Purple Blues [Elvis]

Chapter 2 - This Has To Be A Dream

I faked being sick the next day. It was Friday, so that meant I would have a three-day weekend, and three days without the mean jailbird comments. Grandma knew what I was up to. I had done this plenty of times before.

"Katelyn, you need to go to school, honey. I know you're not sick."

I hid myself in my comforter and faced away from my bedroom door. "Please, Grandma, let me stay home."

"Not if you're not sick." She sat on my bed and put a hand on my shoulder that was covered by my comforter. "Maybe those boys will give you a break today."

"A day won't make a difference. They'll always make comments."

"Is it just one group of boys who bully you?"

"No, a lot of people do, mainly the populars. Everyone else whispers."

She let out an agitated sigh. "If only people just minded their own business."

"It's not possible. Just as long as I'm the daughter of murderers, I will always be stomped upon. Now... can I please stay home?"

"You'll have to go to school on Monday," she said in that tone she used whenever she was trying to make a point. I said nothing to her comment, knowing she was right. I hated it when she used logic on me.

"Five minutes?"

"Okay, and maybe when we get to your school, I can have a talk with your principal and get in contact with those boys' parents. This has gone on long enough."

I felt her get off my bed, but the door didn't close. I flung the comforter off of me as I lay there, but the comforter went only down to my waist. I huffed through my nose as images of the kids at school came to mind, and their laughing faces made me actually feel sick. I pulled the comforter over me again and lay down.

"I don't want to do this..."

I snuggled there in the blanket, and I felt my eyelids droop. I didn't stop the sleep that came over me suddenly. Grandma would just shake me awake anyway. She probably set a timer on her phone.

My mind started to wander as that sleep came, and fuzzy images took over my mind. I heard a loud bang and jumped awake. I groaned. Grandma did that on purpose. She did that sometimes, slammed doors when I should get up in the morning. I opened my eyes and something unfamiliar came into focus. I blinked several times and saw a picture of two dogs, or more a painting. Creasing my brows, I sat up, but only to find that I wasn't in my room, but a room that had wood-planked walls, yellow carpet, and a desk sat in it, with a brown typewriter on top of it.

"What the...?" I hollered, alarm shooting through me. "Where the heck am I?!"

I heard talking outside the door to this strange room that was about the size of my own bedroom and gasped, my heart hammering. The door opened, and I frantically looked for anywhere I could hide but found nowhere. So I sat there on this... orange sofa? Talk about tacky! The wooden blinds on the window had clash written all over them as well, but I wasn't focusing on that or the green potted plant in the corner that was the only other pop of color in the room, other than that that dog picture, I was focusing on the two people who came into the room. One was an older man with greying hair and dressed in a gray suit, and the other was a middle-aged man, balding, wearing a white collar shirt and tan pants. He had a pipe in his mouth.

"He needs to do this show, Colonel Parker," said the older man in what sounded like a New Yorker accent. "Can you imagine what would happen if he doesn't show up on the screen?"

"I think the fans would survive," said the younger man after taking the pipe out of his mouth, and what he said was in some European accent. "He needs the publicity, yes, but I would like him to be moving on to California as soon as possible. He can be on the air there. We're on a tight schedule."