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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] linked by death. Your death." "What?!" Drea asks. "What are you saying?" "Just be careful," I say. "Be careful of any gifts or packages you receive." "What does that mean? I'm going to get a gift and there's going to be a bomb inside?" "Drea . . . " I don't want to say it, but it has to be said, and so I just do. "I think someone might be trying to kill you." "What?!" So loud and breathy that it almost extinguishes the candle flame. "The recurring nightmare I've been having. . . it's a premonition. About you." -Me?" 63 "I've had them before. Three years ago. About Maura, the little girl I used to baby-sit." I look away. I don't want to continue don't want to admit what happened, even though it haunts me every day. BecattE it haunts me every day. "In the nightmares, she was trapped in a shed. A crammed, dark shed with cracked cement walls. I could see her, her 3 ack toward me, lying on a bench, sort of curled up like she was asleep. But she was scared. I could feel how scared she was, like I was living it in a way. And for weeks I had these horrible, aching headaches." Drea clutches her pillow. I can tell she believes me. She reaches into her fridge and hands me a fresh can of soda. "Thark you," I say. It's just what I need. The artificial sweetness stings the inside of my mouth like icy cold Pop Rocks. as the dreams went on," I continue, "I was tempted to do something, to tell the police, but it just sounded so stupid in my head. So stupid because when you looked outside, there was Maura, playing on her swings, clothes-pinning cards to the spokes of her bike to make that motoring sound. So I just told myself it was a dumb dream, and soon it would pass." 'And what happened?" Drea asks. I bite my lip to steady the shake, and then I just say it. "Someone took her. She was gone." "What do you mean, gone?" Amber asks. "I mean gone. Missing." I wipe the drizzle from the corner of my eyes. "Where?" 64 The words about what happened have been building up inside my head for a couple years now, and I know I have to tell them. I've read the books. I've heard the experts on Oprah. If I want to make the horrible thing seem less horrible, less powerful and controlling in my life, I need to face it and tell it to others. As horrible as the memory is, I know it's so much worse just festering inside my head. I take a deep breath in, exhale for three full beats, and then finally say it. -Maura was killed." "What? How?" Amber asks. I feel the tears drip down the creases of my face. -They found her body in a tool shed just two blocks from our neighborhood. It was this psycho guy who did it. They caught him pretty quickly. People had seen him around. Apparently he used to watch her every morning when her mother walked her to school." -Yeah, but it wasn't your fault," Amber pipes. -You couldn't have known. I mean, how many people take their dreams that seriously? Plus, you said you saw her in some shed. You didn't see who took her. Or where the shed was exactly. It probably wouldn't even have helped." I made up excuses like that when it happened, but excuses don't take away anything, especially blame. I wasn't the one to make those kinds of judgments, to say that my dreams probably wouldn't have helped. Maybe they would have saved Maura's life. 'Anyway" I breathe, -now I'm having nightmares about Drea." "So, is Chad still gonna ask me out someplace and then cancel?" 65 I nod and wipe at my face. "Probably the next time you talk to him." Amber rests a hand on Drea's back to comfort her. I can tell Drea's scared. I'm scared too. Scared for Drea. Scared that history will repeat itself. I mean, sure, my mother was there to comfort me after Maura's death, was there to wrap her arms around my shoulders and try and make the shaking stop, but she just didn't understand the way Gram would have. She didn't understand the nightmares or guilt. Or why, being her daughter, I was so much like Gram in the first place. I take a deep breath, unscrew the bottle of lavender oil, and pour two drops into the mixing pot. "To purity and to clarity" I say. "This spell is to help make my dreams more clear, so I can predict the future before it happens." I unclasp the sterling silver chain from around my neck and dip it into the oil. With a finger, I spiral it around the bottom of the pot three times, making sure it gets fully submerged. "What does that do?" Amber asks. -The color silver will help give me insight as I travel in the astral." "Sounds kinky" Amber says. "The astral is our dreams." I close my eyes and concentrate on it. "Silver chain, as each link binds the next and forms a string around my neck, so may the links of my psychic dreams bind to unify the visions of my subconscious mind." I open my eyes and, with the yellow crayon, write the question WHAT ARE MY NIGHTMARES TRYING TO WARN ME? across Drea's diary page. "Yellow is for clarity of thought," I say, folding the page up into a palm 66 sized square and slipping it into the pencil case that I use for a dream bag. I glance a moment at Drea, at the dark, grayish aura that cloaks her hair and shoulders. "What's that?" Amber asks, pointing at the branch of rosemary. I pick up the sprig, its fresh, pointed needles like a Christmas tree branch. "This will help purify the energy around me so I can remember." I pluck twenty-eight needles from the branch, the number of days in a moon's full cycle, and sprinkle them into the pot. "Rosemary, hold strong my dreams all full of wonder, as I lay me down to slumber." I concentrate on the mixture and then pull the silver necklace from the pot. "Will you help me?" I hand the necklace to Drea and gesture for her to fasten it. The chain hangs around my neck at the collarbones, the lavender oil drooling down my skin, a few stray rosemary needles at my throat. "So, are we done?" Amber asks. -Not quite," I say, diffusing the candle with a snuffer. "Why don't you blow it out?" Amber asks. "Because that would confuse the energies and cause a negative backlash." "Oh, yeah, right," Amber says, rolling her eyes. I mix the oil and rosemary in the pot with my fingers, and then pour the mixture into the dream bag. I wait a few seconds for the candle to cool a bit, for the pool of liquid wax around the wick to solidify. Then I scoop the clump out and plant it inside the dream bag. 'And you said / had weird habits," Amber says. 67 I zip the bag back up and slide it into my pillowcase. "Repeat after me," I say, clasping their hands. "With the strength of the moon and stars and sun, as I do, it shall be done. Blessed be the way!" Drea and Amber repeat the chant and we unclench hands. I lay down in bed and touch the silver chain around my neck, the sweet, flowery smell of rosemary lingering on my skin and the nubs of my fingers. "Good night," I say. I pull the covers up to my chin and concentrate on the dream bag inside my pillow and the question inside, confidant that they will soon help reveal the truth behind my nightmares. They have to. 68 Nine_ Before I'm able to nod off to sleep, Amber announces she's crashing in our room, claiming that all my nightmare-talk has wigged her out. I'm nervous at first. It's hard enough trying to hide my bedwetting from Drea, never mind Amber, who'll be sleeping on a futon wedged in between our beds. But sleeping isn't even an issue because as soon as her head skims the pillow, Amber starts snoring--chestheaving, wide-mouthed, nostril-flaring snores. 69 When the alarm clock vibrates beneath my pillow, alerting me that it's 5 A.M., I sit up, fish a sweatshirt from the growing pile of dirty clothes on the floor, yank it over my head, and head out to the laundry room to retrieve my stuff. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |