“Maybe I’m the problem,” Aditi said. “It might be tougher to get through to me for some reason.”
“Doubt it.” I couldn’t even convey to preschoolers, which was supposed to be the easiest.
Aditi held my gaze. “Mr. Robbins says conveying is like any other skill; everyone learns at a different pace. Take me and Hannah learning to ski.”
She had a point. Hannah was picking it up far more easily than Aditi, but that didn’t mean Aditi would never ski well. After a moment, I shook my head. “That’s a stupid comparison. Who cares if you never learn to ski? But if I don’t get this conveyance thing down, I could get kicked out of school.” I blew out a breath. “Then they’ll erase my memories or something.”
“Oh, Autumn!” Aditi leaned over to hug me. “Don’t even go there.”
She should be mad at me for what I’d said about her athletic abilities, not empathetic. But the realization only made me feel worse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that. It’s just, no one else is having this problem. Even Ryan’s figured it out.”
Hannah picked up a blue train card then looked up. “You’re not the only one.”
“Yeah,” Aditi agreed. “How about Samantha and um, Jacob. And I’m sure there are more in Mr. Robbins’ other periods.”
Hannah nodded. “And look at me. I can convey, but I’ve been having problems with reception lately.”
I shot her a questioning glance. “Since when?”
“Y’all need more confidence.” Hannah placed a new card in the empty spot, ignoring my question. “All this negative talk is bringing you down.”
I shrugged. “Well I blame my dad for that.”
“Forget your dad,” Aditi said. “You’re doing great in your other classes. Latch on to the positive.”
“But that’s just it. I can’t. And it’s not only a self-confidence thing. It’s the way he raised me.”
Aditi laid down several red pieces to claim a train route. “What do you mean?”
“He’s so scientific. My whole life he’s been teaching Josh and me about physics and biology. He could never take us to the zoo to simply look at the animals. It always turned into a lesson on evolution or something.”
Hannah laughed. “That’s not all bad.”
“No. But I think it’s part of my problem. Sometimes I question everything they’re teaching. I mean, is this all real? Are we truly doing telepathy?”
Aditi sucked in a breath. “How can you not believe? You get the dreams. Even mine.”
“Oh, I do,” I gushed. “When I’m immersed in them, I totally believe. But when I sit down to convey in the middle of the night, my mind wanders and I start to question it all. Telepathy doesn’t fit in with all the science my dad’s drilled into me. Sometimes I wish Dickensen was a normal prep school so I wouldn’t have all these worries. And seriously, what are we going to do with dream-making once we graduate from here anyway?”
“I’m sure there’s more to it than education and entertainment,” Aditi said. “They only parcel out what we need to know.”
I stared at my cards, but my mind couldn’t return to the game. “So, Hannah, what’s this about not being able to receive dreams?”
“Yeah.” Aditi placed her cards on the table facedown too. “I thought you and Caitlyn were doing great. Mr. Robbins talks about your skills as a pair almost as much as Ben’s.”
“Not a big deal,” Hannah said. “I’m still receiving them. But a few times, I’ve woken with this strange sense of fear. I even got a few scary images the other night.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“A crazy mask popped out, and I heard some loud shrieks. I’m starting to get nervous at bedtime.”
“What does Mr. Robbins say?” Aditi asked.
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t told him. I answer Caitlyn’s questions correctly. Her dreams are coming through fine.”
“Do you think Caitlyn might be sending those images?” I probed. Ever since she first asked about nightmares months ago, I’d been concerned for my friend.
Hannah shook her head. “I don’t see how. They’re completely unrelated. It’d take a lot of skill to integrate them into her dream. Besides, we’ve been getting along better lately.”
“Yeah. She has seemed nicer. I’ve even seen her crack a smile couple of times.” I chuckled.
“It’s probably because I’m helping her ace Creative Core,” Hannah admitted. “But I’ll take it. It’s better than when she despised me.”
****
Adrenaline shot through me, and I bolted upright in bed.
What was that? Was someone at our door? Aditi was also awake and climbing out of bed. I crept across the floor in the dark, still half-asleep; it might be part of a dream.
Aditi flipped the light switch and opened the door. As I squinted against the bright light, something knocked me back, and my heart leaped in my ribcage. When my eyes adjusted, a flannel-clad Hannah hung over my shoulders. I definitely wasn’t dreaming, but Hannah must have been.
She sobbed uncontrollably and most of her words were incoherent, except for the name Jake, which she repeated over and over.
Who the heck is Jake?
With Aditi’s help, we eased her trembling body onto my bed.
Aditi began smoothing her hair. “Hannah, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
After a couple of minutes, Hannah’s tears stopped and she blinked. Her eyes were wide and her pupils darted side to side.
“You were having a nightmare,” I said, voice wavering. “But it’s over. You’re okay now.”
A classmate tapped on our open door and leaned in. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Aditi said, getting up to close the door. “We’ve got this.”
“Horrible,” Hannah began. “At the beach. Buying ice cream. Jake ran off.” Her words came out in whispered spurts, punctuated by heaving breaths. “Chasing something. Pulled leash away. Called him. He wouldn’t stop.” She sniffed. “A car flew around the corner. He kept running. The brakes screeched. All in slow motion.”
“It’s okay,” Aditi soothed. “It wasn’t real.”
Hannah dabbed her watery eyes with her pajama sleeve.
“You should stay here,” I said.
Hannah curled up on my bed and fell back to sleep soon after we covered her up.
I pulled down some extra blankets and pillows from the top of our closet and made a bed for myself on the floor. I gritted my teeth. “I bet Caitlyn did this. Remember how she asked about creating nightmares that one time? And she’s always had it in for Hannah.”
“I don’t know,” Aditi said. “All this dream-making stuff could be messing with Hannah’s head.”
****
I woke to Hannah’s whispers. “You guys. What am I doing here?”
“You don’t remember?” Aditi asked.
She shook her head.
We went through the events of the previous night, but Hannah couldn’t recall much. She only remembered standing in line to buy ice cream at a beach.
At breakfast, I could almost feel Caitlyn’s icy blue gaze boring into my backside. Each time I glanced over my shoulder, she was sending evil glares to our table from where she sat with Tessa, across the dining hall. Hannah told Aditi and me she’d confronted Caitlyn when she returned to her room. She denied sending her a nightmare and was so furious Hannah had jumped to that conclusion she stormed out. Obviously, she was angry with Aditi and me too.
****
One afternoon Hannah, Aditi, and I stayed after school in the back of the art studio, painting scenes for our assigned dreams. Mr. Robbins worked at his desk up front, head down, well out of earshot.
“I still keep waking with this weird sense of fear,” Hannah explained. “But it’s every morning now, not just the times Caitlyn conveys. I don’t get it.”
I set my paintbrush down and rested back on my stool. “Have you talked to her again?”
“No way!” Hannah painted hastily as if s
he were taking her frustration out on her canvas. “She’s avoiding me more than usual. Guessing she’s still upset.”
Aditi pointed her thumb at our teacher. “You’ve got to tell Mr. Robbins.”
“Or what about Dean Rothchild? Or even Principal Locke?” I said.
“I don’t have proof it’s her,” Hannah explained as she continued to paint the yellow-green grass of a huge ranch. “And if it’s my own fault, I don’t want our teacher to know. He might stop my conveyances. I want a good grade.”
“You could keep notes,” Aditi suggested. “Perhaps you’ll find a pattern and figure out why you’re having those dreams.”
“Yeah. A sleep journal might help your case,” I said. “If you can convince Mr. Robbins she’s sending nightmares on purpose, she’ll get in trouble.”
“That’s a long shot.” Hannah lowered her brush and glanced toward our teacher, still busy at his desk. “He loves Caitlyn, all the teachers do. She’s so two-faced. Always raising her hand and participating in class discussions. Then the moment she’s alone, she acts like none of us exists. What I really want is a new roommate.” She sighed. “If only I could stay with you every night.”
“I wish,” I said. But school rules didn’t permit three freshmen to a room because everyone needed a dream partner.
“Come on.” Aditi nodded toward the front of the room. “This is the perfect time.”
Hannah glanced up at our teacher, then back to us. She closed her eyes tightly and nodded. “’Kay.”
“Mr. Robbins,” Hannah said after I nudged her left arm. “I had a terrible nightmare last week and was hoping we could talk.”
He gave a sympathetic smile. “Sure. Sit down, girls.”
“Well…” Hannah began once we got seated around his desk. Then she launched into a recap of what she could remember and what we’d told her. Aditi and I clarified as needed, so he got the complete story.
“Sounds like a night terror.”
“A what?” Aditi asked.
“It’s a technical term for a type of nightmare that can’t be recalled but usually involves sleepwalking and the appearance of being awake.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine something like that could’ve come from another freshman. Instilling a sense of fear in a benign dream is a high-level skill.”
He pulled out a file and studied the papers within it. “Caitlyn’s Dream Management notes only describe how Hannah was supposed to be buying ice cream at the beach. And you said those parts went through?”
Hannah nodded.
“Caitlyn has no motive. She knows the rules. Sending a nightmare is cause for serious discipline.”
“But Caitlyn has had it in for Hannah from day one,” I argued.
His eyebrows shot up.
Hannah caught my eye and shook her head slowly, so I lightened my tone. “They’ve never been good friends.”
“Not everyone is best friends with his or her roommate.” He sighed. “I’ve never heard of any problems with her. She’s been a model student.”
While I listened to Mr. Robbins, I noticed out of the corner of my eye Hannah had tuned out and was chewing her fingernails.
Suddenly her voice made him stop mid-sentence. Hannah spoke softly, almost to herself. “Reminds me of when my dog got run over by a car.”
Mr. Robbins rested his chin on his fingers. “When was this?”
Hannah looked up. “My ninth birthday.”
“I’m sorry to hear. And what was your dog’s name?”
“Jake.”
Aditi’s mouth fell open. Why hadn’t Hannah mentioned the coincidence before?
He nodded. “Seems likely something in Caitlyn’s dream triggered a memory in your cerebral cortex.”
“But it hasn’t happened to anyone else,” I insisted.
“Don’t be so sure, Autumn.”
Hannah fidgeted. “I think we should go. That had to be it.”
“Come back if this happens again. I don’t want my students affected by nightmares. I may need to give you a break from conveyances if this continues.”
Dream-making could accidentally trigger nightmares? I shuddered. I preferred to think it had to be a malicious act—mean girls I understood. The idea we could be tampering with each other’s brains scared me much more.
****
All my classes were gearing up for semester finals as January came to a close. Like before other tests, most teachers sent dreams to reinforce the course materials. My teachers even used Sundays, typically a night off. Not everything was covered during the academic dreams; therefore, we still had to study hard. But it was always a pleasant surprise to receive one delving deeper into a particular subject.
My weekly Spanish dreams had moved well beyond the simple playground dream. I now received one where I was eating dinner with a large Dominican family. Ana and Nicolás still starred in the dream as two children at the table, but I was learning more complicated interactions as well as many nouns and verbs related to food.
But the best dream by far this month was a language arts dream where I attended an outdoor Shakespearean festival on a warm summer evening, complete with a magnificent sunset and later, fireflies. I watched Julius Caesar, the play we’d studied in class, performed live. But the dream also allowed me to select a second one to watch, just for fun. I chose Romeo and Juliet. Best thing—Ben sat right next to me the entire time.
I had to do well on my final exams because a significant percentage of my grades depended on them, and my parents were impatiently awaiting my first report card. Every time I had spoken with Dad these past few weeks, he’d remind me how my grades would become a permanent part of my record. Good thing I didn’t have Grandpa Clarke’s blood pressure, or I’d probably die from a stress-induced heart attack.
All the extra work was taking a toll on Hannah too. One weekend afternoon during a much-needed break in my room, Hannah opened up to Aditi and me.
“I’m starting to worry about Creative Core,” Hannah muttered.
“What? You’ve been doing great,” I said.
“Until lately. I keep messing up my conveyances. They aren’t going through. Caitlyn’s having a tough time answering my questions.”
“What do you think you’re doing wrong?” Aditi asked.
Hannah shrugged. “Probably too stressed out. It’s nonstop studying lately.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed.
“And Caitlyn’s making it worse.”
I caught Hannah’s eye and gave her a sympathetic smile. “I thought the nightmares stopped.”
“Mostly. But she’s still so mad I accused her of creating that dog nightmare. She’s always mumbling these snide comments.” Hannah gave a half-grin. “Good thing she doesn’t know we spoke to Mr. Robbins. The only time she treats me like a human being is during our dream reviews. She’s not about to let her anger affect her grade.”
“What does Mr. Robbins say in your one-on-ones?” Aditi asked.
“Says it’s normal. As the dreams grow more complex, it can be a struggle to learn more advanced skills, so often the dreams don’t go through in their entirety. And he agrees the stress of finals could be my problem.”
After several more minutes of discussion, Hannah sprang from the bed and started pacing. “Ugh! I’m so frustrated. It’s been so easy until now.” When she caught my eye, she sucked in her breath. “I’m sorry to say it that way, Autumn, but really, I don’t understand what’s changed.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure I’d feel the same if I’d been conveying as well as you.”
“I can’t trust myself anymore,” Hannah explained. “It feels like Caitlyn’s mind is latching on, but my dreams have lost their stickiness.”
“Do you think Caitlyn might be up to something?” I asked.
“Like what? I’m obviously not getting through to her. Maybe I’m not cut out for this dream-making stuff…”
Aditi and I let Hannah continue to vent, but my mind clung onto her last comment. Maybe I was the one not
cut out for dream-making.
Chapter: 28
I raced up the stairs to the second floor of my dorm, careful to avoid falling into the stampede of freshmen and sophomores. My heart pounded, thanks to both anticipation and the unexpected exercise. Two minutes ago, I had been enjoying my Friday night watching TV when a student announced report cards had been sent. Within fifteen seconds, the room had cleared.
Breathing hard, I plopped in front of my computer. The unread message taunted me from the top of my inbox. When I was ready, I held my breath and clicked.
****
February 1 at 5:58 p.m.
Subject: Semester 1 Grades—Dickensen Academy
Joan Rothchild, Dean of Students
To: Autumn Mattison
~*~
Autumn K. Mattison
Year 1—Semester 1
History: A-
Science: A-
Physical Education: A
Spanish 1: A-
Algebra 1: B
Language Arts: A
Creative Core: B-
****
I released the breath I had been holding, thrilled to earn so many As and grateful for the B in algebra. I’d received several Cs during middle school. Too bad I got a B minus in Creative Core. But considering I hadn’t yet conveyed successfully, it was somewhat expected, not to mention I had a couple not-so-stellar marks on my earliest art projects.
An hour later, a classmate knocked on our door. “Autumn, there’s a call for you on line three. Said it’s urgent.”
People seldom called the dormitory phones to reach students. They were typically used for outgoing calls. I jogged to the phone room at the end of the hall. Who could it be? My parents usually waited for my calls. Perhaps it was Drew? When I picked up the phone, my heart skipped a beat when Dad’s critical voice came through the line.
“I received your report card. We need to talk.”
Dread filled my body like wet cement.
“What’s this B minus in Creative Core? I thought it was an art class. An easy A. How the heck did you manage to get a B—make that a B minus?” His voice was on edge like he was about to lose it, which was out of character.
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