Bad Dreams (7 page)

“That's spooky,” Andrea admitted. “And she got…”

She let the question trail off. Maggie finished it for her. “Stabbed,” she murmured softly. “With a knife. Over and over. Don't you see? I
knew
it was too good to be true,” Maggie moaned unhappily.

“What was?”

“The owners just leaving this beautiful bed behind. There had to be something wrong with it.”

Andrea shook her head. “This isn't like you, Maggie.”

“Something is wrong here,” Maggie whispered, thinking out loud. “I can feel it.”

“Did you see the girl's face this time?” Andrea asked.

Maggie shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm. What does she look like?”

“She has long blond hair. Ash blond.”

“Ash blond,” Andrea repeated thoughtfully.

“Why?” Maggie asked nervously. “You know who she is?”

“No,” Andrea said with a smile. “I was just thinking, I have
no idea
who she is.”

Maggie waited for Andrea to explain.

“Well, this'll sound crazy,” Andrea continued. “But you want to know what I think is giving you nightmares?”

“What?”

“You're putting yourself under too much pressure with the swim team. It's like you
have
to be number one or else.”

Maggie frowned. “So? I want to do well. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Don't get defensive.”

“I'm not getting defensive,” Maggie insisted.

“Well, that's all I'm saying,” Andrea said. “I just think that could be what's causing this. Maybe with Dad, and the move to this house, and the competition—it's all too much for your brain. It's on overload.”

“What does swimming have to do with a girl getting stabbed?” Maggie demanded, her voice rising.

Andrea shrugged, as if the connection were obvious. “Maybe you want to stab the rest of us so you'll be the winner.”

“That—that is totally stupid!” Maggie protested.

“Okay, okay,” Andrea said quickly. “Forget I brought it up. I'm no shrink. How am
I
supposed to know what your dumb dream means?”

Maggie regretted raising her voice. Andrea was only trying to help. “Who knows,” Maggie said. “Maybe it
is
the swim team that's got me so stressed. But what am I supposed to do? Drop swimming because I had a couple of nightmares?”

“No, but you could ease up a little. Not push yourself quite so hard,” Andrea suggested.

Maggie laughed scornfully. “Right. Take it easy. So you can swim the two-hundred IM instead of me, right?”

Instantly, Andrea's eyes became dark with anger.

Uh-oh, Maggie thought. What did I say?

“You really are disgusting!” Andrea cried, shaking her head bitterly. “No matter what I do, you always think the worst of me, don't you?”

“Andrea, what are you talking about? I—”

“You think I said that because I want to beat you in swimming? You think this was all some kind of trick?”

“No, Andrea, I was just jok—”

“Believe me, Maggie, swimming isn't all I think about. Get a life!”

“I didn't say you did, I just—”

Andrea stabbed the air with her forefinger to stress her point. “I don't need tricks to beat you. Because I can swim faster and better than you. How do you like that?”

Maggie sighed. “Andrea,” she said. “You're taking this all wrong. I didn't mean—”

Andrea was on her feet now. “Don't do that,” she snarled.

“Don't do
what?”

“Don't start acting all innocent and sweet after you insult me. You always do this. Always!”

“Always do
what?”

“You make a crack,” Andrea said. “And then when I get mad, you pretend you have no idea why I'm angry, so
I'll
look crazy.”

“Andrea, you
are
crazy!” Maggie cried in frustration. “You're making up this whole fight out of nothing.”

“Right,” Andrea snapped. “It's all my fault It's always all my fault. You're Miss Perfect. Right?”

Maggie raised her hands helplessly. “Did I say that?”

“I came in here because I was worried about you,” Andrea said, her voice trembling. “I came in because you sounded upset. And this is the thanks I get!”

“Please, Andrea,” Maggie said. “Look how angry you are because of one stupid remark I made about the swim team. What's the big deal here? You and I both know that you don't exactly wish me the best of luck on the swim team.”

“And what about you?” Andrea cried furiously. “Who's the one dreaming about a girl getting stabbed, huh? Dreams are all
wishes,
right? That's what I learned in psych class. So who do you want to stab? Who do you want to be dead? Who?”

Was Andrea right? Maggie wondered, suddenly cold all over.

She couldn't be.

The dream
can't
be telling me I want to stab someone.

It
can't
be telling me I'm
going
to stab someone!

Because when I'm in the dream, Maggie realized, I'm not on the side of the attacker. I don't identify with the attacker.

I identify with the
victim!

M
aggie spun the dial on her combination lock for the third time. What was wrong with her? She couldn't focus her eyes.

Was it left to 22? Or right? She ought to know. She had only opened her lock about a zillion times.

She pulled down hard, and the lock finally popped open. She loaded her history and math books onto the top shelf.

It was Friday. TGIF, thought Maggie wearily. Why was she so tired? Because she hadn't been sleeping well.

Every night when she went to bed, she worried about dreaming again. The dream hadn't returned. But the thought of having it scared her so much, she tossed and turned every night. Every sound in the house became amplified and scary. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since they moved to Fear Street.

Maggie shoved her English textbook far into the
locker. The assignment for that day had been to read a story about a boy who keeps thinking it's snowing. Turns out there is no snow. It's all in his head. He's going insane.

Just what I needed to read! she told herself sarcastically.

She pulled out her notebook for Mrs. Harrison's geology class, snapped her lock closed, and followed the stream of students through the noisy hallway. Only one more period to go.

And then she had swim. She was so tired, her feet felt like lead. Forget finishing first in any race. She'd probably sink straight to the bottom of the pool!

Geology class was down one flight. She joined the crowd in the stairwell. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows of the hallway. It caught a flash of red hair up ahead.

“Andrea!” she called.

She hurried to catch up to her sister. There was no way to push through, and her voice was drowned out by the loud conversation and laughter.

Then, a few yards ahead, she saw Dawn, laughing happily as she started down the stairs with a couple of guys on the basketball team.

“Excuse me, excuse me—” Maggie forced her way forward.

She had no idea why. She suddenly felt very uneasy. She pushed harder. “Hey,” someone said. “Watch it. No shoving!”

Her heart started to pound. Why was she feeling so strange?

“Dawn!” she called again.

Moving with the crowd, Maggie now started down the stairs too.

“Hey—Dawn!
Oh!”
Maggie cried out as she saw Dawn start to lose her footing.

She heard a sharp cry.

And saw Dawn start to fall.

It all happened in an instant, but that one instant seemed to go on endlessly, as if the whole world had gone into slow motion.

Dawn tumbled forward, down the concrete stairs.

Her books flew out in front of her.

Her head bounced on the concrete with a deafening
crack
—louder than the startled shrieks and cries of the crowd.

Another loud
crack
as she finished rolling and hit the floor.

Her legs twisted under her.

Her jaw fell open lifelessly. Her eyes stared blankly.

Dawn didn't move.

M
aggie's Trapper Keeper fell from her arms and bumped down the stairs. She raised her hands to her eyes to shut out the ugly picture of her friend lying twisted at the bottom of the stairs.

“Dawn—Dawn—” she muttered.

The stairwell echoed with shouts and cries. A crowd had circled around Dawn.

From near the top of the stairs, Maggie saw Dawn begin to writhe in agony. “My arm!” Dawn screamed. “It—I think it's broken!”

“Get a teacher!” somebody yelled. “Somebody—call 911!”

Kids took off in all directions. Maggie heard frantic cries for help.

Someone tried to help Dawn sit up. But she shrieked in pain when she was touched.

“My arm—my arm—” she cried shrilly. “Somebody pushed me!”

Maggie took a deep breath and made her way down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly. She spotted Andrea at the outside of the circle.

Andrea turned and gazed at Maggie. She had the strangest expression on her face. Half smile, half bitter stare.

“Dawn, are you okay?” Maggie asked. “What happened? Did you trip?”

Dawn's reply made Maggie turn away. “No. I told you. I was pushed. Did you do it? Did you push me?” Dawn cried through her tears.

“Huh?” Maggie wasn't sure she had heard correctly.

“Maggie—” Dawn insisted weakly, her arm bent behind her, tears flowing down her pale cheeks. “I heard you call me, Maggie. Then—then you pushed me.”

Horrified, Maggie started to sputter. “Huh? Dawn—no! I—I couldn't! I wasn't near you. I mean—”

Maggie turned to Andrea for help. But Andrea was staring down at the floor. “Tell her I didn't do this, Andrea,” Maggie begged.

“I—I didn't see anything,” Andrea stammered.

All around her, Maggie felt the accusing stares of the other students. Maggie glared back at them in disbelief. Did they really think she would push someone down the stairs? Didn't they know her better than that?

With an angry sob, she picked up her Trapper Keeper, turned, and pushed her way back up the stairs. No one made it easy for her to pass.

By the time Maggie reached the upstairs hallway, she was crying. Fighting back her tears, she started to run.

The final bell rang for class. But Maggie ran straight into the girls' room. She shut the door hard and leaned against it. At least she was alone.

She turned and saw her tear-stained face in the mirror.

The dream. As she stared at herself, the dream popped into her head.

Dawn has blond hair. The girl in the dream has blond hair.

Andrea had guessed the girl might be Dawn the first time she heard about her.

And in the dream, the girl always fell backward, smacking her head hard against the headboard. Dawn had just smacked her head against the concrete, just like the girl in her dream.

In the mirror, Maggie saw her own eyes widen with fear, and the tight-lipped horror on her own face scared her even more.

Was the dream coming true?

Andrea's words came back to her:
Dreams were wishes.

Could Maggie have caused Dawn's accident somehow? Even without meaning to?

She made it through geology class, but her mind was somewhere else the whole time. Mrs. Harrison was going through plans for the field trip scheduled for the next Wednesday.

About a forty-five-minute ride out of Shadyside was Glenn Rock Mountain. The caverns at Glenn Rock were a popular tourist attraction.

Maggie didn't really listen to what Mrs. Harrison was saying. Halfway through the period, she asked to be excused to go check on Dawn.