Sam Saves the Night

by Shari Simpson

“Absolutely not.” Fletch was the first one to speak. “That is an unacceptable solution.”

  Weezy snorfled. It sounded like an agreement.

  “I know it could be dangerous—” Sam began.

  “Could be?!” Fletch hugged his bundle of electrodes convulsively. Being that this visit to Sam’s house was his first excursion out of the sleep clinic in close to ten years, one could not fault him for bringing along a security blanket of sorts.

  “I’m with Flemkowsky,” said Jax, his mouth set in a straight, grim line. “No bueno.”

  “What other way is there?” cried Sam. “Are you gonna tie down my body and sit by it every night and never sleep again? Don’t you remember what exhaustion does? It makes you a machete-wielding despot!”

  “Don’t use my own words against me, young lady,” Fletch sniffed. “Gandhi would not approve.”

  “Then how else are we going to find out who the mysterious Dr. X is?!”

  “I’ll activate the SSSS!” Fletch got so worked up, his snake hiss was accompanied by a spray of saliva. “We’ll find the rapscallion!”

  “Fletch, that’s gonna take too long. Who knows how many Wakers she’ll send back while you’re all searching? You don’t know what it’s like out there! These people—these kids—we can’t let them be lost again.… Don’t you get it, I have to stop this dude for the sake of the whole nighttime world!”

  Her superhero-worthy speech was met with mulish stares. Frustrated, Sam looked at her mother for help. “Mom?”

  Margie reflexively raised her hand to the right side of her head; luckily there wasn’t enough hair there to pull. “Let’s see if I’ve got this right. You want me to let an angry soul bent on revenge come into our house, steal your body, and walk it to God knows where so your tribe can follow and discover the identity of a madman and hopefully grab your body back before he hooks it up to machines and electrocutes it back to sleepwalking?”

  Sam winced. “Well, yeah, but you don’t have to be so graphic—”

  Jax cut her off. “And you want me to hold on to Mom so she doesn’t go chasing after your body like a mother lion trying to protect her cub.”

  “Yes, but—” Sam attempted.

  “Because you think,” Jax continued, “that I wouldn’t go chasing after you myself? That I would just let you, or your body, whatever, be hurt.”

  “What?” Now Sam was confused. “No, that’s not what I—”

  “Because all those times I came after you in the middle of the night when you were sleepwalking didn’t mean anything.”

  “Jax.” Sam protested. “No—”

  “Because…” Jax sat forward for this one, looking straight at her. “Because the way I treated you during the day made you feel like I didn’t care. I made you feel like you were a burden. A freak. A loser.”

  Sam’s eyes suddenly burned with tears. She wanted to say no again, but the word stuck in her throat.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sam. I know I’m kinda the caboose on the asking-for-forgiveness train, but…” His face was once again that of an eight-year-old boy defending his sister and her relentlessly immature central nervous system. “That thing you said, that the darkness shows who you really are, I hope that’s true, because the guy who chased down his sister in the middle of the night is who I am. Or, at least, who I want to be.”

  Now they couldn’t really look at each other, just clumsily grasp hands.

  “So… I don’t think I can let her take you. I won’t be able to do it. We gotta think of another way.” Jax’s plea was so pained that it effectively shut the door on Sam’s plan.

  “Oh. Sorry to interrupt, the front door was totally wide open.…” Weezy went nuts at the sound of Jaida’s voice, barking joyously and tossing his squat body off the sofa like a pug kamikaze. “Hey, buddy,” she said as he danced in little circles around her feet.

  “My badness,” said Fletch sheepishly. “I left it open in case I needed to run screaming back to the clinic.”

  Margie got up and squashed Jaida in a hug. “You should know, Weezy is crazy about you. He doesn’t get off the couch for just anybody.” Jaida smiled shyly and crouched for some slobbery kisses.

  “S’up, Jaid?” Sam asked, composing herself.

  Jaida kept her focus on Weezy. “Hey. Just wanted to know what happened last night.”

  Sam shot a glance at Fletch and her family. “You got a couple hours?” she asked wryly.

  “Yeah.” Jaida looked up for this. “I do, actually.”

  “Oh.” Sam hoped she didn’t sound as startled as she felt. “Cool.”

  There was an unnatural silence as all the parties looked at one another for clues on what to do next. Sam finally chose to go with the obvious.

  “Wanna take Weezy for a walk with me?”

  The initial awkwardness of being out in public with someone who had threatened to use her guts as a jump rope just a few days earlier was thankfully smoothed over by Weezy’s absurd excitement. Sam and Jaida had to stop numerous times in the first half block for him to scatter-pee or collapse in puggish reverse-sneeze paroxysms. By the time they had gotten to an actual walking rhythm, the words were flowing more freely.

  “But how can you hide a hunting knife in your pajamas?”

  Sam sighed. “Emmy’s a wild card, for sure.”

  Jaida was silent for a moment. “That reminds me… well, it doesn’t really remind me, but it’s kind of about clothes, so… awkward segue… I’m sorry about all the ‘fashesty’ comments.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Sam decided to dive into the deep water. “Can I ask you something?”

  Jaida looked straight ahead, seeming to brace herself. “Yeah. Do it.”

  “Why did you… do you… did you hate me so much? What did I do? ’Cause, you know, I’m not really sharp about this kind of stuff. So, probably it’s just better if you tell me, like, super straight up, if I did something to make you hate me or if you just… hated me all on your own.”

  They walked a full block in silence, broken only by the sound of Weezy’s happy rasps. It was so uncomfortable, Sam had to force herself to not just turn around and run, focusing instead on short-leashing a pug who kept weaving back and forth like a drunken sailor with a corkscrew tail.

  “You didn’t do anything.” Jaida’s voice was so quiet, Sam almost missed it. “Well… I mean, you did do something, but it was actually a nice something. Your first day at school, I dropped my…” Jaida motioned to her fanny pack, now held closed with two safety pins. “… and you picked it up for me. And I thought maybe you saw what was in it, ’cause the zipper was already toast, and I was in a pissy mood ’cause of my dad and…” She blew out a frustrated breath. “You remember doing that?”

  “I don’t.” The well-worn mental video of her encounters with Jaida had already played through in Sam’s head. This memory was not on the tape.

  “Probably ’cause you’re a Helper.” Jaida shot her a sideways glance, with a slight twist of her lips. “You probably do stuff like that constantly.”

  Sam shrugged.

  “Anyway… that’s it. That got me rolling and then I couldn’t seem to quit. So I guess I don’t have any excuses. I’m just mean.”

  “Don’t say that!” Sam was possibly more surprised at her own strong response than Jaida, but she couldn’t help herself. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this whole bizarro experience, it’s that telling people what they are, or who they are, is a crap idea. So, we shouldn’t do it to ourselves, either.”

  Jaida crossed her arms tightly across her chest and stared at the ground. Weezy seemed to sense that she was struggling, and he responded by plopping his chunky behind down on her foot.

  “You saw my dad that night, didn’t you?” Jaida was almost whispering. “The night with the plastic wrap thing.”

  “Yeah.” Sam spoke just as quietly.

  Jaida nodded, swallowed. “He wasn’t always like… how you saw him. He got like that after my mom left.”

&
nbsp; Weezy was panting now, his tongue hanging out so far, he was in danger of stepping on it. Jaida unlocked her arms and crouched down, giving him a drink straight from her water bottle. It was a sight to behold.

  “I’m sorry about your dad. And your mom. That’s a lot.” Sam had to speak slightly louder than she wanted to, because of the slurping noises.

  Jaida glanced up at her. “Yeah, well. Everybody’s got stuff, right?”

  “Yeah.” Everybody’s got stuff.

  Wait.

  Everybody?

  Everybody, including the most perfect girl in the light who was so perfectly evil in the darkness?

  Suddenly it all started to come together in Sam’s head, images and thoughts and sentences—Kyra in her red pajamas slipping further and further into the MeanDreams tribe—there’s power in numbers—Madalynn standing on the steps of Wallace, looking so alone—render her friendless, like she did to you—Bree with her angry invisibility, Zac with his desperate roughhousing, and the sound of Gina’s voice in the skanky bathroom, so afraid that she might end up like Daisy, torn out of her place and drifting away—we take care of things in the darkness, where you can see what’s really going on—I do want to belong—somewhere—

  “Jaida.” Sam knew she must have sounded commanding, because Jaida stood right up, dropping her water bottle. Weezy tried to chase it, unsuccessfully, on his shortened leash. “I need some backstory. About you… and Madalynn.”

  SAM’S SOUL WOKE UP IN her body to the sounds of a heavy rain outdoors, and Weezy’s growls indoors. He was tucked in a sleeping Jaida’s arms and doing a saucer-eyed stare-down of Emmy, who was playing Five-Finger Fillet with her hunting knife on the nightstand. Byron was pacing, but when he saw that Sam was awake and separating from herself, he snatched the knife away. “You sure took long enough to detach, Helper,” he said rather grouchily.

  “And good evening to you, too, Roamer,” Sam retorted, pulling the blanket up over Weezy’s head, then over Jaida’s. Might as well give her a few more minutes of oblivion before the madness starts.

  “Roam’s been super edgy ever since we got here,” said Emmy, punching out a pane of glass from Sam’s window and biting into it. The rain blew in through the open space.

  “Will you knock it off! It’s pouring out!” Byron snatched the glass and tried to replace it, but the rain still dribbled in through the giant bite mark. Emmy sighed dramatically and spit a mouthful of chewed window into the wastebasket.

  “Brah, we know you’re stressin’ your senses about tonight,” Noa drawled. “But Sam’s plan is a righteous one.” He and Alyssa were sitting cross-legged on the desk; the blue-haired girl was wearing a sapphire nightgown that perfectly matched her noggin.

  “Wow, Alyssa,” Sam breathed. “Those pajamas are perfect.”

  “Yay!” Alyssa squealed. “Bright bait for the beige babe!”

  But Byron looked doubtful. “You really think that’s gonna work?”

  “I’m with Mr. Doom on this one. Your plan seems kinda talky.” Emmy pouted. “I think we need more action. How d’ya feel about crossbows?”

  “Don’t worry, Emmy, there’ll be plenty of action,” Sam said, swallowing nervously. “So, everybody’s clear on what they’re doing?”

  “Crystal.” The voice came from the closet, where Dev was lining up Sam’s shoes according to lace length.

  “Oh, hey, Dev?” Sam ventured. “I really hate to mess up your system, but I want to put something on my feet. Just in case…”

  “Nooooo…” moaned Dev, looking at his perfect shoe queue.

  Byron shook his head, now even more agitated. “Madalynn’s not gonna get through us. And there’ll be four people holding on to your body, one of whom is my mother. Have you seen her biceps?”

  “I said, just in case.” Sam very gently extricated a pair of sneakers from Dev’s grasping hands and slipped them onto the feet protruding from the end of the mattress. “You know I totally trust them, and you guys. But Madalynn is… Madalynn.”

  Emmy nodded in agreement. “Can I have my blade back?”

  “No,” Byron said flatly.

  “Yeah, no knives, okay, Emmy?” Sam pleaded. “Just ’cause, you know, there are a couple of people here with stabbable flesh.”

  Emmy sighed dramatically again.

  Alyssa jumped off the desk and clapped her hands excitedly. “Let’s wake up the allergic girl with the butt purse!”

  “Jaida,” Sam supplied. “And it’s called a fanny pack.”

  “Whatever! Her!”

  “Okay. Remember, guys, you’re going to get visible slowly so we don’t completely freak her out.” Sam leaned over the blanketed lumps in the bed.

  “Oh, wait!” Alyssa stuck her hand straight up like she was in a classroom.

  “Um… yes, Alyssa?” Sam felt a little foolish.

  “Is it bad that our tribe doesn’t have a name yet?” Alyssa questioned. “Shouldn’t we have a name when she meets us?”

  “How ’bout the Randoms?” suggested Noa.

  “Now’s not a good time, guys, but, Alyssa, going forward, you’re in charge of fielding suggestions.” On this note of diplomacy, Sam pulled the blanket back gently just from Jaida’s face, leaving Weezy snoring in his muffled tent. “Hey… ready to wake up?”

  Jaida opened her eyes slowly, nodded. Then, with a dawning realization on her face, she turned her head slightly to look at the other Sam, the one sleeping beside her. Jaida looked back and forth between the two Sams for a moment, then shivered.

  “That’s… pretty challenging,” she croaked.

  “Yep. Imagine how I felt the first time I saw her,” Sam said. “So, everybody’s here. Do you want ’em to be visible all at once or one at a time?”

  Jaida sat up. “Just do it all together. Not sure my lungs can take the suspense.” She quickly reached over, grabbed her fanny pack from the nightstand, and held it tightly as if to steel herself.

  “Okay, guys. Really slow,” Sam said to her nameless tribe, then fought back hysterical laughter as they all made the pooping face and slowly materialized for Jaida’s eyes.

  Jaida’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa…” And then by some miracle, her lips curled up in a slight smile. “Hi, everybody.” Her voice was soft and full of amazement.

  The tribe responded with rather shy greetings, except for Alyssa, who squealed, “Howdy, Butt Purse!” and went to hug Jaida around the waist. Sam snagged her just in time. “What? Too soon?”

  “You’ve probably seen Alyssa around Wallace,” Sam said as Alyssa hugged her instead.

  “Yeah. But you sure look… different,” Jaida said.

  “Because I don’t wear pajamas to school, silly,” Alyssa giggled.

  “Uh, yes, that’s definitely why.” Jaida bit her twitching lip.

  “May I?” said Dev as he started rearranging Jaida’s wavy hair.

  “That’s Devon,” Sam said to the startled girl. “He’s an OCDeed.”

  “Ah,” Jaida murmured as Dev gently corkscrewed her bangs. “Got it.”

  “And that’s Noa, and Emmy.” Sam pointed to the two Wakers, who had quickly digressed into a somewhat violent round of Thumb Wars. “And… Byron.” The Roamer still looked fairly surly, but managed a small wave.

  “So… you guys are actually all asleep right now? In your beds?” Jaida shook her head in wonder, accidentally dislodging one of Dev’s spirals. “I just can’t. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” Sam gazed at her tribe, realizing how quickly she’d gotten used to seeing their hovering souls. They filled the night with life, with promise. Did the real world, the world of bodies with souls firmly entrenched, the world of Laters and those who slept soundly, did they realize what was swirling around them in the darkness?

  “Are we ready?” Byron still sounded anxious and irritable.

  Sam forced herself out of her reverie. “Jaida, will you take Weezy and go wake up my mom and everybody else?”

  “Sure.” Ja
ida got out of bed and gently extracted the drowsy pug from the covers. Crossing to the bedroom door, she stopped and looked at Sam. “Good luck, ’kay?” Weezy sneezed his blessing. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Sam nodded. “There’s an umbrella by the front door.” She choked up suddenly, barely getting the word “door” out. Who would have ever guessed that Jaida would be her partner in busting up a clique? Her former enemy ducked her head and disappeared quickly into the hallway, obviously overcome as well.

  She knew that Byron was fretting, but Sam had to take a minute to look down at her sleeping self. She remembered how frightening and otherworldly it had been the first time she’d experienced this SleepWaker thing, the strangeness of observing her own face as if in a warped mirror. Now that she knew how to be solid, she was able to touch the face of Sleeping Sam, push her choppy bangs to one side, feel the warmth of her flesh and blood. Knowing that someone was going to try to cross into her skin tonight made her feel protective, like a mother sending her child into unknown danger. Sam quickly bent over and kissed her own forehead.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Noa and Alyssa looked at her with compassion. Emmy gave her an arm punch that was almost gentle. Dev tenderly adjusted the laces on Sleeping Sam’s shoes so that the loops were symmetrical.

  “You know what would be super cool?” Alyssa bubbled. “Let’s hold hands!”

  The tribe “awww”-ed. Except for one.

  “That’s a little Clutchy for me,” grumbled Byron.

  “Hey, crab apple,” Emmy said. “Read the room.” Truthfully, the rest of the tribe were giving him some pretty grimy looks.

  “Fine! Fine, we’ll hold hands.” Byron crankily stuck out his to Dev, who was busily applying hand sanitizer. “You see this? Souls don’t have germs! I can’t work with this!”

  “You don’t know that,” Dev protested. “Are you a cosmic microbiologist? Huh?”

  “That’d be a sweet video game. Cosmic Microbiologist,” mused Noa.

  Alyssa started chanting. “Cos-mic, Cos-mic, Mic-cro-biol-igist…”

  “Cosmic germs are for wimps,” stated Emmy as she grabbed Dev’s hand sanitizer and drank it.