Blue Is for Nightmares (16 page)

"Is that you?"

The noise stops.

"This isn't funny, you know" I half-e-expect to find him in one of the rooms with some clich6d iddea of romance--like a candlelit picnic or a room full of d'Thiaisies--even though we've mutually decided to keep thinolo-....s platonic. I jam my hand between my legs and slowly beg;in down the hallway, the rubber soles of my yellow sneakers squeaking slightly against the wooden floor.

There are four doors to choose frork-n, two on each side. I decide to head toward the one closest to me on the right. It has the largest archway, and from this angle, I can already see through to an empty corner. I take two steps forward, then stop, hearing a board creak somewhere in front of me.

"Stacey?" a voice whispers.

And then the light goes out.

I hobble back in the direction of t:he main door-frame, my fingers practically pinching closed-.I the folds of skin between my legs. With my other hand, I pat along the walls, making my way back down the hallway plank by plank, so I can guide my way out. But it's like2 the hallway doesn't end, just keeps going on and on.

What is wrong? Why am I not mit yet? Why haven't I even made it back into the front roornI?

Twenty-six planks of wood later, I stop looking for the entryway. Instead, desperate, I assess the gaps between the wooden planks. About six inches wide. I poke my arm all the way through a gap and feel the wind fly through my fingers. Freedom is on the other side, I'm sure of it. And if I can squeeze my body through, I will be back outside, in the forest, and can make my way back to campus.

Footsteps make their way down the hallway toward me. I take a deep breath, suck my belly in, and push, shoulder- first, into the gap. I angle my head sideways to fit; jut my pelvis forward; kick my leg through. But it's no use. The planks of wood pinch into my ribs where my bones and flesh won't budge. There's no doubting it now--I'm trapped inside.

A phone rings from one of the rooms.

"It's for you, Stacey" says a voice.

The voice.
Him.
And it's so close to me, like just beyond my fingertips.

"Better get it," he says.

Nine rings, ten.

"Get the phone, Stacey!"
he yells, as though through clenched teeth.

I walk toward the scream of the phone, the sting below my abdomen reminding me I have to pee.

"Getting warmer."

The sound of the ringing grows louder with each step. My arm outstretched, I walk in search of the phone, my other hand still squelching the pee back. I step through an opening and a light comes on. A spotlight--hanging down

from one of the roof planks. It illuminates a pay phone on the wall directly in front of me. And still ringing.

"It's for you, Stacey" the voice repeats.

I pick up the receiver and feel my lower half release--my pants fill up with warm and wet.

"Hello?" I whisper, trying to make it sound as though I'm not crying, not feeling sorry for myself, not scared half to death.

"Hello to you, Stacey," he says. "Time's almost up. Only two more lilies left in our bouquet."

"Who is this?"

"Love is funny, Stacey. Didn't you know that?" I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. He's right behind me.

I swirl around and meet his eyes with mine. "I can't believe it," I whisper. "It's you."

tw-cnty-one_

I sit up with a gasp.

-Stace?"

I blink my eyes and look around. I'm still in my room. Still in my white tank top and Drea's pajama bottoms. And Chad is still beside me, in my bed.

I shift slightly, to check if I really wet myself.

I did.

The clock reads 6:15 A.M. We slept for over four hours.

"Did you have a bad dream?" He Os up and wipes at his eyes.

I know I saw the stalker's face in rnl dream. But now, sitting up in bed, the rush of reality all a.ound me, I just can't remember it.

"You should go," I say.

But he doesn't move.

"Please." I shake Chad's hand from my shoulder. "Hey," he says. "Why are you acting so scared of me?" "I'm not. Just go.
Go!"

"Is this about what happened last night? Because--" "Nothing happened last night," I srap.

"Not nothing," he says.

It's quiet between us for several seconds. I clench my teeth and feel an ache in my jaw.

"How about everything we talked about?" he asks. "You know, if things were different--"

"Well, they aren't," I say.

"I guess that's just it," he says. "I'll wait until they are, if that's cool with you. Because last niglIt wasn't just nothing for me."

I hate him for being so perfect. I hate that he cares and that I care back. I hate sitting here, having to beg him to leave so I can clean up the mess.

"You don't have to say anything," he continues. "I just wanted you to know that."

I gather the covers around my legs, feeling the warmth in my pants, feeling the tears storm down my cheeks.

'Are you cold?" He removes the covers from his middle and places them over me.

I nod, squishing the comforter over my lap. "Please go, Chad."

"I don't want to leave with you upset."

"Go!" I plead. "Leave me alone."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't care about you," I spout. A deadly stinger.

Chad sinks back in his chest from the blow. "I don't believe you," he says, after a pause. His voice is all scratchy, like I've made him bleed from the inside out.

He stands up from the bed and looks away to hide his face. His body looks tired, defeated, like I could crumple it up into a paper ball and toss it away.

He bends down to put on his shoes and that's when Drea comes in.

Dreal

I watch the smile on her face melt. She studies the picture of Chad and me: Chad, reaching for a sneaker, his clothes from yesterday hanging in a giant wrinkle on his body, and me, still lying in bed. She looks from his bed-head hair to the pant leg, stuck up around one knee.

"Drea--" he says.

She turns to me, a cupful of coffee and a wax paper bag slipping from her grip, landing splat against the floor. "I brought you breakfast."

I open my mouth to say something, but all the words that come to mind--this isn't what it looks like, it was an accident, we fell asleep--sound completely pathetic.

"Drea, before you freak out--" Chad takes a step toward her, exposing the side of his face with the bed-ruffle imprint.

"Don't speak to me!" she says.

"Drea--" I begin.

"How could you do this to me?" she shouts.

"Nothing happened," I say.

"She's right," Chad says. "Nothing happened. I came over to study and we fell asleep."

"No wonder why you didn't answer rrry calls last night." "What?"

"Don't act all innocent with me. I tried to call you last night, like I said I would, but you wouldn't answer. Too busy, I guess."

I look toward the night table, but the phone isn't there. I

glance around and spot the cord sticking out from beneath a pile of dirty clothes. "Drea, I didn't hear it ring." "Fuck you!" she says, her eyes welling up with tears. "Drea, we were studying and fell asleep."

"Right. Amber warned me about this, about how much you like him."

Ouch! Did Amber really tell her that?

"Come on, Dray" Chad says, "let's not make this bigger than it is. I called here because I have this massive physics test tomorrow--I mean, today--"

"I guess you didn't have a problem hearing his call," she says.

'Anyway," Chad continues, "I thought that maybe you guys would be pulling an all-nighter. But then Stacey told me that that freak was pranking her and she couldn't sleep. So I told her I'd come over and we could study"

"How thoughtful of you," she says.

"What's wrong with that?" Chad says.

"Fuck you, too."

"How about this, Drea," he says, "when you're finished with your tantrum, give me a call." He grabs his cap off the night table and tugs it over his bed-head.

"Don't hold your breath."

"Look," he says, "Stacey is a friend of mine and if that bothers you--"

"What?!"

"It's not like we're still going out," he says. "We're all just friends."

"You're no friend," she says. "Neither of you." She turns her back on us to fish into her mini-fridge. She takes out a half-eaten bar of chocolate and tears down the wrapper.

There's a knock on the door. "Girls?"

Madame Discharge.

"There's a lot of noise coming from your room," she says. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Drea says.

"Is Stacey okay?"

Chad looks around for someplace to hide, but it's useless; the closets are stuffed to maximum capacity, and there's no way he's getting under my bed.

"I should let you fry" Drea whispers to him.

"I'm fine, Ms. LaCharge," I call. "I'm just getting dressed."

"Well, I need to come in for a sec," she says.

Chad looks at me one last time before booting it out the window. Two seconds later, Drea opens the door. Madame Discharge looks around the room--her tiny gray eyes swallowed up by a pair of clunky, red glasses. "What's all the noise?"

!"1111111111 I I I I I I I I I I I
'75

"We were just arguing about whether or not I should cut my hair," Drea says.

"Oh?" Madame Discharge visually .assesses Drea's locks. "Yeah, a little pixie might be cute on you." She scratches at the thought, her finger rubbing over aLt least five chin hairs.

"We really need to get dressed." I add a pillow to the pig- pile of bedding on my lap and a wave of Chad's cologne swims across my face.

"Okay" Madame says. "Just keep it down. We've had a few complaints about you two."

"We will, Ms. LaCharge. Thank you." Drea closes the door behind her.

"Drea--" I begin.

"Don't!"

"You can't just not talk to me," I say.

"Why can't I?"

"Because we're friends."

"Friends don't shit on one another."

"You don't believe me that nothing happened?"

"Oh, I believe it." She stands at the foot of my bed with her arms folded. "But not because you didn't want something to happen."

"What are you saying?" I press my thighs together, feeling the dampness of her pajamas stick against my skin.

"I'm saying that you lied to Chad about getting prank calls last night, so he'd feel sorry for- you and come over here."

"That's not what happened."

"Then what
did
happen?" She flips up the end of the covers, exposing my bare feet.

"Nothing. We already told you that." I kick the covers back down as best I can, feeling now, more than ever, imprisoned in this bed until everyone leaves.

"Did you kiss him?"

"Drea

"Did you?"

I know it's weak, that it will come back to me threefold, but right now, I'll take it. I just want to be left alone. "No," I say, finally.

"Liar." She tosses her candy bar down on the bed. "What else did you do with him?" She grabs the end of the comforter and peeks underneath.

"No, Drea! Please, don't!"

Drea raises an eyebrow at my response. "What am I not supposed to see?" She yanks the comforter from my legs and the pillows go flying.

'Aren't those
my
pajamas?"

Tears slide down the sides of my face as I wait for her to notice. And when she does, it's even more humiliating than I ever imagined.

"You wet the bed?"

"Drea--" I cry, trying to cover my lap with my hands. "Please... don't tell anyone."

"Oh my god!" She looks like she doesn't know whether to gag or guffaw.
"You wet the bed!"

I bury my face into the pillow, ostrich-style, as though she won't be able to see me, as though I will just disappear.

twettr-two

Why did I decide to come to school today? How in the world am I supposed to take a physics test after everything that happened last night?

Question number one already has way too many variables. How am I supposed to know what the W of a brick equals under G conditions when I didn't even know bricks had Was or experienced Gs in the first place? I look up from my scrabble of letters at Chad, seated three seats in front of me to the right. I wonder if he knows about the bedwetting, if Drea's already told him.

I try to blink him out of my mind and instead concentrate on last night's nightmare. On the stalker's face. I know I recognized who it was, but now, fully awake, my memory of the face is just gone. I need to go back to the dorm and try to get it back somehow.

The bell rings and that's my cue. I scribble my name across the top so the teacher knows who to give the big fat zero to, hand it in first, and dart out the door. But, unfortunately, I'm not quick enough. Chad stops me about two doors down the hallway.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, mussing a hand through his hair. "I mean, what happened between you and Drea."

"It's no big deal."

"Yeah it is and you know it."

I look away, wondering what he'd think of me if he knew my secret, if he'd still feel the same way.

"Has Drea said anything to you?" I ask. "I mean, is she talking to you?" I focus a moment on his lips, remembering their every detail from the night before--the tiny yellow freckle over the vee at the top, the threadlike scar in the left corner at the bottom. Proof that last night really happened.

That I really kissed him.

"Yeah, she's talking to me," he says. "She was mad at first in English. You know, played all pouty and standoffish. But then she got over it. I tried to talk to her about not being so mad at you, but she didn't listen. I don't get why she's mad at you and not me."

"Because you're the guy" I say

A conversation stopper.

'Anyway," he says, "I'm kind of glacti last night happened, I mean, aside from getting you two in a fight."

"You are?"

"Yeah, I mean, she can't keep thinaking of me like her property Like I said last night, Drea and I make better friends. It's the only time we actually wt along."

"Glad I was there to help." I throw rmy backpack over my shoulder and turn to walk away.