by Unknown
What a nightmare!
He flopped back onto his pillow, wincing as he landed on cool, wet sheets. He looked down, horror seizing him. A huge wet circle stained the sheets.
No, no, no!
He pulled the sheet up to his nose, but didn't smell anything. It was just sweat, thank god! He'd wet the bed so many times recently that his mom had threatened to take him to the doctor for it, and in response he'd threatened to take a swan dive out of his bedroom window. It was why he never went to sleep-overs; the thought of kids at school discovering his terrible secret made him want to curl up and die.
School!
Kyle shot upright, glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand. To his relief, it was only 6:30...his nightmare had woken him up early. He'd been having similar nightmares for weeks now. Unlike normal dreams, they were incredibly vivid, almost real, and he always remembered them, even days later. They were usually unpleasant, but this one had been the worst yet. He'd seriously considered asking his mom if he could sleep with her last night – something he hadn't done in years – but she and Steve had gone out to an early dinner, leaving him with his aunt. They'd told him they needed some "us" time, whatever that meant.
He sighed, rolling out of bed and walking over to his dresser, changing into clean, dry clothes. He walked to the bathroom, wetting his hair under the sink, then emptying his bladder in the proper place – for once. That done, he sprinted down the stairs, slowing down for the last few steps. His mom hated it when he ran down the stairs. She was a doctor – like his real dad – and she relished telling him stories about people who fell down the stairs, cracked their skulls, and turned into drooling vegetables. He walked to the kitchen, where Mom was already up, pouring him a bowl of cereal.
“Hey mom,” he mumbled, plopping down on one of the stools at the center island.
“Morning honey,” she greeted, handing him the bowl of cereal. “Eat up,” she added, “...or you'll be late to school again.” Kyle nodded, chowing down. “Slow down!” she scolded. “You'll choke.” Kyle rolled his eyes, but obeyed. That was the problem with having doctors for parents...they were always telling him that whatever he was doing could kill him.
“Hey guys!”
Kyle looked up to see his stepfather walking into the kitchen, already dressed for work. Mom went to kiss him, and handed her new husband a bowl of cereal. They were both in a really good mood today...they usually were after having a night of “us time.” He didn't want to think about it.
“Hey Steve,” Kyle mumbled. He refused to call his stepfather “dad,” even though his mom had married again a few months ago. His real dad had left over a decade ago, and his parents had gotten a divorce soon after. Kyle had always wondered why they'd split up, but mom didn't like to talk about it, and he'd never mustered the courage to ask his dad.
“What's wrong Kyle?” Steve asked between gulps of cereal, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You have another nightmare?”
“Nah,” Kyle lied.
“Didn't your dad get really bad dreams when he was a kid?” Steve pressed. Kyle nodded, but didn't say anything. It was weird to talk to Steve about his dad. “Well, I used to get nightmares too,” Steve offered. “I dream a lot less now that I'm old.” Mom glared at Steve, putting her hands on her hips.
“If you're old, what does that make me?” she retorted. Steve hid a smirk with one hand, then focused on his bowl of cereal as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Kyle ignored them, slurping up the last of his breakfast, then hopping down from his stool. Mom was already putting Kyle's lunch into his backpack by the door. He threw on his backpack, tolerating a quick peck on the cheek from his mom.
“Bye sweetie,” she said. “Have a good day at school.”
“Bye Kyle,” Steve called out.
Mom inspected Kyle's shirt collar, then gave him a tight smile. “Your father's going to pick you up from school today.”
“I know,” Kyle replied, unable to stop himself from grinning. His dad had been working a string of overnights at the hospital, and Kyle hadn't seen him for nearly a week. “Love you mom.”
Kyle waved goodbye, then turned to run out the door toward the bus stop. It was only a few blocks away, but the bus driver was notorious for being early – and not bothering to wait around – so most of the kids were already lined up there on the sidewalk. Sure enough, the bus came barreling down the street, passing Kyle and stopping before the line of kids. Kyle ran as fast as he could, his backpack bouncing up and down painfully on his lower back. He barely made it, reaching the doors just as they started to close. The old, frumpy-looking bus driver scowled at Kyle as he got on – as if the bus being two minutes early were his fault – and pulled the lever to shut the double-doors behind him.
“Kyle!” he heard a voice shout, and turned to see a familiar face; it was Ben, Kyle's best friend. Ben was sitting halfway down the aisle, and he'd saved Kyle a seat. Kyle grinned, walking down the aisle and plopping himself down next to his friend.
“Hey, check it out,” Ben urged. He reached inside his backpack and pulled out a handful of various candies. “Want one?” Kyle nodded, taking one and unwrapping it. His dad rarely let him eat candy, no doubt because it could kill him somehow, at least eventually. He plopped the candy in his mouth, sucking vigorously. Ben was always sneaking Kyle candy, and in return, Kyle let Ben play in his backyard when Ben's parents were fighting. They'd been arguing a lot recently, to the point where Ben was convinced they were going to get a divorce. If that happened, Ben might move away, and then Kyle would lose his best friend. They didn't talk about it much, but Kyle could tell it was always on Ben's mind. That was probably why Ben was always getting into trouble at school...which only made things worse at home.
The bus lurched forward, the driver guiding the bus slowly across town, stopping a few times to pick kids up. The seats filled up rapidly, and soon the bus reached its last stop...and the best part of Kyle's day.
The bus came to a halt, and a blond-haired girl in a blue dress stepped inside. She had crystal-blue eyes, pale, flawless skin, and curves that made him have to put his backpack on his lap to avoid making a scene. Kyle tried not to stare; her name was Desiree, and she was Kyle's first great love...not that she knew it. She'd never noticed or talked to him, not in the four years they'd been in school together. Probably because he'd never had the guts to talk to her. He'd always been useless around girls, terrified that he'd say something stupid, or get rejected. Desiree probably didn't even know he existed.
Ben elbowed him in the side.
"Aren't you going to say hi to your girlfriend?" he teased. Kyle shot him a baleful glare.
"Shut up," he hissed, elbowing Ben back. "She'll hear you, idiot!" Ben laughed, making loud, wet kissing sounds and thrusting his chest outward provocatively. Kyle slithered down in his seat, mortified that Desiree might spot Ben's little performance. Thankfully she didn't appear to notice.
The bus slowed down suddenly, pulling up to the curb and coming to a stop in front of the school. The bus driver pulled a lever, and the doors opened.
“Everyone out!” the driver barked. Kyle followed the other students out of the bus, stepping down to the sidewalk and walking to the school entrance.
* * *
Kyle's first class was American Literature, with the usual dry, boring "classics" that were never enjoyable to read. Supposedly designed to make you think, all they made Kyle think of was closing each book and never reading them again. Then came Pre-Algebra, which he strongly suspected he would never end up using in real life. Then gym class, which was reliably sadistic. Finally – mercifully – there was lunch break. Kyle ran to his locker to get the lunch Mom had packed him. Ben had already beaten him there, and was offloading books into his own locker. They traded horror stories about the morning's classes, then turned to walk down the hall toward the cafeteria.
"Hey shrimp, what'd you bring me for lunch?" a voice called out from behind. Kyle turned around, see
ing a tall, husky kid with a crew cut looming over him. Kyle's guts squirmed in his belly; it was Big Joe, one of the least academically gifted students at their school. He more than made up for it with his physical gifts, which he used to smack around anyone smaller than he was. Which was everybody.
Before Kyle could answer, Big Joe tore Kyle's lunch bag out of his hands. The oaf peered inside, pulling out a banana and a sandwich. He snorted, making an obscene gesture with the banana and tossing it over his shoulder.
"Thanks for the sandwich, Chinkerbell," he jeered, offering Kyle his lunch bag back. Kyle reached for it, but Joe pulled the bag away at the last minute, dropping it on the floor. Then he laughed, shoving Kyle to the side and heading off to the cafeteria. Ben yelled out at Joe, running after the big brute, but Kyle grabbed the back of Ben's shirt to stop him. Ben spun around to glare at Kyle.
"You're really gonna let that moron get away with that?" he accused.
"Who cares," Kyle muttered. "I'm not that hungry anyway," he lied. He was heartened that Ben wanted to stand up for him, but he hardly wanted to see Joe give his best friend a beating. And the last thing Ben needed was to get suspended again.
"Bet he feels real tough picking on a scrawny shrimp," Ben grumbled.
"Thanks for that," Kyle muttered. Ben shrugged, clapping Kyle on the back.
"Hey, you're short," Ben replied good-naturedly. "Nothing wrong with that." Kyle ignored him, retrieving his bruised banana and lunch bag from the floor. He hated the nickname Big Joe had given him: Chinkerbell. His real dad was white, and his mom was Vietnamese. He wasn't even Chinese, but it hardly mattered; almost everyone called him Chinkerbell now, when they knew the teachers couldn't hear.
The two walked silently to the dining hall, sitting at one of the empty tables and digging in to their meals.
"You shouldn't let Joe pick on you like that," Ben advised.
"What can I do, fight him?" Kyle shot back. "He'd murder me!"
"He doesn't pick on me," Ben retorted.
"Because you're a psycho," Kyle muttered. A few months ago, Big Joe had shoved Ben, and Ben had come right back at the brute, swinging his fists like a madman. Joe had beaten Ben up pretty badly, but Ben had gotten a few good punches in too. They'd both been suspended for a week...and that was the last time Joe had ever picked on Ben.
"Exactly," Ben stated proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bullies are all the same. Stand up to 'em, they beat you once. Chicken out, they beat you over and over." Kyle sighed.
"I can't get suspended," he complained. "My dad would kill me."
"My dad's a piece of shit," Ben muttered. "I don't care what he thinks."
"Well I like my dad," Kyle countered. "My real dad, I mean."
"That's because he's not a douchebag," Ben retorted. Kyle lowered his gaze, not sure how to respond. "Hey, when you hanging with your dad next?"
"Tonight," Kyle answered. "I haven't seen him in a week. He's been working late."
"My dad stays late too," Ben replied. "...to work on his secretary."
Kyle burst out laughing, milk spewing out of his nose and mouth. Ben jerked out of the way just in time, dodging the spray, and Kyle fell into a fit of coughing, tears coming to his eyes. His nose burned, and he wiped it with a napkin.
"Sorry," Kyle mumbled. Ben grinned.
"That was awesome," he gushed. He grabbed an apple from his lunch bag, offering it to Kyle. "Hey, want this?"
Kyle nodded, taking the apple and chowing down. Thankfully, they changed the subject, spending the rest of the meal making fun of Big Joe in between bites of food. Despite Ben's apple, Kyle's stomach still growled a bit after he'd finished eating. The sandwich Joe stole had been the bulk of his meal, after all. And his parents always wondered why he pigged out so much when he got home.
After lunch, Kyle and Ben parted ways, walking to their respective classes. After suffering through history and art, Kyle's final class was science, easily his favorite. Mostly because Mr. Potts, the teacher, was younger and cooler than the other teachers. Today he was lecturing about black holes.
"Black holes," Mr. Potts explained, showing a picture of a giant black sphere on the projector screen, "...are massive. They're so massive that they generate an enormous amount of gravity. Anyone know why they're called 'black holes?'"
The girl sitting immediately behind Kyle – Sally Druthers, the class suck-up and know-it-all – raised her hand so fast Kyle was amazed she didn't dislocate her shoulder. Mr. Potts nodded at her.
"Because not even light can escape a black hole's gravitational pull," she answered with a smug smile. Mr. Potts, apparently not realizing that Sally was pure evil, smiled back.
"That's right," he replied. "Nothing can escape a black hole's gravitational field." He then went on to explain about how scientists had discovered black holes, but Kyle was too sleepy from weeks of nightmares to pay much attention. His eyelids grew heavy, and he stifled a yawn. A hand shoved him from behind.
“Wake up!” Sally hissed. Kyle scowled. Sally was the quintessential teacher's pet. She got straight “A's,” and made sure everyone knew it. He hated sitting in front of her. He imagined being married to her, and stifled a shudder. Apparently her mother was just like her; frankly, he didn't know how her father put up with it.
Then he thought of Desiree, looking across the room to find her. She was sitting perfectly in her chair, drawing doodles on her notebook. Kyle sighed, wishing he could sit next to her instead of Sally. Not that it would matter; he was too chicken to ever talk to Desiree, and he was short, scrawny, and awkward...the exact opposite of someone a blond bombshell like her would be interested in.
In the end, Sally's efforts to reform Kyle were in vain, as he found himself studying the clock – and Desiree – more than the seemingly endless parade of celestial bodies presented. After an eternity, the bell rang, and class was over. Everyone stood up, and Kyle followed the rest of the students out of the classroom, walking to his locker to pick up his books. Ben, who had once again gotten to his locker before Kyle, observed with amazement that each of his classes managed to suck worse than the one before it.
"Let's go," Ben said after they'd gathered their things. "You wanna hang out at your place?"
"I can't," Kyle replied, throwing his overstuffed backpack over one shoulder. "I'm with my dad today, remember?"
"Oh, right," Ben replied. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I'm with my mom then," Kyle agreed.
"Cool."
They walked side-by-side down the hallway, reaching the double-doors at the entrance to the school. Throngs of fellow students were already pouring through them, and Kyle and Ben joined them, stepping out into the hot summer sun. Ben said goodbye, then made his way toward the waiting school bus while Kyle scanned the parking lot for his dad's car. He spotted it almost instantly...and saw his dad getting out of the car. Kyle broke into a run to meet him.
"Hey big guy," Dad called out. His father always called him “big guy,” even though he was the second-shortest kid in his grade. Dad tousled Kyle's hair, then started walking back toward the parking lot. “How was school?”
“Boring.”
“You ask Desiree out yet?” Dad pressed. Kyle's cheeks flushed, and he shook his head. His dad was the only person – other than Ben – that knew how he felt about Desiree.
“Nah,” he mumbled.
“She'll just reject you anyway, right?” Dad guessed. Kyle nodded. “Yeah, you're probably right.”
“Gee, thanks,” Kyle muttered. Dad grinned, patting him on the shoulder. They both got in the car, and Dad started the engine, pulling out of his parking space.
“How was work?” Kyle asked, eager to change the subject.
“Boring,” Dad answered. “Any nightmares recently?”
“Yeah,” Kyle admitted. He'd told his dad about his nightmares, although not in detail. Just that he'd been getting them for the last three weeks. Dad used to get nightmares too when he was a kid – about that, Steve had been
right.
“Bummer,” Dad replied. “I still get them sometimes,” he added. “Used to get them every night after I woke up from my coma.”
Kyle nodded absently, having heard the story many times before. His dad had been found lying unconscious in the middle of the street as a young boy, his face all bruised and swollen. A passer-by had called an ambulance, and he'd been rushed to the hospital. The doctors there had discovered that his father had bled around his brain, and that both of his lungs had collapsed. And there'd been a bleeding stump where his left big toe should have been. He'd laid in a coma for a few days before coming to, and the injuries to his brain had all but wiped out his memories. He had no idea who his real parents were, and no one had come to claim him; a nice middle-aged woman – a widow – had heard about Kyle's father on the news, and ended up adopting him.
"Ah, home sweet home," Dad declared, turning into the driveway that led to his house. He parked in the garage, then turned to face Kyle. "Rejection isn't so bad," he stated suddenly, putting a hand on Kyle's knee. "Sometimes you have to take a big risk to get a big reward."
"Huh?"
"Desiree," Dad clarified. He grinned ruefully. "Take it from a really, really late bloomer. You'd be amazed what can happen if you take a chance."
"Sure," Kyle mumbled. They got out of the car, walking into the mud room. Kyle deposited his backpack and shoes there, and they both walked over to the couch in the living room, plopping down on the comfy cushions with tandem sighs. Dad laughed.
"Long day, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Things any better with Steve?" he pressed. Kyle shrugged.
"Not really."
"What's wrong?" Dad asked.
"He's nice and all," Kyle admitted, "...but he's not you."
Dad leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.
"That's true," he conceded.
"Mom wants me to call him my stepdad," Kyle muttered.
"And you don't want to?" Dad asked. Kyle shook his head.
"He's not my dad."