“Could you tell me how to get to the University?” he asked.
I could. But I wanted to hear more about the dreams.
“Turn around, head down Ruby and turn right on East University Way,” I quickly told him. “What did you say about my dreams?”
He stepped back and gestured at the VW. “Come along for a ride and I’ll tell you all about the journey you’re about to embark upon.”
Goosebumps prickled down my arms. “What journey?”
Walking home? That journey?
He shook his head as if he heard my thoughts. “Step inside. I’ll tell you about how it all ends. In fire. With a man you’ll never be able to save.”
Okay, this was beyond creepy. This was run away, now and fast.
“Or find out for yourself,” he added. He started to get back in the car, much to my relief and bewilderment. “It’s your choice.”
The door slammed and the car started up with a roar. The ending notes of a Hybrid song, “Sky Valley” wafted out from the windows. The VW quickly pulled out onto the road and did a U-turn, puttering away in the direction of the university.
As it went past me again, Ted kept his eyes on the road. But in the backseat I got a glimpse of the woman. She was staring straight at me, a blur of pale skin and long white hair obscured by the dirtiness of the rear windshield.
I held my breath, my heart racing strangely as they drove down the street. I waited until they were out of sight before I booked it home. Running in boots was noisy and hard on my ankles, but I went for a run several times a week to keep the weight off and I had enough stamina to push through it for forty-five sweaty minutes.
By the time I arrived home, it was completely dark out and I was soaked in sweat. I had never been so happy to see the farmhouse before. Even in its scrawny, faded condition it felt like a safety net after the night I just had. Just what the hell had happened with that Ted guy? Was he just someone sinister or had I just smoked too much pot? I made a mental note to take it easier next time, especially as my lungs were extra wheezy.
I opened the screen door slowly, knowing it squeaked extra loud at night, and listened for signs of life. It was quiet and almost dark except for a faint light coming from the living room. I crept toward it and spied my father passed out on the couch, two empty cans of cheap beer beside him. I sighed, though I should have been happy he had just been drinking beer and none of the hard stuff. I took the blanket off of the armchair and put it over him.
I loved my dad to pieces, except when he was drunk, which was often. It was a strained relationship at best, especially since I had been such a daddy’s girl growing up. I was really everything he had until Eric came along six years later. But then Mom died and shit just went downhill. Still, I didn’t blame my dad. Well, I tried not to. It was something I worked on every day. He still managed to keep his job at the repair shop, I just wished he’d pull himself together for Eric’s sake. He needed extra care, more than the average sixteen-year-old, and I was tired of taking care of both of them. I knew that was selfish of me, but...
I tucked the quilt underneath his heavy arms and brushed the hair off of his forehead. It was dirty and graying and made me sad. I sighed again, my heart still thumping from the run, and went into the kitchen for a glass of water before bed. I remembered I had to phone Mel’s mom and leave a message for her. It was getting late but she was used to the two of us calling each other all hours of the night.
I went for the phone and saw there was something addressed to me on the message pad. It was my dad’s writing. For a second I hoped that Ryan had called while I was out and the skin prickled deliciously at the back of my neck.
Dawn! Call Maureen at Cream Magazine. 313-587-2837.
Huh. I brought the pad up to my face, as if that would help me understand it better. What area code was 313? And what was Cream? Did he mean Creem Magazine?
My heart pounded loudly.
I looked over at my dad who was now snoring loudly. I didn’t want to wake him up, knowing he’d probably be drunk and disorderly if I did. I’d have to catch him in the morning.
Unless Eric knew something. I quickly filled up a glass with water and downed it before I scuttled up the stairs to our bedrooms. Eric’s door was closed and I leaned against it, listening. When I couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not, I opened it quietly and peeked in. He was sprawled under his sheets, twitching slightly, the moonlight shining in through the dusty window. God damn it, why was everyone asleep in this house?
I carefully shut the door behind me and once inside my room, I flicked on my lights and collapsed on the bed. I rolled over on my back and looked up at my heaven—the ceiling. My bedroom was my prized sanctuary, always had been. Through my mom’s depression, my father’s collapse, Eric’s affliction, this was the one place I felt…home. Even when a quick ride on Moonglow didn’t wash away the blues, my room did, so as long as I put a record on my beloved orange player and slipped on a pair of earphones. I had a massive record collection that took up one wall of my room, competing for space with riding ribbons and trophies. I kept the walls more or less bare to showcase the concert photos I had taken and deemed good enough to frame. The ceiling was where my posters were, held to it with sticky blue gum. Lying on my back, it was easy to get lost in Pink Floyd’s rainbow or Elton John’s yellow brick road. Jimmy Page stared down at me with a sleepy look in his eyes, while Ozzy made goofy faces. Jeff Beck, The Guess Who, Dust, Wings, The Doors, and Wishbone Ash, jockeyed for position with Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, Alice Cooper, The Beatles, Ziggy Stardust, Queen, The Stooges, and The Allman Brothers Band.
Before I had time to wonder what Ryan was doing, if Todd was going to get his interview, who the hell that Ted guy was, and what Cream was all about, I swept away to sleep by the music in my head.
I dreamed of fire.
CHAPTER TWO
I was slowly woken up by sunshine streaming in through my window and the phone ringing from downstairs. Before I had time to fathom that I had fallen asleep in my disgusting clothes on top of the covers, my brother was yelling at me through the house.
“Dawn! Phone’s for you!” I heard him at the bottom of the stairs, a small hoot and bark following the sentence.
I sat up and groaned, feeling it was far too early for anything, then remembered the message from the night before. I sprang to my feet and scampered down the stairs, my boots clunking loudly.