Chapter Ten:

My life was never the same again.

Even though it had all been a stupid figment of my imagination, I had believed it was real so much I couldn't help the side-effects I'd picked up.

I wished it had been real, though. Wished something like that would ever happen to me again. For real.

But I just kept going.

The only difference was, I couldn't stand reading a Harry Potter book again. I didn't want to see another article related to the series for the the rest of my life.

Or at least three months. It is my favorite series, after all.

Actually, that wasn't the only difference.

Suddenly, I had more friends at school. Apparently, once you've met someone as annoying as yourself, even in a dream, it cures you of being completely irritating. I still exercised my powers of annoyance, but I did it within reason. So suddenly, I made friends.

And then there was the fact that I realized how much I could memorize at a time. Turned out I had a photographic memory, and suddenly I was acing everything that required memorizing at school. Which included theorums. And since I'd been out and everything was a dream, I never got twelve out of thirty in Geometry.

Really, the theraputical effects of dreaming that you wrote Harry Potter are amazing. I should recommend it to Dr Phil. Maybe Oprah.

I mean, I knew I could make it big without cheating now. Much.

''Lara!''

''Come on!''

''All right already!'' I yelled back, and then with great expertise, I threw the ball I'd been holding forward, and kicked out with all my strength. Someone else reached it, and passed it to Chump, who kicked it straight into the goal.

Oh, and I discovered that I could run longer than the average invalid now when I wanted to. So I joined Chump's football team.

And it turned out I was better than him. Now I get cheered on all day. Provided I don't trip during the match, of course.

Which isn't such a bad accomplishment for someone who had previously been completely depressed from being no good at anything. Next time Jeanie – if she'd existed – called me worthless, I was going to give her a play-by-play of the last game we'd won.

Happy ending, wouldn't you think?

Wrong.

Horrible ending. The incident that had done so much had been a dream. Somehow, I felt cheated. As though it's being a dream had taken it away from me. It had been pointless, stupid, worthless.

But, with my newfound skills and things to be grateful for, I kept my mouth shut and refused to complain about it…

….in public.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

A few weeks later, I went to a second-hand bookstore to buy a couple of Agatha Christie books. I'd been on a mystery kick lately.

You know, if I'd gone back to the twenties in my dream, I should have done Agatha Christie. She was pretty successful herself. Almost more so than good ole' JK, I think.

Oh, but wait. It was a dream anyway. Plus I would have gotten guilty over that too. Happy me.

The bookstore was musty and crowded, reminding me of the back shelves of Mr Jones' store, where he'd sold the antiques. I sighed and went over to a shelf, looking around. My fingers brushed the dust on the shelves and I peered curiously at a battered copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

I pushed it aside roughly. Not something I wanted to be reminded of.

I went on looking. I found a copy of The A, B, C Murders, but it was so old it was practically falling apart. I moved on with a shake of my head.

'' D'you need help?'' a voice asked me, and I saw a scrawny woman with dyed blonde hair and bloodred nails three inches long smile at me helpfully.

'' Er—yeah,'' I said sweetly.

'' What would you like?''

'' I need some Agatha Christie books,'' I replied as she came forward. She gave me a simpering smile, and came closer to help.

'' Oh, for your mother, dear?'' she said conversationally as she began scanning the dusty bookshelves.

'' No, for me.''

She looked over her shoulder at me with sudden skepticism I didn't appreciate.'' You? You don't look like quite the reading type, do you now?''

I glared at her.'' What do you mean? That I look stupid?''

'' Oh, no, I would never say that,'' she said smugly as she turned back to the books. I raised an eyebrow. I did not like this lady. And I felt a sudden urge to exercise my powers of annoyance. After all, since Suit had been a dream then I hadn't done it properly in quite a while.

'' I'm glad you'd never say that,'' I said brightly.'' After all, I'd have been ever so insulted if you had. I'm quite the reader, you know.''

She snorted just loudly enough for me to hear.

'' That's nice,'' she said meaningfully.'' I always thought children nowadays were no good at all. Seems I was—mistaken.''

I laughed.'' Nowadays? I'd have thought your generation was the dumb one. Not that you give me the impression at all or anything—but I mean, your generation ruined the ozone, went to war, wrote very few good books…whereas ours is the voice of technological advances, Harry Potter, Greenpeace, stuff like that. Pretty obvious, isn't it?''

She sounded irritated as she replied.'' For your information, my generation had nothing to do with World War Two.''

'' Who said anything about that?'' I asked innocently.'' I was talking about World War One.''

She flinched visibly at the thinly disguised insult.

'' Yes,'' she snapped, now going deeper into the shelves and pushing aside books everywhere. Several of them clattered to the ground.'' If you say so. But your generation is so shallow, don't you think?''

I shrugged.'' Not really. I mean, look at us. Me, the shallow generation, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. You, the 'wise' generation, with your hair dyed yellow, your fake talons painted red, your made-up wrinkles coated with powder trying to hide your looks because of how much you care about superficial things. Kind of puts the whole 'judge by looks' thing into perspective, doesn't it?''

I smiled casually at the end of my little speech. She tensed so much as I finished I knew I'd struck a nerve somewhere. And I'd been going easy on her!

She scattered books aside bad-temperedly and finally threw Murder on the Nile at me.

'' Here, take this!'' she nearly snarled before stomping away. I grinned as I examined the book once to make sure it was okay. I was about to go pay for it when it caught my eye.

One of the books the annoying lady had dropped. I leaned down to see it, my breath caught in my throat as I looked.

It was Borderline. The book Mickey had mentioned in my dream. One I'd never heard of, that was supposed to be a bestseller around '95.

Could it be…?

I picked it up delicately, scrutinising it in shock.

The cover had the title, ' Borderline'.

And underneath: By Mickey Iypodd.

My mouth dropped open.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Page 3 of Borderline, the page-turning thriller, by Mickey Iypodd.

This Book is Dedicated to Lara, the Most Annoying Best Friend I Ever Had, The First But Not True Author Of Harry Potter.

In very small font, beneath it:

I was Chosen Too.

But I Actually Did it Properly.

Thanks for the Idea.

A broad grin spread over my face and suddenly I felt like everything was right where it belonged again.

Not a dream!