in which you, an aspiring filmmaker,
find the perfect actor for your breakout short film.
casting is difficult for the main love interest,
but once a certain blue-eyed boy comes into your life, you know he's the one...
maybe in more ways than yo...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
CHAPTER THIRTY
shut-eye
mom dragged me into the bathroom and drew a bath. "i'm fine, really. i just want to go to bed," i told her. the shivering was depleting the little energy i had left. my day had been a winding road that seemed to lead to another.
"the hot water will get rid of the chills... and you need to wash up from the rain water. do you know how much pollution is in the atmosphere? you're probably crawling with microbes."
"fear or heat won't wake me up, though," i groaned.
"i wasn't trying to scare you, hon." she reached out and brushed a lock of hair off my forehead. "but wouldn't having no fear be scary?"
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
after the bath, i told my parents the excuse. and they bought it. they bought it and they kept it. they expressed no suspicion or any hint that they're going to resell it to my aunt.
it would be assumed that i could sleep that night, being so physically exhausted, freshly double-bathed, and relieved of the worry of my lie not working. but, of course, my brain couldn't seem to shut up and stop veering off the course to sleep, to walker and the night we had.
the alarm read a fluorescent eleven o'clock. instead of waiting endless hours, i decided to give up on sleep and throw my blanket off of me. i snatched my reading light off my dresser and a handy packet off my desk. scrutinizing the declaration of independence helped to bore me every time. i kept it when my sixth grade teacher printed it out for the class. the meticulous annotations and criticisms that have piled up in the margins could fill an entirely new passage, the declaration of insomnia.
i had only gotten up to the preamble when my eyelids suddenly weighed as much as a constipated bodybuilder with a ten foot carpet of thick, luscious hair trailing behind him. i shut the reading light and then my eyes.
waking up and having it be morning was the greatest delight a girl could ask for. no shadow monsters in the corner, no feeling awake again from having to walk down the hall and pee in the middle of the night, nothing. it was a nice refresh; a sunny day, in fact. there were residual puddles here and there, but in general the sun was renewed.
that was what i thought until i looked down at my hands. i had ten left thumbs for fingers. i was dreaming.
oh crap. i had never been able to wake myself up, even when i became aware of such bizarre aspects of the illusion. sometimes i would find myself in a dilemma where i was stuck being chased after my favorite horror movie characters and i would just have to run with it. it was good for screenwriting ideas at rare times. but the majority was annoyance and mystification. i was awake in my sleep and it was like i had to play a part until my body woke up with me.
i opened my door, expecting to enter a maze or an abyss, but it was just my home. i cautiously called out into the familiar place, "hello?"
mom answered from downstairs, "good morning, sleepy head! i have your favorite breakfast ready!"
"i'll be right there!" and that was true. i magically transported to a kitchen ( one that was certainly not mine ) in a matter of nanoseconds.
before me stood not mom, but thomas jefferson in an apron, holding a pie. it was massive and lime green with sprinkles and mountains of butter on top of it. she ( he? ) placed it on the counter and ripped the pie open with her bare hands. i walked toward it in intrigue and saw the internal ingredients. shards of glass were piled into mush and shimmered under the steam.
"yum! my favorite," i said, knowing that this was my dream self's go-to breakfast. i tried to shield my disgust as mom-as jefferson watched me take a slice with a smile. my brain wanted me to eat glass and i was obeying it. but the respect wasn't mutual, because the slice melted in my hands and drooled all over my skin.
suddenly, mom was walker. except it was walker with a ginger buzz cut. and the most impressive curvature of his eyebrows. he was livid. "you're under arrest!" he screamed at me.
"what?" i said, putting my hands up. i was horrified at this foreign creature.
"glass pie is illegal in america, dumbass," he scolded. "you should know that since you're a slut for the declaration of independence."
"someone is in for a rough one in ap gov," said dad, who appeared in downward dog position on the counter out of nowhere.
then, a police officer who looked strangely like mr fennel barged in and forced handcuffs around my wrists. "you're under arrest for resistance to police and one and a half felonies."
"i can explain!" cried walker. i was befuddled. was he getting arrested too? when i turned to look across the room, where he now was, that proved to be correct. mrs fennel and mrs small were taking him away. i was trying not to laugh, seeing as he now had the hair and the height of a leprechaun.
the next thing i knew, i was in court next to a normal walker. we were the defendants, pitiful before the judge's towering bench. the judge was also me. but it was that woman i imagined chasing me yesterday.
the courtroom was echoing with the shrieks of spirits and cries of babies. i knew they were coming from below the courthouse. i was too scared to look down, as if i sensed a million undead eyes would look back up at me with yearning. so i kept mine forward and locked on my future self's.
my defense attorney arose. she was my mother. "your honor, my client pleads guilty."
"no! no i don't!" i yelled. my words bounced off the walls as if they were a toy for the house to play with. i didn't know why i was so desperate -- i knew it was just a dream, or why walker was holding my hand even though we both had cuffs on.
"i'll help you escape, y/n," said walker. his third arm reached up to my face and wiped the tears that popped onto it. "don't worry."
"the jury has come to their decision," said old me.
i whipped my head around and saw that clones of the clones were sitting in the jury box. tasha cleared her throat. "we're sending you both away to be teachers and assign your younger selves homework and projects. this is the only way to prevent the present felons."
"please, that won't do anything," walker begged her.
"look who you're talking to," scoffed old me. "you wouldn't--"
then i woke up.
the alarm clock read eleven o'clock, this time a.m. sunlight flooded my room. neighbors chatted outside. eyelashes were glued together by sleep. my hair was tumbleweed. the blanket was still thrown off my bed, and the insolation was the only thing keeping me warm.
