Dabria

  My bare toes curl into the dirt beneath me; the earth making me feel more connected to my surroundings. I have reached the top of the flower filled hill and my breath catches at the view. The village ahead has clusters of houses with people filling the cobble streets. The large lake in the distance to the left glistens from the sun and is spotted with small boats. Farmers work in the field below the hill, picking vegetables or fruits that I couldn't recognize. Hooves of horses can be heard hitting the stone of the road from where I stand. Finally, my eyes land on the grand castle in the middle of the village that's guarded by a stone wall. The castle hovers over the village like its protector. I belong here. This is where I am meant to be.      I'm home.      "Mrs. Smith." A voice echoes through my mind but I dismiss it and continue drawing the landscape. I picture the dream and translate it onto the paper on my desk, completely unaware of my surroundings. "Mrs. Smith." The voice repeats, louder. It threatens to break the border into my subconscious. "Mrs. Smith!" The voice booms, losing its patients. My head jolts up and I am back in my English class. Mrs. Grande huffs when she has my attention. "Could you please explain the character of Myrtle?"      Oh, right. We were discussing The Great Gatsby.      "She was the girl Tom slept around with." I said dismissively. The class erupts in a low giggle while Mrs. Grande purses her lips with anger.      "A little more detail please." She says.      I raise an eyebrow. "About what, exactly?"      The class laughs even louder. Mrs. Grande gives up just as I'd hoped she would and leaves me to my drawing. I continue the sketch of the castle and the village. I finish the last bits of details and look over my work. I've drawn the familiar landscape numerous times, but each time something feels off, like I am missing something. I sigh as I look it over, wishing to be there.      I'm home.      I think of the dream and half-heartedly touch the blue pendant that dangles from my throat. I don't know how, but I know this necklace came from this place I keep drawing and dreaming about. The emotions I feel when looking at the scene are confusing. I feel calm and at peace, as if I have lived there my whole life, but I also feel sad, like a person mourning a death.      But how is it possible to miss a place you've never been to except in your dreams? How is it possible to know that you belong at this fantasy place you just made up in your mind?      The bell rings and I gently place the paper into the black book bag that hangs by my waist. Regardless if I belong in that beautiful world or no, I know for certain I don't belong here.      I hurry down the hall, careful to avoid eye contact with any of the other students. The thing about eye contact is people then feel the need to talk to you. In my case, this means name calling or mocking me. Here at Westfield Prep, students tend to stick with their social circle. Me? I don't exactly have one, making me the target of them all. I am at the bottom of the food chain. I don't fit in with all the rich kids that have fancy cars and high-tech laptops. I wasn't raised the way they were. But here I am, with a fancy car, and a high-tech laptop my adoptive parents got me.      My name is Sapphire Smith. I'm told the social worker that found me named me Sapphire because of my eyes, but they are what I like to call 'stormy blue.' A mixture of blue and grey but not quite hazel. It looks like the sky on a stormy day. My guess is they named me Sapphire because of the sapphire pendant I wear. I've had a special bond with this necklace for as long as I can remember.      I never understood my connection to the thing.      I don't remember anything before the foster homes. Even then, my memory is a bit foggy and I just go by what everyone tells me, which of course isn't much. I was finally adopted by a family when I was seven. I've never felt more at home than I did with Marilyn and Thomas. For the first time, I was actually happy. They enrolled me in a small public school and everything felt as normal as it could possibly get.      That all changed when my parents were killed. The man broke into our home in the middle of the night and attacked Mary and Tom. The police never found the guy, and eventually they gave up. Cold case. I was shipped to a new group home before we even had a funeral. I was convinced I would never again be adopted.      The Smiths came into my life just a few months later. If the law would allow us to pick our parents, I would've said no to them. Megan and Jonathan were, and still are, an uptight, rich couple. They came in with stern looks on their faces looking to transform the life of a poor girl and raise her to be a proper lady. That happened to be me.      "Her." The woman, Megan, said, pointing a polished finger at me. "I want her."      And with that, I was yet again packed up and shipped away to live in town right outside of New York City. It's almost been a year since then and here I am at the age of eighteen.      I slip into my seat in my Botany class, hoping Mr. Granger doesn't notice I'm late. He is busily clicking on his computer, trying to pull up notes for us to take. I'm positive he doesn't see me and I let out a relieved breath.      "You're tardy, Sapphire." Mr. Granger says without looking up from the computer screen.      "I'm aware." I mumble. I sit next to Cody Martinez- who always has a slight, sweat odor- and Amelia Jones- who shifts in her seat every three seconds.      I pull out my notebook and mindlessly jot down the notes. Mr. Granger begins his lecture in his monotonous voice that makes me drift quickly into sleep.      I sigh at the breathtaking view yet again and the butterflies in my stomach flutter. The excitement makes me start to jog down the hill; my muddy feet aching and my torn dress flopping with the wind. My arms are covered with a mixture of dirt and blood. I don't know how I got this way, but right now, I don't care.      I pick up my pace with anticipation, and as I reach the village, I almost run into a vendor selling some sort of blue and green fruit I don't recognize. The vendor doesn't notice me, nor does anyone else, as I walk down the stone road and look at the village in awe. I wonder why no one looks at me. After all, I must have been a sight to see. My dark brown hair was ratted in knots down my back and my dress was torn in the middle exposing my belly button. But nothing can contain the overwhelming feeling I have. The feeling I have always longed for.      I'm home.      "SAPPHIRE SMITH! THERE IS NO SLEEPING IN MY CLASSROOM!" Mr. Granger's voice fills the otherwise quiet classroom.      "I'm home." I mutter jumping in my seat from the sudden noise. A low giggle trembles through the classroom. I throw my palm on my forehead, trying to hide my embarrassment      "You most certainly are not home!" Mr. Granger's face turns red with fury. "I told you what would happen if I caught you sleeping again. Go to the Headmaster's office immediately!"      I sigh, dreading another meeting with the Headmaster. I gather my things quickly and walk out, still in a haze from the dream. I drag my feet as I make the trek to the office. This isn't my first talk with Headmaster Abby. I've seen her plenty of times before; whether it was for sleeping in class or saying something that wasn't "appropriate for school." She calls home almost every time and that means punishment at home too. The Smiths believe that punishment by cleaning everything teaches me a lesson. I must "learn discipline and hard work if I ever wanted to make a good wife someday."      I hope Headmaster doesn't call home.      I round the corner and see Headmaster Abby talking to three cops. I freeze and slowly turn around, hoping they didn't see me. Whatever this was, I didn't want to be apart of it.      "Sapphire?" She calls. s**t. I turn back to look at her. "Could you come here a minute?"      I let out a long sigh and fill the distance between us. "Yes, Headmaster?" I say trying to put on a good face. Maybe I could at least get out of detention.      "Have you seen this boy? He's from the same area you moved from." She hands me a folded piece of paper. When I unfold it, my heart almost stops. The piercing blue eyes staring back at me has been in my dream before. He's the only one that has ever noticed me in it. His shaggy blonde hair hangs in his eyes. His face is cold with what I assume is anger. This boy staring at me is the one who killed the only parents I've ever known.      I don't feel like talking about my deceased parents, or maybe it was the feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me to not tell these people who he was, but I choose to keep quiet. My face said nothing, "Nope. Never seen him before. Is he missing?" I ask innocently and hand the picture back.      "More like wanted." One policeman grunted. He had a thin mustache that stretched across his mouth almost hiding his lips. He looped his fingers in his belt loop. "Kid's been everywhere killing innocent people. Started with a couple down south in a small town in Georgia. We've traced him to this area and he looks like he could pass as a student. Got to cover all of our bases."      My heart comes back to life and is now threatening to beat out of my chest. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more help." I say hoping to make a break for it. I start to walk back towards my classroom.      "Wait a moment, Sapphire. Why were you out of class?" Headmaster asks.      I seize the opportunity to make up an excuse, really not wanting detention. "Restroom." I answer quickly and walk away before any more questions could be asked. I just wanted to get out of there.      Instead of going back to the classroom, I decide to go to the library. I'm sure Mr. Granger won't miss me, plus I knew I would just fall asleep again listening to his speech about the wonderful world of the Xylem and Phloem functions in a plant.      I take a seat in the back of the library and put my headphones on, eager to have a distraction from my parents killer. I only get past the first song.      I stand next to the lake, taking in the view before testing the water with my big toe. Despite the autumn breeze that drifts through the treetops, it isn't cold at all. I wade through the clear water and begin scrubbing the dirt from my skin, making the water cloudy with mud.      "It's about time you fell asleep again." A voice says from behind me. I whirl around, surprised by the voice. I have never been spoken to here before. My consciousness awakens and I look around, suddenly aware I am in a dream. Everything felt so real that I wondered if it was.      "Who said that?" I demand searching for the source of the voice. A boy about my age steps out from behind a boat and puts his feet in the water. His blonde hair hangs right above his eyes and he wears different clothes than the rest of the people; more modern. His feet are bare and his hands rest in the pockets of his jeans.      The thing I notice first is his blue eyes.      "You!" My body fills with adrenaline. "You killed my parents! You're a murderer!" I scream at him. His mouth opens to talk and his eyes widen slightly but I don't let him speak. "You killed the best parents I ever had! You ruined my life!" I start walking out of the water, not sure what I am going to do when I reach him.      "You don't understand-" He begins.      "I think I do." Then with embarrassment I realize I don't. I stop walking and look around. This was my dream, so I was simply dreaming of him, right? "How are you ... You're not real." I recall briefly seeing  him in my dream before but it was always far away and he was just like the rest of them. He never spoke to me, but he did look at me. This has to be my mind just trying to deal with seeing my parent's killer moments earlier. He's not real. This is just a dream.      Right?      "I assure you, I'm real. And I told you, you don't understand, but you will." He recovers from my sudden outburst, keeping his demeanor calm.      "What the hell is that supposed to mean exactly?" I'm furious but even more confused.      "You will see. Meet me at the abandoned building on 3rd street. Just come in the back. Ten O' Clock tonight."      "What-" now he cuts me off.      "There's no time for questions. It's time for 3rd hour now. Wake up."      I jolt out of the dream at the sound of the bell. I suddenly have a splitting headache that almost makes me cry out. The bell chimes again and I cross the room on my way to Calculus, all the while still holding one hand over my head as if it will help and the other holding a notebook and some drawings I was working on. I wasn't paying much attention and crashed into someone when turning the corner. Papers fly all around us.      "Sorry," we both say at the same time and begin picking up our spilled papers. I file through them and hand him his as he hands me mine.      "Sorry again." He says.      "It's-" I stop when I see his face. He looks so familiar but I just can't place him. He has shaggy brown hair that hangs just above his eyes. His eyes seem unnaturally dark, but I find myself studying them, and visualizing how I would draw them in my head.      "You okay?" He asks and realize I'm staring. The halls are almost clear now as everyone makes their way into their classrooms.      "Uh, yeah. Just... do I know you?" I ask confused and trying to focus through the headache. I can't shake the feeling that I know him from somewhere.      "I don't know," he says with a corner of his mouth lifting into a half smile. "Do you?" Then he starts to walk away with one look back. I try to shake him from my thought and rush to my next class.      I don't pay much attention to Calculus. I can't when my mind is consumed around the blue-eyed boy from my dream. I try to decide if I should actually go or not. That's crazy though, right? Going to meet someone you met in a dream who could also potentially be a murderer? I wonder if there is even an abandoned building on third street. I've never paid much attention when we drive by that side of town.      Lunch goes by quickly with me left alone to argue with my thoughts. Now I'm beginning to wonder if the Smith's should check me into a psychiatric center. When my fourth hour comes, I welcome the distraction of drawing. Before the bell even rings, I start a new outline of the familiar landscape, this time from a different angle.      "Alright class," the teacher, Mr. Varens, begins to say, "We have a new student today. His name is Malakai. Please make him feel welcome and help get him caught up on what we are doing." I don't bother looking up. Why should I? I will probably never even talk to the guy. "You can have a seat anywhere you like, but the class is pretty full. Sapphire has an empty table though." My body tenses for a moment, then relaxes. No one would sit with me, especially a new student. He will be too occupied with the girls in the class I'm sure.      The chair across from me screeches across the floor. I finally look up to see the poor guy about to join me at the bottom of the food chain. My body goes rigid again. It's the guy I ran into earlier. His dark hair hangs over his eyes only showing me the lower half of his face. My heart skips a beat for a reason I don't know. His features look so familiar and I file through my brain to figure out why. Where have I seen him? Was it a group home? Or maybe it was my last high school?      "Still think you know who I am, huh?" He asks taking a seat and throwing his bag on the floor. His voice snaps me back to reality and again, I was staring.      "No. Just having pity for you." I say going back to my drawing.      "Pity?" He says with slight amusement. "Why?"      "You just ruined whatever chance you had at a social life here by sitting at this table." I say. I don't lift my eyes from the drawing, afraid I might not stop staring this time.      "What makes you think I care about my social status here?" He says leaning closer.      "Everyone wants to be at the top of the social food chain." I explain.      "You don't." He says simply.      "No, I don't, because usually people don't understand me." I say dismissively.      He stays quiet for a moment and I feel his eyes on me. "What are you drawing?"      "A landscape."      "Of?" He pries.      "A picture I found off google." I snap the lie out, hoping to get him to stop talking.      I begin the shading on the drawing and he stays quiet, studying me while I draw. The teacher eventually comes over to tell him about the assignment we are doing. I had already finished it. When the teacher leaves, Malakai remains silent until the bell was about to ring.      "You seem conflicted." He says as we wait by the door.      "What?" I ask, taken aback by the question.      "You just seem conflicted about a decision." He says. I stare at the door, still avoiding his hypnotic gaze.      "And what makes you say that?" His answer to my question is a small laugh.      "Whatever the decision is, you should say yes." He says.      "Yes?" I turn toward him now, regretting it the moment I do. He's close to me and has me trapped against the door.      "Yes." Then he leans next to my ear. "You should go tonight." The bell rings and he slips past me and out the door. I turn and follow him, ready to demand an explanation.      Then I remember why he looks familiar.