Bad Dreams

  This isn’t my house.

  Then she remembered. This was her new house, her new room.

  She gasped as Andrea and her mom came running in. Sitting straight up in bed, gripping the white afghan to her chest, Maggie stared at them, dazed and frightened.

  “Wh-what was that scream?” her mother demanded fearfully.

  Maggie realized that it was she who had let out the long, bloodcurdling scream. “Bad dream,” she murmured, more than a little embarrassed.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” her mom said, sitting down heavily on the bed. “The way you screamed, I thought…”

  “A real nightmare, huh?” Andrea asked quietly, sitting at the foot of the bed and wrapping her hand around the carved bedpost.

  Maggie’s breathing slowly returned to normal. She forced a smile. It felt good to have them there.

  “It—it seemed so real,” she stammered.

  “Well, dreams do quite often,” Mrs. Travers said. She patted her daughter’s shoulder. Maggie was starting to feel a little foolish, as if she were three years old.

  “Tell it to us,” Andrea suggested, “before you forget it.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” Maggie told her. “It was just a girl sleeping. The way she was sleeping—at first I thought she was dead. Then she started twisting and turning. She looked—I don’t know—tortured. I could feel she was in trouble.”

  “Weird,” said Andrea. “What did she look like?”

  “I couldn’t see her face, but she had long blond hair.”

  “Dawn Rodgers,” Andrea guessed. “You talked to Dawn tonight.”

  It was true. Dawn did have long blond hair. But the girl in the dream was an ash blond, with paler hair than Maggie had ever remembered seeing outside a magazine. “Maybe it was Dawn,” she told Andrea. “I don’t know.”

  Mrs. Travers brushed a lock of hair from Maggie’s forehead, “It’s just the stress of moving to a strange new place.” She smiled at Maggie, but her face remained worried, her eyes puffy.

  Maggie felt bad about waking her. Her mother had had a hard day.

  “Think you can sleep now?” Mrs. Travers asked.

  Maggie nodded. “Thanks,” she murmured as her mother and sister left the room. “Uh, leave the door open,” she added. She felt foolish saying that, but she hadn’t gotten over the dream yet.

  She couldn’t shake her fear. It seemed to hover over her, hover over the canopy bed like a heavy cloud.

  Maggie had set her alarm for seven. She wanted to get to the pool at the high school and swim for an hour before breakfast. Swimming was so relaxing. She could just get in the water, shut her mind off, and tell her body, “Swim!”

  But when she opened her eyes, the clock radio said ten. She picked it up and examined it. It had stopped. The outlet she had plugged it into must be controlled by the light switch at the door. Ten was when she had turned out the light to go to bed.

  She found her watch. It was nearly eleven.

  “Oh, great,” Maggie muttered unhappily. Another morning swim missed. And the next day was the first tryout for the All-State swim team.

  Sighing, Maggie pulled on faded denim shorts and an oversize T-shirt, and hurried down for a late Sunday morning breakfast. Then she and Andrea spent the rest of the morning helping their mom dust and mop.

  Maggie wasn’t in the greatest of moods. She decided it would help if she set up her room the way she had in their old house. But that only made her sadder.

  When she put up her old swimming posters, it made her notice how badly the off-white walls of her room needed a fresh coat of paint.

  Then she lined up her crystal collection on the dresser. Her old room had been so sunny, the crystals changed colors constantly. Here, the prisms and glass animals barely shone.

  As she worked in her room, Maggie found one other thing the previous owners had left behind. On the wide ledge outside her window sat a tiny potted geranium. Dead. The shriveled and gnarled plant seemed to sum up her mood.

  Justin will cheer me up, she told herself.

  Around two, she started to get nervous butterflies about seeing him. She told her mom to be sure to keep an ear out for the doorbell. She even went outside and pressed the doorbell, just to make sure it worked.

  Then she took a quick shower and put on clean clothes—a fresh pair of faded denim jeans, a white T-shirt, and a green-checked vest she had found at a flea market. It brought out the green in her eyes.

  She knocked on Andrea’s door. “Come in,” Andrea said lifelessly.

  Maggie found her sprawled on her back in bed. “What’s up?” Maggie asked her.

  Andrea ignored the question. “We’ll get used to this place, right?” she asked gloomily.

  Maggie shrugged. She caught a glimpse of a fashion magazine tucked under Andrea’s pillow. Andrea always claimed she didn’t care about looks or fashion or anything superficial like that.

  But once when Maggie was looking for a CD Andrea had borrowed, she came across a whole shoebox full of articles Andrea had clipped from women’s magazines. Articles such as “10 Ways to Look Slimmer and Trimmer” and “Want to Look Tall? Stand Tall!” That kind of thing.

  “I haven’t found my hairbrush yet,” Maggie moaned. “Can I borrow yours?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Maggie found the silver hairbrush on Andrea’s dresser and started brushing her wavy red hair in long strokes. “Justin will be here any minute,” she told her sister.

  In the mirror she caught the jealous expression that briefly flashed across Andrea’s face.

  What am I supposed to do? Maggie thought bitterly. Break up with Justin just so Andrea won’t be jealous?

  Maggie studied her sister’s face, trying to think of some way to cheer her up. “You still feeling down about moving here?” she asked.

  “I guess,” Andrea murmured. “It’s just weird. The house, the neighborhood.” She swallowed hard, then added, “No Dad.”

  “I know,” Maggie said softly. The silence was heavy between them. There wasn’t anything else to say, and they both knew it.

  “I’ve just been having such strange thoughts,” Andrea confessed, avoiding her sister’s eyes. “Strange, strange thoughts.” She paused, then flashed Maggie a tense smile. “Have a good time with Justin,” she said coldly.

  “Where is he?” Maggie asked out loud, staring out the front window. It was four o’clock and no sign of Justin.

  By five o’clock she swore to herself she was going to break up with him. How could he do this to her?

  At ten after five, the doorbell finally rang. Maggie eagerly scrambled down the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom step, she wasn’t angry anymore.

  She opened the door to Justin standing there, one hand behind his back.

  “Something for me?” Maggie asked delightedly.

  Justin pulled his hand out. He was holding a big bag of kitchen sponges.

  “How romantic!” Maggie said.

  He caught her puzzled expression. “You said you had all this cleaning up to do,” he explained, grinning.

  “Oh, right.”

  Maggie stepped forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, touching his arm softly. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it, which she liked.

  Maggie was almost five feet eight. That meant she was usually as tall if not taller than her boyfriends. Justin was six feet, easy. And so great-looking, she felt like pinching herself.

  “Look, Mom,” Maggie said as she led Justin into the house. “New sponges.”

  Mrs. Travers melted as if Justin had brought her a bouquet of roses. “Just what I needed!” she gushed.

  “Mom’s a cheap date,” Maggie said dryly.

  “Hey, Mags,” Justin said, glancing around, “this place isn’t as bad as you said.”

  “You see?” Mrs. Travers beamed. Justin was really turning on the charm.

  “You want something to drink?” Maggie asked as she led him to the kitchen. “We’ve got two cans
of Sprite and”—she yanked open the fridge and peered inside—“and two cans of Sprite.”

  “We’ve got a little shopping to do,” Mom explained guiltily.

  “Uh, I think I’ll have a Sprite,” Justin said. His blue eyes twinkled. Maggie found herself staring at them. She couldn’t help it. Justin’s eyes were the color of the water in those ads for vacation islands in the Caribbean.

  “Come on,” she told him, handing him the can, “let me give you the grand tour.”

  It was a small house, so the tour didn’t last long. They ended up in Maggie’s room. Justin sat on the only chair. Maggie draped herself across the bed, hoping he would come sit next to her and kiss her.

  He didn’t.

  They had already made out a couple of times, but their relationship was so new, it was as if they had to start from scratch each time they saw each other.

  Just then, Gus bounded into the room and ran straight to Justin. If only I could be that direct! Maggie thought.

  Gus collapsed on the floor, begging Justin to scratch his belly. Maggie laughed. On second thought, she told herself, I don’t think I do want to be like Gus!

  Justin scratched Gus with his sneaker. Gus whimpered with delight. Then he got up and trotted out of the room again, and the silent tension between Maggie and Justin returned.

  “Are you all set for the tryouts tomorrow?” Justin asked finally.

  Maggie groaned. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Why? You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “Not me.” She jumped to her feet and began pacing.

  “You’ll do great,” Justin promised.

  “I hope so,” Maggie replied. She didn’t want to be superstitious, but compliments like that always made her feel that she was going to mess up.

  Coach Randall was holding tryouts to decide who would swim the 200IM in the All-State meet The 200IM was the Individual Medley, the most taxing event. The swimmer had to be good in every stroke.

  Shadyside could enter only two swimmers in the event. Coach Randall had narrowed the field to four.

  “My biggest competition is your old sweetheart, Dawn,” Maggie said, making a face at him.

  Justin grinned. “Sweetheart? Come on, Mags. Give me a break! I keep telling you, we went out once. One date!”

  Maggie tried not to show how pleased she was by his answer. “Well, anyway, I think Dawn is going to beat me.”

  “Dawn’s tough,” Justin agreed.

  “Oh, thanks for the support!” Maggie cried, laughing. “That was the wrong answer. You’re supposed to tell me I can beat her easily. You’re supposed to say I could lap her twice in a two-lap race!”

  Justin’s expression turned serious. “I think you can beat her,” he said.

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “I feel so much better,” she said, rolling her eyes. Actually, it did mean a lot to her that Justin had confidence in her abilities. When it came to sports, Justin knew a lot. He was captain of the Shadyside High baseball team and a track star.

  “You know, Tiffany also has a shot,” Justin added.

  Tiffany Hollings was a soft-spoken girl with dark frizzy hair and large almond-shaped eyes. Maggie had learned not to take her for granted. Tiffany worked out for hours every day, including weekends. She had a fantastic dolphin kick and a gorgeous backstroke.

  “And then there’s Andrea,” Maggie said.

  Justin replied, “You can take Andrea, no prob.”

  Maggie turned quickly toward her bedroom door. “Shh!”

  When she saw the coast was clear, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s not true. Don’t write Andrea off. She’s really getting good. And besides, beating me is her life’s goal.”

  “That’s because she’s never done it,” Justin replied.

  Maggie sighed. “I’m so pumped, Justin. So totally pumped. I want to swim the Individual Medley so much that if I don’t get it, I’ll kill myself!”

  “I’m glad you’re not putting any extra pressure on yourself,” Justin teased.

  “There’s something else,” Maggie said. Justin waited, studying her with his perfect blue eyes. “I had a dream last night.”

  “Let me guess. You dreamed that when you walked into the pool, your bathing suit fell off and everyone was laughing at you. I have those dreams all the time before a big game.”

  “Wrong,” she said, shaking her head. “There was a girl in my dream. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell she was in trouble.”

  “Weird,” Justin replied. “But what does that have to do with swimming?”

  “Nothing,” she admitted. “But I keep thinking that maybe it’s a bad omen.”

  “Nope,” Justin said with a reassuring grin. “Just a bad dream.”

  To Maggie’s surprise, Justin jumped up from his chair. He put his strong hands on her shoulders. Then he kissed her on the lips.

  A long, deep kiss. She felt his arms sweep around her and move down her back. She didn’t know until that instant how much she had wanted to be held.

  When the kiss ended, they were both breathless.

  Maggie’s heart was thudding in her chest. She gave Justin several quick kisses on the cheek.

  Then she glanced past him to the bedroom doorway.

  And saw that they were not alone.

  Someone stood in the shadows, staring at them.

  The girl from the dream!

  chapter

  5

  Maggie gasped so loudly that Justin spun around in alarm.

  “Andrea—hi!” he called.

  Andrea?

  Maggie squinted hard. Yes. It was Andrea.

  Is she spying on Justin and me? Maggie thought angrily.

  “Where’s your camera? Do you want to take a picture?” Maggie demanded sarcastically.

  “Huh?” Andrea pretended not to understand.

  “How long were you standing there?” Maggie snapped.

  Ignoring her sister’s anger, Andrea stepped into the room. “I just wanted to see if you had unpacked any socks,” she said. “I can’t find mine. See?” She held up one bare foot, wiggling her toes.

  She had painted her nails cherry red. She lifted her foot so high, she almost lost her balance.

  Maggie continued to glare at her. That was a lie, and Andrea knew it. Socks! But she stalked to her dresser.

  “I saw the home run you hit against Waynesbridge,” Andrea told Justin, coyly lowering her head, too shy to look at him.

  “What did you say?” Justin asked, distracted. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

  Andrea was obviously stung. Maggie knew that being ignored by a guy like Justin was a million times more insulting than anything she could have said. “Here, catch,” Maggie said. She tossed Andrea a rolled-up pair of white socks.

  As soon as her sister left, Maggie closed the door.

  “What’s with her?” Justin asked.

  “She hates me,” Maggie answered.

  “She’s just jealous,” Justin said. He slipped his hands around Maggie’s waist, pulling her toward him.

  She stepped back. “You know, when I saw her standing there in the doorway, it reminded me of my dream again.”

  “Yeah?” Justin reached for her again, but she moved away.

  She sat down in the chair, where he couldn’t get to her. Andrea had shaken her up and totally destroyed her romantic mood. She needed to talk.

  “Justin,” she said thoughtfully. “I know this sounds dumb. But I’ve never had a bad dream that scared me before. I can’t help thinking, what if the dream is a warning?”

  “What kind of warning?”

  She shrugged, feeling the same fright she had the night before. “I don’t know. Just a warning. A warning that something bad is going to happen.”

  “Forget about it. Nothing bad is going to happen,” Justin assured her. “You’re just tense, Mags, because of moving and because—”

  He stopped in mid-sentence, his breath caught in his
throat.

  His eyes went wide in sudden fright, his mouth hanging open. He grabbed his chest.

  “Justin?” Maggie cried shrilly.

  His hands went up to his throat. He uttered a hoarse choking sound and staggered toward her.

  Another choking sound. “Can’t—breathe—”

  Before Maggie could get to him, Justin had crumpled lifelessly to the floor.

  chapter

  6

  Maggie stood over him. “Justin? Justin?”

  Then she gave him a little kick when she noticed his stomach moving up and down.

  “You jerk!” she cried. “You scared me to death!”

  He grabbed her ankle and let out a high-pitched hyena laugh.

  “I didn’t believe you for a second!” Maggie exclaimed.

  “Liar!” he cried. “You fell for it! You nearly had a cow!”

  “You’re not funny!” She nudged him again.

  A few seconds later they were laughing and wrestling playfully on the carpet. “Thanks for cheering me up!” Maggie cried.

  She pinned both his shoulders to the floor, then jumped to her feet, cheering victoriously.

  “Give me a break! How about two out of three?” Justin demanded.

  Dawn Rodgers slipped her long, tanned arms through the straps of her black Speedo racing suit and flicked the material into position. “Okay, everybody, ready to take a lesson?” she called.

  Dawn whooped out a war cry. The cry echoed off the walls of the half-empty locker room.

  “Please spare us, Dawn,” Tiffany Hollings moaned, clutching her ears. “We won’t be able to hear the starting whistle.”

  Dawn laughed. “You’ll hear it all right. And here’s the next thing you’ll hear.” She cupped her hand into a microphone. “Now swimming the two-hundred IM for Shadyside, in lane number one—Dawwwwwnnn Rodgers!”

  Maggie was sitting on the bench next to Dawn, braiding her hair and smiling broadly. Imitating an announcer’s voice, she added, “But what’s this? Dawn’s wearing her tennis whites! Oh, no—those are definitely going to slow her down.”

  Dawn, Maggie, and Tiffany laughed at that. Only Andrea, who had been scrabbling through her locker in the corner, didn’t seem to hear.