181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 33: Dreamlike State

But the dried tears were nothing compared to seeing Amielle unconscious on Franco's shoulder.

"Amielle!" I shouted. I didn't longer mind the customers who stared at me just seconds ago when I opened my eyes—or wait, were they closed to begin with? With increasing curiosity and impatience, I looked at Franco and asked, "What the fuck happened?"

"Ms. Maddie . . . I . . . I can't explain what happened," Franco said with a worried tone. "Amielle fainted the same time you froze, as if you were in a trance. Everybody tried to wake you up, and we're all panicking. We thought you had a stroke, and we were afraid to touch you. Your driver tried to, but he couldn't, saying that your feet were glued to the floor."

"Troy? Where's he now?"

"He's outside, trying to explain your situation to emergency."

I looked at my watch. Five minutes—that was how long I was dreaming. Wasting no time, I ran outside to call out Troy, only to meet him by the entrance of the café. "Ms. Maddie, what happened?"

"If I could give you a definite answer, then I would," I replied. "Please bring Amielle to the—"

"Ms. Maddie! Amielle's awake!" Franco shouted, which made me turn and run toward their direction. Troy followed.

Amielle was still sweating, but she already gained her consciousness. When I was about to touch her, she purposefully moved her hand away.

"Please don't worry about me," she said as she tried to stand, with Franco supporting her side. I was about to interject, but she looked down, her lips starting to move as if to whisper, "C . . . C . . . T . . . V."

Cameras? Why would she be—oh. Her aunt. Was this why she didn't want us to interact? Because she was afraid her aunt would catch us? I truly didn't mind. Why would her aunt bother about her relationship with me anyway? It was never an issue until she saw me.

Then . . . maybe the trigger to this sudden change was meeting Ms. Cornelia.

This realization made me go back to our first meeting. Her stance. The way she talked with me as if she knew she had power over me. Her eyes so dark like a black hole wanting to suck the light out of me. Her mocking smile.

Does she not want me near her niece?

Again, I cared less about her opinion of me, but remembering Ms. Lilian's advice made me pause and reflect on my next actions. If I acted so aimlessly, Amielle might be harmed.

You're smart, Maddie, I told myself. Patience . . . for Amielle's sake. If Amielle had to lower her head just to whisper—no, not even to whisper but to lip-sync a reminder that cameras were installed inside the café, our interaction might be really somewhat forbidden. The real question was . . . why?

But even though I had many questions, reserving them for later was the best for now. The longer I interact with Amielle, the more Ms. Cornelia might ask what had happened. Franco could be my eye inside, but who would tell him that I had to communicate with Amielle without looking suspicious?

"O-okay . . . uhm . . ." I looked at Franco and then Troy and then Amielle, unsure what to say now that I was more careful. "J-just let me know if you need anything—"

"We'll prepare a new order for you, Ms. Maddie."

"Don't worry about it," I reminded just as I stopped myself from reaching Amielle's hand once again. "I'll just drop by later."

"But we need to," Franco insisted. "Ms. Cornelia checks the CCTVs, and she often asks what you order and tells us to treat you specially. And if she learns that your order got wasted, she might fume."

That doesn't connect was the first thing on my mind. "All right. But can it be quick? I need to be in school in ten."

"We'll waste no time."

By the time Franco responded, Amielle was already at the bar, making my drink and wrapping the pastry for takeout. As they were working on my order, I leaned in to Troy to ask, "Do CCTVs record audio?"

"Some brands can, but I believe we have a law that audio recordings aren't allowed in security cameras unless permitted by those concerned."

I nodded. "I see. Can the security footages be zoomed in?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe? Why'd you ask, Ms. Maddie?"

"Just curious." Because I'm thinking of ways to communicate with Amielle . . . and I think the best option is to ask you a favor.

"Here's your order, Ms. Maddie," Amielle said as she handed me a new paper bag and a freshly filled cup of hot chocolate. "I'm really sorry for the fiasco a while ago. And . . . and I hope you're okay."

I smiled. "I am. It is you I am worried about."

"Thanks, Ms. Maddie."

"No worries." I was about to tell her that I needed to talk with her about what happened when she placed her hand on her chest, making me notice that she had a mic attached to her collar. I began to wonder if that mic was there ever since.

Just to be sure, I approached Franco. "Thanks. Please take care of Amielle, and let me know if you need anything."

Nope. No mic. Only Amielle had it.

"Will do, Ms. Maddie. Thank you."

I bade goodbye before Troy and I went out the café. As soon as we were inside the car, seatbelts fastened, the first thing Troy did was to ask if I was okay, and I only nodded because I was busy tearing a sheet of my notebook. I cut it to size of a bill and quickly wrote a short letter for Franco. Not taking chances, I made sure that my handwriting was small enough:

Franco, my driver will order coffee and show this letter as a bill. Once my driver is settled on his table, make Amielle go to the table and tell her my driver is requesting for something.

Burn this letter, but do it far from the café. I know you're curious, but you're my only eye inside. I'll explain everything when Amielle is in a much safer place. Thank you. —Maddie

"Troy, I want you to go back to Cornelia's right after you drop me to school," I said as I handed him the letter on top of some bills. "Remember the guy I was talking to?"

"Yeah, the kid who obviously likes your friend."

I smiled. Even Troy noticed that. I hoped Amielle would do too, but she seemed dense. "Yeah, yeah," I affirmed and continued with my instructions. "I want you to order some coffee or whatever you like. Along with the cash you'll pay should be the letter. I'm sure Franco will notice that. And then on the receipt write this: 'Amielle, Maddie here. Nod if yes or shake if no: is it only you who has a mic on the collar?' Did you get that?"

Troy nodded.

"Tell me her answer when I get home."

"Copy, Ms. Maddie. But why the question all of a sudden? Are you sure you're really okay? I was about to call the hospital a while ago."

"Frankly, I'm not sure about what happened. It was like . . . I was in a dreamlike state for minutes. A very nice dream, though. A dream I would love to come true."

Troy spoke of something more, but his words went out my ear. My mind returned to the bizarre occurrence earlier, vividly remembering his last two statements: "Who are you?" and "This lady hugging me." It was as if he could see me . . . and in that place, he was the only one who could.

It felt real. But again, like the hourglass over my head, I knew no one would believe me.

Maybe Mickey will, I thought as I once again tore another sheet of paper and wrote a letter to Mickey about what happened, this time using our code.