sighed. “Oh, Ellie, if you only knew how important you were, you wouldn’t scare us like this or place yourself in jeopardy. You are so special, not just to us, but—” What on earth was my dad saying? Calling me “special” went against everything they’d taught me.
My mom uncharacteristically interrupted him. “What Dad means is that we love you and we want you to be safe. We thought that we had fostered a trust among us, but we can see that the teenage years are putting that to the test. You are going to have to be honest with us from now on, is that clear?”
“Yes, Mom.” At that moment, I really meant it. I’d do anything to avoid seeing that wounded look on either of their perfect faces. They looked like they’d aged ten years in that one evening.
They stood up and gave me a hug. The squeeze reminded me that my body ached in exhaustion from all the evening’s tumult. I yearned for sleep.
“Do you mind if I head up to bed?” I asked.
“Of course not, Ellie.” My dad gave me a kiss good night, and then smiled. “There’s just one more thing.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“We’re going to need to reacquaint ourselves with this Michael.”
Chapter Thirteen
I expected that rest would elude me even though my body desperately craved sleep. I guessed that thoughts of Michael and the cove and his cliff-dive would prevent my eyes from closing at all. But the moment I crawled under my quilt and laid down on my pillow, I was out.
Well, out to this world, anyway. Instead, I entered the familiar world of my recurring dream. I awoke in that world with a stronger urge to fly than ever. The impulse propelled me out of my bedroom window and onto my usual route. I soared through Tillinghast’s old cobblestone streets with new speed and reckless abandon. Although I made the customary stop at the village green with its whitewashed church gaping at me like some cyclopic eye, it was quicker than ever. I had the feeling that there was somewhere else I needed to be.
Before heading to the shore like I usually did, I followed the blue light coming from a house near the beach. From my last dream, I knew this was Michael’s house. Although I remembered what had gone on between us earlier that day in the real world, the knowledge did not lessen my desire to see him in this dreamscape. I didn’t feel mad at him anymore, just peaceful and excited to be with him.
I went immediately to the second floor bedroom where the light came from—Michael’s bedroom. As before, he sat at his desk, staring out at the sea, his blond hair bright against the darkness. I flew close to his window, but unlike my last dream, the wind didn’t compete for my attention to Michael. I reached out my hand for him.
This time, Michael saw me. He stretched out his arm and clasped my hand with his. With that motion, he lifted out of his window and floated in the air by my side. It all seemed so natural and effortless that we didn’t even need to speak. We smiled at each other and set out.
At first, we just flew around the sleeping streets of Tillinghast. Darting in between stores and homes and campus buildings, we reveled in the experience of flying together. He pushed me to climb higher, and I dared him to race me down the streets. We laughed at the sheer thrill of it, and I wished that real life could be this easy.
But then Michael took my hand and led me away from Tillinghast toward the coast. In my dreams, I’d often flown along the shore, but Michael guided me on a route unknown to me. I gaped in awe as we sped past huge razor-edged rocks and pebbly sand beaches and enormous white-capped ocean waves.
And then he stopped. As I peered down, I realized that I had been here before—by car earlier in the day. We had arrived at the cliff overlooking Ransom Beach.
Slowly, we lowered ourselves to the ground. I studied the setting. It was the darkest hour of the night and the moon was only a quarter full, yet I could see every rock and every blade
My mom uncharacteristically interrupted him. “What Dad means is that we love you and we want you to be safe. We thought that we had fostered a trust among us, but we can see that the teenage years are putting that to the test. You are going to have to be honest with us from now on, is that clear?”
“Yes, Mom.” At that moment, I really meant it. I’d do anything to avoid seeing that wounded look on either of their perfect faces. They looked like they’d aged ten years in that one evening.
They stood up and gave me a hug. The squeeze reminded me that my body ached in exhaustion from all the evening’s tumult. I yearned for sleep.
“Do you mind if I head up to bed?” I asked.
“Of course not, Ellie.” My dad gave me a kiss good night, and then smiled. “There’s just one more thing.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“We’re going to need to reacquaint ourselves with this Michael.”
Chapter Thirteen
I expected that rest would elude me even though my body desperately craved sleep. I guessed that thoughts of Michael and the cove and his cliff-dive would prevent my eyes from closing at all. But the moment I crawled under my quilt and laid down on my pillow, I was out.
Well, out to this world, anyway. Instead, I entered the familiar world of my recurring dream. I awoke in that world with a stronger urge to fly than ever. The impulse propelled me out of my bedroom window and onto my usual route. I soared through Tillinghast’s old cobblestone streets with new speed and reckless abandon. Although I made the customary stop at the village green with its whitewashed church gaping at me like some cyclopic eye, it was quicker than ever. I had the feeling that there was somewhere else I needed to be.
Before heading to the shore like I usually did, I followed the blue light coming from a house near the beach. From my last dream, I knew this was Michael’s house. Although I remembered what had gone on between us earlier that day in the real world, the knowledge did not lessen my desire to see him in this dreamscape. I didn’t feel mad at him anymore, just peaceful and excited to be with him.
I went immediately to the second floor bedroom where the light came from—Michael’s bedroom. As before, he sat at his desk, staring out at the sea, his blond hair bright against the darkness. I flew close to his window, but unlike my last dream, the wind didn’t compete for my attention to Michael. I reached out my hand for him.
This time, Michael saw me. He stretched out his arm and clasped my hand with his. With that motion, he lifted out of his window and floated in the air by my side. It all seemed so natural and effortless that we didn’t even need to speak. We smiled at each other and set out.
At first, we just flew around the sleeping streets of Tillinghast. Darting in between stores and homes and campus buildings, we reveled in the experience of flying together. He pushed me to climb higher, and I dared him to race me down the streets. We laughed at the sheer thrill of it, and I wished that real life could be this easy.
But then Michael took my hand and led me away from Tillinghast toward the coast. In my dreams, I’d often flown along the shore, but Michael guided me on a route unknown to me. I gaped in awe as we sped past huge razor-edged rocks and pebbly sand beaches and enormous white-capped ocean waves.
And then he stopped. As I peered down, I realized that I had been here before—by car earlier in the day. We had arrived at the cliff overlooking Ransom Beach.
Slowly, we lowered ourselves to the ground. I studied the setting. It was the darkest hour of the night and the moon was only a quarter full, yet I could see every rock and every blade
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