In Your Dreams (In Your Dreams #1)

Chapter 7

"How did Kayla react?" I wonder aloud, because I don't think I'd like knowing the outcome of one of my games beforehand.

"Well, at first I didn't tell her, because I wasn't sure what I was seeing. Once I recognized the pattern, I told her after one of her races. And, I mean, in the dreams, she's just getting a medal, but I can never tell what kind, so I don't know if she's actually won the race or if she's getting one of those medals they give out sometimes to everybody who finishes. Anyway, she made me swear never to say anything to her because she didn't want to know about her races before she ran them. So I put everything in my dream journal and we don't talk about it."

Once Kieran's finished his explanation, I wrack my brain for something appropriate to say, but nothing comes.

"It's okay if you don't believe me," he says, cutting through my awkward silence. "If I were you, I wouldn't buy this, either. I mean, I'm not all that sure my parents and Kayla really believe this happens, so I definitely don't expect you to. But they've always told me not to tell people-I guess so people don't get even more freaked out by me than they already are-so it's like this...thing I've been carrying around for so long. Whether you believe me or not, just talking about it is sort of a relief."

Honestly, I'm not sure I believe Kieran dreams the future, but what I believe doesn't matter. He believes, and because he's my friend-and because I'm the first person outside his family he's chosen to trust with this information-then I should support him in that belief. After all, thinking you dream things before they happen isn't actually harmful or anything. If he were sitting here telling me he believed he was a superhero and tomorrow he was planning on Kayla driving him to the Sears Tower so he could leap off the top and soar over Chicago fighting crime, then maybe I'd tell him I didn't believe him. And I'd also suggest he and his dad have a long talk less of the father-son variety and more of the counselor-patient type. But believing you kind of sort of maybe get a small glimpse of the future sometimes? That's no big thing.

"I believe you."

"Really?" he whispers, his eyes so wide I'm a little afraid his eyelids might turn inside out. "Because this is way out there-I get that."

"I don't have any reason to think you're messing with me. So it's cool. Talk to me about this kind of stuff whenever you want."

"Thanks," he says, exhaling as if he's been holding his breath for years. "That means...you have no idea..."

"Kieran, we're friends. You can tell me anything."

On my mention of us being friends, his face darkens a little, and I know I've said the wrong thing. But before I can think of what to do to rewind the moment, Kieran's pulled his phone from his coat pocket to check the time. "Okay. I'm so dead. And I'm freezing." The cold makes his words almost visible as they leave his mouth. "You should probably take me home."

In silent agreement, I start the car, turn the defrosters on, and back away from the water so I can pull forward and around in a semi-circle to drive us up the hill toward the main road.

"I promise I won't tell anyone what we talked about," I assure him as I ease out onto the blacktop and gun the engine.

"I appreciate that. If anybody else knew about this..."

He doesn't continue, but I understand. Kieran's already the school weirdo, fair or not. Some rumor going around that he knows the future won't win him any new friends unless he can prove he dreams about pop quizzes or chem lab results.

We ride along in silence and in minutes, we're approaching the Laniers' driveway. I glance sideways, expecting Kieran's head to be drooped forward, the stress of an almost certain parental confrontation causing him to drift off. But he's sitting up straight, eyes wide open and staring ahead into the darkness.

"Want me to come in with you?" I offer, pulling up next to Kayla's Jeep and cutting the engine. "Maybe they'll go easy on you if I'm here."

Kieran turns to me, mouth scrunched up in a grateful pout. "You don't need to get home?"

"My mom will understand."

"I wish I had your mom," he mumbles, before raising his voice to a normal level. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I insist, although I'm not really sure at all, but I'm desperate to do something to make up for my "we're friends" comment at the river.

A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "Okay."

We get out of the car and walk together towards the house, the moonlight bouncing off the beveled window in the front door, and I wonder whether Kieran viewed this scene in his head for the first time at night as we're seeing it now. I don't get the chance to ask as Kieran pulls a key from a pocket on the side of his backpack and jogs up the three steps to the porch. He unlocks the door and lets us in to a hallway I remember from the million or so times I came over here before Mr. McCaffery's death, the same heavy wooden panel still set into the wall with five coat hooks, three of which are already occupied.

"Here," Kieran offers, holding his hands out to me after dropping his backpack to the floor. I realize he's offering to take my coat, and I wriggle my arms free from the sleeves as he grabs the coat by the collar and hangs it up next to one I recognize as Kayla's.

"Kieran."

A baritone behind me makes me jump. I turn around to find myself a few feet from a man standing just outside the entryway to the living room. And he doesn't look too happy.