Sleepless (19 page)

My gaze travels out the window, into the parking lot, to the sun-speckled windshields of the cars. It’s sunny and warm, yet my breath just about fogs up the glass, I’m panting so heavily. I can’t stop it; I feel like I’m under a microscope. Being watched.

“Hello?”

I’m startled into reality. I scrunch my nose at her latest offering. “I don’t think so.”

“Hon, you’ve nixed every blouse in the store! Since when did you become so picky?”

“I’ll look like a tiger. I think I should stay with safe colors. Black and gray.”

Safe. Safe sounds really good right now. But what is safe? I’d thought my home, my bedroom, was
safe. But last night, I dreamt of Griffin. He was so angry at me. And who could blame him? Instead of dreaming I was kissing Bret, I dreamt I was with Eron. But it was more than just making out this time. When I was with Bret, I’d pushed him away. In this dream, I was obviously having a kick-ass time. A small part of me knew I should stop, but the rest of me didn’t want it to end. It was one of those dreams a person never wants to wake up from. And the next thing I knew, Eron was gone, and Griffin was standing over me, shouting,
You belong to me. Me!
He raised his hand, ready to strike, and then … I woke up, trembling and sweating all over my sheets.

And now I can’t shake the feeling that he’s here. That he saw me with Eron, with Bret. They both had painful spasms in the back of their heads when they got too close to me … so either there’s a contagious brain tumor going around, or …

“Now, what fun are black and gray?” My mom crosses her arms and contemplates the shirt. I know she will beg me to try it on with hopes I’ll fall madly in love with it once I feel the fabric on my skin, and I know I will cave. “Orange looks nice on you. And with your cute body, you should be saying, ‘Hey, world, here I am!’”

I’m shocked. My mother has always hid me under her wing; she’s never wanted the world to notice me. “No thanks,” I mutter, reaching down to massage my ankle. At this point, I’d much rather blend.

“Oh, does it hurt bad?”

Not as much as my heart pounding against my chest like it’s trying to escape. “Not so much. I just need to sit a second. Can we get a pretzel?”

We head outside the outlet and my mom buys a pretzel and a
lemonade from a stand on the sidewalk. She rips the pretzel in half and, as usual, gives me the bigger piece. Then we sit on a bench, our packages surrounding us. She’s bought more than I have, though she doesn’t really need anything. I have a pair of ballet flats, some skinny jeans, and a black pencil skirt. I can’t decide whether the kids at the
Architectural Journal
will be going casual or businessy, so I’ve decided to pack a little of both. I should have plenty of purchases to show for our three hours at the outlets; after all, since my wardrobe is mostly shorts and flip-flops, I need just about everything. But I can’t concentrate.

“Maybe we should just call it a day, shop some more when you’re feeling better.”

I’m glad I have my ankle to blame for my spaciness. “Yeah.”

“I’d say you can drive home for the practice, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

I nod. Smart thinking. For once in my life, I am in no mood to drive.

“I hope you’re feeling better for your big day tomorrow.”

I stare blankly at her. Big day? Oh, she means my driver’s test. How can it be that I’ve had that day circled in red on my calendar forever, but now that it’s almost here, I’m a wreck? “Mom,” I say. “Do you think I should postpone it?”

The shock is everywhere on her face. “Is this because of the accident?”

“Um … yeah,” I say.

“Well, if you’re in New York for the rest of the summer, I don’t know when you’ll be able to reschedule it.” She studies me. “After all, the accident was just a symptom of the problem, wasn’t it?”

It’s uncanny the way my mom can read my mind. I nod.

“This is really about Griffin, right?”

I nod.

She puts her arm around my shoulder and pulls me so close that I can smell her Herbal Essences shampoo. “Oh, hon. I know you miss him. I know how much you loved him.”

I blink. Okay, she shouldn’t quit her day job to become a Psychic Friend just yet. How can she know how much I loved Griffin when even I don’t anymore? How can I explain to her that it’s not sorrow or grief I’m feeling … but guilt … and fear?

When we return home, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is trudge to bed, but the second we pull into the driveway, I see that’s not going to be possible. Bret is standing on the front stoop, looking unsure, as if he doesn’t know whether he should knock. He’s never shown up at my house. In fact, I didn’t know he knew where I lived. From the look on his face, I know why he’s here. I cringe.

My mother eyes him like he’s one of those door-to-door Holy Rollers come to lure me off to a cult. “Do you know this boy?”

I nod as she takes my one and only bag from me and opens the screen door, still shooting him eye daggers. “Yeah, Mom. It’ll just be a second.”

His smile looks about a second away from shattering into a thousand pieces. “So!” he says brightly as I sit down on the stoop beside him, but far away enough that he can’t easily touch me. I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I stare straight across the street, at two girls playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. “I found out who broke into my locker, I think. Someone on the track team. Anyway …”

“Oh yeah?” I say. I know he didn’t come all the way over here to tell me that.

“Yeah.” He is silent for a minute. I can tell he’s going to open up a vein. And the last time he did that, he
kissed
me. That is not what I need right now, not after seeing Griffin in my dream. Not when I feel like he’s here, watching. “Look, I don’t really remember what happened that night. But I woke up feeling like scum, and knowing I should apologize to you.”

I shrug. “Forget it.”
Please
.

He laughs. “I did. I swear I can’t remember a thing. But when you didn’t call me these past couple of days, I knew you were angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you,” I protest. “We’re still
friends
.” I emphasize the last part, hoping he’ll get the hint that this isn’t an invitation to exchange bodily fluids.

“Right. Ippie, you’re my best friend. And if that’s what you want to stay, that’s okay with me.”

I heave a sigh and finally look at him. “Yes!” I say, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Yes. Thank you. That’s what I want to stay.”

His face falls. I guess he didn’t expect me to be so jumping-up-and-down excited about the proposition. “Okay,” he says, standing. “Well, um. So we’re okay?”

I nod. “Perfect.”

“Good.” He studies me. “You look a little beat. Shopping all day?”

“Yeah. I was. Um, getting clothes for New York.”

“Oh. Right. Congratulations on that,” he says, looking toward the street. “Call me later, okay?”

“Sure,” I say, yawning and turning back to the house. I can’t even feel glad that things between Bret and me are patched up. I’m too hazy, numb. I climb the stairs to my bedroom, pretty sure I’m already half asleep. After the second nightmare with Griffin, I spent most of the night awake in the dark, watching the shadows stretch across the ceiling. But now, as soon as I pull back the sheets and slide into bed, sleep overtakes me. In minutes I am dreaming.

Of Eron again.

He’s standing on the street, staring up at the enormous buildings. The sky above and his skin take on the same grayish blue of the concrete. He’s wearing his tuxedo, and when I come up behind him, he turns and I see that his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. “Good. You’re here,” he says.

“Where is here?” I ask.

“Don’t you know? I’ve brought you here before. You’re sleeping.”

“Yes.” I guess I did know that. For as long as I can remember, Eron has been the one to bring me to this place, which is why I’ve always felt safe with him. “Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer; instead his face turns serious. “Have you seen Griffin here lately?”

“Yes. Last night. He was very angry at me.”

Eron’s hair whips in the breeze. “I was afraid of that.”

“What does it mean?”

He moves close to me but does not touch me. He seems afraid to. Like he knows that that’s the reason Griffin is so upset. He whispers, “If you ever see him in your dreams, you must do everything you can to awaken. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t. I—”

“He is much more powerful when you are asleep.”

“Powerful? I don’t understand …” My voice drifts off. “What is going on?”

I reach for him, but he steps away. The wind feels like ice on my skin. “I will do my best to protect you,” he answers. He reaches over and pushes the hair out of my eyes, then strokes my cheek very gently.

Suddenly, storm clouds drift over us. He tilts his chin to them just as the first bolt of lightning slashes the sky.

“He’s coming.” He focuses on me, his eyes intense. “Wake up. Wake up, Julia.”

I’m startled into reality. My curtains are flooding the room, carried by a fierce, whistling wind. Papers from my desk scatter to the floor. Everything in my room is cast in gray, the color of storm clouds. I lick my lips; despite the icy wind howling through the room, they’re coated in sweat. I can’t catch my breath.

I throw the covers off my body and race down the stairs.

CHAPTER 26
Eron

D
espite my searching everywhere, Mr. Colburn is nowhere to be found. I suppose that wherever he is, he’s more irritable than ever, since he shirked his regular duties. At times, while I stood over Julia, helping her take her afternoon nap, I sensed him near. I met Julia in her dreams and told her to beware; I knew he was there and furious that she’d been dreaming of me. It’s early in the evening when I finally realize I’m human again. I’m not sure how long it will last, so I hurry to Julia’s home. The moment I reach the front stoop, she swings open the front door, as if expecting me. Her gasp tells me that she wasn’t, that she was just on her way out.

“I’m sorry to disturb—” I begin, but she quickly opens the screen door and ushers me inside.

“I was just going to find you,” she says.

“You were?”

She nods. “I’ve been having these strange dreams. You were in them. And Griffin.”

“Yes.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s like he’s here.”

“You’re not crazy, Julia. We can’t find him. And I have no idea what he might do now.”

“What he might …?” she murmurs. “So you mean it’s true? He’s still here? Like a ghost?”

“No. But he is watching you. And he wants you to know he’s there.”

Julia sinks against a wall. “But why?”

“He’s having a difficult time accepting the fact that he’s no longer among the living. He wants everyone—and you especially—to acknowledge him.”

She sniffs. “Sounds like something Griffin would do.”

“Yes, it is a common problem among our kind.”

She brings her eyes up to meet mine. They’re glassy. “
Your
kind?”

I take a breath. We’re forbidden to speak of the Sandmen to humans, and even though Chimere will probably scold me, Julia needs to know the trouble she is in. “Yes. We were all once human. But now we are”—I brace myself for her disbelief—“Sandmen.”

“Sandmen?” She stares at me, eyes narrowing. “You mean, the men from the legends who put little kids to sleep?”

“We are not legends. We are very real.”

She lets out a sour laugh. “Okay, where’s your sand?”

I reach into my pocket. I still have some left from her afternoon nap. I sift a little through my fingers, letting it gather in my other hand. It sparkles, even in the minimal light, like pieces of crystal. She, predictably, yawns, as the sand has a powerful effect on humans, even when it does not come into contact with them. I stifle a yawn myself, the first one I’ve been challenged to suppress in a hundred years.

This fails to convince her. “I almost would have believed you if you’d said he was a ghost, but
this?
That’s really out there. And if you’re both Sandmen, why can I see you and not him?”

I rub the back of my neck.
Twinge
. Oh, not already. I shake my hands to free them of the sand and run them through my hair. “It’s quite a long story.”

“I have time,” she says.

“Unfortunately, I do not,” I say, reaching for the doorknob. “If you do not see me again today, I will see you tonight. In your dreams.”

“But …” She jumps to her feet, readying to hold the door closed so I cannot escape, but then her eyes grow large and I know that she can no longer see me. She waves a hand where I stand, but it slips through me. Her mouth drops open. I want to hold her and tell her it’s all right, but that’s not possible. Perhaps it’s better that she see my transformation; perhaps it will help her to believe the impossible. I pass through the door and into the dying sunlight.

Because, thanks to Mr. Colburn, my other charges didn’t slumber at all last night, I decide to go to their houses first, well before their usual bedtimes. They’ll undoubtedly want to turn in early. As I’m walking across Vicki’s lawn, which is quite long and dotted with dandelions, I see Chimere sitting among the grass, blowing dandelion snow into the air. So carefree, despite our obvious problems, I think.

She smiles without looking up at me. “I made a wish for you, my pet.”

“Thank you, my dear,” I say, surveying the area. “So has Mr. Colburn returned?”

Her pert nose wrinkles. “He has been tending to his work only minimally, but never remains long enough for me to speak to him.”

“Ah, the challenge.”

Her smile broadens. “Yes, he is quite the fascinating one.”

I kneel next to her. The grass is cold and wet on my knuckles. “I thought you would still be trying to capture him.”

“When we do find him, we’ll make sure he’s dealt with accordingly,” she says, tickling her nose with a dandelion.

“Accordingly? You mean the Last Place?”

“Perhaps. But you are here now, where you belong. I’d say all is right with the world.”