The Girl Who Could Not Dream (5 page)

Sophie knew better than to smile at Madison as she slid into the seat behind the scowling girl. Madison always scowled. It was her at-rest expression. Anyone who came into her line of sight was subjected to it. Safest to avoid eye contact altogether.

She spent the class wondering where Madison was going to want to meet for the exchange. Under the bleachers? Usually that was packed with kids who liked to pretend they were tough, but Madison always cleared it out before Sophie arrived. Sophie had once asked how she did it, and she'd shrugged and said, “Sprayed the place with Wannabe-Be-Gone.”

Another time, they'd met behind the dumpsters. Madison had sworn never to do that again, and Sophie had agreed. Leftover milk containers stank worse than Aunt Abril's perfume—and Monster claimed her perfume was bad enough to disgust a dolphin. Dolphins, he said, had no sense of smell. That was the joke.

At the end of class, Madison stood abruptly, knocking her textbook onto the floor. She shot Sophie either a glare or a significant look. With Madison, the two were the same. Sighing, Sophie slid out of her seat to pick up the textbook as Madison bent to retrieve it.

“That's mine, Freak Girl,” Madison snarled, loud enough for others to hear. Under her breath she said, “Library, four minutes.” She strutted out of the classroom without a backward glance. Three of her friends with matching ponytails closed ranks around her. Their hair bounced as they walked.

Sophie trailed behind them out the door. She then wove through the crowded hallway, bypassing Madison and her flock of friends and ducking into a side hall—a shortcut to the library. This hall was mostly empty, and she breathed deeper, as if there was more air here.

She didn't know how a place could be so crowded and lonely at the same time.

She made it to the library with two and a half minutes to spare. A few students were bent over books at a table by the window. One looked up as she came in, checked out Sophie's outfit, then returned to her book without meeting her eyes. The others didn't even bother looking up, as if Sophie were invisible.

At the circulation desk, the librarian beamed at Sophie, and Sophie wished she actually were invisible. The librarian always made a fuss when she saw her, as if she was on a personal crusade to crack Sophie out of her shell. Sophie wasn't interested in being cracked. “Sophie! Can I help you find anything?” The librarian was as loud and bouncy as a cheerleader at a championship game.

“I'm fine, thanks.” Sophie scooted closer to the door and watched for Madison. She'd probably want to meet in the stacks, where the other students couldn't see them, but she hadn't specified which stacks.

“I've been meaning to come by the bookstore all week,” the librarian said. “Your parents always have new old favorites. You know, those books that you read over and over because they make you feel like you've been hugged?” For extra emphasis, she hugged her own arms.

“Uh-huh.”

“How is everything at the store? Lots of business? Ooh, any new kinds of cupcakes?” She rubbed her stomach, and Sophie wondered if she planned to pantomime every sentence.

“Um, not that I know of.” She wished the librarian would stop talking to her. She could feel herself starting to blush beet-red.

Two minutes late, Madison sailed into the library, past Sophie. Pausing at the circulation desk, she asked, “Which section has books on how to save the fashion-inept?”

“Hi, Madison! I haven't seen you in a week, and I know you've had free periods. You know, if you socialize too much instead of visiting the library, the books get lonely.”

Madison blinked once, slowly. “Fashion?”

The librarian checked her computer. “Seven forty-six is fashion design.” She pointed, but Madison didn't wait. She nodded at the students at the table like a queen recognizing her subjects, and then glided between the shelves.

Backing away from the librarian, Sophie said, “I just have to . . . find a book.” She fled toward the stacks, picked a different aisle from Madison, and then circled around to meet her by the fashion design books.

“You're pathetic,” Madison informed her in a low voice. “You just have to ‘find a book'? Really? You couldn't think of a single specific topic out of the entire library?” Before Sophie could respond, Madison shushed her with a hand wave. “Whatever. Do you have it?”

Sophie held out the folder with the fresh dreamcatcher. “Less sparkles this time, like you asked.” She'd used an unadorned willow for the ring, steered clear of any beads, and chosen only one black feather.

Madison didn't touch it. “My mom nearly pitched the last one. Said it looked like it was made by a germy kindergartner.”

“This one's better,” Sophie promised.

“It better be.” Madison snatched the folder and shoved a paper bag at her.

Sophie peeked in and saw the used dreamcatcher. It looked intact. So long as the threads weren't snapped, the dream would be fine. It could handle a little jostling. Dreams were sturdier than they seemed. “Does she know about your nightmares? If you told her—” She cut herself off. It was safer if the truth about dreamcatchers stayed a secret. If word got out . . . Just thinking about the Night Watchmen finding out about Sophie and her family made her want to curl into a ball between the library shelves. And if they ever found out about what happened when she drank a dream . . . An image flashed through her mind: shadowy Watchmen bursting into the shop and dragging her away. Definitely better to keep everything a secret.

Madison snorted. “We don't have nightmares in my house. Night is for sleeping. Do you cry to your mommy every time you have a little nightmare? I know you do. She probably sings you a lullaby, tucks you in with your blankie, and gives your teddy bear a kiss. You're such a baby.” She peeked into the folder, looking at the dreamcatcher as if she wanted to complain about it but couldn't think of anything wrong with it. “See you next week. Don't talk to me before then. And . . . thanks.” The last word was said as if it hurt her.

“You're welcome,” Sophie said.

“You better not have made me late.” Madison stalked out of the shelves, snagging a random book on her way. Catching a glimpse, Sophie saw it was on guinea pigs. She opened her mouth to tell Madison that it wasn't a fashion book, but Madison strode out of the aisle before Sophie could even form the words.

Sophie waited a few minutes and then emerged from a different set of shelves. She hurried out of the library before the librarian could try to talk to her again. Returning to the main hallway, she deposited Madison's used dreamcatcher in her backpack and stuffed it in her locker.

Delivering a dreamcatcher to Lucy Snyder was also difficult, but for different reasons. Lucy was still in elementary school, and Sophie could only exchange dreamcatchers with her on days when Sophie's free period intersected with Lucy's recess.

Sophie checked the clock above the lockers. She had exactly fifteen minutes to cross the street to the elementary school, locate Lucy on the playground, and scoot back before her free period ended. It was doable.

She'd met Lucy two months ago. Her mother had dragged her into the shop and asked for books without any villains in them, because her daughter had nightmares. Sophie's parents had sold the woman a few of their happiest little-kids' books—the kind with pink winged ponies and cheerful mice—and given her a dreamcatcher. The woman had rolled her eyes at the dreamcatcher and muttered about “New Age hippie nonsense,” but the little girl wanted it. The next day, Sophie spotted Lucy across the street at recess. When the teachers weren't looking, Sophie crossed the street to the school playground and asked how the dreamcatcher had worked. Lucy burst into tears of relief and said, between sobs, that she hadn't woken up “too scared to pee” for the first time in forever and ever. So Sophie had the idea to set up a secret weekly exchange.

It was tricky at first, since middle-schoolers weren't supposed to just waltz over to the elementary school, but now Sophie had an official pink note with a faded, unreadable date that said she had to deliver a message to the elementary school nurse. She'd obtained the note legitimately a few weeks ago and had been using it ever since.

Taking the note and a fresh dreamcatcher, she strolled out of the school and across the parking lot. It was always important to look purposeful and not sneaky when one was trying to be sneaky. (That was Monster's advice, though he always said it didn't help if you had six tentacles.) The little kids were already on the playground for recess, swarming over the equipment like monkeys.

Lucy, of course, was the one standing next to the swing set screaming her head off. She would have been noticeable anyway with her strawberry blond hair that liked to point in all directions at once. But the screaming made her unmissable. Her face had already deepened to a rose-like purply red that spread to the tips of her pronounced ears. Sophie didn't bother wondering what had set her off this time. It could have been anything from a spider to a skinned knee. The other kids gave her a wide berth.

Sophie scanned the playground for adults. Normally, she'd wait until Lucy came over to her, but given how loud Lucy was screaming, it could be a while before she calmed down enough, and Sophie didn't have time to wait. She'd take the direct approach today.

She marched across the playground and halted right in front of Lucy. “If you don't stop crying, I'll pour water on your head. We have less than a minute before one of the teachers comes over and asks what I'm doing talking to you.”

Lucy hurled herself at Sophie, wrapped her arms around the bigger girl's waist, and sobbed into her shirt. She rubbed her nose against Sophie's sleeve.

“Please, tell me there were no boogers,” Sophie said.

“That man s-s-s-cared me!” Lucy howled.

Sophie didn't see any man. “I'm quite sure he regrets it. You know you howl loud enough to wake the dead.”

This was not the right thing to say to a girl who had nightmare issues.

Lucy howled louder.

“Maybe people would be nicer and not scare you if you didn't scream so much.” All the kids nearby were staring at them, and Sophie wished she'd stayed back at the middle school. She didn't like this many eyes on her. They'd be talking about her, the girl who was friends with Lucy. It wasn't good for people to be talking about her. Maybe she should have waited. Or skipped today and come back tomorrow instead.

“Not
them,
” Lucy said. “The nightmare man!”

“What ‘nightmare man'?” Sophie asked. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. She didn't have time for lengthy explanations. One of the teachers was homing in on them. Lucy cried so often that the teachers didn't respond quickly anymore, but the sight of an older kid on the playground was enough to catch their attention. “Never mind. I have your dreamcatcher. Want to trade?”

Sniffling, Lucy nodded. She pulled a ribbon out from under her shirt. She'd strung the dreamcatcher on it like a large necklace. The dreamcatcher was about the size of Sophie's palm, small enough to fit in Sophie's pocket but too big for Lucy's. Quickly, Sophie untied the string, slipped off the old dreamcatcher, and slid on a new one. She shielded Lucy from view so that the other kids wouldn't notice, and then Lucy stuffed it back into her shirt. It bulged a little, but her shirt was baggy enough to hide it.

“Do you have a story to tell the teacher?” Sophie asked. “Or do you want me to improvise?”

Lucy sniffed again. “What's ‘improvise'?”

Before Sophie could define the word, the teacher was there. “Excuse me. Is everything okay here? Lucy, who's this?”

Lucy hurled herself at the teacher. “A m-m-mean man was b-b-bothering me! She scared him away! She saved me! I was so s-s-scared!” She howled again.

That,
Sophie thought,
was improvising.

“A man? Where?” With narrowed eyes, the teacher scanned the parking lot.

“Just someone passing by, I'm sure. I didn't get a good look at him,” Sophie said. “She seemed upset, so I came over. I was visiting the school nurse, delivering a message.” She waved the pink slip. “Have to get back now.”

“Can you describe the man, Lucy?” the teacher asked the little girl. She knelt down to be even with Lucy's eye level. “What did he look like? What did he say?”

Sophie retreated while Lucy talked. She trotted across the playground, pretending she didn't hear the teacher call after her. In minutes, she was safely back in the middle school. She stowed the used dreamcatcher inside her locker with Madison's and went to class.

A close call, but a success. Now, if she could only talk Ethan into taking a dreamcatcher, it would be an excellent birthday. Or at least a very good ordinary day.