsteady palm.