“Did I tell you my mother is pregnant with twins?”
“Really?” The blond girl’s face lit up. “How wonderful! You’ll have two little sisters to take care of. C’mon, we have to fix the clock. No, not there. Follow me. Walk behind me.”
She guided me along a trajectory that was anything but straight even though there were no obstacles in our way. I was afraid of bumping my leg on some invisible object again—like what had happened in the cotton factory—but this time there were no mishaps. We got to the base of the tower after walking on a small patch of grass that bordered the building.
“Maybe my sisters will be like you two,” I said.
The blond tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Her look of confusion took me by surprise. “I mean because you’re twins.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” said the girl, clearly confused. “My sister and I aren’t twins.”
“But you’re identical.”
“What about our hair?”
That simple detail left me speechless. Can’t twins have different color hair? I had no idea, and even less so in the case of imaginary twins that only existed in my dreams. Still, it was impossible to find any other physical difference between them; even the clothes they wore were the same.
“I thought—”
“You don’t look well,” the girl said worriedly. “It’s because of the noise from the clock. Let’s go—you have to fix it.”
“I don’t know anything about clocks. I already told your sister that.”
“You just have to wind it up.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “And how do I do that?”
“By climbing up the tower.” The girl pointed the stick at the highest part.
We were standing right beside the wall of the tower, so I had to stretch my neck all the way back to see the clock at the very top. “Where are the stairs?”
“You don’t need them,” the girl said, smiling. “Watch this!”
She took something tiny out of one of her pockets, crouched down, buried it in the grass, and flattened the dirt with a couple of pats. Almost immediately, the earth opened up and a plant sprouted out of it, shooting up the wall of the tower. The plant’s trunk grew wider as it grew upward, attaching itself to the stone as it climbed. The branches were rapidly multiplying and crisscrossing others as they burst forth from the main trunk that was growing ever wider. In a matter of seconds the wall of the tower was covered by the vine.
I turned pale thinking about what the twins were suggesting.
“You don’t think . . . I . . . I get dizzy just thinking about climbing that thing.”
The dark-haired girl stuck her tongue out at me and rolled her eyes.
“It’s quite safe,” said the blond girl. “Go on—climb up there, please. You have to put a stop to that noise. Afterward I’ll give you a new toy, okay?”
I rubbed my hands together before starting my climb, repeating to myself over and over that nothing bad could happen to me in a dream. Instead of thinking about falling I had to make myself concentrate on the next gift the sisters would give me. Having more stuff like the glasses they’d given me that translated other languages to English served as my incentive to start climbing, and I immediately began to fantasize about other things I could bring out of my dreams. That initial incentive was, however, only enough to get me up the first twenty or thirty feet. They’d been relatively easy to climb since the vine was securely attached, there were no thorns or prickers, and there were plenty of holes for my hands and feet that were spaced at a comfortable distance. But now I’d made the mistake of looking down. I must have been at the height of a third or fourth story—high enough to break my neck if I fell. And the thought of falling instantly gave me vertigo.
I heard several insults being hurled in my direction from below, ones that were hard to imagine could be coming from the mouth of a ten-year-old girl. I didn’t even need to look to know the dark-haired girl was now holding the stick.
I thought again about the “compensation” I’d be receiving and made myself keep going. After all, it was all just in my mind. I reminded myself that it’s just as hard to climb a vine whether you’re three feet off the ground or a hundred. The motions are the same; you just have to keep repeating them. And I repeated them. But unfortunately my mind would not stop its insistent focus on the fact that the distance between me and the ground was increasing, and I was well aware of the one essential difference between falling from three feet up and a hundred feet up. If I made a mistake from three feet up, I’d fall, get up, and it’d be no big deal. Couldn’t say the same thing about the height at which I now found myself. A tidal wave of fear washed over me. My hands were shaking and were cold as ice. The wall felt like it was spinning, and I was starting to feel dizzy and nauseous.
I then committed a fatal error: I looked down again. After that, there was no way to avoid falling. I was paralyzed by panic as the ground sped toward me.
I was still shaking when I woke up, tangled in my sheets and quilt and clinging to them for dear life. My heart felt like it was about to explode; I could still see the grass on the ground as it waited for me to come crashing down on it. I let out a howl of terror and jumped out of bed.
“Son! What’s wrong?” My mother burst into my room like she was heading to a three-alarm fire.
“Nothing, nothing. I hit my wrist getting out of bed,” I said, trying hard to sound calm.
She wouldn’t let up until I promised her I’d go to the doctor if it didn’t stop hurting. Then she went to get breakfast ready.
I just wanted to be alone. I sat on the bed for quite a while, reliving the fall that had awakened me. For an instant I’d been sure I was going to die, helplessly splattered on the ground. That was the worst thing—the feeling of helplessness. Knowing that it was all a dream didn’t settle me down one bit. I remembered the wind taking my breath away, blowing through my hair and making tears stream from my eyes. It was way too real.
But now I was in my room again, on my bed—safe. And I really needed to get up and get ready for school. Still shaking, I got up and got moving—and then suddenly noticed my hand was closed around something. I opened my clenched fist.
It was a small, smooth black plastic wheel of some sort. I would have thought it was a wheel to a toy car if it hadn’t been such a long time since I’d played with cars like that. I turned it over and over in my hand, carefully inspecting it. I really didn’t see anything special about it—and still could not imagine what it could go to. It was probably some random part that came loose from something and somehow ended up in my bed.
After getting dressed, I packed my backpack with my books and folders, but I couldn’t find a pen in the mess I had spread all over my desk. The case for my glasses fell to the floor and, when I picked it up, I noticed a red stain on one of the legs of the desk. It was no big deal, but for some reason it bothered me that I’d never noticed it before. It also kind of annoyed me that I apparently hadn’t brought anything out of this dream. But most aggravating of all—I still had to go to school. This was obviously going to be one of those days where I’d be in a bad mood and everything would irritate me. And whenever I had one of those days, the last thing I needed was to get into an argument with my father or to listen to his advice. Since my stomach was still upset from the scare I’d had, I quickly said goodbye to my parents and left without eating breakfast.
Math class was as boring as usual. All the way to school I’d been fantasizing about the teacher not showing up for class because she was sick or someone had stolen her car or something. Or maybe she’d had to go accept her Nobel Prize for Mathematics—if there even was such a thing. But no, the Math Witch couldn’t give me a break even once; she was there in full force when I got to class, sitting at her desk, dressed as impeccably as my father, and with the same look of satisfaction with herself. I could not fathom how anyone could feel happy about teaching math.
Ivan was paying attent
ion, taking notes, and copying all the problems the witch was scribbling across the board. And still he couldn’t get his homework right, the dumb shit.
I took out my glasses case so I could pretend like I was also paying attention even though I actually intended to spend my time drawing a fight between superheroes in my math book until class ended. To my surprise, the case was empty. I hadn’t checked to see if the glasses were in there this morning because I always put them in their case. I was careless with plenty of other things, but I was careful with my glasses because I couldn’t stand squinting to read. I could get by without them, but it was a pain—especially since I sat in the last row, as far back as possible from the teachers and the board. At least today I didn’t have Spanish class.
The glasses made me think again about the dreams and the twins. Yeah, I know—the blond girl had told me they weren’t twins because their hair was a different color but I was still convinced they were. They looked so much alike they could be the same person if one of them dyed her hair.
“Can twins have different colored hair?”
Ivan put his pen down, turned his head and gave me a dirty look.
“Dude, I can’t believe the crap you ask me.”
“Can they or can’t they?”
“How should I know?” he snapped. “What are you up to? Seriously, dude, you’re scaring me. What?—Did you see some dude who looked like you but with different colored hair and now you’re scheming to figure out how he can come to class in your place?”
I hid the fact that I actually found that idea rather intriguing. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“You would totally do that to blow off classes.”
“No way, you loser. It’s nothing like that.”
“Well, shut up or we’re gonna get in trouble again,” he warned. “The witch is looking at us.”
She was—and with a most unpleasant expression on her face. I hurried to write something in my notebook so it would look like I was paying attention.
“She almost nailed us,” whispered Ivan.
“Well, stop giving me crap and pay attention. You really need to—cuz you suck at math.”
Ivan didn’t respond so I went back to pondering my dreams.
My last dream had been the most disconcerting. Absolutely nothing of what had happened made any sense. And I hadn’t taken away any information or any object that could be useful. I hadn’t learned anything about London that I didn’t already know, so that little trip wouldn’t be helping me on any surprise exam. No matter how much I turned it all over in my mind, the only thing I could see that I’d gotten from that dream was a good scare.
I also hadn’t been able to find out if there was any connection between the twins with the stick and my unborn sisters. There had to be, though. I had a really strong feeling it couldn’t be just pure coincidence. There was a reason for all this; I just didn’t know what it was yet. I was missing something. And I had no idea where to look for the answers.
The teacher called me to her desk when class ended.
“I see you’re still talking and wasting time during my lessons.”
“No, I’m not,” I denied. “It was a really informative lesson.”
“Are you insinuating I’m mistaken and you weren’t talking to Ivan?”
“Who, me? Of course not. It’s just a small misunderstanding. Ivan was just giving me some advice about the paper you assigned me, on the mathematician. I started it and it’s going really well. It’s a fascinating topic.”
She narrowed her beady little eyes and gave me the once over. I was confident in the sincerity of my smile.
“I’m glad you’re taking it seriously. May I see what you’ve written so far?”
It suddenly became more difficult to keep the smile going.
“I think it’s better not to show you. It’s just a draft. It’s not well written yet—lots of stuff scratched out, and my ideas are still a little disorganized. I’d be embarrassed for you to see it before I’ve revised it and spent some time cleaning it up.”
“As you wish. A good paper should be well put together,” said the teacher with an approving nod. “And since I can see that you are very conscientious, I’m sure you’ll have it finished by next Tuesday.”
“You’re kidding, right? You didn’t say anything about next Tuesday before. You said Wednesday.”
“And? Given that you’re using time during my class to do the paper, I see no reason why you can’t turn it in by then.”
“That’s . . .!” I bit my tongue to keep any swear words from slipping out. “I’ll have to bust as—, uh, I mean, I’ll have to work all weekend. That’s not fair. Why do you have it in for me?”
The teacher stayed calm, but her lips curved up ever so slightly—just short of a smile.
“I don’t care for your tone. It’s not an acceptable way to talk to a teacher. And I do not like your accusation that I have it in for you. If that were true, it would mean I’m doing all this for personal reasons, which would be inexcusable. You think your knowledge of the subject is the only thing that counts, but you’re wrong. A well-rounded education is about more than just subject-matter knowledge. Your attitude during class is pitiful. Not only are you hurting yourself, but you’re also hurting your classmates. And I’m not going to tolerate it any longer. Turn in the paper on Tuesday or you will fail. And you won’t get away with turning in shoddy work, either. You’d better be sure to dedicate some serious effort to this paper.”
I walked off without saying goodbye, thinking about how she’d just earned herself a new tattoo for her car. I was angry all through my next classes, and was still in a horrible mood at lunchtime. I was looking forward to letting off some steam by kicking a soccer ball or two.
But no such luck.
We found out our game had been postponed because the other team was off on a field trip. We were to play the match at the end of the school day when they got back.
So next I had to suffer through history class. Tedd showed up a few minutes late, the sound of his cane announcing his arrival just in time for us all to quiet the roar down to a respectful silence as the elderly teacher came into the room.
He bumped into his own desk, then smacked it with his cane—twice.
“Who moved my desk?” he asked, looking out the window. Nobody said a word. The desk was in the same place it had always been. “Alex, put it back where it belongs—if you don’t mind, of course,” he said as he pointed his cane at another student who looked quite surprised. Alex, who was seated at the other side of the classroom, got up, shrugged his shoulders, and pushed the desk about an inch until it was touching the wall. “Good boy, that’s perfect.” Tedd nodded.
He sat down, opened the history book and then closed it again. After taking a couple of papers out of a folder, he walked between the aisles of the classroom, bumping the legs of the students who weren’t fast enough to pull them out of the way. He stopped in front of Ivan’s and my desks.
“I see that we are graced with your presence in class today, boys.” He wasn’t looking at us, but we both knew he was talking to us. “Here are your tests,” he said, laying them on my desk.
I passed Ivan his; he’d gotten a sixty percent. I checked my grade and crumpled up the test.
“A fifty?”
Tedd turned back toward me. And this time his whitish eyes were pointed straight at me. “Is there a problem?”
There had to have been a mistake. I thought I’d killed it on that test. I deserved a one hundred.
“I don’t think my grade is right.”
“How curious.” Tedd acted as if he were making himself comfortable, resting both hands on his cane. “I, on the other hand, consider it quite generous.”
“It’s too low,” I pointed out. I was emphatically sure of it. During my dream in the museum, the blond twin had told me every single thing I’d needed to know. “My test is perfect.”
“Too true.”
“Then you should give me a one h
undred.”
“I should?” Tedd calmly rubbed his chin. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“That’s not fair!”
“You see, boy, I can’t do that because you cheated. It’s obvious, isn’t it?”
It must have been my bad reputation that had brought him to that conclusion, which was undeniably understandable but unfounded in this case. I wasn’t about to give up that easily.
“That’s absurd. I didn’t—”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I didn’t cheat,” I defiantly declared.
“It’s quite easy to prove,” said Tedd. Once again, all eyes were on me. “If you know the lesson so well, you won’t have any trouble repeating the details of the landing in Normandy right now for your classmates.”
“No trouble at all.”
“Stupendous. Stand up, boy.” I obeyed. I stood up and faced Tedd, who was just in front of me. “Well, are you going to stand up or have you changed your mind?”
“Uh . . . I am standing.”
“What are you insinuating, boy? The class is waiting. Begin when you are ready.”
“Okay. The landing in Normandy took place the . . . it was during . . . in the Second . . .”
My mind had gone completely blank. I found it impossible to remember anything about what the blond girl had told me. I couldn’t believe I could have a total block precisely at that moment, yet that’s what was happening. I stammered, trying to fill time while I searched my memory for the information. It was no use.
“There’s no hurry,” Tedd said without batting an eye.
“I . . . I forget.”
It was humiliating. I didn’t dare look him in the eyes.
“All right then, no problem. At least you got a fifty percent since you managed to keep me from catching you cheating during the test.”
Get Out of My Dreams Page 8