In Your Dreams

Chapter 25: Taken by surprise

"Alright, that was good," Coach Jansen says, which means "you guys were fantastic" in nice person language. "We've got one more week till the first competition. And this is our territory." Her nostrils flare. "I want to see personal bests in all strokes, not just the ones you specialize in. That includes butterfly." Rachel groans and rubs her arms, as if hoping to protect them. "And I want to see first place in the relay, do you hear?"

"Our ears hear you," Rachel mumbles as we head for the change room, "but I'm not sure our bodies do."

I have to agree; I'm tempted to drop to my knees and crawl into the change room, I'm so exhausted. I take my time under the steady stream of hot water, calling out a good-bye to Rachel and Lara as they head out, hair still wet but fully dressed.

"Oh, Jessie." Rachel pops her head back in the shower room. "Don't forget we're going to watch that TV program in half an hour. The one you want to cover for your biology assignment."

I stick my head out from under the water to see her better. "Oh yeah! It's tonight."

Rachel and I both want to watch a documentary about mysterious mass bird deaths that happened earlier this year. I felt shocked the first time I heard about it, and Kowalski's lecture only further piqued my interest. I knew Rachel, an environmental science major, would be as disturbed by the incident as I am.

"I'll meet you guys in the common room, just give me fifteen minutes," I promise.

Rachel gives a small wave. "See you soon."

I look up at the gushing water. Those poor birds. Their lives over, and why? How? Are we responsible, or is nature to blame? And suddenly I'm not thinking about the birds anymore. What about dreaming with Chris? If this is somehow wired into our DNA, can other people do it too? Is this the future of the human race?

My thoughts wander again, this time to dinner at the restaurant with our friends. I let myself relive how good I feel about the whole evening at the restaurant with Chris, then feel the warmth mix with the sour taste of worry when I remember the fear on his face.

Suddenly my thoughts feel heavy. The unexplained deaths of hundreds of birds, our unexplained ability to share dreams, Chris' unexplained fear.

I shut off the shower knob. The hot water feels like a kiss against my skin, but even that can't compete with the ominous feeling—plus I don't want to miss the program or keep everyone waiting.

After I check to make sure my horrendous green shirt hasn't shed in the change room, I squeeze out of the turnstiles at the front of the gym and step out into the cool darkness. Night has completely transformed the campus; instead of bright green fields and stone buildings, I can only make out scattered lampposts and the weak light they cast off. It started raining during practice and it's still falling lightly.

I shiver and hug myself, wishing I had my jacket with me.

Two other students are crossing the field, probably heading to their rooms after late classes or a warm meal in the cafeteria. The thought of warmth drives me forward, my shoes making loud squelching sounds as I struggle with each step, resisting the pull of the mud.

Slick, squelch. Slick, squelch.

I hear a rustle behind me and it sends a shiver up my spine. I hug myself tighter. Don't be silly, it's nothing. It's just a squirrel. Or a chipmunk. Or a rabid raccoon.

Wait a sec. Rabid raccoon? How is that "nothing"?

I walk faster.

Slick, squelch. SQUAW. Slick, squelch. SQUAW.