Emmy Levine Saves a Life

Chapter 3

I dream I'm back in Biology class.

Of course, I'm lucid enough to think. Not even in my subconscious can I escape this class. The smell of disinfectant is overpowering and I have to cough into my sleeve.

My whole class is lined up at the lab stations in the back of the room, staring forward at Mrs. Millar like they're in a trance. In addition to their goggles and plastic gloves, each and every one of them is wearing a lab coat with their name embroidered on the lapel. A sure sign this is a dream, I think. No way could my school afford lab coats for everyone.

I tug at the sleeves of my own and that's when I see it.

Sitting on a metal tray in front of me next to a sharp, silver scalpel is a human brain.

Again, barf.

It's lumpy, bumpy, and this yellowish beige color that reminds me of, well, barf.

Mrs. Millar's voice is giving instructions in the background, but my dream makes her sound like she's underwater, so I can't tell what I'm supposed to be doing. I can't take my eyes off the brain. The veins are a deep purple, ranging from thin, wavy lines to thick, twisty ones curving through the lumps and bumps. It looks fake, but somehow I can tell it's real.

I flex my hand above the scalpel, unsure. For once, I'm wishing I had a lab partner — a really strong-stomached one who will do the cutting for me. I peer to my left and right, but everyone has an individual brain set in front of them, each of them a little different than the next. Another sure sign this is a dream — this is certainly out of budget.

Colton is next to me, and I watch him cut into his brain, right through both hemispheres, then again like he's taking a slice out of a loaf of bread. I copy him, grateful for the dream's fuzzy quality because I don't think I could handle this in a real class.

We dissected a worm once, and even then I thought my peanut butter and jelly sandwich from lunch would make a re-appearance. The brain cuts surprisingly easily and I lift out my slice, the two sides coming out in separate pieces, unlike Colton's.

I lay them down on my tray and wonder what I do next. As I think it, my teacher walks up beside me, her head tilted to the side as she reaches a gloved hand forward, picking up a half of my brain slice from my tray.

"Huh," she says, and I look up at her with wide eyes. "That's not supposed to do that —"

Beep, beep, beep!

I sit up straight in my bed, my heart beating wildly. I instantly regret it, my vision darkening at the edges from sitting up too fast. I lay back down, tilting my head toward the source of the horrible sound.

It's my phone, of course. I forgot to turn off my school alarm.

Groaning, I rub my eyes. Hardly any light is coming in from my closed blinds, the stubborn few rays shining a linear pattern on my bedspread. It sounds like the earliest birds have already begun their morning chirping as I peek at my phone, my eyes squinted. I already know what time it is, though, since I'm so rudely awoken at this time every other day.

6AM, it reads.

I set it back down and stare up at the stars on my ceiling. In twenty-two minutes, I'll be sixteen. Sixteen. I close my eyes. Maybe I should stay awake, just to experience the moment I change ages. Again, it might be silly and childish, but I've always found it fun to experience that moment.

As soon as I think it, though, my mind feels fuzzy again and I drift back to sleep. This time, luckily, I don't dream.

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