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    Dreamer
    Dreamer
    Dreamer
    Ebook297 pages4 hours

    Dreamer

    By Maria Rachel Hooley

    5/5

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    About this ebook

    Cassie Williams is your typical seventeen-year-old. She loves her friends, the beach, and loves being in love. But Cassie is different in one way--she's dying, and she's afraid. Still, she's never alone. Her guardian angel, Legend, has been watching over her. He knows her fears, and in an effort to make her last months on earth count, he takes on a human form. While Cassie loves being in love, she's never really been in love, and neither has Legend. Both of them are about to discover perfect moments of an imperfect world fitting both the grace of an angel and the hopefulness of a human in spite of a future all but bereft of possibility.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMaria Rachel Hooley
    Release dateApr 3, 2013
    ISBN9781301205974
    Dreamer
    Author

    Maria Rachel Hooley

    Maria Rachel Hooley is the author of over forty novels, including When Angels Cry and October Breezes. Her first chapbook of poetry was published by Rose Rock Press in 1999. She is an English teacher who lives in Oklahoma with her three children and husband. She loves reading, and if she could live in a novel, it would be Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn.

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      Book preview

      Dreamer - Maria Rachel Hooley

      Dreamer

      by

      Maria Rachel Hooley

      Dreamer

      Copyright ©2012 Maria Rachel Hooley

      Cover by Phatpuppy Art

      Smashwords Edition

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

      Chapter One

      You sure you don’t want to stay home another day? Dreyfus Williams asked as he set a plate of eggs in front of his sixteen-year-old daughter, Cassie. Although he was dressed in slacks and a poplin shirt for work, he wouldn’t hesitate if Cassie said the word.

      I’ll be fine, Daddy, Cassie said, looking at the eggs. Her long, blonde hair spilled into her face, concealing her expression. Although she'd picked up her fork, she didn't have much appetite. She hadn’t had for quite a while. Still, as she sat, she forced herself to take a few bites. It was the easiest way to fly under her father’s radar.

      Dreyfus sat in the chair opposite, his own plate before him. Do you want me to drop you off?

      Cassie shook her head. No, I’ll ride with Michael. She nodded at the other place set out at the table.

      If he ever comes down, her father said, shaking his head. Michael! he yelled, wondering if upstairs, his son could hear him. It probably depended on whether Michael had headphones on, which he frequently did.

      I’m right here, Michael answered. Sitting next to his sister, Michael looked more like his father, with his dark hair and eyes, than did Cassie, who had honey hair and light skin like her mom, and when Cassie looked at Dreyfus, he felt he were staring at the sky because of her blue eyes, something else she had in common with her mom.

      Cassie could tell both her brother and father sometimes struggled with that likeness, which kind of left her in the dark because she couldn’t even remember her mom. Cassie had only been three when Jennifer Williams had passed away following a sudden battle with cancer. And that happened to be another bond Cassie shared with her mother: a terminal future.

      Dreyfus looked at Michael. Cassie wants to ride with you. That all right?

      Michael nodded. Why wouldn’t it be? He took a bite of egg.

      Dreyfus turned back to Cassie. You call me if you start feeling sick or if you just want to come home, okay? His tone was pointed and worried.

      Yes, Daddy, Cassie reluctantly agreed. It wasn't so much that her father hovered—he had done that since she first got the diagnosis—but it was more that she just wanted to be like every other high school kid for whom danger was just some vague, nebulous idea, not a medical certainty.

      The three focused on finishing breakfast, and Cassie found herself under both their watchful gazes. It was almost like her illness was the glue that now held them together as a family because before, Michael and her father had fought a lot; now everyone focused on her, which she hated.

      She wanted to tell them she wasn't a porcelain doll that would easily break, and she might even have stood half a chance of convincing them before her last trip to the hospital. Since she'd been released, however, Cassie hadn't quite rebounded, and that had been a week ago. Yes, the tumor had grown—they had all been told it would—but this was the first time she'd felt the weight of its progress.

      Cassie was scared—terrified—but she couldn't show it, not when she knew her father was so easily spooked. It was almost as though, instead of seeing her—happy and well between episodes—he'd become obsessed with her illness.

      It wasn't rational, Cassie knew, but her father was coping as best he could. They all were.

      Unable to stand the silence, Cassie rushed through her breakfast, scraped her plate, and grabbed her book bag.

      I'll wait outside, she told Michael. She kissed her father on the cheek and headed out the door.

      Michael, too, gulped his food but wasn't quick enough to avoid what was coming.

      You need to keep an eye on your sister, Dreyfus said, giving his son a pointed stare the boy would've had to have been asleep to miss.

      Michael scowled and picked up his own plate. And when haven't I? You know Cass and I are close. He tried not to let the anger rising within him explode.

      I know, his dad continued, carefully watching his son. It's just that since this trip to the hospital, she hasn't been herself, and it worries me. She's weaker and yet refuses to rest as she should.

      Michael smacked his plate on the counter. Don't you think I know that? You act like I was out having a good time with my friends while Cass was in the hospital, out of things. But I wasn't. I was right beside her, waiting—just like you.

      He didn't wait for a response, and Dreyfus looked away, a flush creeping into his cheeks as Michael grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door.

      Tight-lipped, Dreyfus watched his son fly out of the room, and he closed his eyes as the front door slammed shut. Now alone in a silence which seemed to suffocate, Dreyfus leaned forward, shoved his plate away, and rested his elbows on the table as he cradled his head between his hands. For a moment, he just sat there in that wounded state, unable to move.

      When he finally looked up, tears glimmered in his eyes, and he kept blinking to drive them away until he could clearly see the picture of his late wife by the phone. In that photo, she was just out of college, all of twenty-two, and beautiful, just like Cassie, which is what made something deep inside of him break all the more. No, his wife hadn’t lived a long life, but Cassie probably wouldn’t even reach eighteen.

      I know you thought I could handle anything, Jen, he said to the picture as he rose and walked to it. But I don’t think I can do this—not when I love her so much and it’s just like losing you. His voice dwindled to a whisper. I’m her father, and I can’t protect her. In trying, I just keep making things worse with Michael, so I don’t know what to do. His forefinger touched Jen’s face. You have to help me, baby. I can’t do this alone.

      He fell silent again and just kept staring at the past because he didn’t want to see the future.

      * * *

      Ordinarily, Michael would’ve loved being outside, even if it were only briefly, but life had been anything but ordinary lately. As such, he barely noticed the blue sky overhead, cloudless and bright. It was already almost seventy with a slight breeze, and even with a slight kick of humidity, it couldn't diminish the glory unfolding all around him. The weather reports had hinted a storm might hit later, it wasn't apparent, and there was no point in looking for it. Besides, Michael didn't need to look for more storms; there were enough brewing already.

      Michael trudged to the driver's side of his car and got in, aware Cassie had long since tucked herself into the passenger seat. Without a word, he started the engine and revved it loudly enough so he knew his father would hear, a sound that forced Cassie to turn and face him.

      Okay, so maybe you didn't want babysitting duty—after all—I get it, she muttered, wondering whether she should’ve just taken her dad up on his offer for a lift and left her brother out of it. Would that have kept the two from fighting? Probably not. Lately, not much did.

      This isn't babysitting, and I don't mind. Although Michael's tone was a little gruff, his shoulders had eased from the hard line he'd first come outside with and curved slightly. Yes, he was mad, but he was trying hard not to take things out on her. He always tried to protect her, but these days after fighting with his father, he just didn't have much energy.

      So, what's eating you? She stared out the window, watching the sun climb into the sky, and wished she didn't have to go back to school. It seemed pointless, but it beat dealing with her dad all the time. Right now, anything did.

      The same thing that's been eating you since you got out of the hospital—Dad.

      Cassie didn't know what to say. She found it strange that her dad was so hard on Michael about watching after her when in truth her brother was just as protective as her dad. It was like they were both trying to do the same thing and still fought about it, which made absolutely no sense. Still, trying to talk to either of them about it was useless, so she kept focusing on the sun and the two of them lapsed into a more comfortable silence as they drove.

      For a moment, Cassie didn’t pay much attention to what was outside her window, but then she discovered the road they traveled wasn’t on the way to school.

      Hey, did you take a wrong turn or something? She sat up straighter in her seat.

      Nope.

      So what gives?

      You’ll see. He smiled now, which made her relax even more.

      And she did see—Stan’s Donut Shop—as Michael pulled into the parking lot. Immediately, Cassie started laughing as he plucked the keys from the ignition.

      Well, you didn’t eat much of Dad’s breakfast so let’s get you something you will eat.

      Yes! she squealed and got out of the car to follow him up to the window.

      Can I help you? a thin brunette asked, leaning over the counter toward them.

      Tell her what you want, Michael urged, winking.

      Cassie looked over the donuts, chewing her lips as she struggled to make a decision. She and Michael had been coming here since he got his license, and she loved it. As she spotted the Boston crèmes, she pointed and said, I want one of those.

      Got it, the clerk said, bagging it.

      Then Cassie spotted the maple long johns. Ooh. I want one of those, too. Again, the clerk put it in a baggie. She’d started to ring it up as Cassie pointed out her third choice—a chocolate one with sprinkles.

      And one of those, please.

      As the clerk finished putting them in the bag, Michael’s eyes bulged.

      You gonna eat all those?

      You betcha! Cassie grinned at him.

      The clerk handed her the bag. Anything else?

      Shaking his head, Michael pointed to the chocolate long johns. One of those for me and two milks, please.

      Sure thing. As the clerk completed his order, Michael dug into his pocket and pulled out the money. Glancing at his sister, he saw she was already almost through one of the donuts—the one with sprinkles.

      Hungry much? he kidded as they stepped back to the car.

      Not really. I’ve just been wanting these since I was in the hospital surrounded by crappy food, and Dad keeps giving me healthy stuff, too.

      They climbed into his car, and Michael put on his seatbelt.

      So why didn’t you just ask me, Cass? I’d have snuck some in for you.

      Averting her eyes, Cassie whispered, I didn’t want to be a bother. You’re kind of busy with your job and school, you know?

      Cass, look at me, Michael said, his voice firm. He waited until her eyes met his. I’m never too busy for you, and you aren’t a bother. Got it?

      A slow smile crept across her face. Got it.

      You are, however, a disaster with a donut. He looked down, grabbed a napkin, and wiped the sprinkles from the corner of her mouth.

      Thanks. Cassie sighed in contentment.

      You’re welcome. He backed out of the parking lot and started driving again. Now I’d best get us to school before we’re both late.

      Yeah, we wouldn’t want that, at least not on the first day, she agreed.

      As they pulled into the parking lot, Cassie beheld a sea of familiar faces but didn't want to think of facing all those people, even if many of them were her friends. She'd always preferred to hide behind others rather than be the center of attention, yet her illness had diminished any shadows in which she might otherwise have hidden. Now everyone, even those who didn't know her, was looking in her direction.

      Of course, she couldn't blame them. There was something about being sick that made people look at her—or more precisely at her hair, her ears, and anywhere else except her eyes. She didn't know why; it just made it easier for them to pretend she was fine when she wasn't, and when they asked how she was doing, she'd learned it was more about they’re being polite than their wanting to know. Nobody wanted to hear she'd been up all night puking or that her back ached mercilessly. They only wanted the happy Reader's Digest version without all the offensive details.

      If you need me, call me. And if I don't hear from you, I'll check in at lunch. Michael looked into her face, expecting an answer.

      What Cassie wanted to ask was, Why won't you just let me breathe and be normal? but she knew better. In their minds, they were trying to protect her and help even if in her mind, they were hovering so close she could barely function. Most days, she just wanted it to stop.

      Okay, she said casually, trying to muster enough enthusiasm to get out of the vehicle.

      You ready to go in? Her brother kept watching her, frowning. Next thing he would ask if she didn't get out was whether she were in pain or needed something.

      Yes. She gripped the handle and shoved the door open, glad to be able to avoid talking anymore, at least for the moment.

      As the two of them started up to the entrance, Cassie felt everyone staring, which made her blush. She tried to hide it by gathering her long, blonde hair closer to her face, but the wind kept blowing it back, so it was a poor disguise.

      Michael must have sensed her apprehension as he stepped closer, trying to shield her—the poor, dying girl—as she was probably called. To those who didn't know her, it worked just as well as a name.

      Ignore them, Michael said, protectively slipping his arm around his sister because he, too, felt everyone watching them. They aren't worth your time.

      That's easy for you to say, she muttered. You're not the one they’re watching. Still, when she saw Michael's jaw clench and his face flush, she was immediately sorry she'd said it with that tone. She hadn’t meant to take her frustrations out on him.

      I shouldn't have said that, she whispered. I'm sorry.

      Michael nodded and smiled, lifting the darkness she’d just caused. It's cool. I know you have a lot on your mind.

      Although on one hand, Cassie was relieved to know her brother wasn't upset, on the other she wished he would’ve been. That would be normal. It was just another sign normal wasn't in the cards.

      Just before they’d reached the entrance, a tall guy with brown hair rushed in front of them and flew through the door without looking back. Cassie frowned, trying to remember having seen him before. Although tall was the first word which had come to mind, it didn't do his height justice. Tall was 6'2. This guy was probably closer to 6'5 and very muscular. He didn't even look like a student, but Cassie couldn't imagine a teacher dressing so casually.

      Who is that? she asked as Michael held open the door. For as long as she could, Cassie watched the stranger make his way down the hall, suddenly more intrigued by him than she had been about anything in a long time, at least since before she’d gotten sick. She kept watching the crowd even after he'd disappeared, wishing he'd turned to her so she’d had a face to go with her thoughts.

      He's a new guy from Texas—a basketball player, and I hear a pretty good one, Michael said absently.

      What's his name? Cassie didn't know why she was asking. After all, he’d probably end up being just like all the others, who were more interested in her disease than her. Since she was a terminal case, it wasn't like he'd be asking her out or anything. At best, he'd feel sorry for her once he knew.

      Legend Thomas. He's a senior and has a younger sister named Carly.

      Although Michael didn't usually pay attention whenever new students came, he did know a lot about Legend, and his tone even seemed warmer now. He spoke of a friend rather than a stranger. That in and of itself made Cassie curious about this Legend Thomas because Michael was notorious for being an outsider. He didn't get most people, nor did he want to.

      Together they started down the hall, and while Michael normally would’ve taken a turn to get to his locker in the senior hallway before first period, he stayed beside her, his steps never faltering. While he no longer draped his arm around her, he remained close, once again as a means of blocking all the inquisitive gazes. Although she knew he couldn't keep it up, it was nice for the moment, and with any luck perhaps everyone would get tired of looking at her and get back to discussing plans for the weekend. That had been part of her rationale for coming back on a Thursday. She was hoping that by Monday people would’ve stopped gossiping about her because she was suddenly boring to them.

      Not that it was going to happen, but she liked to pretend it might.

      They had almost made it to her locker when she felt someone put an arm around her. Turning, Cassie found her pixie of a best friend, Selma Davis, on the other side of her.

      Hey, how's my girl? Selma asked, offering an infectious smile. For every bit Cassie was golden and light, Selma was dark and exotic, one of the things Cassie once envied. Selma had dark hair and eyes and screamed mystery while Cassie was so plain. Yes, she had been jealous of that at one time. Now she just wanted to be as healthy as Selma was. That was worth more than anything.

      Cassie smiled and mouthed the words, He's smothering me. Do something!

      Selma nodded and took the cue. Hey, big bro, I've got Cassie covered. I'll make sure she gets to class.

      Selma… Michael said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

      She nodded at him. That’s me. The girl who always has your sister’s back.

      Yeah, you do. An understood look passed between them, and Michael finally stepped back. Just keep her out of trouble, okay? He turned his gaze toward his sister. You okay? I mean, I don't mind hanging if you want.

      Cassie shook her head, trying not to show how relieved she was her brother was going to give her some space.

      I'm fine. It's not like there's that much time before class, and you do need to get your books.

      He stared at her for a moment longer before finally nodding. All right. Just don't forget to check in, okay? I don't think you want Dad here at school because he figured out I wasn't keeping a good enough eye on you.

      No, I don't want that, she replied hastily. I always check in. You know that. And you know where to find me.

      Without another word, her brother turned and headed for his locker. Selma, on the other hand, propelled Cassie toward hers.

      Okay, so forgive me for this because I know you're probably going to get this same question a zillion times today, but I'm your best friend, and I really want to know. How are you?

      Cassie shrugged. I'm okay, Selma, and I don't want to talk about this. It's not you. My brother and dad have been so fixated on what's wrong with me they seem to have forgotten I'm the one trapped in this body. I can't tell you how many times they've talked about me to specialists and crap like I'm not even here or I'm deaf or something. It's maddening.

      Selma smiled and squeezed her arm. Okay, done. Let's talk about the hottie who’s now in your first hour just waiting for you to discover him—you lucky girl, you.

      You mean Legend? Cassie began to turn her combination lock so she could unload her backpack. She sure didn't want to take every textbook to class. Yes, it would probably be a great way to bulk up, but truthfully she didn't have the energy for it.

      Drat Michael for ruining my perfect surprise. I think he's still paying me back for having a crush on him in eighth grade. She dramatically leaned against the locker next to Cassie's.

      You might be right. Michael still hasn't gotten over the mix CD you made him. It was awful. Cassie brushed the hair from her eyes.

      So have you seen him yet?

      Cassie opened the lock and jerked the locker door ajar. In passing.

      He’s amazing—and you two would look so good together.

      Cassie started shoving in her books. Whoa. Down, girl. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Somehow I don't see Basketball Guy and Terminal Girl getting together. Nobody in his right mind would want to put himself through that. She shoved in the last book next to the history text and grabbed a pen.

      Selma banged her head against the locker repeatedly in frustration. Can't you dream just a little, Cass? Would it hurt so much?

      No, probably not, Cassie agreed. But dreaming won't change anything, so what's the point?

      You might be surprised. Selma pointed to a girl not far from Cassie. She was blonde and beautiful, but instead of a deep tan, her skin was light, delicately pale, and she appeared a porcelain doll in her sundress.

      That's Legend's sister, Carly. Isn't she stunning?

      Cassie watched her, unable to look away. There was something ethereal about her. Her hair was closer to white than gold, and she was so different than any of them; she just didn't belong.

      She's beautiful, all right, Cassie finally managed, unsure what words to use to describe her. People just didn't look like her. She was so gorgeous she didn't even seem human, which definitely made Cassie wonder what her brother looked like...from the front, that is.

      The first bell rang, making Cassie jump, and if she hadn't been holding so tightly to her book, she might’ve dropped it. Yes, she'd known the bell was coming but had been so focused on Legend's sister she hadn't been paying attention.

      Oops! Best get to class. I'm dead if I get another tardy! Selma said, rushing off.

      Suddenly the hall seemed so much more chaotic as everybody strode around in a panic, perhaps realizing they couldn't afford anymore tardies, either. They'd probably already racked up a few, and that explained the chaos. Although Cassie didn't like the frenzy, she took a deep breath and forced herself to step down the hall toward the first door on the left: Coach Gardner's history class. Home sweet home

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