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Authors: M. Doty
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planning on going to the dance with your girlfriend, Kimi?”
“Maybe I’ll go with your—uh—dad,” said Emily, immediately regretting the comeback as soon as it exited her lips.
“Ew,” said Dominique. “But I’ll let him know you’re interested. I’m sure you two will have much more fun than me and Ben.”
“You’re going with Ben Kale?” asked Emily, trying to hide her sudden panic.
“Of course,” said Dominique. “He just doesn’t know it yet. But don’t worry, after he sees what I’m wearing to his party this Friday, he’ll be begging to take me to homecoming—and to do a whole lot more after the dance. I hope that’s not a problem, sweetie. I kind of got the sense the other day that you might have a little crush on Ben, too. I hope little Swimbot won’t get her feelings hurt. Or do you even have those?”
As Dominique swam away, Emily quietly boiled with anger, so much so that she half expected the water around her to turn to steam.
Later that night, Emily texted Kimi:
Emily Kessler: Hey, so, change of plans.
Kimi Chen: ?
Emily Kessler: Tomorrow. Ben’s party. I’m in.
CHAPTER SIX
For the past 812 straight days, Emily had followed her sleep schedule. Whether it was summer vacation, her birthday, Christmas, or New Year’s Eve, she went to bed at ten thirty each night and woke up at six thirty the next morning, her circadian rhythms so exact that she no longer needed an alarm clock.
According to her dad, Emily’s perfect sleep schedule allowed her body near-superhuman powers of recovery. As she slept, her torn muscles sewed themselves back together, stronger than before, and the weariness in her bones slowly evaporated into the night air. While her classmates and competitors might wake up groggy, Emily opened her eyes each morning as awake as if she’d just downed three pots of coffee. Not that she’d ever had coffee—her dietary regimen would never have allowed so much caffeine.
For 812 straight nights, Emily had put on the old oversize T-shirt Sara had given her for Christmas one year, downed a warm glass of milk, and fallen asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. Until tonight. Tonight, a cold Friday in October, she looked at her bedroom clock and, for the first time she could remember, read 10:31 .
She tried to lift an arm and immediately felt pain in her aching biceps, sore from hours of weight lifting in the gym after school. By the last few reps, she’d barely been able to curl twenties, and involuntary spasms had flowed through her muscles as if she were holding onto an electric fence. If she got out of bed now, her muscles wouldn’t have their usual rest. She’d be sore tomorrow and sleepy for the 10K morning run her dad had added to her usual schedule.
If she went to bed now, she’d keep up her 812-day streak: 813 tonight, 814 tomorrow, 815 the day after that. And on and on until she was too old to go after medals anymore. If she got out of bed, the streak would reset back down to zero.
But if she stayed in bed tonight, Dominique would be all over Ben at the party. Emily pictured Dominique showing up in a skimpy black dress, walking up to Ben, and sitting on his lap. She pictured Dominique quietly leaning over close to his ear and whispering something—
Emily threw off the covers. She was going to this party.
As quietly as she could, Emily slipped out of bed and crept slowly to her door, double-checking to make sure it was indeed locked. She jiggled the handle and felt it catch. Okay, no unexpected parental check-ins. Unless, of course, theyknocked. But that would never happen, right? Her dad cared way too much about keeping her on her sleep schedule to wake her. The house could be burning down, and he’d just quietly break through the door and carry her to safety through the flames before he’d dare interrupt an REM cycle.
She took a breath. It would be okay. Just as long as she hurried and didn’t make any noise as she crawled out her window. First
“Maybe I’ll go with your—uh—dad,” said Emily, immediately regretting the comeback as soon as it exited her lips.
“Ew,” said Dominique. “But I’ll let him know you’re interested. I’m sure you two will have much more fun than me and Ben.”
“You’re going with Ben Kale?” asked Emily, trying to hide her sudden panic.
“Of course,” said Dominique. “He just doesn’t know it yet. But don’t worry, after he sees what I’m wearing to his party this Friday, he’ll be begging to take me to homecoming—and to do a whole lot more after the dance. I hope that’s not a problem, sweetie. I kind of got the sense the other day that you might have a little crush on Ben, too. I hope little Swimbot won’t get her feelings hurt. Or do you even have those?”
As Dominique swam away, Emily quietly boiled with anger, so much so that she half expected the water around her to turn to steam.
Later that night, Emily texted Kimi:
Emily Kessler: Hey, so, change of plans.
Kimi Chen: ?
Emily Kessler: Tomorrow. Ben’s party. I’m in.
CHAPTER SIX
For the past 812 straight days, Emily had followed her sleep schedule. Whether it was summer vacation, her birthday, Christmas, or New Year’s Eve, she went to bed at ten thirty each night and woke up at six thirty the next morning, her circadian rhythms so exact that she no longer needed an alarm clock.
According to her dad, Emily’s perfect sleep schedule allowed her body near-superhuman powers of recovery. As she slept, her torn muscles sewed themselves back together, stronger than before, and the weariness in her bones slowly evaporated into the night air. While her classmates and competitors might wake up groggy, Emily opened her eyes each morning as awake as if she’d just downed three pots of coffee. Not that she’d ever had coffee—her dietary regimen would never have allowed so much caffeine.
For 812 straight nights, Emily had put on the old oversize T-shirt Sara had given her for Christmas one year, downed a warm glass of milk, and fallen asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. Until tonight. Tonight, a cold Friday in October, she looked at her bedroom clock and, for the first time she could remember, read 10:31 .
She tried to lift an arm and immediately felt pain in her aching biceps, sore from hours of weight lifting in the gym after school. By the last few reps, she’d barely been able to curl twenties, and involuntary spasms had flowed through her muscles as if she were holding onto an electric fence. If she got out of bed now, her muscles wouldn’t have their usual rest. She’d be sore tomorrow and sleepy for the 10K morning run her dad had added to her usual schedule.
If she went to bed now, she’d keep up her 812-day streak: 813 tonight, 814 tomorrow, 815 the day after that. And on and on until she was too old to go after medals anymore. If she got out of bed, the streak would reset back down to zero.
But if she stayed in bed tonight, Dominique would be all over Ben at the party. Emily pictured Dominique showing up in a skimpy black dress, walking up to Ben, and sitting on his lap. She pictured Dominique quietly leaning over close to his ear and whispering something—
Emily threw off the covers. She was going to this party.
As quietly as she could, Emily slipped out of bed and crept slowly to her door, double-checking to make sure it was indeed locked. She jiggled the handle and felt it catch. Okay, no unexpected parental check-ins. Unless, of course, theyknocked. But that would never happen, right? Her dad cared way too much about keeping her on her sleep schedule to wake her. The house could be burning down, and he’d just quietly break through the door and carry her to safety through the flames before he’d dare interrupt an REM cycle.
She took a breath. It would be okay. Just as long as she hurried and didn’t make any noise as she crawled out her window. First
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