Alex Anderson First Person Attempt

1. The Reoccurring Dream

ALEX ANDERSON

I’ve never remembered my dreams. Good, bad, or neutral, my dreams never seem to stick around. I always thought of going to sleep as kind of an intermission: the screen fades to black for a while and then, when it comes back, it’s your regularly scheduled program.

Well, life in this case.

I never really put much thought into it – my dreams that is. I never really thought I was missing much. No, I never really cared that I couldn’t remember my dreams.

That all changed a few weeks ago. The first dream I remembered after I woke up. The dream that, even though I have had it five times now, still forces me to wake up in a cold sweat.

It’s so vivid; I can still feel the cold wind rushing against me.

I’m tangled up in something. I can’t move; I can barely breathe. I hear people talking, but I can’t see anything. I can’t move my head.

“I never took you as a family man.”

“You never took me for much.”

“Forgive my husband.” It was a woman’s voice. For some reason, her voice always calmed me down. “He doesn’t feel your pain like I do. We all have lost because of the plague.”

“Plague? Is that what you’re calling it now? What is this loss that you and your husband have faced? You still have each other. Still have your son. What exactly has this plague taken from you?”

“Our kingdom,” another man said. “Our family line. Our power was tied to our kingdom.”

“Pathetic fool. You never understood your own power.”

That is when the yelling starts. I always try to cover my ears, but I can’t. I can’t make out the words anymore. They are in another language, now.

There’s a scream.

Then I’m falling.

No. Not falling…

I wake up, sweat beading on my face. My dad, Gene, is standing at the foot of my bed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Champ, you overslept.” He would always use a nickname whenever he had something serious to say to me.

I rubbed my eyes, not certain I was really in my bed. I had just been somewhere else. “Five more minutes,” I moan.

“Champ, you know I’d let you sleep until it was dark again. Your mom would kill us both.” He reaches up and turns on the light. I close my eyes, trying to protect them from the sudden change. “Come on. It’s your first day of high school. You don’t want to be late.”

I rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes. The first day of high school. Hell on earth if what I’ve been told has any truth to it.

I grab my clothes and run down the stairs. I wave to my mom, Alice, doing her morning aerobics. She says they calm her down before she has to go and teach all day.

I make my shower as quick as I can. I get dressed and run out the door, forgetting the lunch my mom had made the night before.

Across the street from my house, a man stands on a corner, leaning against a tree. He watches as I run to the bus stop.

The bus stop is only a few blocks from my house – the school is only over a mile from my house – but I run to make it before the bus. Dan should be there and I haven’t seen Dan since the end of …

I stop.

Dan’s not there.

Meagan is sitting alone on the bench, waiting for the bus to come.

She looks over at me and smiles. My whole body freezes.

Her black hair was brushed out, creating a dark mist around her face. Her skin seemed darker than normal; she had just gotten back from Florida with her family. She was radiant.

She waves and my feet start to step toward her. I cannot control it.

“Alex,” she yells outs. She leaps up and hugs me. “How was your summer,” she asks, refusing to let go of the hug.

“It was,” I stumble over my words, “good, I guess. It was kind of boring.”

“Boring,” she pulls away and looks me over, “I don’t believe that at all. Are you telling me that you and Dan didn’t get into any trouble this summer?”

I shake my head and make my way to the bench, “He had football camp that went all summer.”

“Oh wow,” Meagan said, sitting right next to me. I suddenly became paranoid that my shower that morning wasn’t good enough. “So you were stuck in Chamberlain all by yourself?”

I grimace, “Yeah. But it wasn’t all that bad. I got to work with my dad a little bit at the office.”

“Fascinating,” Meagan sighed. She looked up and pointed, “Our ride is here.”

Meagan was quick to find an open seat for both of us to sit in. “I think I’m going to join the orchestra.”

“What?” Somehow, Meagan found a way to change the topic.

“The orchestra. I was thinking about the piano. For an after school program. I’m really in between that and cheerleading. I have a few friends who want me to join the cheer squad, but I really don’t think that I would like it.”

“So I don’t have to be a star player to get your attention this year?” My attempt at a joke.

Meagan laughs, “I never took you as the athletic type.” I glare over at her and she laughs again, “I’m sorry. Tell you what, I’ll take you seriously if you can tell me one position in football.”

I cross my arms and look away. “I know the quarterback,” I mutter.

She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh, “Congratulations Mr. Star Player. You have my attention.” I can’t help but smile.

The bus comes to a stop and Meagan looks out the window, “Chamberlain High,” she whispered.

I followed her gaze. An ancient, stone building loomed in the distance.

“It looks like a castle,” I said.

“That’s what my brothers say every calls it,” Meagan agreed. “It doesn’t look that magical, though.”

I nod, “Definitely more Frankenstein than Merlin.”

Meagan laughs, “Dork.” She hits me in the shoulder and runs off the bus.

I slowly follow her. Hordes of students were slowly making their way to the building to start the new school year.

“Heads up,” someone yells a minute too late. A large boy runs into me and falls to the ground.

“Are you okay,” I ask, offering my hand.

“Are you,” the boy responds, pushing himself up. “You barely budged.”

I shrug, “I’m fine.”

“Why haven’t you tried out for the football team,” the boy continues. “Your skinny, but if you can take a hit from me…”

“Bro,” the boy’s friend comes up to check on him, “Did that freshy just knock you down.”

“I slipped,” the boy argues, “and it’s not like I was going full speed.”

Their voices fade out as I look across the street. The man from this morning was standing there, watching me. I began to feel the world slipping away around me.

“Are you sure you’re okay,” the boy asks again, slapping giant hand down on my shoulder. The world quickly snapped back into view.

“I’m fine,” I said, looking at the boy and his friend. I give them a smile in hopes that they would go away. It works.

“Football,” the boy shouts, “Think about it.”

I look back across the street, but the man is gone.

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