“I will.”
“Love you, Janie. Be safe.”
“I will. Talk to you soon.”
Fifteen minutes later they are back on the road.
Nobody sleeps.
Figures, Janie thinks.
She takes a nap while she can.
12:10 a.m.
In the hotel room with Janie are three other girls. Stacey O’Grady, Lauren Bastille, and Lupita Hernandez. The four of them chat and giggle softly for a few minutes, but growing tired, they fall into bed, the alarm set for 5:30 a.m.
1:55 a.m.
Janie is sucked into the first dream. It’s Lupita, her bed mate. Janie can feel Lupita, twitching in the bed next to her.
They are in a classroom. Papers fly around everywhere. Lupita frantically scoops them up, but for each paper she picks up, fifty more fall from the ceiling.
Lupita is frantic.
She looks at Janie. Janie stares back, concentrating.
“Help me!” Lupita cries.
Janie smiles encouragingly. “Change it, Lupita,” she says. “Order the papers to come to a rest in a pile. It’s your dream. You can change it.”
Janie concentrates on delivering the message to Lupita. Slowly, Lupita’s eyes grow wide. She reaches out her hands to the papers, and they float gently down into a neat stack on Lupita’s desk. Lupita sighs, relieved.
Janie pulls herself out of the dream.
Lupita is no longer twitching. She is breathing steadily, deep, calm breaths.
Janie grins and rolls over.
Waits patiently for the one she needs.
2:47 a.m.
It’s Lauren Bastille this time.
They are in a room of a house that looks vaguely familiar to Janie.
Folding chairs are set up in a circle. People are sitting and standing all around. Some are laughing and falling over. Everyone is drinking some sort of pink punch; some dip their hands into the punch bowl and slurp.
All the people, except Lauren, look fuzzy. Janie can’t see any faces, no matter how hard she tries to focus.
Lauren dances in the center of a circle. Her shirt is off and she twirls it as she stumbles around, laughing, wearing just a black bra and jeans.
Someone joins her.
He strips his shirt off and grabs Lauren.
Everyone claps and cheers as the guy pulls Lauren to him. They kiss and grind as the music pounds in the background.
Hip-hop music.
Janie watches in horror as the guy removes Lauren’s clothing and shoves his jeans down to his knees. The guy pushes Lauren to the floor, falling on top of her, their drinks spilling everywhere, and the rest of the group begins making out and tearing off one another’s clothes.
Then they pile up on top of Lauren until people are stacked to the ceiling. Lauren is screaming, muffled. She’s being crushed to death.
Janie’s numb. Her body shakes. She’s had enough, but it’s too horrible.
She can’t escape. She tries to pull herself away, but the nightmare is too strong.
Janie tries to scream, but she knows she can’t.
Look at me! she cries mentally to Lauren. Ask me to help you!
But this nightmare is out of control. Janie can’t get Lauren’s attention.
She can’t pull out of it. She watches in horror as Lauren fights, tearing uselessly at the people on top of her, shouting, “No! Stop! No!”
Janie summons all her strength and tries to pause it. Tries to scan the room again. It’s not working.
Until.
With a final, heroic effort, Janie manages to pry her eyes off of Lauren.
Looks around the room.
There.
In the kitchen.
Laughing and drinking, watching the craziness, like it’s a football game or something.
Someone has a cell phone out.
A strange expression on her blurry, laughing face.
When Lauren screams, everything goes black. Janie is paralyzed, blind.