“Free weights or machine?”
“Oooh, aren’t you smart? Let’s start with free weights.”
She gives him a long look. “Are you spotting me or not?”
He chuckles for the audience, like he’s doing a magic trick. “Of course
I’ll spot you.”
Janie nods. “All right, then. One-twenty’s good.”
He laughs. “How about we start at, say, fifty or something.”
“One-twenty is fine for a single lift.” She bends down and starts adding the weights herself. The students are highly amused, at the encouragement of Coach Crater.
Janie tightens the caps and lies down on the bench, the bar above her chest. “Ready?”
She waits for him to get into spotter position, and grips the bar. Closes her eyes. Concentrates, breathes, until she no longer hears the distraction around her. She pushes up on the bar, holds it a moment, then lowers it evenly to just above her chest and presses upward with all her might. She holds it for a few seconds, and then lets it down slowly in the cradle. “Eighty-five for reps,” she says, making the proper adjustments. She presses eight reps, replaces the bar when she’s finished, and only then does she tune back in to the room. It’s pretty quiet.
Coach Crater is standing, looking down at her, amazed, stupid grin on his face. Janie turns to her side and sits up on the bench, and then walks to the back of the room. Later in the class, she’s getting in half her workout for the day. Bonus.
“Asshole,” she mutters to Coach Crater as she leaves at the end of class.
“What?”
She keeps walking.
Five minutes into study hall, a paper wad from Cabel hits her in the ear.
She rolls her eyes. Opens it up.
Stacey, it says.
Janie looks up. Stacey’s head is on her books. Her eyes are closed.
Janie bites her lip and nods at Cabel. He gives her an encouraging smile.
Her blood is still pumping from PE. She feels strong. She slept well, ate well…has everything going for her. Now all she needs is for Stacey toShe grips the table, and they are in Stacey’s car. Stacey’s driving furiously, as before. From the backseat, the growl, the man, his hands gripping Stacey’s neck.
Janie wonders if this is the best shot she’ll have or if she should wait.
She decides to take it, in case Stacey wakes up before they get to the woods.
Stacey’s driving erratically. Janie concentrates and squeezes her hands into fists, pumping them before they become numb, focusing on pausing the dream. It’s slowing, and Janie tries to turn to look at the man. But the dream speeds up again. She can’t do both things at once.
Janie concentrates again on pausing the scene, and she knows her power is limited. One broad push of energy, and the scene slows and stops. She stays perfectly focused, turns slowly, evenly. Sees the look of horror on Stacey’s face, sees the man’s hands around her neck, his arms, and then slowly, slowly, turns to see the face of the man.
He’s wearing a ski mask.
Janie loses concentration, and the dream goes to regular speed again.
Damn it. They hit the ditch, the bushes; the car rolls, comes to a stop.
Bloody Stacey climbs out through the broken windshield and runs, the rapist follows, into the woods, and Janie tries again to pause the dream, when he grabs Stacey. Janie tries with all her might. But she can’t do it.
The rapist has Stacey, she trips, he falls on top of her, and then it ends abruptly, just where it always does.
She wishes now she’d tried to help Stacey change it. Next time, maybe.
She actually hopes there isn’t a next time.
Fifteen minutes later, when she can see and move again and the library has emptied out for the day, Cabel spends a moment squeezing her tightly, and she can’t explain how amazing that feels. He walks with her to the parking lot, takes her home, and goes back for her car, like last time. Janie eats and drinks, checks on her mom, and falls asleep on the couch.
He’s there when she wakes up. Reading a book, his feet on the coffee table.
“Hey,” she says. “Time?”
“A little after eight p.m. How you doin’?”
“Good,” she says.
“Your mom here?”
“In the bedroom, like always.”
Cabel nods. “Captain wants to meet with us in the morning to go over tomorrow night.”
“Yep, I figured.”
“I’m worried about you, Janie.”
“About the dream? It was only worse because I paused it.”
“You did it? Cool!”
“Yeah. But I didn’t see anything.”
“Oh well. What I’m actually worried about is tomorrow night.”
“Please don’t be. It’ll be fine. Eighteen students there, Cabe. I’m not going to get drunk. I’ll have a beer or something in my hand, so Durbin doesn’t get suspicious, but I’ll just fake like I’m drinking it. I’ll eat a lot before I go too.”
“I hope Captain has an escape plan. You’ll have your phone?”
“Yep. And all I need to do to call you is push one button.”
“I’ll be close by.”