Riley Bloom Dreamland (3 page)

And even though I should’ve known, even though I should’ve guessed by the way she shouted and catcalled the loudest at that weird graduation ceremony I attended when I first got Here, I had no idea that the girl I’d mentally referred to as cheerleader girl (mostly because of the cheer-leading outfit she always wears)—I had no idea that she and Bodhi were friends.

I guess I was hoping she and I could be friends.

But now it was clear that was not meant to be.

And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any lower, I watched Buttercup race toward them like the worst kind of traitor.

I shoved two fingers into my mouth and whistled for him to return.

And when he didn’t, when he completely ignored me, I whistled again.

And when he still didn’t return, I manifested a handful of his very favorite doggy biscuits as a bribe—praying it would work, and feeling ridiculously relieved when it did.

He slumped toward me, snatched the biscuits right off my palm, then turned away to eat them, as though I couldn’t be trusted. As though I might change my mind and try to yank them right back, even though I’d never done so before.

I knelt by his side, watching Bodhi and cheerleader girl talk, and laugh, and use any excuse they could think of to tap each other on the shoulder, the arm, the hand. A scene that reminded me of the times I used to spy on my big sister, Ever, and her boyfriend.

Telling myself I was merely studying for when it would be my turn to be a teen—that I wasn’t invading her privacy—remembering how they acted the very same way.

And if I thought my insides felt bad before, watching Bodhi and cheerleader girl flirt with each other, well, it left me feeling all hollow and weird.

Sure I could manifest the same shiny, pink lip gloss that made her lips gleam.

Sure I could braid my hair with the same kind of glistening beads that chimed like bells every time she flicked her head from side to side.

Heck, I could even manifest my own cheerleading outfit—all I had to do was envision it and it was as good as mine. Easy-peasy.

But I could never fill the sweater like she did.

I would never look as good in the skirt.

I would never look anything like her.

She was gorgeous, exotic, and when she wore a bra she managed to fill it.

Unlike me, she was a
teen.

She was as opposite of lanky-haired, semi-stubby-nosed, blue-eyed, flat-chested me as you could get.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

I was stuck.

Eternally stuck.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought until I remembered what Bodhi had recently said:

“You have no idea how it works, do you?” His eyes had locked on mine. “No one is ever
stuck
anywhere, Riley. Seriously, what kind of a place do you think the Here & Now is?” I’d gaped. At first unable to utter the words, though it wasn’t long before I’d said,

“You mean, I can … I can, maybe … actually

…
turn thirteen someday
?” I’d pressed my lips together, sure it was too good to be true. It was all I’d ever wanted. All I’d ever dreamed. And from the moment I died in the accident, I’d been sure the possibility had died along with me.

But Bodhi just quirked his brow and shrugged in a vague, noncommittal kind of way. “There’re no limits that I’m aware of—pretty much anything is possible,” he’d said, refusing to give any details, keeping the statement purposely hazy, and yet, he’d said it all the same. And at that moment, watching the glorious cheerleader girl standing before me, well, I clung to those words like a drowning man to a life raft.

Bodhi hooked his thumb over his shoulder and jabbed it toward me, causing cheerleader girl to cup her hands around either side of her mouth and call, “Good on you, Riley Bloom! I see you got your glow on!”
Oh, great.
Talk about bad to worse. Not only did she have to go and remind me of just how nice she was, but up until she’d spoken I’d forgotten all about her accent.

It was crisp, and proper, and totally British.

She was pretty much as cool as they came.

I was ready to leave. Ready to cut my losses and
vámanos
myself right out of that place before my humiliation could get any worse, when Bodhi strode toward me and said, “Listen, Riley, Jasmine and I are taking off.”

My eyes widened.
Jasmine?
Her name was
Jasmine
? I shook my head and sighed. But of course she’d get a cool, girly name while I got stuck with one usually reserved just for boys.

“You okay?” Bodhi’s eyes flashed with a combination of impatience and concern, and to be honest, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I looked away, my voice awful and grumpy when I said, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Words that surely failed to make me look any more mature in his eyes. His lips went flat, his face grew grim, and when he glanced over his shoulder at Jasmine with an impatient gaze, I couldn’t help but add, “So why don’t you just go already? I mean,
sheesh,
it’s not like I need you to babysit me!”

His gaze narrowing so much his eyes became mere slashes of green. “So, where you headed?” he asked, but not because he was interested. But because as my guide, he pretty much had no choice but to keep tabs.

I frowned, thinking I should tell him that it’s none of his business—that I was under no obligation to check in with him every second of the day. But instead I found myself saying,

“I’m going to check out the place where all the dreams are created.” Deciding then and there it was as good a destination as any.

He swung his head toward me, his face all outraged and screwy when he said, “What did you say?”

I shrugged, picked at the hem of my sweater, took my sweet time to answer. “You know, the place where all the dreams are created? I thought it sounded cool, so I figured I’d check it out. Why? Have you been?” He groaned. Mashed his lips so hard they turned white at the edges. Then after glancing over his shoulder yet again, flashing Jasmine the
just a minute
signal, he turned back to me and said, “Listen, Riley, you can’t go there. It’s off-limits.”

I was tempted to scoff. Tempted to remind him that we were on a break, which meant that, for the time being anyway, he was no longer the boss of me. But since all I knew about the place was what little I’d learned from the two old guys who first mentioned it back in the Viewing Room, I decided to quash my first instinct and play it another way.

“Why?” I asked, eyes widening in the way that always worked on my dad but rarely, if ever, on my mom.

“It’s forbidden. Seriously. It’s been outlawed for …” He pinched his brow, looked all around as if he expected to find the answer written somewhere. “Well, let’s just say it’s outlawed. But leave it to you to try to find it.” He shook his head, slid a hand deep into his scalp where he clutched a fistful of hair, and sighed in frustration. “Just—just stay away, okay? Just this once, just, please, take my word for it, and do as I say. Can you do that?

Can you behave yourself long enough for me to enjoy my hard-earned break?” I screwed my mouth to the side, deciding to make him wait for my reply. Enjoying the fact that he was no longer checking on Jasmine—I finally had his full, undivided attention.

But it didn’t take long before his knee started to jiggle, and this time, his fingers joined in. Twitching and fidgeting as they jumped from his hair to his sweater to his belt loop and back, eager to be rid of me—eager to move on to the kinds of things older kids did.

So I let him.

I gave him exactly what he wanted when I looked at him and said, “No worries. Forget I ever asked.”

He shot me a skeptical look.

“Seriously.” I nodded. “I mean, at first I thought it might be kind of cool, but hey, if it’s been outlawed and all, well …” I paused, taking a moment to rearrange my expression in a way that I hoped looked more honest. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble. Not after getting big kudos from the Council, so

…” I spun on my heel, hoping for a speedy exit, but it wasn’t long before I realized Buttercup had, once again, chosen Bodhi over me. Forcing me to stop long enough to manifest another handful of dog biscuits just to get him to follow.

“Riley—this is for real, right? You’re
not
just saying that, you meant what you said?” Bodhi’s voice drifted behind me.

But I just stormed straight ahead, waving my hand in dismissal. Wanting him to think I was in a big hurry.

Wanting him to think I had somewhere far more exciting to be.

4

A
s it turned out, I didn’t go to the place where all the dreams are created. And not just because of what Bodhi had said.

I mean, yeah, I’d heard him loud and clear.

The place was outlawed. Forbidden. Or at least it was according to him. But besides the fact that it wouldn’t do me any good to go looking for trouble, the main reason I didn’t go was because I had no idea where to find it.

No idea where to even begin.

So I went home instead. Figuring I’d just hang there until I came up with a much better plan. Not the least bit surprised to find the house empty. I pretty much expected it to be.

The house wasn’t there for my parents or grandparents—the house was manifested for me.

My family had been in the Here & Now for a while. My grandparents having arrived way back when I was still a baby, while my parents came straight over from the scene of the accident.

I’m the one who lingered.

I’m the one who couldn’t stand to leave my old life behind.

Still, from the moment I crossed the bridge and ended up Here, they were all waiting to greet me. Eager to show me around, show me the ropes, and one of the first things they did was bring me to an exact replica of our old house—thinking I’d be comforted by something familiar.

For a while it worked. I felt comforted for sure.

I loved the way my dad’s old leather chair sat smack in the middle of the den just like it did in our original house back in Oregon. I loved the way Ever’s and my initials were still carved into its arm (even though we got in some serious trouble for doing that). I loved the way Buttercup’s leash hung on the wall, and how our mud-covered rain boots were all piled up against the back door. I even loved the way Ever’s old room stayed exactly the same, allowing me to visit from time to time and gaze at her things. Pretending that, for the moment anyway, she wasn’t so far away.

But mostly I loved my room.

I loved the way the walls were littered with the exact same posters I’d had back when I was alive.

I loved the way my dresser was crammed full of the same kind of socks, and under-wear, and cute T-shirts I once wore.

And while I hadn’t been Here all that long, and while they’d gone to a great deal of effort to make it look lived in, I was pretty dang sure they hadn’t spent any real time there before I came along.

I was pretty dang sure they had their own homes.

I mean, once you understand how it all works—once you understand that you can have the kind of house you always dreamed of merely by wishing it—well, most people wouldn’t dream of settling for what they could afford back on the earth plane.

Most people set themselves up in places far more exciting than that.

Even though my entire street was made to look exactly like my old street back home, all you had to do was walk a few blocks and you’d find yourself among big stone castles, sprawling bungalows that seemed to go on forever, and all-glass, oceanfront places as big as resorts.

I guess most people adapt better than I have.

I guess most people dream bigger—dream beyond what used to be.

But back when I first arrived, I couldn’t see it like that. I couldn’t imagine anything better than what I’d had in the past.

Though clearly things were beginning to change, and there was no doubt I was changing too. So I did something I’d never done before—I plopped onto my bed and looked at my room with a critical eye—trying to see it as though it was the very first time.

Trying to see it through the eyes of cheerleader girl, Bodhi, or some other teen.

And the bad news was—it looked childish.

Maybe even—babyish.

Lacking in sophistication and style, for sure.

I mean, yeah, I still liked the same pop stars and celebrities whose pictures were taped to my walls. Heck, I still liked my bed-spread and the big pile of shiny, fuzzy pillows that hogged so much space they threatened to spill onto the floor. I even liked most of my furniture too.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that my room, no matter how much I still liked it, belonged to the twelve-year-old version of me—
not
the teen I was determined to be.

It was like lugging your baby blanket along on your first day of school—it was time to toss out the old and move on with the new.

I gazed all around, wondering where to begin. Then, in a fit of inspiration, I squinched my eyes shut, and when I opened them again, I found myself sprawled in the middle of a huge canopy bed with purple velvet drapes that swooped down from either side, and a big gold crown perched high at the top—just like the one I’d once seen on TV.

Buttercup stood in the doorway, his disapproving nose pitched high into the air, refusing to step onto the leopardprint carpet, and whining in a way that tugged at my heart.

Knowing I should try to come up with some kind of compromise, something we could both enjoy, I shut my eyes again, and this time when I opened them, the walls were light purple, the floors were dark wood, and I’d swapped the big, flashy canopy for a more normal-sized bed with a green satin headboard.

After manifesting a turquoise-colored couch that sat along the far wall, a zebra-print rug that lay right before it, a crystal chandelier that hung overhead, and a mirrored dressing table with a white velvet stool to go with it, it was time for the fun part—the accessories! So I busied myself with pillows, sheets, an aqua duvet woven with bits of silver threads, and some cool modern art that hung on the walls.