Dream

Copyright © 2013 by Mallika Iyer.

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter One: Taking a stand

Chapter Two: Sunny with a chance of change

Chapter Three: Oh Mon Dieu

Chapter Four: Change

Chapter Five: Glitz, glam, and fashion

Chapter Six: The Now

Chapter Seven: Because forgiving and forgetting is just not as satisfying

Chapter Eight: Forgetting isn’t a sin… Is it?

Chapter Nine: The bathroom keeps secrets

Chapter Ten: No one believes the innocent

Chapter Eleven: The journey

Chapter Twelve: Sticks and stones won’t break my bones, but snakes and bugs will destroy me

Chapter Thirteen: Orang Asli

Chapter Fourteen: Storm brewing

Chapter Fifteen: Ugly discoveries

Chapter Sixteen: A night time stroll

Chapter Seventeen: Expedition

Chapter Eighteen: Tying loose ends

Chapter Nineteen: Apple’s tree of hope

Dedicated to Aashna—my inspiration,

To my parents—my support,

To Shubhi—my first reader,

To Hansika—my very own literary critic,

To my friends—my encouragement,

To my family—my foundation,

To every struggling young writer,

To every teenage girl.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the very lovely Aaliyah Qureishi, Vihaan Samat, Aashni Shah, Alya Lamba, and Abhinav Havaldar for their help with the cover design.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream—

Lingering in the golden gleam—

Life, what is it but a dream?

—Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

PROLOGUE

Have you ever wanted something more than you’ve ever wanted in anything in your entire life? A pair of roller blades? A Barbie? A car? You spend so much time fantasizing about what it’ll be like when you get it that you tend to build it up in your head. And then, when you finally get your hands on it (physically or metaphorically), you feel let down, disappointed, dissatisfied. Oddly, you never expect it to happen. But it does. It always does. Well it did for me, anyway.

My name is Gabriella Claire Foster and this is my story.

CHAPTER ONE

Taking a stand

Up! Get up, Gabby! My mother called from the kitchen, awakening me from my slumber. You’re late for school again. I’m not even going to try asking you why you skipped Early Bird Math Olympiad again. You just don’t understand the importance of bulking up your application for universities—!

I groaned and rolled over, still entangled in my duvet, trying—in vain—to block out my mother’s shrill lecture. My eyes travelled to my clock which read 7:15. Uh oh. Now that was bad news.

I immediately slid out of bed and into the bathroom. I blinked at myself in the mirror. Good morning, Sunshine. Are you ready for another fantastic day of school? Puhlease.

I hopped into the shower and dumped conditioner into my straight hair, hoping to transform it into something worth looking at. But as usual, I didn’t get lucky.

My hair was a mixture of red and brown. It was almost like God couldn’t decide which color to give me, so he just dumped both. And that’s why I ended up with a mop of coppery hair. Yay me.

But I didn’t have time to pine over my lusterless hair now. I had to rush to my favorite place in the world—high school. Disgruntled, I gathered my hair into a bun and threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt.

With minutes to spare, I grabbed my bag and stuffed a piece of toast into my mouth. Orange juice, Gabby, My ever-present mother reminded. You need Vitamin C.

I obediently gulped the juice down and then headed out the door to the torture chamber I was duty bound to go to.

Springfield High School looked like it was about to collapse. The paint was peeling off and the walls were crumbling. Yet, the school was teeming with kids. I warily eyed my fellow classmates, reuniting after a long day away from each other. Personally, I didn’t miss anyone.

With no one to greet, I trudged to my locker. Normally, a locker by a huge bay window and the study hall would be a prize. However, my locker came with an added bonus; it was located in the center of airhead-ville. By the way, I’m being sarcastic. Heavily sarcastic. Let’s just say public humiliation is the daily special near my locker.

The queen airhead, Jennifer Francis, was almost concealed in the midst of at least twenty fawning cronies. I called any girl who didn’t have two brain cells to rub together and make a third an airhead. They all tended to idolize Jennifer Francis too. Anyone who didn’t worship her was considered an outcast at Springfield High School. And I was one of the very few outcasts.

Oh my God! Did you hear that Tyler Leonard is acting in a movie called Too Many Trees with Brielle Hudson? They’re still looking for the third girl, Jennifer was saying to her sidekick, Lisa Reed. I read about it on Tyler’s blog this morning.

I can’t wait to see it! Lisa exclaimed, flipping her flawless hair.

You could totally audition, Jennifer! You’d be perfect for the role! Erin Miller complimented sweetly.

The other airheads tittered with excitement and leaned in for more of the latest gossip.

Daddy wants me to finish high school before I venture into Hollywood, girls. I won’t even have to audition, though. Why?

BECAUSE YOU’RE JENNIFER FRANCIS! The airheads squealed nauseatingly.

Jennifer smiled, pleased. Then she smirked. Look, it’s Ria.

The airheads straightened up, waiting for their tyrannical Queen to entertain them. I heard she tried to get with Benny Tyson at the football party last weekend, Jennifer scoffed acerbically. I don’t know what she was thinking. It’s not like she had a chance with him.

Absolutely. You’ve got Benny wrapped around your little finger, Jen. Lisa assured her, giving Ria the old once-over.

The two girls exchanged knowing smiles while the other airheads looked on jealously, longing to share the same sort of intimacy with Jennifer. Then, their queen casually stuck out her stiletto-clad foot and tripped an unsuspecting Ria. She fumbled with the tray of freshly mixed paint she was holding (she was working on the History of Springfield mural for the school’s cafeteria). Lisa shoved her and she crumbled on the floor, covered in a range of blues.

Oh my God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Jennifer gushed saccharinely. "That was your favorite shirt, right? God, I feel awful."

Rubbing paint off her cheek, Ria wordlessly stormed away.

Yup, that’s how things worked at Springfield High School. Jennifer Francis ruled the school and if you didn’t like her, you sucked it up and dealt with it. There was no other option.

Johnny Demming’s parents are out this weekend. He’s hosting a party and I’m going, Jennifer bragged, raising her voice an octave.

Who’s Johnny Demming? Alaina Marcelle—a new girl who had actually been nice until she turned into an airhead—asked.

The captain of the football team, duh, Lisa informed, as though it should’ve been obvious. And his parents own the country club.

We should totally go shopping for the party. I have two months until the senior dance to make a good impression on Johnny, Jennifer said, flicking a piece of lint off her Abercrombie halter neck shirt.

You don’t need to make a good impression, Beth Nielsen assured her.

Jennifer didn’t even bother smiling modestly. She just flipped her perfect hair and said True. Besides, once I get the lead in the school musical, I’ll be irresistible.

I rolled my eyes and said, I hate to break up your mentally-stimulating discussion, but I need to get to my locker.

Jennifer slowly turned to face me, her upper lip curled in disgust, obviously at the sight of me. Ugh Gabby, what died on your face?

I pushed my way through them to my locker, ignoring her.

I twirled the combination lock and opened my locker. Every inch of it was covered in posters of Tyler Leonard and Brielle Hudson, my two favorite actors. Whenever I was upset, they would cheer me up. And that’s why my locker was their home. Because I was usually upset at school.

You might wonder how a healthy, happy teenage girl comme moi could be so miserable at school. The answer’s quite simple. Jennifer Francis. She controlled every part of this school. She turned the airheads, the jocks, the nerds, the thespians, the skaters, the hipsters, the random kids who never fit into any group, and even the teachers against me. And the worst part is that I never did anything to deserve all this unpopularity. But it didn’t matter because Jennifer’s wish was their command.

Lost in thought, I jumped when the bell rang, signaling the start of homeroom. I rushed through the hall, nudging people out of the way, keen to be punctual. I kicked the door open and dropped into my seat, panting. Late, Gabby, Mrs. Wesley declared, scribbling a huge red L next to my name in her attendance roster.

I opened my mouth to argue but Jennifer beat me to it. Isn’t she always? She whispered loudly.

Lisa gave her trade-mark tinkling laugh I hated oh so much. I slid further down in my seat, wishing I could disappear. Thanks to the limitations of quantum physics, I couldn’t, so instead, I pulled out my agenda and glanced at my schedule. Math, French, Gym, Chemistry, Lunch, Literature, History, and Biology. Not really my idea of fun.

I stared at the picture of Brielle Hudson I had glued to my agenda. I blinked back tears of frustration and reassured myself that Brielle would swoop down and save me from Springfield High School.

Lunch is generally every kid’s favorite period of the day. Who doesn’t love hanging out with their friends, right? Me. I guess it’s another reason why I’m weird. But if you were as unpopular as I am, you wouldn’t be very enthusiastic about lunch either. Lunch, according to me, happened to be the most dangerous hour of the school day.

Today was no different. As the shrill bell rang, I reluctantly trudged to the cafeteria, wishing I had an excuse to retreat to anywhere but the airhead lair. Since I didn’t, I was stuck paying for a pathetic sandwich and soggy fries. Eating lunch in Hollywood would be much more fun, I was sure. And there’d be no airheads.

I curled my hands into fists as I heard Jennifer holler, Hey Elisa, are you still into that nature club stuff?

Elisa glanced at Jennifer, confused. Yeah. Why?

Oh I don’t know. I just have one question for you. How can you still love nature, despite what it did to you? She cackled.

Elisa looked down at her feet, her hands rushing up to cover the angry patches of acne on her face. Don’t listen to her. You’re really pretty, I told her.

Aw, look at you two. You’re like the Sisterhood of the Ugliness.

You know, Jennifer, I’m not offended by what you’re saying. I’m just impressed that you’ve started stringing words into sentences now. Congratulations.

Whatever, Ugly.

Angrily, I whipped around, scanning the cafeteria for the only person in this pit of death that makes life slightly bearable—Sarah Wei. Spotting her, I hurried over to her table and slammed my tray down.

Hey, She greeted me, looking up from her copy of the script for our school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. Eventful lunch-buying experience?

Same old, same old. Saving people from a villainous dictator, begging the cafeteria lady for slightly edible food, yada yada yada.

Sarah laughed and took a sip of her smoothie. Sit. I have to talk to you about something.

I complied. "What? Dites moi, ma cherie."

First of all, please stop with the French. I never know what you’re saying. Second and more importantly, I think I’m going to audition for Juliet’s Nurse. What do you think?

You’ll nail it. The part was made for you, I replied encouragingly, biting into my sandwich.

Did you think about what part you want? Sarah questioned, flipping through a couple of pages.

Um, well, I’d love to be Juliet, I confessed.

What? Sarah gasped, dropping her carrot stick abruptly.

I know.

Do you think you could compete against Jennifer? She questioned skeptically.

It wouldn’t hurt to try. I shrugged my shoulders.

Yeah, if anyone has a chance at victory against her, it’d be you.

I smiled at Sarah. Let’s hope.

Apprehension spiraled to the ceilings of Springfield High School on the day before the play auditions. Everyone had their own ways of dealing with stress. Some nervously muttered dialogues during classes; others bought chocolates and flowers for the drama teacher, Mrs. Schad, hoping to bribe her. Jennifer, on the other hand, strutted around the school, assuring people confidently that she’d snag the role. I watched her anxiously, wondering why I was stupid enough to think I could compete with her. Jennifer always got everything she wanted. Why would this play be any different?

Thankfully, Sarah was the only person who knew I was auditioning for Juliet. I couldn’t imagine what Jennifer would do to me if she found out.

Gabby! Earth to Ms. Foster! Mr. Zemenski called sharply.

I blinked and looked up at my vindictive chemistry teacher. Uh, yes?

Could you please outline the differences between addition and condensation polymerization? He sneered, as if he knew I had no idea what he was talking about. Which, unfortunately, he probably did.

I don’t know, sir, I admitted.

Typical. All you children are too busy thinking about the school play, right? Chemistry, one of the most fascinating subjects on the face of the Earth, has been shunned aside for an insignificant play! He accused heatedly. You know what? I’m giving you a huge chemistry test on Tuesday. If you fail the test, I will force you to withdraw your participation from the play.

The bell rang, drowning out the moans from students. We joined the mob of kids surging towards the lockers. Gabby! Hey, Gabby, wait!

I whipped my head around, wondering which guy would be caught dead calling my name.

You forgot your book. Austin Reichard, a typical Type A jock, handed me my chemistry textbook.

"Austin, what’re you doing with her?" Harry Montgomery, a burly football player, demanded.

Austin flushed, obviously very embarrassed to be seen with me. He hurried away before I could thank him.

Can you believe Zemenski? Sarah demanded, swinging her locker open with unnecessary force. How am I supposed to study for chemistry with all these lines I need to memorize?

I nodded my head in agreement, indignantly jamming my books into my bag. He can’t be serious about taking us out of the play, can he?

Sarah waved the school handbook in my face. He can. It’s a school rule.

I groaned. Well thank you, Zemenski.

And you have it worse than me. Juliet has so many lines in the play. It’s going to take you forever to finish memorizing all of them, Sarah added.

Before I could reply, Jennifer descended on us like an angry harpy. Was it just my imagination or did I hear Sarah say that you’re memorizing Juliet’s lines?

Sarah gasped; her eyes wide with terror. No—I—we—never mind, She spluttered.

Because if I did hear correctly, it means you, Gabby, are competing against me. Jennifer glared angrily at me.

I glanced at Sarah who was cowering behind her locker. I sighed, sick of being pushed around by Jennifer. Yes, I’m auditioning for Juliet’s part.

The airheads around her snickered. You honestly think you have a chance against me? Jennifer raised her eyebrows, leering at me.

Squaring my shoulders, I nodded my head. Yeah, I do.

Jennifer stepped closer to me. You better watch it, Foster. I will crush you, She warned.

Oh yes she will! The airheads chorused, conforming to every teeny-bopper cliché that ever existed. No one messes with Jennifer Francis and gets away with it.

Jennifer shot me a venomous look and pranced away, her silky hair bouncing behind her. Sarah trembled and slid to the floor by her locker. God, Gabby. What did you just do?

It’s a suicide mission, but I’m going to try. Jennifer’s been bullying us all for far too long. I shrugged my shoulders and glanced up at a poster of Brielle Hudson and Tyler Leonard grinning widely at me.

You’ll show her, Gabby, I imagined Tyler telling me.

Yeah, take her down! Brielle might say.

I took a deep breath, praying that they were right.

My house was empty when I woke up the next morning. Relieved, I climbed out of bed. I hadn’t told my mom about the auditions, worried she’d ban me from going if she knew that I was ditching an extra AP history class to attend them. Besides, I’d rather tell her if I got the part so she couldn’t add this to her long list of my failures.

I took a longer shower than normal and dressed extra carefully. I’d have to do everything I could to outshine Jennifer. Too anxious to eat anything but a banana, I slipped a few extra posters of Brielle Hudson and Tyler Leonard into my bag for luck and hustled out of the house.

Hey, you ready? Sarah waved to me and handed me a cup of coffee as I walked into school.

Thanks. Where’d you get coffee from?

"Oh, I drove by Starbucks this morning. Drinking coffee is my energizing good-luck ritual," Sarah explained.

I’ll do anything that’s lucky, I replied, gulping down my coffee. Have you seen her?

Jennifer’s been at school for hours. I think she was practicing privately with Mrs. Schad, Sarah told me. But don’t get nervous. You’ll do fine.

The day crawled by, as if time itself wanted to torment me with endless hours of vicious butterflies gnawing at my insides. I couldn’t concentrate on anything I did. And watching Jennifer parade around school in her new Gucci boots didn’t make me feel better. If that wasn’t enough, the worsened attitudes of other sophomores towards me didn’t help.

Every time I passed by an airhead, I was subjected to a sarcastic insult or a snide comment that suggested I’d never be able to outdo Jennifer. Unfortunately for me, the population of airheads at school was a lot more than that of the sensible outcasts. So I was antagonized quite a lot.

Finally, when I thought I couldn’t wait a minute more, the final bell rang. The people auditioning for the play milled around the locker hall nervously, talking in hushed voices.

Hey, good luck, Gabby, Jennifer said, sneering at me. You’ll need as much as you can get.

Her posse of airheads sniggered at the stupidest insult I’ve ever had the misfortune to hear. Here, I brought you a box of Lucky Charms to improve your chances. I wouldn’t want you falling too badly on your face.

Jennifer opened the box of Lucky Charms and dumped it all over my coppery head. Marshmallows and crumbled cereal tumbled straight into my neatly-styled hair and down my outfit.

What the—? I yelled, jumping forward to give Jennifer exactly what she deserved.

But she just giggled and slipped out of my reach, leading a group of raucous airheads after her. Furiously, I brushed cereal off my clothes. Jennifer had gone to the extent of crumbling each piece of cereal so that it’d be harder for me to de-Lucky-Charm myself. That was it—I was going to slaughter her as brutally as I could. And no one could stop me.

I stormed into the auditorium, a flurry of cereal trailing behind me, glaring at any airhead who dared look at me. I flopped down next to Sarah, trying to contain my anger.

Why do you have cereal in your hair? Is it your lucky tradition? Sarah questioned, plucking a marshmallow from my hair.

Not mine, Jennifer’s.

Sarah gasped.