Fade (13 page)

Janie calls Cabel.

“Hi, uh, Mom,” she says.

Cabel snorts. “Hello, dear. Did you make it through the blizzard?”

“Yeah. Barely.” Janie grins into the phone.

“Anything yet?”

“Nope, not yet. We still have six hours to drive. It"s going to be a long

night.”

“Hang in there, sweets. I miss you.”

“I—I love you, Mom.”

“Call me when you get a chance. If anything happens.”

“I will.”

“Love you, Janie. Be safe.”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

ı

Fifteen minutes later they are back on the road. Nobody sleeps.

Figures
, Janie thinks.

She takes a nap while she can.

12:10 a.m.

In the hotel room with Janie are three other girls. Stacey O"Grady, Lauren Bastille, and Lupita Hernandez. The four of them chat and giggle

softly for a few minutes, but growing tired, they fall into bed, the alarm

set for 5:30 a.m.

1:55 a.m.

Janie is sucked into the first dream. It"s Lupita, her bed mate. Janie can

feel Lupita, twitching in the bed next to her.

They are in a classroom. Papers fly around everywhere. Lupita frantically scoops them up, but for each paper she picks up, fifty more

fall from the ceiling.

Lupita is frantic.

She looks at Janie. Janie stares back, concentrating.

“Help me!” Lupita cries.

Janie smiles encouragingly. “Change it, Lupita,” she says. “Order the

papers to come to a rest in a pile. It"s your dream. You can change it.”

Janie concentrates on delivering the message to Lupita. Slowly, Lupita"s

eyes grow wide. She reaches out her hands to the papers, and they float

gently down into a neat stack on Lupita"s desk. Lupita sighs, relieved.

ı

Janie pulls herself out of the dream.

Lupita is no longer twitching. She is breathing steadily, deep, calm breaths.

Janie grins and rolls over.

Waits patiently for the one she needs.

2:47 a.m.

It"s Lauren Bastille this time.

ı

They are in a room of a house that looks vaguely familiar to Janie. Folding chairs are set up in a circle. People are sitting and standing all

around. Some are laughing and falling over. Everyone is drinking some

sort of pink punch; some dip their hands into the punch bowl and slurp.

All the people, except Lauren, look fuzzy. Janie can"t see any faces, no

matter how hard she tries to focus.

Lauren dances in the center of a circle. Her shirt is off and she twirls it

as she stumbles around, laughing, wearing just a black bra and jeans.

Someone joins her.

He strips his shirt off and grabs Lauren.

Everyone claps and cheers as the guy pulls Lauren to him. They kiss and

grind as the music pounds in the background.

Hip-hop music.

Janie watches in horror as the guy removes Lauren"s clothing and shoves

his jeans down to his knees. The guy pushes Lauren to the floor, falling

on top of her, their drinks spilling everywhere, and the rest of the group

begins making out and tearing off one another"s clothes. Then they pile

up on top of Lauren until people are stacked to the ceiling. Lauren is

screaming, muffled. She"s being crushed to death. Janie"s numb. Her body shakes. She"s had enough, but it"s too horrible.

She can"t escape. She tries to pull herself away, but the nightmare is too

strong.

Janie tries to scream, but she knows she can"t.

Look at me!
she cries mentally to Lauren.
Ask me to help you!

But this nightmare is out of control. Janie can"t get Lauren"s attention.

She can"t pull out of it. She watches in horror as Lauren fights, tearing

uselessly at the people on top of her, shouting, “No! Stop! No!”

Janie summons all her strength and tries to pause it. Tries to scan the

room again. It"s not working.

Until.

With a final, heroic effort, Janie manages to pry her eyes off of Lauren.

Looks around the room.

There.

In the kitchen.

Laughing and drinking, watching the craziness, like it"s a football game

or something.

Someone has a cell phone out.

A strange expression on her blurry, laughing face. ı

When Lauren screams, everything goes black. Janie is paralyzed, blind.

She hears Stacey mumble, “What the heck?” and feels Lupita groan and

shove her head under her pillow. And Janie waits for three things: Lauren to stop breathing so hard.

Her own sight to return.

And to feel something.

Anything.

ı

It takes a very long time for all three things to happen. Morning comes too quickly.

February 20, 2006, 8:30 a.m.

The chem team finalizes their display. It"s a DNA helix, with posters

theorizing how cloning could safely be done with humans. Janie doesn"t care much about it. She lets the real chem geeks do all the

work.

Which they probably preferred anyway.

Mrs. Pancake arrives with doughnuts, and they sit and wait for the observers and judges to come by. Everyone looks exhausted, including

Mr. Durbin.

Janie excuses herself and goes into the restroom. Calls Cabel.

Tells him everything about Lauren"s dream.

They hover together in grim silence over the phone.

“Be careful,” Cabel says for the hundredth time.

“I just can"t understand how no one seriously reported it or followed up

on it, unless they were all too wasted to remember,” Janie murmurs.

“There must have been something in that punch. Captain told me to

study up on date-rape drugs. I think she nailed it.”

“Sounds like it, J.”

The door to the restroom opens and Lupita walks in, waving cheerily at

Janie.

“I"ve got to go,” Janie says quietly as she returns Lupita"s wave, and

hangs up.

4:59 p.m.

The team packs up the display. They walk away with white thirdplace ribbons. Not bad for a stupid theory and a hundred brazillion Popsicle

sticks.

ı

By nine p.m. everyone is dozing in the van. Everyone but Janie and Mr.

Durbin, that is. Janie struggles and pulls herself out of a variety of ridiculous dreams. Thankfully the silly ones are the easiest to pull out of.

She snacks and tries to sleep between dreams.

Finally Mr. Durbin pulls over along the highway. The sleeping troupe

rouses to see what"s going on.

“My dear Rebekkah,” Mr. Durbin says to Mrs. Pancake, “can you drive

for a bit? I"m falling asleep.”

Mrs. Pancake glances nervously at Mr. Durbin.

“Just for an hour or so,” he says. Pleads.

“Fine,” she says.

Mr. Durbin climbs out of the van and enters the rear sliding door.

“Somebody, go sit up there with Pancake, will you, please? I need to

stretch out.”

He drops into the backseat with Janie. “Hey,” he says. His eyes travel up

and down her cloaked body.

“Hey,” Janie says, trying to appear interested, but then gives it up and

looks out the window into the night. Watches the snow beginning to fall

lightly around them. Wonders if something terrible is about to happen.

That she"ll be discovered shaking and blind because of Mr. Durbin"s

dreams, or that he"ll try something creepy in the dark nether regions of

the van.

Neither one sounds especially good right now.

ı

Mr. Durbin stretches and yawns. By the time they"ve gone ten miles,

he"s snoring lightly next to Janie, his legs splayed out into the aisle, his

upper body tilting and sliding an inch at a time toward Janie. She"s trapped.

She wills herself to stay awake and keep her wits about her. Manages to

last an hour, maybe.

11:48 p.m.

Janie startles awake.

The van is humming. Everyone else is asleep except Mrs. Pancake up

front. Everyone too exhausted to dream.

Janie looks at Mr. Durbin.

His shoulder is against hers. His hand on her thigh. Janie blanches. Shoves his hand away. Shrinks farther into her little

corner and turns her back to him.

He doesn"t wake up.

He doesn"t dream.

Useless piece of shit
, thinks Janie.

3:09 a.m.

The van pulls into Fieldridge High"s parking lot. All the students"

cars

are blanketed in nearly two feet of snow.

Janie shoves Mr. Durbin awake.

“We"re here,” she says gruffly. She just wants to go home to bed. The group stumbles out of the van.

“See you in the morning, bright and early for school,” Mrs. Pancake

calls out into the crisp night as the students wearily shove the snow from

their windshields.

ı

Janie calls Cabel.

“Hey. I"ve been waiting up for you,” he says, sounding worried.

“Are

you safe to drive?”

“I can"t imagine any people will have their windows open on a night like

tonight,” she says.

“Come to me.”

“I"m five minutes away.”

ı

Janie falls into Cabel"s arms, exhausted. Tells him about Mr. Durbin in

the backseat of the van.

He leads her to the bedroom, helps her into one of his T-shirts, and

whispers in her ear as she falls asleep, “You did great work.”

Closes his bedroom door.

Makes his bed on the couch.

Lies awake, pounding his pillow in silence.

February 21, 2006, 3:35 p.m.

Janie, dark circles under her eyes, and Cabel, concerned look on his face,

sit in Captain"s office. Janie snacks on almonds and milk as she relays

the events of the chemistry fair adventure.

“It looked sort of like Durbin"s house,” she says. “His living room.”

“But you couldn"t see anyone"s face?” Captain presses her.

“No,” Janie says. “Just Lauren"s. She"s the one who was dreaming.” She

wrings her hands.

“It"s okay, Janie. Really. You"ve given us a lot of information.”

“I just wish I had more.”

Cabel reaches over and squeezes her hand. A little too tightly. ı

Afterward, Janie heads home, checks on her mother, grabs dinner, and

hits the sack. Sleeps twelve hours straight.

February 27, 2006

Cabel calls Janie on the way to school.

“I"m right behind you,” he says.

“I see you,” she says, and smiles into the rearview mirror.

“Hey Janie?”

“Yeah?”

“I"ve got a huge, terrible problem.”

“Oh no! Not that horrible toenail fungus that takes six months to cure?”

“No, no, no. Much worse. This is shocking news. Are you sure I should

tell you while you"re driving?”

“I"ve got my headset on. Both hands on the wheel. Windows rolled up.

Go for it.”

“Okay, here goes…Principal Abernethy called me this morning to let me

know I"m in the running for valedictorian.”

There is silence.

A rather loudish snort.

And guffaws.

“Congratulations,” she finally says, laughing. “What ever are you going

to do?”

“Fail every assignment from today onward.”

“You won"t be able to.”

“Watch me.”

“I am so looking forward to this. Oh, and also? You suck.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Janie hangs up and laughs all over again.

Second-hour psych is a sleeper. Janie stumps Mr. Wang with a question

on dreams, just for the hell of it. Leaves him stuttering, so she isn"t late

to Mr. Durbin"s.

ı

For the week leading up to the party, Janie continues to play the woman

scorned in front of Mr. Durbin, and he appears to eat it up. In fact, the

more she avoids him, the more he comes up with excuses to call her to

his desk after class or requests she stop by after school. She remains aloof, and he goes out of his way to compliment her—on

the test, her experiments, her sweater….

March 1, 2006, 10:50 a.m.

“You still coming an hour early on Saturday?” Mr. Durbin asks Janie

after class.

“Of course. I promised I would. Stacey and I will be there at six.”

“Excellent. Hey, I couldn"t do this big party without you, you know.”

Janie smiles frostily and walks to the door. “Of course you could. You"re Dave Durbin.” She slips out and heads to English lit, with boring

old Mr. Purcell. He is the epitome of moral character. ı

Study hall outright sucks. By the time it"s over, Janie has too much

information about nothing important. And when she lifts her head, she

sees the shadows of feet and legs next to the table.

“Are you okay, Janie?” It"s Stacey"s voice.

Janie clears her throat, and a crashing noise comes from the section of

the library to the left. Stacey whirls around and gawks. Janie can"t see

what"s happening, but once she can feel her lips, she smiles.
Cabel’s up

to something
, she thinks.

She sits up as if she can see, and, indeed, her vision is returning somewhat now. She coughs and clears her throat again, and Stacey turns

back to her.

“Sheesh. What a klutz. Anyway, I came over to make sure Saturday at

six was right.”

“Yep,” Janie says. “That"s just you and me heading over to Durbin"s

house to set up. Are you comfortable with that?”

Stacey gives her a quizzical look. “Why wouldn"t I be?”

“I have no idea, but you can"t be too careful these days, can you?”

Stacey laughs. “I guess. Well, we"ve got the appetizers all figured out. I

hope he has enough electrical outlets, "cause there"s going to be a

shitload of Crock-Pots. Of course, we could always use Bunsen burners.”

“Good one! Hey, I"ve got a list of desserts and snacks. Phil Klegg is