The Dream Machine

Twenty-Five

SANDLER

Practicing for a musical is weird, especially if you're an understudy. The rehearsal is even more awkward if you're understudying for Hunter Connors.

Hunter Connors has proven to be a nice person, but he's never had any stage experience in his life. I mean, neither have I, but at least I know the difference between stage right and stage left.

Basically in rehearsal, all I have to do is watch whatever Hunter does, so if he gets sick, I can jump right in. This is proven difficult when you're a dreamscaper like me, debating how in the world your best friend could also be a dreamscaper, possibly be the biological daughter of an old guy, and the biological sister of your new older friend and you fail to get much sleep during the night.

My note-taking on Hunter's positions and lines are mostly blank, because I've been using my notepad as a pillow. He hasn't seemed to talk to me about any of this which is expected. A person doesn't really wanna talk to the actor who is just waiting for him to drop down ill. That is, until apparently now.

He came up to me with a worried look on his face and sat down next to me, "I'm scared, Sandler."

I mumbled back, "Of what? The impending future? Existential crisis? I'm running out of teenage issues."

"This darn musical."

I sit up, "Why? You're doing fine," It wasn't a total lie.

"No, I keep flubbing lines. I'm gonna ruin this whole thing. I can't just carry this First Date on my shoulders. I'm gonna embarrass everyone."

It seemed it was time for a motivational speech, "Hunter, you're gonna do fine. You already have the student body at your fingertips. You're gonna do great, so don't sell yourself short. In February, you are going to walk onto that stage and steal the show as Aaron."

"Really? I thought you thought I was just some dumb jock."

I swallowed, "You're not. You're a strong leader that this school needs." I awkwardly patted him on the back. Great, now I'm the school motivational fruitcake, "This junior high is about to turn into ashes. Only you can turn this play around."

"Yeah,"

"Yeah, so go up there and rock the stage."

He seemed to regain his courage, "Yeah!"

After my pep talk, he waltzed back up to the stage and started saying his lines once more, but this time, with a more certain clarity, professionalism, and confidence. At least while I'm holding off my dreamscapes, I can help the needy.

Lizzie and I walked to Math together as usual. Things were falling back into their normal paces. I was finding it easier to breath in front of her, granted the fact that we agreed not to talk about the certain things that caused us to wake up screaming. She didn't want to deal with that drama and I couldn't blame her. It took me awhile to accept my new ability, because I'm still trying to! But what she said next, caught me off guard.

"So, I'm adopted," she said, swallowing a stone.

I stopped. Everything stopped, "You were what?"

Since this would lead to some secret conversation, I pulled her into the janitor's closet to our right. She closed the door behind her and I yanked the light cord. The room was cramped, but I wasn't thinking about that at the current moment, "Now what happened?" I insisted.

She gulped and began, "Last night, what you said to me on my porch got to me. Were my parents not really my biological ones? It didn't make any sense. So, I decided to ask them if I was adopted. They said I was."

"I guess I don't get it. Why would they wait for so long to tell you this?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. I wasn't really mad at them. They told me their reasons and I understood. Telling your child that you're not their biological parents is a hard thing to do. So that probably means that..."

"No! I refuse to admit it!" I demanded, backing up in the closet. Lizzie edged closer to me.

"But it makes perfect sense! You told me that I might have a different father, and then I find out that I'm adopted! It's not just a coincidence!" She kept edging closer.

"It had to be! I've seen your father and he's basically a psychopath!"

Lizzie slapped me, "Don't talk that way about my father!"

This was ridiculous, "You've never even seen him! You don't know what he's like. He's crazy! He's an old, crazy man!"

"What's his name?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What...is...his...name?"

"In my dreamscapes, he has called himself Bob, but it's definitely not his real name."

She stopped walking towards me and took a deep breath, "So this Bob character is my father?"

"That's what he claims to be. I mean, he says his daughter's name is Elizabeth Gallagher, so it really could be anyone."

After I said that, Lizzie whipped out her phone and logged into Facebook. She opened up the search bar and typed in "Elizabeth Gallagher". She shoved the phone in my face, "Elizabeth Gallagher, just my page. No one else's. That means that I'm the one."

"That proves nothing! I refuse to admit that you're the daughter of a creepy sociopath! He is trying to find you! You shouldn't admit this to yourself! Do you have any idea what will happen if he finds you?"

She seemed totally sure on your answer, "I want him to find me. If he's my father, I have to find him."

Lizzie left the closet, leaving me alone with my thoughts.