Nora~~
Tye's eyes widen before he runs out of the kitchen and into his changing room.
With a sigh, I set the knife I conjured on the table. I should have gone with a blanket.
As far as I know, I'm a Class Two like Avery. She didn't have much advice for me on how to execute the traits of a Class One but did have me try to create a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She said Class Ones can create food.
I tried for an hour before she called it. She said I could be able to do it eventually, that the conjuring is like a muscle you have to stretch to be able to do it with ease and to be able to create more objects.
If I am a Class One, Charlie might have been the only person who could teach me. Now I have to try teaching myself.
I knock on the door to Tye's changing room. "I thought you might like to know I wasn't going to stab you.
"How did you do that?" he asks from behind the door.
"Because this isn't reality." Sitting down, I lean my back against the door. "Have you ever played a video game?"
"Yeah."
"Imagine being inside one."
"That's impossible."
"Just do it."
A few seconds later, "Okay. I am."
"We are essentially trapped in a video game. Except the game is in our minds."
My mind.
I stiffen, but then Tye says, "I've only ever known this life."
The blanket I conjure to lay over my knees comes easily. "I know. I'm not asking you to accept this right now."
"If I did have a life before this, how come I can't remember it?"
"I don't know." I'm sure he's not a Lucid. Avery said that dreamers are programmed to accept the things that don't make sense in Somnia, but Lucid can't. He's always been eager to say how all the things I've found confusing are normal.
But he's my friend. I can't leave him in the darkness.
*****
A few days later, Ricky invites me and Avery over for dinner at his place. He lives up near the conservatory in a small neighborhood of cookie-cutter houses.
Avery, wearing an off the shoulder top, her wavy hair swept over one shoulder, answers the door. Her feet are bare.
I step inside, following Avery. I expected to smell food cooking. Instead there's a scent of soy. Against the wall on an end table, votive candles burn, and a wooden cross is propped against the wall behind them. I haven't seen a cross since being in Somnia. Religion isn't a part of the dream. I suppose it would raise questions of an afterlife, when dreamers don't know what that is nor do their minds seem to be allowed to contemplate such philosophical ideas.
"We're having spaghetti for dinner," she says over her bare shoulder.
Ricky is waiting in the kitchen. On the island, in front of him is a jar of red sauce, a box of noodles, salt, shredded cheese and a strainer. There's a pot on the stove and a large wooden spoon on the counter beside it.
"Since you need to understand how to cook something to conjure it, we thought we should go through the steps of making spaghetti." Ricky rattles the box of noodles.
"I've made spaghetti before. Wouldn't I need to know how to make it from scratch?"
Avery joins Ricky, taking the box from him and opening it up. "Don't really know, but I guess we'll find out."
The pot is already filled with water, and I set the burner on high.
"Tell us about the guy you're living with." Avery leans against the island directly across from the stove.
"His name's Tye. We met the day I woke up in Somnia. I actually met his boss too. Tye urged me to try out for an open position at his job, and I got it."
Ricky grabs the salt. "What was the job?" He sprinkles some salt into the water.
"I addressed envelopes for letters from the government."
Avery stiffens. "You know Somnia's government is filled with Pace's employees?"
I scratch my cheek. "We don't work there anymore. Doctor Pace had me brought in for questioning."
Ricky cocks his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Who was your boss?"
"Charlie Pace."
They share a look.
I rub at my arm, not able to help thinking about the bruises that should have appeared after my time with Doctor Pace. "Do you know him?"
Snorting, Avery watches the water, her back to us. "He's a bit infamous among Lucid. He's his dad's hound, sniffing us out and turning us over to him. Sounds like he did the same to you."
That's what it seems like, but then why would he keep warning me leading up to that day? "He's a Class One."
Avery doesn't move while Ricky says, "Like calls to like. Lucid can find one another, simply by desiring it. If one is near and you want to find them, it's like there's a chain attached to you, tugging you toward the other Lucid. When you met us, we suspected you were Lucid and confirmed it while we were speaking to you."
Charlie knew the whole time what I was.
Once the water boils, I pour in the noodles. "Is there really no way to wake ourselves up?" Am I going to forever be trapped with the knowledge of a family I can't reach? Keagan and Kandice. Will they be forced to sleep when they turn sixteen?
"There might be someway—a failsafe—but I don't know it." Avery gives me a nudge with her hips, and I stand to the side so she can grab the spoon. She stirs the pasta in languid swirls.
"Before my friend was taken, she left me a note telling me to get the help of Raymond."
She taps the spoon on the edge of the pot. "Sure, I know him."
I blink. "There are no Raymonds in Somnia."
Her eyes run over me as if appraising what she sees. "Not everyone is listed in public records. Ever seen the man with a thick beard and a cardboard sign that says something like "You're living a lie," "Wake up," "This is a dream"?
"You're kidding me."
Avery goes back to stirring.
"Do you think he could know a way to wake up?"
Sighing, she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. "Possibly. He's an ex-oneirologist."
"Pace lets him get away with the signs?"
"It's never made sense to me. I don't have a way to contact him. If you see him on the street, I'm sure he'd be happy to talk to you."
When the pasta is done and the sauce has been warmed up, Ricky puts the spaghetti onto three ceramic white plates, and Avery pours the sauce over each serving.
Ricky opens a drawer and hands me a fork. "Try it." He slides a filled plate across the counter.
"Shouldn't I wait till we sit down?"
Avery waves her hand. "Nonsense."
"All right." I take a bite, tasting the cheese on top of the sauce, the sweetness of the sauce itself, and the light saltiness of the noodles.
I haven't set my fork down when Ricky gives Avery a nod, and Avery scoops up my plate, and Ricky grabs the others. They plop the spaghetti into the trash can, the red sauce streaked across the white plates.
"I did like it, you know."
They ignore me, Avery grabbing the rest of the noodles and Ricky the sauce. Each goes into the trash.
Crouching over the counter, Avery props her head in her hands. "Conjure some spaghetti, now that you know how to make it and how it tastes."
"I can't. I'm not a Class One."
"You haven't given it enough time to be sure," she says.
"We're going to starve."
Ricky hops up on the counter next to the sink, legs danglingly over the end. "Lucky this is a dream then."
With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and close my eyes. Sharp. Sweet. Salty. Noodles being stirred. Sauce boiling.
I open my eyes. There's no pasta. I yank my hand through my hair and try again,
And again.
And again.
Defeated, I slouch back against the counter after a quarter of an hour has passed. "I'm sorry."
Avery stalks out of the kitchen. "I'll order a pizza."
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