"Hey!" Tony calls after me as I slide into my convertible. "Do you think you can give me a lift to school on your way home?"
"Sure, hop in." I slip on my sunglasses and tie my long hair back. "But only if you promise yourself to secrecy."
"Secrecy?" Tony plops into the passenger seat and grins. "Oooo, juicy. I'm in. Wait. Don't tell me. Let Tony, the master, guess. You're in love with Javier."
"Eww." I scrunch up my nose. "No way. He's like fifteen years older than me."
"You actually died in the dream, came back to life, and now you're a zombie."
"What?" I pull the car out of the office parking lot and into traffic. "Have you been watching those reruns of Hunting the Dead? Because you need to stop."
"Those are life-changing! I'll never see the world the same after that series."
We debate on whether the world will truly be overrun by a zombie apocalypse until I pull into Lake Nona High School's parking lot and slip the car into my numbered spot.
"Wait." Tony stares at me. "What are you doing? You're going to school today?"
"Yep."
"But your dad. Didn't he say you couldn't?"
"Shouldn't," I point out as I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head toward the front office. "I can't miss my classes. I have assignments due in Psychology and physics. Missing school would totally interfere with my GPA and future plans. After all, you can't sit around waiting for success. You have to pound on success' door."
"Not with the quotes again," Tony mutters.
The truth is I'm desperate to go to class and see if this Jake guy is really the same one from the dream. Although, I'm technically not lying about my GPA obsession. I'm determined to be the youngest scientist in the field of Consciousness and Transformative Studies. It's totally cutting edge and the possibilities are endless.
Possibilities to make a difference in Grams' life.
As I stride down the crowded hallway of my high school, I glance down at the emerald ring on my right hand. Even in the drab hallway, it shimmers under the lights, and I'm reminded of Grams and the day she gave me this ring.
It was twilight, that time between times. Grams lounged on one of the pool deck chairs while I sat cross-legged in the other. We were waiting for the neighborhood's Fourth of July fireworks to start. Classical music played from the stereo system and inside Mom was humming as she prepped the lemonade. Dad was cleaning up the last of the plates from our dinner, but from his distant expression, I could tell he was brainstorming another idea for the memory company that would someday become MaxLife.
"I want you to have this," she said, holding out her fist, fingers tightly closed. I hated how her hand shook as if just holding it was too much effort. "Hold out your hand."
She dropped a glistening emerald ring into my palm. I knew this ring. In fact, I don't remember a time when Grams didn't wear it.
"I can't."
"It was my mother's, and her mother's before that. I don't know how much longer I have until I don't remember how special this was to me. I wanted to give it to you while I still knew what it meant."
"Thanks, Grams. I'll remember you with it. Always." Tears crept into the corner of my eyes as I slipped the cool stone over my finger.
Thinking back to that moment unsettles me, but I can't allow myself to lose sight of what I'm doing. Not now when everything Dad and I have worked for these past few years is about to explode into making scientific history. What I need to do is focus on Patient 145.
This Jake guy could be the key to it and healing Grams.
"You know what's almost as bizarre as zombies overtaking the world?" Tony asks as we step into the classroom. "That guy from the dream. He looked familiar. I just can't place the dude though."
"Yeah, that's strange," I say, vaguely.
My heart beats against my ribcage. Tony hadn't considered the idea that Jake Sutherland from our class could be the dreamer because all our clients have always been ancient. The thing that has me all wound tight is in a few minutes we're both going to find out the truth. Because Jake is in our psych class.
Tony heads to the back corner of the room where he always sits. I pause for a moment, scanning the room for Jake. He's not here.
A mix of relief and disappointment floods me as I settle into a seat, front row of course, and pull out my paper on brain development that's due today. I'm scanning over the contents one last time, double-checking that I put my name and date on the paper when the door to the classroom flies open a minute after the bell rings. My heart flutters.
Jake.
Seeing him again in real life, I've no doubt it's the same guy from the dream. He's wearing different clothes, jeans, and a navy T-shirt that has some gamer design on it, and his hair isn't quite as neat as it was in the dream. The blond strands hang over his eyes and he has to flip his head to be able to make eye contact with Mr. Kores. There's an ease to his stride, slow and yet confident as if he rules time itself.
I bite the edge of my pencil and peek over my shoulder to see if Tony has noticed Jake, but he's busy talking with Melissa Benson.
What do I know about Jake? Not much. Word around school is he's a total genius and he won some national computer competition. He keeps mostly to himself and the techies. He's pretty hot, too, not that I should care. I'm a career-focused girl. I don't have time for guys.
"Had a doctor's appointment," Jake is saying to Mr. Kores as he hands over a slip of paper.
"No problem," Mr. Kores says. "Find a seat. We're about to get started."
Jake scans the room, but the only empty chairs are the two in the front row beside me. When his eyes land on me, I could swear something flashes through them. Recognition? Realization? My cheeks burn, and I duck my head.
"Okay class, open to page 56 from last night on Freud," Mr. Kores announces as Jake settles into the chair next to mine. "Talk to your partner about the reading for the next five minutes and be prepared to share your collaborative findings. In the meantime, I'll be coming around to collect your papers."
I peek from the corner of my eye, studying Jake. He's pulling his Psychology textbook out of his backpack along with a tablet. As he lifts his head up, those blue eyes catch mine and my heart jumps a little.
"Something wrong?" he asks.
"Err, nope." Look down! Don't focus on his face!
"You're Aria, right?" He drums his fingers on the desk. "I'm Jake Sutherland."
"Hey." I look around to find another partner to pair/share with, but everyone else is already paired up.
"Have we met before?" he presses. "Cause you look really familiar."
No joke. I hung out with someone who looked just like you all morning. His forehead knits as if he's made some connection. He remembers me from his dream. I'm sure of it.
Crap.
In the Dreamscape, I'd just be bold and deal with this head-on, but here in the real world? Nope. It's suddenly way more complicated.
"Um, well we've been in this same class so—" I let my voice trail off. "What do you think of last night's readings? About um—" I sound like a freaking idiot, not Lake Nona's next valedictorian. I open the textbook to find the discussion covering Sigmund Freud's thoughts on why we dream. Inwardly, I groan. Life is completely unfair.
"Freud was an unusual guy, don't you think?" Jake scans his finger down the page. "I mean, this line about how our dreams are actually a secret outlet for our repressed desires."
The memory of how he looked at me in that dream causes me to shift in my seat. It's really time to steer the topic into a safe zone.
"Personally, I think dreams are so much more than that, don't you?" I begin. "I mean, they provide ways for our minds to figure out problems, make connections, and deal with issues."
Mr. Kores wanders by our desks. "I like where this convo is going," he says. "You two will make a great team."
"Team?" Jake and I both say simultaneously.
"You heard me." Mr. Kores writes something down on his notepad. "I'm assigning your team the topic of Dream Interpretations. You'll gather the research, write a two-page essay, and present the topic via PowerPoint on Friday."
Jake leans back and runs his hands through his hair, letting out a long breath. Mr. Kores is a brilliant teacher, so much so that to get into his class, you have to write an essay on why you want to take his course. But right now, this class is the last place I want to be.
"Do continue." Mr. Kores taps the desk with his knuckles before moving on to the next group.
How could I have let this happen? The last thing I want to discuss with Jake is dreams. Sure, I have first-hand experience and I've already got plans to go into the field, but our work at MaxLife is confidential. Dad's clients put their complete trust in our work and discretion. Most people don't even know what we do at MaxLife, which is exactly how Dad likes things. It allows him to try out new ideas without the pressure of the world breathing down his neck.
But maybe I'm making something out of nothing. After all, Jake hasn't seemed to put the connection that reality might have interfered with his dreams. Or maybe he really did have a doctor's appointment and I'm making this all up. Who knows? Maybe we entered the dreams of his grandfather or—gross. Ugh. I need to stop overanalyzing.
"So Friday." Jake gives me a sideways glance as he pulls out his phone, swiping through his calendar. "That gives us three nights to knock this out of the park."
"Right. But I don't want to delay working on it. I have to get an A. My GPA can't handle anything lower than that. What are your plans after school today?"
"Wow. Okay. Well, I've got my gamer's club, but I can meet after that."
"Gamer's club?" I can't keep the scorn out of my tone. "As long as it doesn't get in the way of my education."
"Ouch." He slaps his chest like he's been wounded, but the smirk on his face tells me he's anything but offended. "You're one of those girls."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That you think you're too good and smart to have a little fun."
I narrow my eyes on him. "Is there something wrong about being driven and successful?"
"Driven and successful?" He cocks his head. "That's pretty sexy."
My face, no, my entire body burns like it's on fire. I need to refocus this conversation. Stay on track. "How about 4 p.m. at the library?"
"Works for me." He checks his phone. "But the library closes at five so let's meet at one of our houses. You okay with coming to mine?"
I nod. What have I gotten myself into?