(no subject)
The next two weeks ended with my total number of fits at fourteen. Wonderful.
Every night, I had the dream on the battlefield, and I couldn’t figure it out.
Mom was growing concerned. Sometimes, I would catch her watching me from the corner of her eye. When she saw I was looking, she turned away.
You see, word was, I was crazy. Possible. They all said I should get help. Maybe. That I was insane. Rude. That I was a disturbed teenager who was looking for attention. Extremely rude. That I was a disturbed teenager blah, blah, blah, who was looking for attention because my mom was dying and I didn’t have too many friends. Not only rude, insulting, and hurtful to me, but when you insulted my family, you cross the line.
They all pretend around me, but I know they talk about me. I know what they say.
"She had another fit in Latin."
"They say she needs to go to an asylum."
"She’s barking mad."
"I think she has brain damage."
The insults and snide remarks never end. I’ve been telling myself I’m sane, but it’s hard to believe when the dreams reoccur, and people are talking.
Sammy won’t talk or look at me anymore. I sit at the lunch table all by myself, lost in my thoughts. I bought a black bound book where I record my so-called visions in order to find a connection between them. So far, I only made myself more confused.
There were also physical side effects to my fits. Sometimes I would get headaches. Sometimes I would have small cuts on my arms(this happened twice). Other times, I would have pain in my arms, my legs, my back, or my neck. And with the battlefield nightmare, over my heart.
I also felt nauseous and dizzy, and sometimes the visions left me struggling to breathe. Other effects were seen on my face. I had circles under my eyes, which had a distant look to them. My skin was pale, and I didn’t eat as much. I was always tired, and often longed to be alone in my dark room.
But every day I got up and went to school and endured all the comments and whispers, just to placate my mother. I even had suspicion she wanted to send me to a shrink, even though I had no proof yet. I hated causing her extra worry. I had tried to convince her it was just school pressure, no need to worry. But it was a lot harder to make her stop worrying, and stop worrying myself for that matter, when the screaming started.
* * * *
"Addy! Addy! It’s only a dream, baby, please calm down, it’s only a dream." I felt Mom shaking me, trying to wake me up. But I couldn’t. I was screaming because something had changed in my nightmare. Something that affected me on the sidelines.
"Please, baby, calm down. I’m right here." Mom’s soothing words worked to an extent. I woke up, but mere seconds after waking up, I felt the bile rising in my throat, I could taste it in my mouth. Bitter and sour. Disgusting. I leaned over the side of my bed and threw up.
Mom was startled. "Addy, you must be coming down with something. You are not going to school today."
I weakly wiped my mouth and swallowed. I nearly threw up again. My spit tasted sour, just like my vomit. As I looked up, I caught my reflection in my mirror. My skin was pale, cold sweat dripped off my face, my eyes wide in horror. I shivered and lay down.
"Get some sleep, honey. I’ll be up later to check on you," and with that, my mother left me alone in my room to brood on my nightmares without meaning to.
I reached into my night stand and pulled out my dream journal. I flipped it open to a fresh page and wrote:
May 31, Wednesday
Today I had the usual nightmare. The one where the young soldier dies in the arms of his girlfriend. However, something changed. So did the after effects. Instead of the pain over my heart, I vomited. But the pain was still there. I’m confused, but at this time, side effects are not important. What’s important is that something changed. Now, I know it’s stupid, well, completely idiotic to say theses dreams are real. They are not. They can’t be. The girl gave me her warnings, but she said something that must have triggered the reappearance of my dinner. She said I would suffer a loss soon. A loss of someone I loved dearly, and the cause of it will be false. When she said that, one word echoed in my head: Mom. Now, I know it’s stupid to worry. Mom’s medication is helping her, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. Because like with all my other dreams, it seemed so real, and despite telling me it’s just a dream, I’m worried about her. Could these dreams possibly be premonitions? Or am I simply going crazy, like everyone says I am? I hope it’s the latter, because if anything happens to Mom, I don’t think I could forgive myself. Because if something happened to her, it would be my fault, because in a way, I predicted it. I have to stop here; Mom’s coming to clean up the mess on my floor. She thinks I’m getting sick. If only I could tell her what’s really wrong with me. If she knew, would she still love me? There’s no use in brooding over that now. I really need to focus on possible connections between these dreams, and those three glimpses of the red-haired lady. Somehow, she’s vaguely familiar. I need to find connections because as I said before, these are no ordinary dreams; they’re glimpses of the future . . . I’m sure of it.
* * * *
The next day, I managed to convince Mom I was fine. I packed my bag, and headed out the door for school.
I spotted Sammy up ahead. She was chatting merrily to Viola and her cronies. What a bunch of posers. I spotted a girl with curly brown hair eyeing the clique enviously. I decided to set her straight.
"You know, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be. If you don’t have any horrible rumors about people to spread around school, they won’t spare you a glance." The girl looked at me with wide eyes. She jumped up mumbling something. I heard the phrase "got to go". She ran toward another girl, and I heard her say "The crazy girl just spoke to me. The one they say has been having fits." I was used to these comments, so why was I shocked? I studied their retreating backs carefully.
Then it hit me. They were way out of earshot. How had I heard them? This spooked me. First I was having weird nightmares, and now I was hearing things a normal person couldn’t possibly hear. I spent the whole morning brooding on this recent development.
At lunch, I sat by myself. I pulled my journal out, and wrote a new entry.
June 1, Thursday
The strangest thing happened. I overheard a girl speaking to her friend, and as usual, I was the topic of conversation. The crazy girl, as I was being dubbed. That was the nicest of the names I overheard this past week. Anyway, rumors I’ve grown accustomed to. However, I heard this girl and she was definitely out of earshot. How could I have heard her? Has the constant stream of whispers, rumors, names, and snide comments affected me so badly that I’ve become paranoid? I really don’t have time to figure this out right now. I have a Bio exam I need to cram for. But in these pages, I’ll make myself a promise: I’ll figure this all out. . .because deep down I know I have to.
* * * *
I couldn’t just forget that conversation I overheard. That’s why when my exam was handed back, there was a large red "F" scrawled across the top. Summer school for me.
Standing at my locker, I pulled out my notes to check my answers. Maybe my teacher made a mistake. I was checking question 4a when I heard someone calling my name.
"Addison! Addison Flow!"
I sighed and looked in the small mirror on the inside of my locker door. I winced at my face. No wonder people thought I needed a good round of shock treatments.
My face had paled, my eyes seemed to be deep in their sockets. The circles under my eyes had become more pronounced than ever, and my lips were chalky and chapped. Instinctively, I pulled out some lip balm. I then brushed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail. The voice continued calling my name.
I slammed my locker shut in irritation. Why couldn’t people leave me alone?
"Addison! I’ve found you!" said someone triumphantly. I turned toward the voice.
There was a small girl with bubble-gum pink hair smiling at me. Despite her size, I could tell she was about my age. She held out a piece of paper. "I’m supposed to deliver this," she told me brightly.
I fixed my bag into a more comfortable position on my shoulder. "Thanks,"I mumbled, taking the note. She didn’t move. "Um...you can leave now," I said, raising an eyebrow. Did she only volunteer to deliver this message so she could get a close look at Windy Meadow High’s Psycho Chick?
She shook her head. "I’m supposed to make sure you read it. The secretary said it was urgent."
"It would’ve been easier to tell you the message and have you repeat it to me,"I said.
She shrugged. "Open it. I need to get to Music."
I opened the envelope. Inside was a hand-written note on a piece of school stationary; the kind with the address and phone and fax number of the school typed on top. I unfolded the paper and my face paled as I read.
Addison, we have just received a phone call from the hospital. Apparently your mother suffered a heart-attack earlier today. You are asked to report to the office immediately, as the doctor says your mother keeps asking for you, and of course, I’m sure you’ll want to be with her. She is in stable condition for now, and they told me to tell you not to worry. They believe she’ll recover. Again, please report to the office.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. Jordan Lun
School Secretary
I froze, and an anguished cry escaped my lips.
"What’s up?" the girl asked me anxiously.
"Mom," I choked out, and I ran past her up the stairs and down the hall toward the office. As I ran, the girl from nightmare’s words echoed in my head:
"You will suffer a loss soon, and that person is dear to you. The cause of death is not as it seems."No! Mom wasn’t going to die! The doctor had said on the phone she was in stable condition and would make a full recovery. Besides, it was just a nightmare.
But why then, does it appear to be coming true?I barreled through the door. "I need to get to the hospital. Now!" I said to the secretary.
She looked up from her work. "I called you a cab. It’s waiting outside."
I nodded and left. Normally, I would have been opposed to riding in a car, but today was different, and this was an emergency. This wasn’t a trip to the grocery store; my mother was in the hospital, and I needed to get there in the quickest and most efficient way.
I barely took in the reception area. I hurried up to the lady behind the desk.
"Can you tell me what room Lucille Flow is in?" I asked her.
She frowned over the top of her magazine. "She’s not supposed to have visitors."
"I’m her daughter. I’m sure she’ll want to see me. I need to find out is she’s ok."
Something in my voice made the woman’s expression soften. "Room 23 on the fifth floor. Walk through those double doors over there. You can take the elevator or the stairs. Her room is on the right-hand side. The resident is Dr. Josef Glendor and the intern is Dr. Jamie Berley."
"Thank you." I hurried through the doors she had pointed to, and jammed the "up" button for the elevator. I waited impatiently for it to arrive, and when the doors slid open, I ran inside and hit the button for the fifth floor. Some cheesy music played inside, and I grew anxious. How slow was this elevator?
Finally, it opened to the fifth floor hallway. The hallway with the over-flowing desks, bright lights, white-tiled floors, paneled ceilings, and many rooms, that would become my home for the next two weeks.
****
Mom was in a private room. It had a large window and a comfy sofa; a definite improvement over the plastic chairs in some rooms. She had a small wooden night table by her bed, along with different monitors for her heart and breathing. There also was a small dresser across from her bed, which showed me most likely long-term patients were kept in this room, and my mother was one of them.
She looked so frail in her hospital gown, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. When I entered, she looked at me with her aquamarine eyes and gave me a weak smile.
"Oh Mom!" I hurried to her bedside, and took her hand. "Are you ok? I didn’t run into a doctor yet."
"I’m fine now, sweetie. They took some tests, and they say I should make a speedy recovery. They said the heart attack wasn’t major, but they need to keep me here so they can monitor my heart."
I didn’t say anything at first, my eyes filled with tears. "Mom...what were you doing when you had the heart attack?"
"Needlepoint," she answered promptly. "I was finishing the one with the flowers to put in your room, when I couldn’t breathe. My hand was shaking, and I scratched myself with the needle, look,"she held out her arm, and the blood drained from my face. Mom noticed and said in a soothing voice, "Baby, the cuts aren’t major. I had to get a shot though. But anyway, I called for an ambulance, even though I was having a heart attack. They came 5 minutes after I called, and brought me here. I was unconscious, but when I woke up I told them to call you." "But you’re ok, right?"
"Yep. Bored out of my mind, but I’m fine. How was school? Are you ok?"
I blushed because I knew she was asking if I had any fits today. "Yes, I’m fine. Mom, how about I run home and get you some magazines and your needlepoint?"
She smiled. "That would be nice. You think of everything. What would I do without you?"
I smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "I’ll be back soon. Love you."
"Love you too, baby."
I left the room with a sense of dread. One of my visions came true; kind of. No! Mom wasn’t going to die! Then I thought about the thin scratches on her arm from her sewing needle. The scratches were the exact size and shape to the half-healed ones that were on my arm. The cuts I woke with twice after suffering one of my nightmares.
I walked out of the hospital. I knew Mom was ok, so I decided to walk home. I entered the house which seemed different without Mom’s presence. Empty, somehow. I walked over to the chair she had been sitting at, and picked up her needlepoint. Then, I hurried to her room and grabbed some of her craft magazines and two other needlepoints. I also packed my duffel bag with changes of clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other necessities. I was going to sleep at the hospital.
I locked the house up behind me, and an hour later, I was back in her room, solving algebra equations, while Mom flipped through the evening’s newspaper, which a helpful nurse picked up for her.
"Anything good?" I asked slamming my book shut.
" No not really. There’s going to be a new store in a town, and some famous doctor will be visiting, but that’s it."
"Oh."
"Honey, get some rest. You are going to school tomorrow, no questions asked. It’s almost the end of the year, and I don’t want you to fail. Besides, I’ll be fine here, what with the doctors and all."
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her I probably had failed, but thought better of it. With a sigh, I made up a bed on the couch, and went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth.
"Good-night Mom."
"Good-night Addy."
I fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber, and when morning came, I hadn’t had one nightmare. I took this to mean Mom was going to be fine after all.
****
At lunch, I sat with Erica, the girl with the pink hair I met yesterday. I liked her a lot.
"How’s your mom?" she asked.
"She’s doing well."
"That’s good. Hey, after you left yesterday, Viola and that new friend of hers Samantha, were caught trying to steal out of the vending machines. They’re suspended. In my opinion, they should be clearing out their lockers for good."
I smirked. "Serves Sammy right for ditching me to hang out with losers like Viola. I warned her, but she didn’t listen."
Erica nodded. "Do you want me to come with you to the hospital? We can study for the last Latin exam this year. I really could use some help."
I smiled. "Yea, you can come. I’d like you to meet my mother."
She grinned, and the bell rang. "I’ll meet you in the front of the school, ok?"
"Ok."
With that, she walked out of the cafeteria. I sat a little while longer, glad that Erica was my friend. She didn’t think I was a freak, for which I was grateful. She also seemed concerned for my mother, even though she never met her. Sammy had heard about Mom being in the hospital, but never even asked once if she was ok. Sighing, stood up and headed for class.
I met Erica outside on the steps. She was chewing gum, and twirling a lock of her pink hair around her finger, listening to a CD player. She smiled when she saw me.
"Sorry bout that, I couldn’t resist. Mom bought me a new CD and I was dying to listen to it."
"I understand. I love music myself; what genre and band was it?"
She held up the black CD. "Rock of course, and the band was Rejected."
I raised an eyebrow. "Rejected? You like them? Personally, I like Cold as Winter. Weird name, good music. But I would’ve given you credit for Starless Nights or Missing. Rejected, however..."I shook my head.
"Oh come on!" she said."They’re not half as bad as Running Blind, and they’re way better than Haunting Memories."
We were walking now. "Yea, they are better than Haunting Memories, even though their song "Losing You" is pretty good." I paused thoughtfully. "Running Blind has a new album out, and two of the songs on it are pretty good."
Erica grinned. "What ones?"
"Hold on a second, I’m trying to remember. Oh yea! "Facing the Future" and "Dreamless Nights". What wouldn’t I give for a dreamless night."I sighed.
Erica laughed, understanding my joke. "Take a good dose of cold medicine before bed. It’ll knock you out, guaranteed. I tried it before."
"I know. I tried it before, and I’m not going to do it again any time soon." I looked at her; curious. "Why would you need to knock yourself out?"
"It was the night before we went on a vacation, and I couldn’t get to sleep because I was excited. So, I crept into the bathroom and took some medicine. Half hour later, I was out cold."
I shook my head. Erica surprised me with each passing second. I realized she was almost like a peppier version of Sage, and a more reliable friend than Sammy.
I led her up to my mom’s room.
"Mom? I brought someone to meet you."
She looked up from her needlepoint. "Hello sweetie. Who did you bring?"
I beckoned to Erica. "Mom, I would like you to meet my friend Erica."
Erica stepped in the room, and smiled. "Hello."
"Hello Erica. I’m happy to see you’re friends with Addy. She’s a sweet girl, but nobody wants to talk to her."
"She is a good friend, Mrs. Flow. In fact, I was kind of an outcast before I met her."
"Please, call me Lucille. Why don’t you girls have a seat? I can’t do much more than offer you a chair."
"Mom, we need to study for Latin. Maybe you can help us," I pulled out my book and opened it to the page with all of our words. "Ask us a word in English or Latin, it doesn’t matter which, and we’ll tell you the answer. Maybe you should alternate between English and Latin. Anyway, when one of us has the answer, we’ll raise our hand and tell you. We’ll keep points to see who knows the most words."
"Brilliant idea Addy! Only you would make a game out of studying." Erica laughed and pulled out a notebook and a pen, which she handed to my mother. "You can use these to keep score."
Mom smiled. I knew she was happy to do something besides needlepoint.
The game began, Mom asking words in Latin and then in English. Erica was winning by 2 points.
"How do you say ‘The weather is nice today.’ in Latin?"
Erica’s hand shot up. She answered the question perfectly, winning the game.
"Well Addy, I need to go, but never fear; I’ll come back tomorrow to kick your butt again. Nice meeting you Lucille." Erica extended her hand to my mom.
"Nice meeting you too, Erica," Mom said shaking her hand.
"Bye Addy." Erica gave me a hug, and she left.
"She’s such a nice girl," Mom said.
"She is," I agreed whole-heartedly.
"I’m going to bed Addy. I feel really tired."
"Mom, do you need me to call in a nurse?"
"No, baby. I just need sleep."
I lay on the couch, worrying over what Mom had just said. But soon, the sound of her quiet, even, breathing lulled me to sleep.
* * * *
For the next two weeks, Mom was recovering. Erica came over every day and we played our studying game. I was slowly becoming better, but she beat me every time. Then, on the day before the exam, I won my first round.
"About time you won," Erica said grinning. "Right before the day of the test."
"At least I won," I said.
Erica checked the clock. "I’ll see you both tomorrow."
I went to bed in high spirits, confident I would pass my exam. But that night, after two weeks of no dreams, my nightmare returned.
And this time, according to the girl, my loved one’s time was up.