Dickensen Academy

by Christine Grabowski

After dropping Zoey off at home, we crossed the street. Mrs. Miller answered the door and gave me a welcome-home hug. She looked Ben up and down, then bombarded him with questions, explaining her brother had attended Dickensen, and she’d always enjoyed meeting his classmates. She felt there was something unique about them.

  She finally directed us downstairs to where Drew and Luke were playing video games on their big screen TV.

  “Autumn!” Drew sprang up from the couch. “You’re here!” He turned to Ben. “You must be the Ben she’s always talking about.”

  “And you must be the famous Drew Miller.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Drew said. “I hope you and your friends are taking care of Autumn. She’s like a sister to us.”

  His brother looked up from the couch. “Hey, I’m Luke. Grab a controller.”

  The four of us played for about an hour before Josh showed up. After introducing Ben, I turned my controller over to my brother. One hour of video games was more than enough for me. By now, Ben was one of the guys. I sank into the couch, relieved Drew hadn’t changed a bit.

  Chapter: 23

  I woke up on Wednesday having dreamed of splashing as I chased Aditi through the shallow pond behind the sports field. With the crystal-clear images still in my mind, I had no doubt it had come from my roommate. She must have seen something in my eyes because she jumped out of bed and flew across the room to grab the Initial Dream Review from her desk. It was a breeze to answer her questions. I recalled the laughter, the icy water, and even the gooey mud between my toes as if it had actually occurred last night.

  As we walked down to breakfast, I hugged my arms tight to my chest and stared at the carpeted corridor.

  Aditi put her arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Autumn. It’s going to work for you soon. I’m sure it will.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.” Then I painted a smile on my face. Surely Aditi would have been genuinely happy if I’d been successful first. She was that type of person. She didn’t deserve my moodiness today.

  All day, I did my best to push aside my jealousy, which had taken hold as an acidic burning sensation in my stomach. I couldn’t help but dwell on Aditi now being part of the rapidly growing group of successful freshmen.

  When would it be my turn?

  That was no way to think. My lack of self-confidence had to be part of the problem. I needed to remain hopeful and focus on the positive: her success confirmed my dream reception skills were intact. That was something.

  But what else could I do?

  Ben’d had an easier time with his little brother. Perhaps I simply needed to start with an easier dream receptor.

  During my private session with my teacher, I sat up straight and waited for his full attention. “Mr. Robbins, I was thinking instead of continuing to convey my dream to Aditi, maybe I could start working on a dream to send to a young child over winter break? I’m going to see my cousins. And I could arrange to babysit too.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting you skip Dream One and move on to Dream Two?”

  “Kind of…you see, I’ve been talking to some of my friends, and it sounds like it might be easier to convey to a little kid rather than to someone my own age.”

  “Ahh.” He gave a half-smile. “You spoke with Ben.”

  My ears went hot. He must’ve told Mr. Robbins after all. “So,” I stammered, “I thought maybe I could focus on Dream Two for now, and then afterward, I’d have better luck sending Dream One to Aditi.”

  He put his index finger to his chin and nodded. “Interesting approach. I have to give you credit for thinking outside the box.”

  His positive reaction urged me on. “I’ve already fleshed out the storyline in language arts, so I could finish the development over the next couple of weeks.”

  Mr. Robbins leaned toward me. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking for Dream Two, and we can go from there?”

  I spent several minutes reviewing my idea. During our discussion, he helped me understand why it was too complicated for a first conveyance attempt. My planned Dream Two assumed I’d attained the skills, knowledge, and confidence that would come from mastering multiple variations of Dream One.

  I took a deep breath. “But I really believe sending to a little kid might be the answer. A way to change my mindset and overcome whatever hurdle it is that’s preventing me from focusing properly. Maybe I could somehow modify Dream One so it’s appropriate for someone younger?”

  “Statistics indicate eventually you’ll be successful with the standard plan of moving in chronological order through to Dream Six. Although…” He leaned back in his chair and chewed his pencil.

  I sat in silence while he mulled it over.

  After a few moments he tilted his chair back upright. “I like your enthusiasm. It may help with your attitude and confidence.”

  I looked down at my hands and smiled. My persistence had paid off.

  “How about we leave your Dream One and Two alone for now. You can begin anew with another straightforward storyline aimed at a younger audience. Why don’t you spend the weekend brainstorming and present me with a suggestion or two on Monday?”

  “Thanks, Mr. Robbins.”

  “You might be onto something. Now if this approach doesn’t work, don’t worry. I have some other tactics you can try out in the new year.”

  When I left the art studio, my steps were lighter as I glided back to my locker.

  All weekend, I racked my brain to come up with an idea. It had to be not only simple, but one I could unobtrusively confirm with a child whose communication skills and memories weren’t well-developed. After hours of scribbling and crossing out potential scenarios, I created a plan to read a picture book at my neighborhood park. I’d chosen the park setting because it was familiar to both my cousins and the preschoolers I babysat, yet it was an unusual location to read a story. Now, I only needed to locate a unique book the kids wouldn’t have read, so I could clarify they’d heard the story from me in their dreams. Luckily, I didn’t have to create multiple variations of the dream because it wouldn’t count toward my grade. The goal was simply to have a successful experience, which hopefully would translate to the required dreams.

  ****

  Snow fell in earnest throughout December, and the campus became a winter paradise. Big white flakes and a postcard-perfect landscape beckoned to me through the windows of the school and dorm. I swallowed my jealousy as other students found time to go sledding or cross-country skiing on the trails. But my fear of failure won out.

  Fortunately, the month was also filled with several academic dreams to help prepare us for all the tests my teachers were squeezing in prior to break. The most memorable one, sent by Ms. Jenson, cast me as a member of a jury in a hot and humid Alabama courthouse, watching Atticus Finch defend his client. It helped me better grasp the concepts in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird.

  Despite the benefits of the dreams, I was a person who’d always needed extra time when it came to most subjects. So aside from an impromptu snowball fight in the quad, which drew nearly the entire school including Principal Locke, I remained inside to study and work on my new dream. I even skipped the trip to Leavenworth, telling myself I was too busy. In reality I knew it might make me homesick since I’d visited the touristy Bavarian village countless times with my parents. In many ways, it was easier to ignore the holiday season, since I was going to miss out on many of my family’s traditions this year. Perhaps someone would send a dream to help with that too.

  Chapter: 24

  I waited in the entryway of O’Reilly with my suitcase and school bags. Every couple of minutes, another student bustled by, oftentimes with a parent in tow. I had brushed and re-brushed my hair and even put on a touch of mascara and pink lip-gloss. I’d never met Ben’s family. They were driving us home. We could’ve ridden with Allison, but his family wanted to visit the academy, and this was one of the only times it was open for visitors.

  The chitter-cha
tter of a little kid filled the air before the elevator door fully opened. I bit my lip. It had to be them.

  Ben, his parents, and brother stepped out of the elevator. Ben leaned down and pointed me out. Keeping my face neutral was a challenge. He had prepared me for Calvin, but his parents shocked me. They were so young, especially his mom. She couldn’t have been much older than thirty. Her long, blond hair had definitely not come from a bottle, unlike my mom’s. She was vaguely familiar—I must’ve seen her on the tour months ago. Regardless, I’d have never suspected she was a mother. Most of my friends’ mothers were in their forties and mine had turned fifty last year. His mom was tall and thin like him, and she had his same blue eyes. Definitely related.

  Before anyone spoke, someone tugged my leg.

  I looked down.

  Six-year-old Calvin clung to my thigh, gazing up at me with two crutches dangling from his forearms. He had the same hairstyle as Ben, but Calvin’s was darker and fell back to reveal big brown eyes.

  “Hi!” he said, then grabbed my hand and tugged me away from my pile of belongings. Once I started moving, he let go of me, gripped his crutches, and hobbled away, dragging his left leg slightly. “Which way?”

  I twisted back toward his family.

  Ben grinned. “Sorry. I promised him a little tour before we left.” He dropped his luggage next to mine, and the three of them followed Calvin and me.

  His mom and step-dad, Jim, introduced themselves as I traipsed alongside Calvin toward the dining hall. By his speed alone, you’d never guess he had cerebral palsy and wore braces under his pant legs.

  While Ben pointed things out to Calvin, his parents listened in. Jim hadn’t been to campus before either. As I followed along, I couldn’t help but recall the dream Ben had before he accepted. It had included a short tour followed by giving me a ride home. Was it simply a coincidence, or could these Dickensen dreams somehow foretell the future or influence it in some way?

  A dormitory tour was a nice way to begin with his parents. It gave me a chance to talk about the academy rather than dive straight into the personal stuff. By the time we finished our fifteen-minute stroll through O’Reilly, I was breathing normally again and ready for the long car ride.

  “Let’s get you guys out of here,” Jim said as he lifted Calvin up to his shoulders while Ben’s mom grabbed the crutches. Jim’s voice brimmed with excitement. He seemed as happy to take us home as we were to come home. I could see why Ben liked him so much. You’d never suspect he wasn’t his real dad. Supposedly Ben’s father was a total jerk.

  Calvin sat in a booster seat between us in the second row of their minivan. He talked nonstop for the first hour. Although I loved kids, I couldn’t imagine living with a kindergartener. It’d drive me crazy after a few days. But Ben entertained him the entire time, obviously destined for his role as big brother. While Calvin was engaged in a serious game of I Spy with Ben, I leaned forward to chat with his parents. They asked questions about Dickensen and my family. They knew a ton about me, way more than my parents had known about Ben when I introduced them back at Thanksgiving.

  After a while, Jim turned on the radio to some country station. Then he started singing loud and clear along with the musician’s low country drawl. I leaned around Calvin to peer at Ben and gasped. He was quietly singing too. When he saw my raised eyebrows, he shrugged then raised his voice to match Jim’s. Soon the whole car was belting out country tunes at the top of their lungs. I couldn’t help but laugh. After a couple of songs, I found myself humming along. It was so different from the rides with my family where my parents spoke quietly up front, leaving Josh and I to do our own thing, usually something related to a book or an electronic device. Light sounds of classical music or a talk show on National Public Radio were the only noises ever emitted through our car speakers.

  Mom had invited his family to stop in for drinks and appetizers before heading home. I hoped my parents wouldn’t embarrass me by acting all old and serious, or worse, take this as an opportunity to learn more about Ben and me. They must’ve guessed that I liked him a lot, but I hadn’t said much about our relationship despite Mom’s questions over the past month. It was hard enough to explain it to myself, let alone to my parents. And Mom had always been so protective of me, I’m sure she had some boyfriend-warning conversation prepped and waiting. As for Dad, I didn’t even want to think about going there.

  If my parents were surprised by his parents’ ages, they hid it well. Turns out, I had no need to worry. They managed to find lots to discuss and avoided embarrassing questions. Mom got along with everyone, and Dad had so many obligatory dinner meetings, he was pretty good at socializing too—undoubtedly the alcohol helped. Oh, and I can’t forget Zoey. She probably had the most fun, finding Calvin to be a compatible, high-energy playmate.

  As our parents said their goodbyes, Ben spied my bags by the door and mouthed, “Good luck,” as he shuffled out with his family. He knew I had homework assigned and my Dream Management notes were buried at the bottom of my messenger bag.

  Chapter: 25

  My first full day at home, I had volunteered to babysit my cousins. It presented a perfect opportunity to perform my first conveyance on three-and-a-half-year-old Skylar. Since my aunt and uncle lived over thirty minutes away, I planned to spend the night and stay until my family came over for a holiday dinner. This would give me time to determine whether Skylar received the dream.

  I’d decided to read The Polka Dot Penguin by Anna Nivlac. It was one of my favorite bedtime stories when I was young. I’d selected it not only because I loved its theme of diversity and friendship, but also because I had it memorized so I could finish planning the dream without a copy on campus. And most of all, few people had even heard of it.

  The evening was packed full of board games and crafts. Skylar was usually on my team because eight-year-old Alex could only handle so many rounds of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders. Her favorite games were too complicated for her younger sister. By the time both kids fell asleep, I still had at least an hour before my aunt and uncle returned. It’d be the worst if they walked in while I was conveying to Skylar. Awkward.

  The house was silent. I was ready.

  Kneeling on the carpet beside Skylar’s princess toddler bed, I clicked on my flashlight and reread my notes. My senses heightened as I concentrated on my cousin and the memories within her cerebral cortex, primarily her memories of me and those of the park where I’d taken her on Thanksgiving. Then I pulled out my ragged book and began to silently read.

  Once down south, far across the sea, penguins huddled, trying not to freeze. They sat so close in the cold sun, their eggs soon hatched, one by one. They each came out in puffs of gray. But one did not look quite that way. This one had red and blue-green spots. They named him Little Polka Dot…

  Five minutes later, I finished with they loved each other through and through. Then went to bed, now time for you.

  The next morning, happy shrieks woke me before sunrise. Although it was hours before I’d normally get up on a weekend, I forced myself out of bed. It wouldn’t be smart for much time to pass before I quizzed my cousin.

  I followed the noises to the kitchen. Aunt Kelly was busy unloading the dishwasher, and Skylar was eating a waffle at the table. I helped myself to one and sat down beside her, aching for my aunt to leave.

  I had to be careful with how I questioned her. Direct questions might arouse suspicion. Although she was only three, little kids repeated everything they heard.

  As if in answer to my prayers, Aunt Kelly closed the dishwasher and turned to me. “Do you mind keeping an eye on Skye while I take a quick shower?”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks, Autumn.”

  When she left, I returned my attention to my cousin. “Skylar, how did you sleep last night?”

  “Good!”

  “Did you have any nice dreams?”

  She nodded like a bobblehead doll.

  “Can you tell me about y
our dreams?”

  She dropped her half-eaten waffle on her plastic plate. “I be a princess, and Alex be a fairy.”

  “You mean you were a princess, and your sister was a fairy?”

  She shook her head. “No, I want.”

  Huh? “So…when you dreamed about being a princess, did you mean you want to be a princess? Like pretend?”

  She jumped up for a second and clapped her hands. “Yes! You be the fairy! Alex sleeping.”

  “Uh, maybe later. I meant, did you dream something while you were asleep in bed?”

  “I dreamed that kind too.”

  “Do you remember that dream?”

  She scrunched up her face and stared at me.

  I clenched my teeth. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d thought. Maybe she was too young, and Alex would’ve been the better recipient, but the story appealed more to a preschooler.

  I didn’t have a choice. I needed to ask leading questions. “Do you ever have animal dreams?”

  The confusion evaporated from Skylar’s face and pure joy replaced it. “Yes!”

  “What kind of animals?”

  “Doggies and kitties…and ponies.” Then she hopped up and galloped around.

  “Anything else?”

  “Monkeys. And fishes.” She continued to circle the kitchen island.

  I was about to give up but took a chance. “Do you ever dream of penguins?”

  She stopped abruptly. “Yes. Polka dot penguins!”

  I did it! Of course, I’d fed her the term penguin, but she came up with polka dot on her own. She must’ve heard it in her dream.

  Time to change subjects—I needed to save some questions for the afternoon. If it went anything like this morning, I’d have to come up with alternate ones. “Do you want another waffle? I could make you one.”

  “No! I want to play princesses.” Then she stomped her foot with more force than I thought possible for a child her size. “Now!”

  “Okay, okay.” I didn’t particularly enjoy pretend play, but I was elated and willing to play princesses all day if that’s what she wanted. Once Alex woke, I could switch activities. Or maybe as soon as Aunt Kelly returned.