The Dream Machine

Twenty-Seven

SANDLER

This was a shock.

Just last week, Frederick had declared to find Bob in New York City, and he was already back. Was he successful? Lizzie and I didn't even wait another beat before we ran over to him. Well, I walked, Lizzie skated.

He was really beat up. There was major cut in the center of his forehead. A gash on his chin. A black eye. And finally, to top it all off, a cut across his neck. It looked like someone had tried to slit his throat!

"Oh my gosh! Frederick! Are you okay?" I screamed.

Lizzie gently touched the cut on his forehead. Frederick stepped back angrily, "What am I? An art display? Don't touch the bruises!"

"Just trying to see how deep it is," Lizzie scanned his faces, "What happened to you?"

"Well, Lizzie, I was trying to find Bob. Your possible..."

"Yeah, my father, he's definitely my father, we've already deducted this. Keep up." Lizzie stated.

Frederick seemed taken aback, "What?! Like for sure, well, the guy's a liar. He said he didn't wanna use violence to find you, but obviously, he was fibbing," he said, motioning to all his scars.

I said, "Why didn't you go see a doctor?"

"Why did I go see a doctor? Sandler, you can heal me remember?"

This wasn't happening. Frederick was trusting me with his life. Oh gosh, not even gym class was as bad as right now, "Yeah, maybe in a dream, but not in real life! I've never..."

He grabbed my wrists, "You're gonna have to. If a doctor sees this, they're gonna ask why. And if I tell them why, Bob will just come after me. He has a whole group working for him. Doing all his dirty work."

Without another word, Frederick fell to the floor, "SANDLER, DO SOMETHING!" Lizzie yelled at me.

Without thinking, I bent down and put my hand over the cut on his forehead, closed my eyes, and imagined it better. Then, I pushed. I pushed harder than I've ever pushed in my entire life. A kidney stone felt like a vacation compared to this. We had the whole rink's attention once again, but I didn't even notice, because I was too busy pushing. I pushed with all my will, strength, mind, and heart. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Sweat was pouring down my face like Niagara Falls. Frederick was dying in front of me and I wasn't ready to give him up without a fight. I kept yelling, yelling, and yelling. I just kept pushing, shoving the power out of me. It hurt so much. Even a gunshot wound couldn't compare to what I was feeling. This was what it took, I suppose, to save someone. This was what it felt like to be a hero.

Suddenly, a bright beam of white light flashed from my entire hand. Frederick lit up like a Christmas tree. His entire body aglow in multicolored light. What the heck was going on? I looked over at Lizzie. She wasn't saying anything. She just sat there, mouth as wide open as it would go. The same could be said for everyone in the skating rink. I bet even Gary had put down his pipe and glanced over.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I kept screaming and screaming. The pain would not stop. But then, it did. All the crap I had been feeling for the last minute had totally fled. Strangely, however, when I moved my hand back to my side, Frederick looked different. All his scars were gone, but something else had changed. In front of me was not a 23-year-old hotshot. He looked exactly like himself, but fourteen.