Disclaimer: Characters belong to Barbara Hall. Mistakes are all mine.
A/N: A great big thank you to those who reviewed my other stories. You guys really make my day.
Grace dreams of the way her mother used to braid her hair every Saturday morning.
Grace dreams of having a picnic with Adam like she used to, eating peanut butter sandwiches with the crusts cut off and grape Popsicles that stained her fingers. Adam always waits for her to finish, so that he can throw the stick away for her.
Grace dreams of being in the sewer again, hearing the sound of her own screams reverberate in the darkness.
Grace dreams of colors, bright pink and turquoise and lime green, like the confetti she didn't want to have at her Bat Mitzvah and the copies of her poem floating down from the sky.
Grace dreams of pinning Joan against the wall and kissing her the way Adam never does. Deep and hard and without thinking, the way she has wanted to kiss Joan since she made Joan cry at that stupid debate and did not apologize afterwards.
Grace dreams of having sex with Luke. Not the way having sex with Luke would be like in reality, which would involve Luke trying to be smooth and ending up flustered, asking her over and over if she was all right, and she would tell him to shut up and keep going, pretending it was no big deal while she freaked out silently. No, in her dreams, Luke's hands are always in the right places, and he is gentle, the way nobody in her life ever has been.
Grace dreams of leaving Arcadia and living in a strange city where no one knows her. Sitting cross-legged on the fire escape of an apartment in New York or Chicago, counting the cars and people that pass by, the lights in the windows of buildings across the street.
When Grace dreams, she wakes up laughing and crying and wishing to go back to sleep. But knowing she wants to dream again keeps her awake, because she knows it's never safe for her to want anything.