Текст книги "Sleepless"

Автор книги: Cyn Balog

Соавторы: Cyn Balog
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Not right. He’s looking at me like I sprouted wings.

Oh, hell no.

What kind of thing is sitting on the couch with me? I throw the blanket off me and spring to my feet, intending to back away from him—far away. But I temporarily forget my twisted ankle, and when the pain shoots up my calf, I scream and fall forward, back toward the couch. Toward him.

He catches me. Steadies me in his lap. And doesn’t let go. His eyes search my own as if there’s something they’re willing me to remember. Something about being here with him, this close, is all too familiar. It’s like a scene from one of my recurring … dreams.

Dreams. That’s it. “I dream of you,” I murmur, dizzy, as everything seems to swirl around him. “All the time.”

No, that’s not it. That’s crazy. How could you dream constantly of a guy you met only three days ago? My mind is still reeling when he leans down, his face just inches from mine, his hand stroking the scars on my cheek. And I don’t feel the urge to cringe. He’s going to kiss me, I know. And I want it to happen.

Badly.

I tilt my chin up to get there faster, and that’s when he jolts forward, wincing. His eyes widen and he rubs the back of his head. I flash back to when Bret kissed me in the cafeteria; he had the same surprised, wounded expression. Something hit me, he said. But there’s nothing behind Eron, nothing at all.

I can’t help it: I think of Griffin. You belong to me.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He nods quickly, then straightens and looks at his hands. He seems a little pale. He stands and helps position me back against the cushions. I’m wondering if I have bad gazpacho breath when he says, “I’m sorry, I must go.”

“Oh … okay,” I say, struggling to my feet. I want to ask, What just happened here? but I’m not really sure I’m prepared for the answer.

He holds up a hand. “I will let myself out. Good evening, Julia,” he says, and exits so abruptly I shiver in the breeze he leaves behind him.

Good evening, I think. Who says that anymore?

CHAPTER 24

Eron

The sun slips behind the horizon as I step outside Julia’s house. Just in time, for a few minutes later, Julia’s face appears in her bedroom window. She’s searching for me, eyes troubled, but does not see me. I’m a Sandman again. She must be wondering how I could have sprinted so far away from her front door so quickly.

I stop for a moment, breathing hard, and stare up at the stars, collecting myself. My body is shaking. Everything about being with Julia is like navigating shark-infested waters. I can’t get as close as I’ve been used to for the past sixteen years because it’s too close and I know that Mr. Colburn is watching. I cringe whenever she opens her mouth to ask me a question, as I can’t talk about my past, my purpose, or many other things. I can’t let her know that I know what she’s thinking, that I understand. I’m supposed to be a stranger.

Maybe Harmon was right. Maybe it is impossible to fit in again.

I tread around the azalea bushes surrounding her house and put my hands on the gnarled bark of that familiar oak. Before I can hoist myself to a branch, something topples on me from above. Something enormous, bearlike. I fall to the grass, gasping, but it is still on top of me, pressing against my mouth, grinding my head against the hard earth.

“What. The. Hell?” A voice whispers angrily into my ear.

Mr. Colburn. He pushes against my throat once more and then releases me. I sit up. “And a pleasant good evening to you,” I snap.

His fists are clenched, his jaw tight. “What do you think you were doing?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You think I wouldn’t notice you making a move for my girl?” he snarls.

I hold up my hands. “I was doing nothing of the sort. She slipped, and I was simply protecting her,” I say, but even as I speak, I feel my face twitching. You know it was more than that.

Mr. Colburn senses my confusion. “Yeah. Right.”

“I am trying my best.”

He scowls. “You need to try a little harder. And here’s a tip: don’t lay a finger on her.”

I rub the back of my head. “Seems you need to learn to keep your hands to yourself as well. What did I tell you about touching humans?”

“Stop giving me reason to,” he growls just as the branch of a tree dips and Chimere appears. She lowers herself to the ground and steps gracefully and quietly between us.

“Children,” she scolds, “Sandmen on the other side of the world can hear you.”

Mr. Colburn’s icy stare doesn’t waver from mine. “He makes a sorry human.”

“You make a sorry Sandman!” I retort, no longer caring if I do sound like a child. The nerve of him to suggest I am failing at my duties when he can barely follow the Sandman rules for a day.

Chimere smiles. “You two are both in a difficult transition period. You must be patient. Eron, Mr. Colburn is trying hard.”

“He hit me. Again. When I was human.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was just an accident. These things do happen. The training is right on schedule. Mr. Colburn just needs to control his impulses a little better.” She takes his hand and pats it. “Isn’t that right?”

He glares at me. “Yeah.”

“Similarly, Eron needs to relearn proper human behavior. For a hundred years, he has had to move close to humans, nearly but not quite touching them, in order to affect them. He needs to reestablish normal human boundaries.”

Reestablish human boundaries. Is that all? Then it is normal for a former Sandman to feel this conflicted? But why, then, do I feel conflicted only when I’m with Julia?

“And, Mr. Colburn,” she continues, “it should not concern you how Eron spends his human days, anyway.”

He spits on the grass. “He practically stuck his tongue down my girl’s throat. Any idiot should know that’s not a proper human boundary.”

“For the thousandth time, your girl is not your girl anymore!” I snap, knowing that Chimere will be behind me on this. After all, she was the one who convinced me, in my early years as a Sandman, that I needed to let my human attachments go. “Tell him, Chimere.”

Instead, Chimere whirls to me, a peculiar, fragile expression on her face. Then she murmurs, not entirely convincingly, “That is right.”

I can’t do anything but marvel at her lack of authority.

She turns to Mr. Colburn and points up at Julia’s bedroom window, which is dark. “Julia’s been waiting for you for some time.”

“Fine.” He pulls himself up to the tree and jabs a finger at my chest. “If I see you anywhere in her dreams, you’re dead.”

I’m too busy studying Chimere to be alarmed by the threat. Chimere sighs. “What a character,” she says, tittering, when he has passed out of earshot.

“You are too easy on him.”

“What shall I do, my pet? Get out the paddle?”

“I recall,” I say, “that when I was being trained, you held my feet to the flame for days if I so much as mentioned Gertie.”

More tittering. “Perhaps I am softening in my old age.”

“I think you’ve softened, but not because of age.”

“What does that mean? I assure you, you are mistaken if you think I am favoring Mr. Colburn.” She begins to braid her hair. “Perhaps you are jealous?”

I snort. “Ridiculous. Me? I just want to ensure that bumbling, pigheaded ass doesn’t ruin us all. How could you tell him about what I did for Julia when she was seven? That was our secret. And now that he knows, nothing is safe.”

She laughs again. She seems to enjoy seeing my feathers ruffled. “Calm yourself.”

“How can I? You said yourself that the transition is difficult, and with him around, I’m always checking my back. I can’t trust him. I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to make some hideous misstep from which we can never recover.” I run my hands through my hair and look up at the night sky. An airplane is streaking across it, red lights flashing. “The human I was placed with—Harmon. He told me human life after Sandman tenure is more than difficult…. He said it’s horrid. Impossible. Is that the truth?”

Her eyes trail to the ground. She holds in a breath. “Harmon is a drunk. He was never the man you were.”

I take her by her delicate shoulders and make her stare me in the eye. “Is it the truth?”

“You still have time, if you wish,” she murmurs. Her reluctance to answer the question tells me everything I need to know.

“Chimere, what are you saying?”

“If you want to stay a Sandman, all you need to do is ask. You know I would love you to stay.”

I slowly pry my fingers from her silken sleeves and sink to the ground, feeling more between worlds than ever.

I try to muster up the energy to feel excited about becoming human again, but it’s impossible. Harmon is likely to give me a piece of his mind for stealing his clothes, and I’m more uncertain than ever about how I should behave around Julia. All her life I’ve done nothing but protect her, and now Mr. Colburn wants me to stay away, despite everything in my body telling me otherwise. Maybe I’m too much of a Sandman to be anything else. Though the thought of one day becoming human has occupied most of my mind for the past hundred years, suddenly, Chimere’s words replay there as well: If you want to stay a Sandman, all you need to do is ask.

It’s later in the morning, and I’ve been perched on the curb for some time, waiting to become human again. As the sun creeps to the top of the sky, I pull out my pocket watch. Nearly twelve. I should have changed by now.

Something is wrong.

Lately, whenever I’ve suspected something was wrong, I’ve immediately thought of Mr. Colburn. Did I even see him again after he crept into Julia’s room to seduce her?

Oh, no.

I jump up and turn toward Julia’s house. I can’t recall seeing Julia leave. Surely she’d be up and about by now. Quickly, I scale the tree and peer inside, afraid of what I might see. But there’s nothing to be alarmed by; Julia’s bed is empty and neatly made, and she is gone. There is no sign of Mr. Colburn.

Relieved, I settle back in the tree, but am quickly startled by Chimere’s face reflected in the window. Her hands are pooled in her lap, as if she can’t decide what to do with them.

“Let me guess,” I say.

“Last night. He never put his other charges to sleep.” Chimere says these words as I’m thinking them. “He’s vanished.”

CHAPTER 25

Julia

My mom pulls this horrible orange and black blouse out from a rack and holds it against me. “Is this New York?”

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

Despite 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.”

I tilt my head. “Pardon?”

“You will be staying with us for the next hundred years, yes? I’ve already informed the elders and we are all so pleased.”

I bristle at the suggestion. “I’ve said nothing of the sort, Chimere. It is only because Mr. Colburn has neglected his duties that I am now more a Sandman. But I firmly intend to become a human when my time arrives.”

“Oh?” She sighs, as if she has just heard that rain is expected. “But your hundred-year anniversary is tomorrow. And without Griffin … Oh dear. I am afraid if he cannot assume his duties reliably before that time, we will have no choice but to keep you here.”

“No choice?” Ire begins to bubble in my chest as I take in all she is saying. “But … then we must find him. What ever gave you the ridiculous idea that I wanted to remain here?”

“Well, Mr. Colburn indicated …”

“You believe him? After everything he’s done?” I snarl.

She recoils, eyes wide. “But after our discussion, after everything Mr. Harmon has told you, I thought your choice would be obvious….” Her eyes fill with such unexpected, unfamiliar rage, I’m forced to stand and back away. “Why do you always behave as though your life here is so torturous?”

“Harmon?” I watch as she seethes at me, her chest heaving underneath her pale blue corset. And that is when something dawns on me, something impossible. But obvious. “Originals study humans for years upon years, sizing up their personalities, before selecting one to be a Sandman. I often wondered why you chose Mr. Colburn as my student, as he is so stubborn, so unlike what you usually look for.”

She takes an uneven breath, looks away.

“And if you wanted to help me, why did you place me with Harmon, a man who would undoubtedly show me the worst side of human life possible?”

“Eron, please—”

“You wanted me to fail, didn’t you? You wanted me to stay here, forever.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she mumbles, but there is no resolve in her voice.

“Is it, now?”

She tilts her face up to the moonlight and for the first time I see that her eyes are wet. “You have always been my favorite. My pet. I can’t bear to imagine my existence without you.”

I walk to her and unfold my handkerchief for her. Her cheeks are a flattering shade of red as I wipe the tears from them. Her eyes are still pooling with water as she watches me, then puts my arm around her delicate shoulders. “My dear, you would still have seen me in my dreams,” I say.

“You’ll never touch me or look me in the eyes again,” she says, sniffing. “I suppose that’s why I can’t be too angry with Mr. Colburn. I understand when he says it’s just not the same.”

I know that my charges are waiting, but Chimere is my dearest friend, so she needs me, as well. I do nothing but hold her, there in the grass, for a long time, then watch her thread dandelions together to make a necklace. As I help her fasten and adjust it on her pale neckline, she reaches up to give me the smallest, saddest peck on my cheek. I made a wish for you, she said. Yet I know that that wish was not for my happiness, but for her own.