Lizzie studies me as we walk to my house.
" What's with you?" she asks. I shrug, not looking at her.
"What are you talking about?" I reply, glancing back toward Gordo's house.
" I mean, jeez, he's just got the flu, Miranda, and you're acting like it's his last day on Earth." That's because it probably is, I think to myself.
" I'm just worried, that's all. Sorry," I mutter. She sighs.
"Okay...whatever you say, Miranda."
That night, I sit in the dark, refusing to sleep. I'm afraid of what my dream will tell me. As I slowly drift into sleep from sheer exhaustion, I see Gordo. It's my dream again, except that now Gordo is running from the shadow. I can see panic in his eyes as he runs. His face is pale, and I try to shout to him, to reach to him, but I can't move, can't make a sound. He falls, and screams as the shadow overtakes him. Suddenly, I can move, and I run over to where he was, but he's gone. He's gone . . . .
I sit up, grab my coat, pull on shoes, and climb out the window. I've got to get to him, he can't die, I won't let him, I tell myself. I run to his house, sneakers pounding on the quiet sidewalk. I reach his door, but decide to go to his window. I climb a tree, open his window, and slide in. He lies on his bed, his face pale and illuminated by moonlight. I shake him gently.
"Gordo, Gordo, wake up!" He doesn't stir. I touch his cheek and shiver. It's ice cold. What if I killed him?
" What's with you?" she asks. I shrug, not looking at her.
"What are you talking about?" I reply, glancing back toward Gordo's house.
" I mean, jeez, he's just got the flu, Miranda, and you're acting like it's his last day on Earth." That's because it probably is, I think to myself.
" I'm just worried, that's all. Sorry," I mutter. She sighs.
"Okay...whatever you say, Miranda."
That night, I sit in the dark, refusing to sleep. I'm afraid of what my dream will tell me. As I slowly drift into sleep from sheer exhaustion, I see Gordo. It's my dream again, except that now Gordo is running from the shadow. I can see panic in his eyes as he runs. His face is pale, and I try to shout to him, to reach to him, but I can't move, can't make a sound. He falls, and screams as the shadow overtakes him. Suddenly, I can move, and I run over to where he was, but he's gone. He's gone . . . .
I sit up, grab my coat, pull on shoes, and climb out the window. I've got to get to him, he can't die, I won't let him, I tell myself. I run to his house, sneakers pounding on the quiet sidewalk. I reach his door, but decide to go to his window. I climb a tree, open his window, and slide in. He lies on his bed, his face pale and illuminated by moonlight. I shake him gently.
"Gordo, Gordo, wake up!" He doesn't stir. I touch his cheek and shiver. It's ice cold. What if I killed him?