Page 13 of See You in Your Dreams

Maybe if I repeat it enough times, I’ll actually believe it.

Opening my eyes, I start walking. I don’t have a clear destination in mind, but I’ve barely left the house except to go to school, so I soon find myself retracing that familiar path.

It’s still pretty early in the afternoon, and I pass the occasional pedestrian, including a few kids I recognize from class. I give them all a wide berth, shoving my hands in my jean pockets and staring determinedly at the ground ahead of me.

My mind feels like a black hole, devouring every thought and emotion. Which is for the best, really. It keeps them from overwhelming or consuming me. Sometimes, dreams can be far more dangerous than waking life.

I reach Banton High and hesitate.Too many people around.Instead of cutting toward downtown, I follow the road as it winds its way out of Banton, aging buildings giving way to open fields and scattered trees. It might’ve been peaceful if I wasn’t trapped out here with myself.

The sky darkens quicker than I expect. I realize why when acrackof thunder heralds a deluge of pouring rain.Awesome.A shiver racks me, and I wrap my bare arms tight against my torso, trying to rub some warmth back into them. Guess I should’ve listened and grabbed that jacket after all.

Taking the storm as my cue, I turn back. Icy rain whips around me. The wind picks up, and I quicken my pace to match. Soon enough, I pass the high school (no students lingering outside now) and am about to turn toward my aunt’s house when I catch a faint squeaking noise almost lost beneath the wind. A sign creaking on its post perhaps?

I ignore the sound and continue on, then freeze when it comes again, a bit louder this time.What the hell?

Squinting to see through the downpour, I peer around. It’s not until I stoop to check under a car parked along the street that I finally find the sound’s source. A bedraggled cat—well, more a kitten really—huddles in the narrow space. Its big blue eyes stare at me unblinking for a long moment. Then, it lets out the most pitiablemeowI’ve ever heard.

It’s like whatIwould sound like if I were a cat.

The incongruous thought hits me out of nowhere, and I stifle a hysterical laugh. Maybe the cold is getting to me more than I realized.

Another mournfulmeowsnaps me out of it. “All right, buddy,” I say, gesturing at the kitten. “Come on out of there.”

The kitten remains huddled right where it is. Its blue eyes drill into my soul, wide and begging.Oh, for the love of God.Sighing, I drop to my knees, ignoring the frigid water soaking my jeans as I stretch out my arms.

My fingers touch matted fur. To my relief, the kitten doesn’t try to bite me or wriggle out of my grip as I carefully extricate it from its hiding place. It’s even smaller than I’d thought—definitely less than a year old. Its fur is absolutely soaked, and the poor thing is shivering even worse than I am.

At first, I think a dark spot on its side is just caked dirt. But as I cradle the kitten in my hands, I notice the way it feebly jerks one of its back legs away from me. I examine the leg more closely and realize what I’d taken for dirt is actually dried blood, tacky from the rain.

“What the hell happened to you?” I murmur. “Did you get into a fight?”

The only response I receive is a sadmeow. Then, as if that had exhausted the last of its energy, the kitten slumps in my arms and closes its eyes.

Shit. Oh, shit!

Tucking the kitten against my chest doesn’t seem like enough, so I tug off my shirt and wrap it around the kitten like a cocoon. I’m not sure how much that’ll help given how soaked my shirt is, but it’s got to be better than nothing.

I cradle my precious bundle to my chest and search for an awning I can duck under to check my phone. Cold raindrops race down my bare skin as I pull up directions to the nearest vet. Thankfully, there’s one right here in town.

“Let’s see if we can get you fixed up, good and new,” I say. Rescued charge in tow, I set off at a jog through the rain and pray I’m not too late.

six

Dylan

I’m poring over oldpatient files, listening to the murmur of rain outside, when I hear a soft rap on the door. I look up to find Dr. Jenkins standing there.

“Oh, shoot. Is it seven already?” I glance at the clock on the wall, relieved to see it’s only six fifteen. I’ve zoned out a couple times before and been late getting home, much to Patrick’s disappointment and Tommy’s fury.

“Not quite,” Dr. Jenkins says with a smile. “I just thought you might like to take a break to come sit in on a consultation. I’ve already approved it with the owner.”

Excitement arcs through me like an electric jolt. While I don’t mind spending most of my time sequestered in a back room typing in paperwork, watching Dr. Jenkins’ calm expertise while he interacts with people’s treasured pets has only confirmed my desire to become a vet. Even if I end up delaying that moment for my family’s sake.

The thought of giving up my internship to help out more around the house or pick up extra shifts at the Red Rocket tears at me. Selfish or not, I love it here. But I can’t get Tommy’s accusation out of my head. Each time I return here, I tell myself I’ll do the responsible thing and talk to Dr. Jenkins about cutting back my hours or quitting outright.

And each time, I chicken out.

“That’d be great!” I say, my eagerness only slightly dampened.