Sombre

  Did she think her mother actually disliked her? No. Her mother and sister had lots more in common with each other, sure, but Hope knew her mother loved her - just didn’t fully understand who she was. It felt a little distant. Rightly or wrongly, it was the opinion that Hope was more work than Kate. Either her mother didn’t have the time - or couldn’t make the time – one or the other.

  School was only a minute away. Hope pulled at her fingers, one by one. Rubbed her hands up and down her legs, then proceeded to pull at them again.

  How was she going to approach Parker? Hope as Halliday was every bit the superior to Colonel Em Contusion in Sombre. Hope was a friendless nobody in school. There was a big part of her that almost preferred it as well. She hated real life drama. Friends brought drama by the bucket load. Flying under the radar at a place like Centurion, and Pento for that matter, until she graduated, could be good.

  Her mother pulled to the curb and killed the volume on the radio. She turned and lowered her sunglasses, “I’ve made an appointment for you with a sleep guy, Hope. Tonight, after school - I’ll be picking you up before last period.”

  “What? Why!?” Hope said stunned. This was the last thing she expected.

  “What do you mean? I thought it was pretty obvious. I do listen to you, Hope. I’m your mother and I am concerned about your lack of sleep! You are a teenager. You are growing and you need good sleep – this is the logical next step.”

  Evelyn flipped the vanity mirror down and checked her lips with a pout. “His name is Doctor Marin. He’s bitchingly expensive. But after having you fall asleep at the party on Sat-”

  “Jesus, Kate! I told you not to tell her!”

  “Sorry, what?” Kate pulled a headphone out of her left ear.

  “On Saturday! I told you not to tell mum!” Hope fumed.

  “Oh yeah … well, I did,” she shrugged, stuffed the earpiece back in again and went back to her music.

  “Anyway, Hope, be ready to come to the office, around 2 o’clock. This guy is also a psychologist. He’ll be able to tell us if it’s the hormones or nerves with you. Regardless, you’re having a bad time at this stage of your life. I was having a ball at fifteen. I’m not saying you need to be me …”

  “I’ll never be you,” Hope said folding her arms petulantly. This sort of thing really pissed her off. This is how her mother did things – no discussion, just action, like it or not. “You didn’t think to ask me?”

  “Well, no. I thought you’d be happy about it actually!” Evelyn snapped. She took a breath and shut her eyes. “He’s the best, Hope. Your father and I think you need it. Anyway, no more discussion, just be ready. Out you get.” The indicator was already on.

  Without another word, Hope got out. Her mother drove off.

  Then came the chaos.

  S

  Head full of what going to a sleep specialist might possibly mean for her other existence as Halliday Knight, Hope dragged her heels toward the front gate.

  The kid came from nowhere.

  “Ow! Whatchhhh!” Hope squealed. Bent over, in a stumbling run, the boy ploughed into her stomach headfirst and they both fell to the ground. Hope would have hit her head on the concrete had it not been for her bag at her back. She rolled awkwardly onto her side.

  The kid was screaming - no, howling in pain. Laid out flat, his chest heaving, white shirt bloodstained. Hope saw his mouth straight away. He was howling through a bloody mess of sliced up lips. His cheeks were purple and black with bruises, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Was he going to die?

  A crowd formed, shouts of ‘Help!’ ‘Someone! Get someone!’ ‘Is she alright?’ ‘’What’s wrong with him? He came out of – god! Shit!’ ‘Isn’t that Jerry?’ ‘Jesus, its Jerry Cowle! What happened?’ ‘Quick! Here’s a teacher!’ ‘Call 911!’

  Hope was pulled to her feet by two senior girls. “God, are you alright? Why did he hit into you girl? Do you know him?”

  “No,” was all Hope could say, shaking, rubbing her elbow. She gaped down at the guy wailing through his bleeding, mutilated mouth – everyone did. “Jerry Cowle! Hang in there son, help’s on the way!”

  Teachers and security swooped on the area.

  Still in shock, Hope could only stare at the boy. His sweaty hair was the same shade as her own, he had a strong brow and stronger cheek bones – although the cheekbones could just have been elongated from all the yelling.

  Then she saw it.

  Beyond the bleeding, Jerry’s face was the sickly yellow.

  S

  Still in shock, Hope sat on a bench in the schools infirmary. The only thing keeping her from having a complete meltdown was the erratic presence of another.

  A very out of sorts’ art teacher, Ms. Copeland, slung open cupboards and slammed them shut. Hope had never had her for any of her classes. She was a small woman but seemed very fiery. “Not a great day for the schools nurse to be off is it! Shit! Where does she keep anything in here?”

  Hope went to get off the bench, “Seriously, the elbow’s just a scratch. W-We could leave it. I’ll just dab it with a tissue.”

  On her knees, head deep in another cupboard, Ms. Copeland shot the idea down quick. “No, school policy is that any wound gets dressed properly, Hope. That’s your name isn’t it? I’ll have to fill out a damn report as well. Ah! Here it is - the Povidone!” She stood and held the small bottle up like a trophy, “God that was hard work. What a mess this place is. Show me your arm.”

  Hope lifted her elbow and the teacher dabbed the cut with a cotton ball drenched in the brown solution. She looked Hope in the eyes. “Are you a friend of Jerry Cowle?”

  “No, not at all,” Hope said shutting her eyes as a vision of Jerry’s yellow bleeding face and mangled mouth invaded her headspace again.

  “You’re new and he’s a senior. I wouldn’t have thought so,” the teacher agreed, “he ran straight for you?”

  “Just unlucky I guess.”

  “Ha! You’re telling me! Someone’s done a number on that kid. I wonder what trouble he’s got himself into,” she said with a tremor in her tone as she smoothed a small plastic bandage over the elbow. “This will be fine. That’s waterproof.”

  “Will he be okay?” Hope said grabbing her bag from the floor.

  “I suppose he will. It looks like he’s copped a beating from a gang or something. Best not to speculate, the police have been called - and his parents. Scary …” the teacher’s expression said it all. This wasn’t normal. Not for a high school.

  “I got to get to class. Thank you for the bandage.”

  Hope left. In minutes she was pushing the door open to her classroom.

  All eyes were on her as she made her way to a desk toward the front.

  “Hello Hope, are you alright?” said Mr. Daley, her Math teacher. “That was nasty. Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He repeated.

  There were plenty of whispers and curious looks. She nodded, feeling every bit the leper on parade. She sat down quick and pulled her math book out. Someone coughed a “Freak!” from the back.

  “Right! Who said that!” Mr. Daley almost spat.

  The room was silent. The burley teacher walked toward the back of the room. “Do you have something else to say, Burrows!”

  “It wasn’t me!” Came the typical reply. Hope wasn’t watching the exchange.

  “Grow up, all of you,” he addressed the whole back row of desks. “A student is in hospital with serious injuries and a member of your own class has had a terrifying time. Show some sympathy! Next smart-mouthed comment gets two hours with me tonight.”

  The class settled and Mr. Daley restarted the lesson.

  Hope shrank in her seat.

  S

  It was a nice day, regardless of how it started out. A light warm breeze brushed Hope’s cheeks as she sat with her back against a tree and ate her lunch - egg and lettuce on rye and one of her father’s Health &Co apple and pecan muesli bars. She sipped from her bottled water and watched the
school from her vantage point - an unpopulated area of Centurion’s grounds, not far from the teacher’s parking lot.

  Now this Jerry Cowle person had somehow been touched by Sombre, she was certain of it. The notion was ridiculous - Sombre was her nightmare world – nothing more than that. She pictured his butchered mouth and the yellow in his face. Had anyone else seen the yellow? Why had he come crashing into her? Too coincidental to say the least.

  “Oh, geez,” Hope cleared her throat and sat bolt upright as the tall, strawberry blond headed figure of Parker Wright suddenly came round the corner - looking far worse than last she saw her, it had to be said. She seemed to be limping, dressed down in black jeans and a white t-shirt, long hair hanging, as if she hadn’t bothered touching it after her shower. The yellow was in her face. From this distance, it looked like the remnants of an almighty bruise.

  “What in the hell is going on?” Parker seethed as she got closer. “I’m injured? I went to sleep and now I’m injured!”

  Hope peered up as Parker stood over her. She fidgeted with her glasses and shifted her weight on the ground.

  Nerves hit her stomach – lunch was over – she bagged the rest of her sandwich.

  “That happens in Sombre … a lot.” She looked at Parker’s purple trainers – she realized the cheerleader could kick her in the face from this vantage point. She moved to one side just in case.

  Seconds passed and nothing was said.

  The older girl sat down and crossed her legs. Hope couldn’t meet Parker’s eyes.

  “Look at me ghost. Look at my face. I look like shit!”

  Hope swallowed and nodded. “That’s what happens. I’m always tired, and depending on what Halliday does-”

  Parker cut her off. “What? You get to be Halliday - that cute warrior girl with the horse? Ho! Oh shit, isn’t that a switch!” She shook her head, and raised her eyes, “and I’m that ugly thing with the dead looking face.”

  Hope fidgeted with her glasses. “Ah, yeah. In Sombre, you’re Colonel Em Contusion, a Hell-Flyer. I’m Halliday Knight – a Gatherer.” Finally saying this out loud to someone in real life felt more than a little surreal. She was finally talking about her nightmare world with another human; a human who went there as well.

  Parker rubbed her shin. “I’ll have to miss cheer practice for this, ghost.” She gave Hope an accusing look. “In some fucked up round-about sort of way, I think this has to be your fault. I’m nothing to you, and you’re nothing to me. I can’t work it out?”

  Biting her bottom lip, Hope spoke to this scary girl, “Something is happening. I thought I was the only person who went to Sombre … ah, dreamt of it.” She shut her eyes, “I don’t know how I’ve ended up there either.”

  Parker got to her feet gingerly. “We can’t start hanging out. That’s not going to happen, ghost.”

  Hope gave a nervous cough at the mere mention of such a thing. “I-It’s okay, we don’t have to.” Clearing her throat, she stated, “But my name is Hope. Can you please stop calling me ghost?”

  “Fair enough,” the cheerleader said raising her eyebrows. “What was with Jerry Cowle this morning? I heard he ploughed into you and he’d been beat up?”

  “His mouth was cut up pretty bad, he had blood all over his shirt,” Hope confirmed.

  “I heard that too.”

  Hope wasn’t going to bring up the Sombre-yellow in Jerry’s face just yet. Everything was still too fresh. It was as if they had both just lifted the corner of a bandage on a massive wound, they both shared – the wound was Sombre – an unreal place they went to in their sleep and somehow existed in. Both only wanted to take a peak, just to see how big and bad it all might be. There was so much to say. Now wasn’t the right time to say it.

  She began pulling her fingers.

  Parker eyed her compulsion but said nothing.

  “He’s a bit of a smart ass. I went to grade school with him. He’s obviously pissed off the wrong person – never heard of anything like that happening in Pento - Upper or Lower.”

  “Hmm,” Hope said and nodded.

  “So, I’m flying planes in my sleep?”

  “Yes. You’re a Hell-Flyer.” Hope picked her rubbish up off the ground. “I think you crash a lot.”

  “Already have … didn’t kill me though,” Parker said as she turned and scanned the school ground. “See you ghost, oh sorry - Hope. Don’t follow me. Give me a minute to leave. Remember, we’re not hanging out.”

  Hope looked down at the ground. “Right, okay …”

  The first bell rang to end lunch. She screwed her rubbish from her half-eaten sandwich up in her hands and cracked open the wrapper on her muesli bar. She took a bite and watched as Parker hobbled around the corner of the school building.

  She smiled.

  CHAPTER 14

  The Sleep Guy

  Hope’s mother had opted to wait outside in the lounge of the Marin Sleep Centre.

  This was something that made Evelyn Kelley uncomfortable. The unknown. She could talk boys, pimples, clothes and gloss over Hope’s schoolwork. But not this.

  File this under a purchase of a ‘something’ - a ‘something’ that needed to be fixed - she had to pay someone to get that fix to happen. As Hope shut the door to the office, she had the distinct impression her mother thought she would just go in and come back out, walking and talking like a completely other person.

  “So, Hope. Please explain to me what happens to us when we go to sleep, eh?” Doctor Marin sat cross legged in a high-backed, brown leather armchair; he sipped a powerfully red-looking herbal tea. He owned a full head of blond-greying hair, unsettling sideburns. Hope noticed he pursed his lips a lot. She thought him a Southern Californian, a-typical, professional idiot. There seemed to be quite a lot of them; her dad dealt with a lot of them – she wondered if Evan Kelley would become one.

  “Well I go to sleep like everyone does. I just wake up super tired,” she answered cagily.

  “And do we remember our dreams, Hope?” He jotted something down on the pad on his lap.

  “No. I never can. I’m sure I have them.” (This wasn’t completely untrue – she rarely remembered her rite of passage nightmare.) “I’m a bit of a lost-cause I’m afraid. I know my mother is paying you well for this …” She re-crossed her legs the other way and eyed the diploma on the wall. He went to Berkeley, she observed. That was impressive at least.

  “Yes, well, the important thing is that we get to the core of our problem, Hope, is it not?”

  “Ok.”

  “So, what kind of sleep disorder do we actually have? We don’t sleep well. All sorts of things can affect our sleep. We are fifteen, aren’t we?” He pursed his lips together again, and for a moment Hope thought he actually kissed the air. She tried desperately to not giggle. Dr Marin’s affectation was getting quite over the top.

  “Ah… yeah, fifteen.”

  “How is life for Hope Kelley? Our friends, our school, have we any worries? We haven’t been in Pento very long, have we?” He sipped his tea and made an even wetter kissing sound than before.

  The laugh was almost out of her mouth. She managed to stifle it with a clearing of her throat. This guy was too much! She looked away at the door of the office. Her mother was wasting her money. “Yeah, well, I’m a teenager. I have the usual worries I suppose. I don’t have heaps of friends.”

  He nodded. “That can be hard, Hope. But I feel we are being overly general here. That is fine, we have only just met. But I would like to think that we will learn to trust each other over these sessions.”

  “How often do I need to come here?” Hope darkened and swore under her breath. She didn’t need this in her life at all.

  “We need to establish which way to tackle the issue. We need to sleep well, everyone does. We may need to monitor our sleeping patterns. I would like to try and avoid medication at this point. Cognitive therapy will be best in a girl your age. Your mother tells me we have been exhausted, we’re falling asleep at part
ies? We can’t have that can we?”

  She looked Doctor Marin in his enquiring eyes and searched for something to say. There wasn’t much she could say. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been found passed out on the grass like a sad, drunken minor. That happened. From now on she would have to find a way to not let Sombre affect her waking life. As big a pompous twit as she found this guy, he was getting paid and he meant business. Having sleep therapy could be very confronting. She had no idea what her body did as she slept and ventured in Sombre - but the aftermath would generally allude to something pretty wild. She’d woken upside down, on the floor, no covers, buried way under the covers, on her feet facing her bedroom door.

  Doctor Marin filled the silence. “Anyway, we have met. I have a small sense of who we are.” He took another sip of his tea, and kiss-wiped his mouth. “So, to finish up, I’ll run through a check list.”

  S

  “Can I not go there again please?” Hope sat in the passenger side staring hard at the glove compartment. She had just endured an exhaustive and somewhat embarrassing final checklist that queried everything from whether she had wet the bed to whether her menstruation cycle had recently changed. All of these things could affect sleep, apparently. None of this had anything to do with her sleep, though.

  “Well I’ve made another appointment. I thought this would help you!” her mother said shrilly. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she took a deep breath, “God, I’d love a cigarette.” She faced her daughter, “I’d still love one, Hope, just occasionally, you know.”

  “Dad would divorce you,” Hope said and smiled. She liked it when her mother showed her vulnerable side. The over the top, trying too hard to be a socialite bravado that Hope found so painful, was peeled away every so often. In Hope’s eyes, this was the more likable Evelyn Kelly. She thought she would have liked to have known this Evelyn Kelly back when she was Hope’s age. Real. Why couldn’t everyone in her life just be real? They all seemed to be trying so hard.