Sixteen

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Cynaline shoved the final bag in the trunk, making seven in total.

"Remember," Zinoray said. "Whatever you need is in here. Phones, first-aid, and such."

He leaned on the garage wall, watching instead of explaining what the hell any of this stuff was for. As we closed the trunk, I realized how tense my shoulders were.

"Can't you just teleport the bags to us if we need it?" Cynaline asked. "What if I need to stuff something else in here?"

Zinoray laughed. "What, groceries? Can I see the shopping list?"

Teleporting. That's right: I wasn't on Earth anymore. Suddenly, the bliss of being of on another planet relieved it. Just knowing everything that I disdained was millions of miles away—lightyears away even—was like falling into a deep, comfortable dream.

On the brightside, I could have my own bag of stuff, like Korey did. Anything from Exo would be automatically cooler than anything he had. It didn't even have to look that out of the ordinary. Just having it would be so cool.

We all got inside the car.

Zinoray rushed over to the driver side window.

"Please don't speed this time!" he warned.

"I don't drive that fast," Cynaline sneered. "I teleport most of the time. That's how I got here."

"You... you teleported the car?"

Cynaline smirked nervously. "Stop rushing me and I won't teleport it, anymore."

"Anymore?"

He started the car, turning on the radio, and leaned back in his seat.

As the car revved up, I felt a question lingering on my tongue. I glanced over at Zinoray, who was starting to leave.

I unbuckled my seat belt and hopped out of the car to meet him at the opening garage door.

"Excuse me," I said. "I have a question."

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping back into the cafeteria. "Is this too much? You don't have to go."

"No, it's something else. It's about a dream I had."

"A dream? Like what?"

I followed him inside and to one of the tables, where he collected his notebook.

"It was about someone who looked just like me. It was in a garden, like the one outside The Mind. How is that possible if I'm not from here?"

He scratched his chin and looked at the yard outside the window.

"I wouldn't say The Mind yard is that distinct," he said. "Are you sure it was that one?"

"Now I'm not sure," I doubted. "But they looked exactly the same to me. And the plants I saw looked just like the beanstalk. You know about the beanstalk, right?"

"I have. And that is strange."

"Can you help me figure it out when we get back?"

"If you have it again, tell me, alright?" He ruffled my shoulder. "There's nothing I can do, right now. I have too much on my plate. But if you wrote it down, I can get Jupitas to interpret it. Or I can just use the Mind Visualizer when you fall asleep again."

"Like an MRI?"

"What's that?"

"Nevermind."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the document I wrote it in. He grabbed it, ran the face of his watch over it, and dropped it back in my hand. For someone who looked like he didn't sleep in ages, he had a painful grip.

"I don't have recurring dreams like that," I said. "I don't think I'll have it again."

"That's a shame. Sorry I can't help you right now."

"It's okay. Thanks, anyway."


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