“I don’t know,” I finally said, then shrugged and grabbed the ball from him. Great answer. Smooth.
“Well, you need to—tonight.” Finn grabbed the ball back. “Then, tomorrow, you can tell her too.”
It felt insane to even consider telling anyone else I was a Watcher. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Addie, but she already considered me nuts these days. It would be risky to discuss the dreams with her. I clenched and unclenched my fists a few times, allowing the tension to flow out through them.
“Without any other option besides breaking and entering and then hacking into Mia’s computer, I guess it’s worth a try.” I met Finn’s eyes. It was disturbing to see him looking grim. So un-Finnlike.
I took the ball and dribbled for a minute, enjoying the controlled feel of it in my hands. “One night won’t work, though. She might not remember enough from one night of dreaming for me to persuade her. I need a couple days to be safe.”
“You better get started. We’ll need her to help convince Mia that you’re innocent.”
My next shot bounced off the backboard, but Finn jumped and pushed it back up and in.
“You suck. Why aren’t you on the basketball team again?”
“I’m humble.” He grinned. “Don’t like to steal all the glory, you know? Try to spread it around to losers like you.”
I laughed. “Wow. So generous.”
He shrugged. “It’s how I roll.”
I tucked the ball under my arm and headed toward the house. I felt much better having a plan, even if it did feel crazy to tell Addie. After last night, doing nothing wasn’t an option anymore.
sixteen
Getting Addie to meet my eyes was a bigger feat than I would’ve expected. When Finn and I got to his house, she was in her room and didn’t come out until dinner. At the table, she stared down at her food, fuming. I could practically see the steam rising from her forehead. Mr. and Mrs. Patrick knew something was going on but didn’t seem to have the details. They kept asking Addie questions and exchanging concerned looks when she mumbled the answer without glancing up.
After the fifth question, she sighed and asked if she could be excused.
“Are you sure you’ve eaten enough?” Mrs. Patrick asked while eyeing Addie’s barely touched spaghetti.
“Yep. I’m full.” Addie pushed away from the table and walked out the door into the backyard.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up.” Finn grabbed her plate and pushed the spaghetti and sauce onto his with a grin. His parents laughed. Finn elbowed me in the stomach while I tried to swallow my last bite.
I coughed. “Thanks for dinner. I’d better head home.”
“You’re welcome, Parker,” Mrs. Patrick said with a smile.
“Anytime.” Mr. Patrick waved.
Finn nodded and kept eating as I walked out the back door.
Addie sat on the porch swing. She glanced up and I finally caught her eye before she groaned and turned away.
I’d gotten what I needed, but it didn’t seem like enough.
“I know you don’t want to hear it,” I said softly. “But somehow I’m going to make this better.” I started down the steps, but she cleared her throat and I turned back to face her.
“It’s not that I don’t want to hear it.” The disappointment trickling from Addie’s voice hurt more than I wanted to admit. “I just wish I could believe it.”
The first night, most of Addie’s dreams took place in the music store at the mall. Random bands kept showing up and playing mini-concerts. Great when it was Neon Trees or Daughtry—not so great when it was one of those Disney girly bands. Still, at least it wasn’t boring. From her emotions, she seemed to enjoy most of the same ones I did. Not surprising, but it racked her up some additional points on the coolness scale. Not that Addie needed any.
On the second day, I ran into her, literally, on her way out of the grocery store. She huffed a little, but when I helped her pick up the bread and lettuce I’d knocked out of her hands and said I was sorry four times, she calmed down.
In her dream that night, Addie was walking through the park alone. The moonlight made everything shimmer. Her pale skin glowed. She was beautiful. I did my best to pretend she still looked like a skinny ten-year-old, but she didn’t … the way her hair curled over her shoulders, the small waist that curved out to her hips. On top of her ridiculous hotness, Addie was one of the prettiest girls I knew, and by far the most awesome. It was almost a punishment to know her so well and not be able to do anything about it.
We walked through the park in silence. There was apparently no destination or reason to be here. The cool wind kicked some mist off the creek and it obscured the path before us. It was peaceful. The other layers of the dream were distant and quiet. I almost wondered if I could sleep here, but the slight humming of the layers in the background kept me from even trying.
Addie crouched and turned as a sound echoed behind us. It was low and foreign, like a growl mixed with the sound of grinding metal. I couldn’t see a source and after a moment it was quiet again. Addie bit her lower lip, her eyes scanning the dark shapes around us. She felt fear, but also a confidence that surprised me. Whatever had made that sound, she was prepared to handle it.
Eventually she turned back around and began walking. The noise never sounded again, but she was a little jumpy for the rest of the dream.
Everything around me faded to black and then I heard the wind. I blinked and could then see the few remaining leaves undulate in a tree near me. The wind forced them to obey, and with each gust more leaves blew off and fluttered to the ground. I watched them move, and it took me a moment to realize I couldn’t see Addie anymore.
I was sure I’d been in her dream, but now I was here …
and as far as I could see, she wasn’t. Still, if I’d learned anything lately, it was that I didn’t really understand how my curse worked. I’d rather believe that I just couldn’t see Addie than that I’d somehow sleepwalked up a tree.
As if I didn’t have enough problems.
I didn’t know where I was or how I’d gotten here, which was a pretty strong argument for the invisible Addie theory. The cold cut through me like a knife, but I knew that didn’t matter. Everything could seem very real in dreams. I was pretty high up. The way my curse worked, if I jumped I would probably shift to a new spot on the ground before I hit it. I’d watched enough falling-off-a-cliff scenarios to learn that much. But if it wasn’t a dream, I’d probably shatter the bones in my legs. Not worth the discovery.
Light spilled from the left second-story window of the house before me. It seemed familiar, but in the darkness it was hard to tell. I blinked a few times, trying to see if the figure moving around in the bright light was Addie. When the dark hair fell across her face as she pulled the hood on her sweatshirt back, I gasped. It wasn’t Addie.
It was Mia.
I watched, mesmerized, as she sat on the foot of her bed. Her shoulders jerked back when she tugged off her shoes and socks. I couldn’t see her face until she grabbed a brush and began pulling it through her hair. She was crying.
Each stroke of the brush seemed to soothe me. If this was real and she saw me, then she’d probably send Jeff and Mr. Sparks after me—or call the police—but she never glanced toward the window. And how could this be real? Why couldn’t I see Addie anymore? How could it still be her dream when I couldn’t even feel her?
It made no sense, but I couldn’t deny how good it felt to be able to look at Mia without worrying. It was peaceful to watch her and not be plagued with guilt. Everything about it made me sad, but I wasn’t sure whose sadness I was feeling.
I don’t know how long I sat there—long after Mia had gone to sleep. I shifted position a little against the rough bark, wondering when I would transition into another one of Addie’s dreams. My conviction that this wasn’t real wavered enou
gh to make me careful when I crawled down from the tree. I sat at the bottom and shivered until the dream ended and I was forced back into my void.
Why cling so hard to a life that was so similar to a nightmare that I couldn’t tell the difference anymore?
The next day was Sunday, and I didn’t realize until noon that it was also Halloween—my mind had been so caught up in worrying about the weird Addie/Mia dream that I’d forgotten about my favorite holiday. I was used to not having answers about my curse, but still … something about the dream really bothered me.
I didn’t get to watch Addie’s dream that night. She’d gone to a scary-movie marathon with Mia, and since my mom had been nagging me about never being home, I spent the evening playing Scrabble with her and handing out candy to the neighborhood trick-or-treaters. Then I got to watch one of Mom’s boring dream presentations. She was selling beachfront property, and it was more an auction than a sales presentation. People kept jumping up and offering her money.
She seemed to enjoy it. Me? Not so much.
By the next day, I’d passed the point of exhaustion. My withdrawal symptoms seemed to be easing a little, but I was so much more tired than I’d been before I met Mia. When I let my guard down and my mind wander, visions of Mia’s bloody face and the fire creeping up her hair still plagued me. Addie’s dreams had been a welcome relief, but still not something I could sleep through.
There was some weird game show on at Finn’s house after school. We watched it with his dad while we waited for Addie to come home from swim practice. Each of my eyelashes felt like it was made of iron—so heavy. It was impossible to keep my eyes open while sitting on their comfy couch. Rather than get up and try to stay awake, I relaxed back, not sleeping but resting my eyes.
Flashes of Mia’s nightmare kept rising to the surface no matter how many times I pushed them away, so I decided to stop fighting and see what they wanted to show me. Fear clouding Mia’s face as she turned to run. A shadowy figure sprinting after her, but she couldn’t see him—she could only see me. She cried every time she glanced back at me, but I couldn’t stop following. I couldn’t let him get her. He chased her, so I chased him. My breath grew ragged. I got close, but I couldn’t seem to catch him. I knew if I didn’t, he would kill her. I had to save her. I had to save Mia.
“Parker.” I heard a girl’s voice whisper by my ear, her hand squeezing my shoulder. “Parker.”
“Mia?” I mumbled, trying to convince my eyes to open. The hand tightened briefly and then fell away. When I finally pried my eyelids apart, Addie knelt before me, her hazel eyes sad. She looked more hurt than angry.
“Sit up. Everyone else went to pick up dinner, and you were breathing so hard I was afraid you might have a heart attack.” She glanced down at the carpet poking between her fingers and muttered, “I probably should’ve let you.”
I wanted to stand up for myself, but my sluggish brain was having a hard time formulating thoughts, let alone comebacks. What just happened? Not a real dream—I was sure I hadn’t actually fallen asleep. I’d just stopped fighting the images. Some kind of daydream, maybe? Like my subconscious was trying to tell me something and didn’t have any other way to do it. Weird. “Wha-what time is it?”
“The clock is on the mantel. Check it yourself.” Addie shrugged and grabbed her backpack, seeming like a completely different person than the girl I used to tease. Behind her, the clock read 6:57 p.m.
“Come on, Addie. Don’t do this.” I reached out for her hand to stop her from going anywhere, but she jerked it away and my fingers closed on empty air.
“Me? I’m doing this?” She struggled with her backpack, trying to pull it up and over her shoulders as she turned toward her room. “You aren’t even close to the person I thought you were. And I’ll never forgive you if you drag Finn down with you.”
I stood up and blocked her path. “It isn’t what you think.”
Addie gave up on her backpack, dropping it to the floor behind her. Her hands clenched into fists. “Oh really? What did I get wrong? Did you not go psycho? Did you not go all super-stalker on the first girl you ever liked? She’s been through enough, you know.” Her shoulders bobbed up and down with her breathing.
“I’m sorry for acting like a freak,” I said, stepping closer. “But not for everything else. Sometimes you should trust me. Sometimes you’re wrong.”
Addie stood up on her tiptoes and looked me straight in the eye. The anger was still there, but now tears slid down her cheeks. “Then you should stop proving me right.”
It hurt to see her pain. I reached up with my thumb and brushed one of the tears away. Her skin was so soft. I ran my fingers over her chin and down to her shoulder. I stared in her eyes, wanting more than anything to make her understand. “Mia isn’t the first girl I ever liked. I never even liked her. It isn’t like that. She isn’t … she isn’t you, Addie.”
Addie blinked, but she didn’t step away. She was so close. My hand squeezed her shoulder and the urge to pull her against me was almost overpowering—but I couldn’t, not now. If I would ever have a chance to earn back her trust, I had to prove I wasn’t the one hurting Mia … not anymore, anyway.
The back door opened, and the sound of Finn and Mr. Patrick arguing about which Chinese noodles were the best floated into the house. I dropped my arm to my side. Addie wiped the tears from her cheeks, opened the front door, and looked at her feet as she gestured for me to walk through it.
I stood on the front step alone, wishing I knew what she was thinking. Addie’s eyes met mine for only a second and then she closed the door, leaving me alone in the dim porch light.
This had to be the last night. Mia needed help—and we needed Addie.
Her dream began with her body in shadow, watching herself as a kid—maybe five or six. The younger Addie sat on the old metal swing set they used to have in their backyard. Her auburn hair was longer and the waves fell down her back. Mini-versions of Finn and me were kicking a soccer ball back and forth. The whole scene looked familiar. It had to be a memory, but we’d hung out like this a hundred times—I didn’t know why she’d remember one specific day so vividly.
She started swinging, humming to herself. Clouds moved in, cutting us off from the sunlight. The wind picked up, tossing Addie’s hair around, but she didn’t seem to notice. A few minutes later, the air exploded in one of those abrupt Oakville storms. The rain came down in sheets, drenching everything in seconds. As younger Finn and I bolted inside, the smell of electricity filled the air and a massive boom rattled the windows. Then I finally realized what memory she was dreaming about.
Addie was alone outside, getting colder and wetter by the second. She cried on the swing, her tiny body trembling, and one long curl tangled up in the chain of the swing. She called out for Finn, then for me, but her small voice was drowned out by the raging storm.
Minutes went by as she pulled, yanked, and twisted her hair, struggling to get it free. I kept waiting for the younger version of myself to show up to help her, as I vaguely remembered doing. Time stretched endlessly while she tried and tried to free herself, sobbing and jumping every time the sky lit up and the thunder boomed around her.
Finally, Addie gave up. She sat in her swing crying and shivering, her arms wrapped around her head in a vain attempt to hide from the worsening storm. That was when seven-year-old Parker finally came to the door. He ran outside, grabbed her arm, and tried to pull her with him. She squealed in pain when her hair pulled tight. He reached his fingers up, trying to untangle it. Her petite arms wrapped around his waist as he worked at the knot in the rain. Finally, he managed to free her. They ran inside and watched through the window. Seconds later, the lightning hit the swing set, leaving Addie’s swing scorched and mangled.
I glanced over at Addie as she watched her dream. A slight smile curved the corner of her mouth, and I knew I had to try. Reaching out, I touched her shoulder and
she turned to me. There was no hint of the anger I’d seen lately. She almost seemed to be expecting me.
“You were pretty cool that day.” She spoke softly, almost like a thought. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around my waist, exactly as she had in the memory.
I put my arms around her and pulled her close, like I’d imagined doing so many times. She felt even better than I’d hoped. Our bodies seemed made to fit together. I rested my chin on her head. She smelled like she did in real life, and an unexpected happiness sank deep into my skin.
“I’m not as bad now as you think I am.” I hoped she could hear and feel me, but I wasn’t sure.
“In my head, I always called you Hero. From that day on, that’s what you were to me.” Addie frowned. “At least, until you turned into the bad guy.”
Her eyes got sad and she moved to turn away, but I wouldn’t let go, afraid of losing the connection.
Something about the way she spoke was different too—so simple and young, like part of her was still that girl on the swing. She could hear me, could see me. In her dreams, she still trusted me.
Maybe it was time I started using this curse to my advantage.
“Addie, I need you to promise me something.”
She glanced up at me and raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“Tomorrow, if I come to you and ask you to listen, will you try to remember this memory and this conversation? Will you try to listen?”
Her eyes met mine for a moment, and then she nodded. “Okay, I will.”
I took a deep breath and released her. She turned toward another memory, oblivious of me now as though I’d never been there. As if this entire thing never happened.
Crossing my arms, I pushed them down against my rib cage, trying to control the wriggling hope inside my gut.
Insomnia (The Night Walkers) Page 13