him a quick rub on the head as my mom runs through her customary morning checklist with me. Homework, lunch, jacket, breakfast. I gave her as brief of a response as will do while gathering the last of my things and throwing on my jacket before heading out the door. “Emma, breakfast!”
I begrudgingly return to the kitchen, grab an apple off the counter and head back to the door. I am too distracted with thoughts of the dark walker to have any sort of conversation with her.
My mom knows nothing about dreamwalking and my dad and I both want to keep it that way. When I was five and had my first walk, I tried to explain my amazing dream experience to her—including the fact that I saw my own sleeping body—but I ended up terrifying her instead. She couldn’t relate to anything I was saying and thought I was losing my little mind. I overheard her talking to my dad about taking me to a psychiatrist.
My dad, on the other hand couldn’t wait to get me alone to talk to me about it. He took me out for ice cream and explained the world of dream walking for five year olds in less than an hour. It was our special secret that nobody else knew about. I promised him that I would never talk to my mom about my dreams again.
As I step off the front porch to walk next door to Zoë's house, the chill of the morning air prompts me to zip up my leather bomber jacket and slide on my knit beanie. Once I reach the end of the driveway, I pull out my iPhone and send my dad a quick text. Something was off on my walk last night. Call me after work.
After a brief wait in her driveway, I am relieved to see Zoë come out of her house. Her mom kisses her good-bye at the door, just like she does every morning, and waves hello to me. "Hi Mrs. Carver!" I call out as we hop into Zoë's Jeep and begin our short ten-minute ride to school.
Zoë and I have been best friends since she moved in next door to us the summer before kindergarten started. We first discovered that we could both dreamwalk before we ever met face to face. Our first walk together took place on her first night in the house.
I didn’t venture far when I was younger and I often walked with my father. Most of my solo walks consisted of playing in grassy fields with moss covered trees, fluffy gray bunnies, and giant pink flowers. I spent most nights talking to the bunnies and asking if they knew where I could find any fairies. One night, Zoë was just there. She walked right up to me while I was petting my favorite bunny and introduced herself. She told me she knew where to find the fairies so I followed her inside of an enormous oak tree. We didn’t find the fairies that night, but we found each other.
I barely give the heat in Zoë's Jeep a minute to get warm before I crank it. I don’t have much to say; I’m too lost in my thoughts.
“I can tell you’re obsessing over the thirty seconds of unpleasantness that happened in our walk last night,” Zoë says to me.
“Me? Obsess?” I shoot her a sarcastic smile and take a bite of my apple. She gives me her best disapproving mom face.
“Well, considering the fact that you obsess about everything under the sun, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say this isn’t any different.”
We are both quiet for a moment. “Dark walkers don’t just show up for no reason. He has to be connected to us somehow.”
“Em, aren’t you the person who always tells me that it’s best not to ask too many questions about the never-ending world of dream walking?”
“This is different.”
She hesitates before asking, “well, who do you think he is?”
“I have no clue. I’ve been thinking about it all morning. Maybe it has something to do with my dad and the reason he doesn’t walk anymore.”
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“Not yet. He was already gone when I woke up this morning. I sent him a text saying we need to talk tonight.”
Heaviness hangs in the air.
“Okay, subject change,” Zoë demands. “Have you met the new guy yet? Jared Anderson. He’s in my physics class. He is wicked hot.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes at