Luckily my parents were sleeping soundly and hadn’t seen me wandering through the house. Otherwise, they might have stopped me and . . . No, clearly luck had nothing to do with this. The girls knew that the likelihood of someone being up at night was minimal, especially in the wee hours of the morning. That’s why they didn’t come to see me when I took a nap in the afternoon. I’d thought it was because I needed to sleep longer, but the real reason was that, during the day, my parents might see me sleepwalking. And they didn’t want that. The same thing happened when I got knocked out in the soccer match. That time they’d given me the seed, but I remembered they’d insisted that I not move at all and just stay lying down. They’d done it so as not to attract the attention of my teammates. It all fit.
But even knowing that, nothing was actually resolved—especially the twins’ intentions. I had absolutely no doubt that there was no such thing as coincidences. If anything seemed to be a matter of chance, I knew it was only because I hadn’t yet figured out how it was related to the two sisters and my dreams, but chance had nothing to do with it. So, I had to get to the bottom of all these coincidences if I wanted to find out the truth. And there was one thing that was really nagging at me: that infamous phrase, uttered in exactly the same tone by the brunette, my father, and Ivan. There was an important connection there. My gut told me my father was part of this mystery.
The next logical step was to talk to him.
I opened the door of my parents’ room without making a sound. I wanted to get close to his side of the bed so I could wake him up but leave my mother sleeping. She couldn’t know anything about this or she’d worry—and rightfully so—that her son had gone completely crazy and believed that a couple of girls who could only speak when they were holding a stick in a dream were somehow connected to his family. Come to think of it, I’d have to be careful when I broached the subject with my father, too.
My bare feet made no sound as I walked across their floor, so I was able to get to Dad’s side of the bed without waking my mother. Unfortunately, he wasn’t there. My father was probably off on some damn business trip. Perfect timing, as usual.
I watched my mother sleeping for a moment, lying on the side of her body that wasn’t burned, her hand covering the deformed side of her face. She always slept in that position. She looked totally relaxed, like she was enjoying a deep, deep sleep—something I hadn’t done for several days. I kissed her lightly on the cheek and left the room.
At breakfast the next morning she confirmed that my father was on a business trip.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I asked.
“Today. He should be back at the office this morning,” she answered, sounding a little sad. “You know how it goes with his work for the business.”
Actually, I had no idea. Few things bored me as much as stories about my father’s multinational company. It was a part of the adult world that held absolutely no appeal for me—so much so that if I were to end up having to be a part of it, I hoped and prayed it wouldn’t happen for many, many years. Anything that kept him away from his family for days on end, discussing money, couldn’t be good.
I put my hand on my mother’s belly. “So, do you feel anything yet, Mom? Are they moving?”
“Sometimes,” she said, her face lighting up, “they kick me. I think they’re playing with each other.”
An image immediately took shape in my mind of two tiny girls, no bigger than my finger, playing with a stick in my mother’s womb. I shook my head until the image disappeared.
“Take good care of them, Mom.” I gave her a kiss before leaving. “Those are my sisters in there.”
I didn’t see the black parrot on my way to school. Annoying. I detested the dark-haired twin, but my curiosity had me dying to see if the stupid bird would be repeating any more intriguing conversations to me. Maybe he’d heard the teachers talking about the questions on their exams or something.
Ivan wasn’t at school that morning. His desk was empty when I got to my first class, and was empty in every other class for the rest of the day. I felt conflicted about my friend. I was bothered by the conversation he’d had with Claudia behind my back; it made me crazy jealous but I knew I had no right to feel that jealousy given that Claudia wasn’t even my girlfriend. But I felt it just the same. We’d also left our discussion from the day before hanging—the one where he’d thrown in my face the fact that my father’s fortune ensured the security of my financial future. His words played over and over again in my mind; they’d cut me to the quick. But more importantly I wanted to know why he’d used the same phrase as the twins and my father that referred to the consequences of my actions. The whole thing infuriated me.
Regardless, he was my best friend. And that was a fact I refused to believe could change from day to day. Ours was a solid friendship, forged over many years, in spite of how young we were. A friendship like that can’t be faked. And I didn’t want it to be ruined.
I went out onto the school grounds, turning over in my mind, from all angles, every explanation I could possibly imagine for these dreams of mine . . . without, unfortunately, coming to any satisfactory conclusion. I was relatively convinced the twins couldn’t harm me in any way. And besides, they needed me. For the time being, the only thing I needed to do was to not bring anything else out of my dreams—no matter how advantageous the gift they were offering me might seem. Beyond that, I’d already proven I was capable of waking myself up quite easily to escape from the two sisters if the situation required it.
I’d been walking around lost in thought and headed nowhere in particular when I ended up behind the school and came across the vine, perfectly intact and stuck to the side of the building. One small branch was still creeping into the window of the Math Witch’s office. It occurred to me at that moment that perhaps I could sneak up the vine and steal next week’s exam. Just because I wasn’t going to help the twins by taking anything else out of my dreams didn’t mean I couldn’t take advantage of what I’d already gotten.
One tug and I knew the vine was firmly attached. It felt the same as when I’d climbed up the Tower of Big Ben. It couldn’t hurt to try . . .
I wasn’t sure if my hands were trembling because of my fear of heights or out of excitement, but even with shaky hands it was a breeze to climb up a short way—and I’d gone high enough to confirm the plant could support my weight. Strange the groundskeeper hadn’t chopped it down or the maintenance man hadn’t at least cut off the branch that went in the office window so it would close. But now was not the time to try to sneak in. Someone might see me, and I wasn’t even sure the exam would be kept in there. An unnecessary risk.
“So, you wanna split your head open?”
I looked down and was very happy to see the goalie from my soccer team. For a minute I’d been afraid it was a teacher.
“I was just admiring the view.”
“Get down from there, you retard,” he shouted up at me. “You think you’re Spiderman? How can you climb up a wall?”
I climbed down and let myself drop off the wall, landing in front of him. “It’s actually pretty easy. All you have to do is hold on—”
“Stop clowning around.” He hooked his arm around my neck and, having caught me off guard, managed to give me a couple of noogies on the head. “What if you fall and twist your ankle? I want my defense in tip-top shape!” He let go of me and then looked at me, his face more serious now. “You got it? You’re already bad enough without being injured, you jerk.”
“I didn’t know you cared so much about me,” I replied sarcastically.
Honestly, I thought the goalie was a little on the crazy side—missing a few essential connections inside that brain of his—but I liked him. He was, without a doubt, the only member of the team capable of giving us hope and keeping up morale after the pathetic results we’d been getting.
“Not even close. If you don’t play, we’d have to put somebody else in. Some turd, I’m sure. And even though you ma
y think I’m kidding, there are players who are worse than you.”
“Spoken by the goalie who’s had more goals scored against him than any other goalie in the whole league,” I readily pointed out. I was just trying to get a rise out of him for the fun of it. His reactions were priceless and, besides, screwing with him got me thinking about something other than my dreams for a change.
“That’s because you guys suck, man. A bunch of drunks could beat you and even I wouldn’t be able to help you. If I had a decent team, we’d be unbeatable, but with you guys . . .”
He sighed as if he were taking his last breath. In a way, it kind of made me feel bad. If he really thought he was a good goalie, he had to be miserable playing with us. I actually sort of envied his attitude. Soccer was his passion; it was impossible to talk with him about it and not catch some of his enthusiasm and energy. I wanted to feel that kind of excitement about something, but there was nothing that mattered as much to me as soccer did to him.
“Do you really think we’ll win a game some day?”
He turned red, looked at me wide-eyed and huffed, “You want another smack upside the head? Of course we’re going to win! We have one game left, the one they postponed when you got knocked out. If we don’t win it, I’m planning to break all your legs. So don’t say you haven’t been warned!”
“Yes, sir!” I said, imitating a military salute. He smiled. “By the way, what are you doing out here?”
“I’m going to the infirmary.”
“For your medication? Keep taking it, dude; you need it. You just keeping getting crazier.”
“Very funny. I’m going in for a checkup. According to the school nurse—who knows about as much about medicine as my grandma—I dislocated my little finger when I shook up that idiot, Eloy.”
“I forgot to thank you for that.”
“Nah,” he exclaimed, waving his hand as if it was nothing. “I barely punched him, and then they separated us. I swear, I really can’t stand that guy. And worse yet, he scored on me! That cocky little greaseball . . . Just seeing him makes me wanna—”
I liked him even better now.
“Calm down. Chill before you explode, man. Save a little for the game. Let me see that hand, dude.” The knuckle of his little finger was a little swollen. “So, you really did hurt your finger. Can you move it okay? Maybe you won’t be able to play in this condition.”
“Bullshit! That stupid nurse can bandage it, or cut it off for all I care. But come hell or high water, I’m playing in that match!”
I didn’t doubt it for a minute. They’d have to cut off both his legs for him to sit the bench, and I was glad about that. The team wouldn’t be the same without him.
When he walked away, I swore to myself that we’d win that last game even if only as a gesture of thanks for our goalie. He deserved it.
I must have caught some of his enthusiasm because I felt better after our little chat, probably because it had distracted my attention from my problem. And since I didn’t feel like ruining the mood by being bored to tears in class, I decided—after considerable contemplation—that I was going to wrap up one of the loose ends I still had hanging: the math paper.
I grabbed my backpack from the classroom and slipped away just seconds before history class was going to begin. I snuck through the hallways and then slipped into the library, which was really more like a room full of books for students who—for reasons that escaped me—preferred to do their studies there. I think I’d only been there once before.
When I asked for help the librarian looked up from the magazine she was reading and exerted just enough energy to point halfheartedly toward a bookshelf. I found a book about math that talked about Archimedes and decided that, if I was not mistaken, he was sufficiently famous to satisfy the Math Witch.
It took everything I had not to get totally pissed while I copied information for the paper. I kept telling myself I had to do it to pass, that at least I didn’t have to memorize it—which was what I hated most about studying . . . spending hours and hours mentally repeating a bunch of useless information just to regurgitate it on a test and then forget it all the next day. That’s why I liked math. It was enough just to understand and do the problems correctly, and that was something I’d always been good at. The Math Witch had probably stuck me with doing this stupid paper because she knew I hated assignments that didn’t require any calculations.
I made it to about the third page before I started to get exasperated. By the fifth I was sure I was enduring one of the worst tortures ever inflicted on a student. By the seventh page, I’d given up. My will, not being particularly strong, had succumbed to boredom. I was starting to get delirious. I considered paying someone to write the paper for me but gave up on that plan, knowing the teacher would catch me for sure when she didn’t recognize my handwriting. Maybe I could—
“Actions have consequences. Don’t ever forget it.”
My mind froze when I heard those words. It was a girl’s voice, and I could hear it perfectly clearly. Was I really going crazy? I looked around nervously, my muscles tensed, almost expecting to see the twins right there in the library, passing their stick back and forth. But I wasn’t asleep, so there had to be some other explanation.
There she was. And it surprised me more than I would have thought possible.
Claudia was sitting at the other end of the room, talking to a friend. For sure, it had to have been she who’d said those words. Now there were three people who’d said the exact same thing: my father, Ivan, and Claudia. And now I was firmly convinced there was no such thing as coincidences.
I put my books in my backpack and walked over to Claudia and her friend, fighting to stifle my anxiety. I had to find out the truth once and for all.
“Hi,” I said, trying hard to make my voice sound casual, like this was just a chance meeting in the library. “You studying? Mind if I sit with you guys?”
“What are you doing here?” Claudia was looking at me strangely. She looked . . . scared. The color drained from her face, like she was looking at a monster or mass murderer or something. I didn’t know how to react.
“I have to write a pa—”
“Don’t touch me!” Claudia pulled back when I put my backpack down on the table. Her friend was also looking at me wide-eyed.
“Get away from me! I’m warning you!”
The librarian glowered at me. I turned red. Claudia and her friend gathered up their books and left so quickly I didn’t even have time to open my mouth, let alone say anything.
I waited until people stopped looking at me before leaving the library. Claudia’s reaction had me baffled. I was starting to think this whole situation was getting the better of me. I needed help, and fast, before nighttime came and I fell asleep. I could avoid meeting up with the twins by taking an afternoon nap, and with my mom in the house they wouldn’t dare try to get me to move around while I was sleeping. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax enough to go to sleep. I was too worked up.
There was only one person I could confide in. My father. In spite of our differences, he’d always taken care of me. He was a man you could rely on as a parent—a model father whenever I needed him. He wouldn’t lie to me at a time like this. And besides, my strength was waning; I needed someone else’s support, someone I could tell about what I knew. My father wouldn’t believe me—no one in their right mind would—but he’d listen to me. He’d try to help me. He’d hug me. And that’s what I really needed.
He’d be in his office now, according to what my mother had told me that morning. He’d know I wouldn’t interrupt his work without a good reason, but I’d have to wait until lunchtime at least or he wouldn’t have time for me. If I called I’d be passed off to his lawyer, as always. And anyway, I couldn’t convey the seriousness of my problem over the phone. It would sound absurd.
I decided to go see Ivan to pass some time and to see if he’d keep hiding things from me or if he was ready to help me.
As
bad luck would have it, I bumped into the Math Witch just as I was leaving the school building.
“Already finished with your classes for the day?”
“I don’t feel well. I’m going home.”
“If you’re sick enough to miss class, they can see you in the infirmary.”
“No! I’m going home and then to the doctor, actually.” I wasn’t in the mood to argue about it with her. And at that moment my studies were the least of my worries.
“That’s nothing more than an excuse to skip classes,” she accused without missing a beat. “It’s not the first time you’ve done that.”
“I can bring you a note signed by my father.”
“Enough about the excuses from your father!” She was suddenly furious, beyond what she should have been for a simple absence from class. She’d never before expressed her anger with me quite so emphatically. “I will not have you playing me for a fool.”
I wasn’t one for tact. “I don’t care if you believe me or not.”
“I want you to stop talking about your father. Is that clear?”
I didn’t understand that comment at all, but it irritated me—a lot. I could feel the heat of anger burning inside me. Somehow, though, I managed to contain myself and not blurt out anything I wouldn’t be able to take back later.
I turned and walked out of the school. I was going to Ivan’s house.
“If you leave before the end of the school day I’ll report you,” she warned.
“I don’t give a rip,” I snapped, not even trying to temper my tone of voice. I never looked back.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Ivan’s father after he opened their front door. “What do you want?”
He looked pitiful. He was wearing a dirty, wrinkly shirt that hung over a dingy pair of sweatpants that didn’t even come close to matching. They were such highwaters I could see two different-colored socks that disappeared into what looked to me like ketchup-stained slippers. He looked like he hadn’t shaved for several days. And if he’d had any hair left on his head I was pretty sure it wouldn’t have been carefully combed.
Get Out of My Dreams Page 15