Dreamscape: Saving Alex (2 page)

“What?” Natalie
laughed. “One of us has to
know
how to
work your parents.”

“Then I’m glad
you’re here because I gave up on that a long time ago.” I paused and looked at
her again. “Seriously, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. Now stop
that,” she ordered, pointing at the tears poised to fall.

I batted away the
tears and leaned back against my door. “This is crap!” I spat, “Can you
believe
this? We’re moving tomorrow. Not over break like they
said.”

“I know,” Natalie
said, dropping her backpack along the side of my bed.

“What? How?” I
asked.

“Well, the squad
was out on the field practicing, and you can see your house from there. We saw
the van.”

“Oh,” I said. “But
can you believe she just dropped the news to me at dinner and left this pile of
boxes in my room, expecting me to pack up
? Like
it’s that simple?”

“I know, it’s
crazy,” Natalie said.

“It’s more than
crazy. It’s the biggest load of crap ever!” I
yelled
.

“Shh…your mom will
hear you,” Natalie warned, her eyes wide.

“I don’t care
anymore. It doesn’t matter. Nothing I say will change anything.”

“Well, just don’t
get me kicked out. Tonight’s too important. Now,
where should we start?”
she asked, looking around.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, really. I’m here to help and to have fun.
I’m not going to let you drag it out. Now start putting these boxes together.”

“Who are you, and what did you do with my friend?”
I asked, moving away from the door and falling back onto the bed.

“Don’t even,” she
scoffed.
“
When we
planned these sleepovers, we knew you were moving.”

“But it’s different now,” I said.

“Why?”

“Um...because I’m leaving tomorrow, not in
December like I thought.” I propped myself up onto my elbows.

She pursed her lips and rolled up her sleeves.
“Another reason why we need to do this now.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Look, you and I both know your mom’s going to
come up here and check on you. Do you want this to take all night?”

“Ugh…no.” I pouted.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That pathetic one.” She looked at me, hands on
her hips, waiting for me to move.

“Ouch.” I sat up. “Fine,” I reluctantly agreed,
moving her bags off the boxes.

She handed me the first box and tape and sat back
on the bed. “What the—” she said, pulling a photo frame out from under the
comforter, frowning as she handed it to me.

I glanced down at the picture, a moment between
Brian and me. There was a reason it was hidden under my covers. I both loved
and hated that picture. There was so much wrong with it, from the way I stared
at him while he smiled for the camera, the way I leaned too far into his body—I
looked love-starved. And yet, it was the only photo I had, so I refused to toss
it. Natalie peeked over my shoulder and grimaced. Her eyes strayed to the
ceiling.

“There’s something I need to tell you, but I don’t
know how,” she said.

The pit in my stomach opened. Natalie always knew
how to tell me everything. I took a deep breath. “What is it?”

“It’s about Brian.” She exhaled deeply and met my
gaze.

“About Brian?” I took another breath and traced
his face in the picture.

“He knows.”

“He knows about what?” My voice, even as a
whisper, shook. With one look, I understood exactly what she meant.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Like
I said, we saw the truck stop by your house.” Natalie looked back at the
ceiling.

“And?” I asked in a whisper.

“Melissa saw it too, and you know how she is. She
called her mom, her mom called yours…” She stopped talking and gave me a sad
smile. “She found out that you were moving this weekend and told him.”

My mind spun. I looked at the walls and the
ground, desperate for something to stabilize my thoughts, but nothing worked.
Everything was a blurry mess. Including my heart.

Natalie bit her lip and winced. “There’s more.”

“Just tell me.” I flipped the frame upside down so
I didn’t see his smile.

“He asked her to the dance.” Natalie cringed.

My breath quickened. I couldn’t decide which
betrayal hurt worse.

He asked Melissa.

Those three words rang in my ears. How could he do
that? Ask me out one minute and someone else the next, without even talking to
me? It felt like some sort of cruel joke, and I was the punchline.

I looked at Natalie, her face scrunched as she
waited. I didn’t know what she was waiting for. A reaction, maybe? I wanted to
run and hide, cry, shout, hit something, but I couldn’t. I was frozen from the
inside out. Every inch of my mind stuck on those words.

His words. My mom’s words. Too many words that
weren’t mine deciding my life.

“Are you okay?” Natalie asked.

“No…yeah…I guess,” I mumbled.

“I thought you needed to know,” she said sadly.
“But hey, it’s not all bad.” She squeezed my hand and put on her best
cheerleading smile.

“Not all bad? In what world?” I rolled my eyes and
frowned.

“Look, you know I think Brian’s a player. He’s
always been one. You can do so much better than him anyway. Speaking of…think
of all those new guys in Portland.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “That’s exactly what I want to
do.”

“I’m just saying. You’re going there. You might as
well have something to look forward to. So what do you think?” She plopped down
on the bed beside me, her ponytail swishing over her shoulders. “Lumberjack or
grunge?” she asked, bringing up an old joke we’d made when my parents first
told me we were moving.

“Are you serious?”

“Come on, come on, come on,” she urged. “Make a
choice.”

Her words struck me. I looked up with wide eyes.
“Make a choice,” I whispered, and then louder, “you’re right. That’s exactly
what I’m going to do.” I shuffled back into a sitting position, arms tucked
around my legs, and bit my lower lip. “Definitely the lumberjack. I’ve always
loved the forest.” A small smile grew at the edge of my mouth. How could she do
that? Turn the worst news into a joke. I guess that’s one of the reasons she’s
my best friend.

“Awesome. Lumberjack it is, then. Let’s get these
boxes packed so you can go hook up with Paul.”

“Paul?”

“Uh, yeah, don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Paul
Bunyan. He’s big, strong, and probably just what you need.”

“Stop it!” I laughed, throwing my pillow at her.
“Just watch out or I’ll send his ox down to get you.”

“I’m scared.” She trembled. “Now, give me a box.”

Just like that, my room started getting packed.
Piece by piece, shirt by shirt, trophy by trophy, everything found its way into
one of the boxes. Before long, my safe haven slipped away, transforming into a
blank slate. The tears stung, painfully clinging to the edges of my eyes. My
treasures blurred into an obscure mess as Natalie threw more and more at me.

“Oh my god!” Natalie raised her eyebrows and
lifted my tiger Beanie Baby by its tail. “You still have this, really? This has
got to go.”

“Stop it,” I said, grabbing it from Natalie’s
hand. “You don’t know what this meant to me.” I cradled Mr. Tiger against my
chest. The crusted fuzz scratched my collarbone.

“Seriously?” she asked, scrunching up her face.
“You need to let some of this go. You can’t take it all with you.”

“I don’t want to leave any of it behind,” I
muttered, barely hearing my own words.

“Oh boy,” she sighed and walked past me to the
walk-in closet that overflowed with my trinkets. Boxes and bags of old dolls,
papers, and crafts hung over the shelves. “Are you serious? What is all this
stuff?”

I laughed. If she thought my room was bad, my
closet was even worse. I didn’t even know what hid in each corner.

She pulled down the first bag and peeked out the
door, her exasperation replaced by a smile. “It’s like a scavenger hunt in
here. You never know what you’re going to find. Like this. I can’t believe you
still have this. Wasn’t it from our fifth grade holiday program?” She held the
pink-sequined dress against her body. “Do you think it’ll still fit?”

“Of course it will. You never know when you’ll
need it for a ball.”

“Or when your Prince Charming will show up. I’m
sorry,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“It’s okay. Either way, I guess you’re right. I
won’t need it.” I grabbed it and tossed it across the room towards the trash.

“That’s not what…” Her voice trailed off as the
dress slid over the edge of the trash can. “I meant.”

“No, you’re right. I can’t take all of this with
me. And if something’s got to go, I won’t need that.”

We went back to silently filling the boxes, only
stopping when Natalie mistook something for trash. I didn’t understand it. It
was perfectly clear to me what needed to be saved, treasured. Natalie just
raised her eyebrows. She didn’t understand. Maybe I was being unrealistic,
blinded by the shadow of what things meant, not what they were, but my heart
hurt.

I looked at the half-filled boxes, then the
half-empty closet, and spared a final glance at Mr. Tiger, still tucked in my arms.
Threadbare, matted, and void of whiskers. Had I held on to him for too long?

“How do you know when it’s time to let go?” I
whispered.

“Of that? About ten years ago. Here, let me help
you.” She pinched it out of my hands before I had a chance to stop her and
tossed it into the bin.
“Come on.
Stop the tears. We’re not throwing all this stuff away, just the things you’ve
held on to for too long.”

“It feels the same
to me.”

“Don’t be so
melodramatic. You’re going to get to your new h
ouse and set most of this
back up, including
this poster of
—
who is this
exactly
?” She laughed at me.

“Stop it.” I
laughed as well. “Seriously, it’s just, I see you toss these things, I—”

“You what?”

“I just wonder how
quick you’ll forget about me.” I turned so she
would
n’t see my chin tremble, even though my voice gave it
away.

“Oh Alex,” she said, turning me around, squeezing
my forearms and searching my face. “Stop it. This is stuff. You’re my best
friend. I’m never going to forget you. You’re right here. Always.” She pointed
to her heart and blinked back her own set of tears. “Got it?”

“You’re right.” I nodded. She usually was, but
that didn’t settle the tremors rattling my heart. Everywhere I looked,
something pulled at me, reminding me of my past, of what I would be leaving.

When Natalie disappeared back into the closet, I
walked over to the bulletin board by my bed. I thumbed through the old photos,
ticket stubs, and sketches, sighing.

I turned at a crash sounding from the closet.
Torn, crumpled bags lay scattered at Natalie’s feet, while old wooden beads and
scrapbooking stickers found their new home within the threads of the carpet. I
turned away, ignoring the impulse to scoop everything back up.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine, but you’ll never guess what I found!”

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She peeked out from the doorway to the closet.
“First, do you think we’ve done enough to make your mom happy?”

A quick spin around revealed seven full boxes
stacked against one wall, empty bookshelves, and a half-empty closet. How had
she done so much so quickly? I choked back the tears and forced a smile.

“Um, yeah. She’s going to love you even more.
Why?”

“Well…” She danced around. “I found something in
the back of your closet that I’m really happy you saved. Want to guess?”

“From the back of my closet?” I chuckled. “No, I
definitely don’t want to guess what you found there.”

“Come on, guess.” Her excitement was contagious.
Her ponytail swished, and I knew a cheer waited on the edge of her lips.

“I don’t know, really.” I lunged for the hidden
item behind her back.

“Not so fast,” she said, darting out of my reach
as I grabbed for it. “I’ll give you a hint. Do you remember all our sleepovers
when we were little?”

“Yeah…” She dodged me again.

“Staying up all night…”

“Yeah…” The tips of my lips curved up.

“Popcorn, jump rope, iced tea...”

“You’re killing me. What did you find?”

“Dun-dun doo-bee doo,” she sang.

I stared at her until it hit me. “No way!” I
exclaimed. “Dreamscape? You found it?”

“Yeah,” she said, a silly grin filling her face.

That was
all
it took. With one word, Natalie made everything
better. All the bad feelings bubbling inside me popped. It was as if she had
offered me the greatest treasure. And
maybe
she had. I joined her squeal with my own.

The knock at the
door surprised us both. Natalie burst into laughter as I ran to open it. We
grew
silent when I looked at my mom. I gripped the
doorknob until my hands turned white.

“It sounds
like
you girls are having fun.” She took a cursory
look
around the room. “Natalie, I knew you could help.
You’re
exactly
what we both needed. Thank
you.”

“No problem, Mrs.
Stone,” Natalie said, shrugging when I glared at her.

“Anyway, you girls
have fun. I
thought
you might want
some
of this for later.” My mom handed me an overflowing
bowl of popcorn. I took it silently and closed the door.

“Thanks
Mrs. Stone,” Natalie yelled through the closed door and turned back to me.
“You
know it’s not entirely her fault,” she said, grabbing the popcorn and throwing
a handful at me. “Your dad’s the one with the new job.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Him, her—they’re
working together to ruin my life.”

Natalie stared at me and shook her head.

“What?” I demanded. “I’ll go easy on her at some
point. It’s just easier to be mad at her right now. She can handle it.”

“Whatever you say.” Natalie shrugged and let it
go, settling back on the edge of the bed, hoarding the popcorn. “Here you go.
Pop it in,” she said, throwing the square game cartridge at me.

I blew on the edge of the disk and stared at my
friend before pressing it into the old game station. That’s what I was going to
miss. She never made me feel irrational, even when I knew I was. I doubted I
would find that again.

“Oh my god, she put cinnamon on top.” Natalie fell
back, disappearing under the pile of pillows. “This. Is. So. Good.”

“She only does that for you.”

“That’s because she likes me more.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.” I reached
over and threw a handful of popcorn at her.

The game slid in easily, and after a quick tap on
the screen, bright yellow letters appeared.
Dreamscape
. I couldn’t
believe it. This was it, the game that defined our childhood. We played it
every weekend at every sleepover for years, until we knew the game by memory.
And here it was again. I smiled, but that didn’t even scratch the surface of my
excitement.

I looked over at Natalie, busy poking through the
popcorn bowl for the extra sweet pieces.

“What?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Nothing,” I laughed and looked back at the game.
The golden letters of the main menu dominated the small screen, colorful birds
fluttering in and out of the shadows. Time had changed things in ways I hadn’t
imagined. I sighed. The graphics that used to impress me were now little more
than a pixelated mosaic. Everything today came with a bittersweet sting.

Once the music took over, it didn’t matter. I was
transported back to age ten. Boys, school, moving, none of that mattered. The
only thing that mattered was the silly green hero moving across the screen, and
the only thing I had to do was save the queen. If only life could still be that
easy.

Natalie punched me in the shoulder. “I completely
forgot about the dance.”

“What?” I asked, covering my shoulder, following
her pointed finger to the screen.

“Wow,” I laughed, watching the little green hero
twirl and send an arrow into the center of the
D
. “How old is this
game?”

“Old enough that I’m sure you’ve forgotten the
dance.”

“Have not,” I protested.

“Then do it!” She giggled, pushing me up.

“Okay, maybe I have,” I said, falling in a fit of
giggles.

“No, it can’t be that tough,” Natalie said,
standing and pulling me up. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. All the
tricks, all the shortcuts, all the fun. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said. We stood there, convulsing with
laughter as we tried to do the dance again. Two steps left, two steps right,
turn around and swipe the sword.

“Oh, man, how did we forget about this game?” I
asked, falling back to the ground. It felt good to laugh.

“I don’t know, but please tell me you didn’t
forget the codes too.”

“Nah, like I’d forget those.” I raised an eyebrow
and scoffed. “How many times did we play this game?”

“Only like a million!”

“Exactly. There’s no way I would forget it, or all
the shortcuts. You know what? I have something you have to see. I found it
while we were packing.”

“While
we
were packing?” Natalie asked,
grabbing another handful of popcorn, ready to throw it at me. I raised my hands
in surrender.

“Okay, while you were packing. But you still have
to see it.”

I rushed to the wall closest to my bed, still
untouched, and riffled through a stack of photos on the bulletin board. Bright
thumbtacks loosened from the cork as I moved the curled edges of the pictures
out of the way. Some memories were stacked three or four deep, with multiple
puncture holes through their tops. A bright blue pin held the one I wanted.

“Okay, promise me you won’t laugh.” I unpinned the
photo and held it backwards against my chest, hiding the image.