The Descendants Series Vol. 1

Chapter 6

­­­Chapter 6

“So let me get this straight…” Will began, taking a sip of water out of his bottle.

He grew quiet again, just like every time he tried to ask me or Remy something.  He didn’t seem to be able to wrap his head around what we’d told him about the dreams. 

 “Okay,” Will began again.  “So you had that dream about the jet crashing how many times?”

“Like…” I counted in my head.  “Three or four times, I think.  I don’t know.”

“So what happened in it?”

“Everything that happened in the actual crash.  But I also had text messages on my phone.  They said things like, ‘You can’t stop this’.”

“Huh,” he said.                            

We just sat there for another moment, not really having anything else to do or say. 

“What about the other dreams?” Will asked.

“I’ve already told you.”

“Oh, right.  Well, it’s just hard to get it through my head.”

“I know.   Me, too,” I said. 

Even though I was the one going through it, I still had trouble understanding it.  There was just something about seeing a strange shadow in your dreams who says it can help you that makes you think about what is going on with your head, or even if you’re remembering your dream right.

We had walked for the rest of the day in silence just like the days before.  But now that we had settled down for the night, the fire glowing in front of us, I had time to think.  I didn’t know why, but I was thinking about things that had happened in the past.

I smiled at the first memory, remembering one Christmas when Remy and I were six.  Remy had gotten a baby doll and I wanted it.  I was so jealous that she had gotten one and I didn’t that I started crying and screaming.  I had to admit, I was a dramatic child.  I’d started running up the stairs to my room, crying so hard that I couldn’t see, and fell down, ending up breaking my arm.

When my mom and I got back from the emergency room three hours later with a cast on my arm, Remy came up to me and gave me the doll.  My mom thought it was so cute that she started crying.  Even though I was six, I was still good at sharing.  Remy and I had shared everything, including the baby doll, even though, most of the time, we had two of everything.

About a week after that day, we were over at our cousin Annabel’s house for a cookout.  All of the kids were riding bikes, but I couldn’t ride since I had the cast on my arm.  I had to sat in the grass and watch everyone zip around the driveway and yard.  And, of course, cute little six year old Will was there with us.  I was lying back on the grass, looking up at the clouds, when I heard a crash and then a cry.  Remy had fallen off of her bike when she was going down the driveway and fell on her arm.

And if you guessed that she broke that arm, you guessed right.  My mom took her to the emergency room.  And when they come home later that day, Remy had a cast on just like mine.  Did I mention that it was the same arm that I had broken?  When I saw her walk through the door with Mom, I had giggled.  She looked just like me!  Blond hair, green eyes, cast on her arm, and, also like me, she was giggling.  I went over to her with a smile on my face.  And when we looked back at our mom and dad, they both started laughing.  Mom had gotten her camera and took a picture of us.  I still had the picture, sitting in a frame on my dresser.

 “What’s so funny?” Remy asked.

“I was thinking about that time when we were six and we both had broken arms,” I said, laughing again.  She laughed, and so did Will.