Chapter 4

"The project," says Mr. Reynolds, "will be a presentation on a famous artist. This is a group project, three to five people in a group. You guys can choose your own groups. It is due on March 21. I want you guys to take this project in any direction you want to go in."

Mr. Reynolds passes out the instructions. He is young, no older than 35, and is pretty fit. He is very laid back. He has become my favorite teacher.

I look at Zayn. He would be the ideal partner, but I am sure others will want to work with him, so I do not ask.

I turn to the girl behind me. Her name is Sarah. She is quiet and nice, and I bet she would be willing to split the work evenly, more or less.

"Hey Sarah, do you want to work with me?" I ask.

She looks up, a little surprised by my offer I suppose. "Sure," she says. I look through the classroom to find another person to work with. Almost everyone has formed their groups, and they are clearly separated by the school's hierarchy.

I see that Zayn is in the same situation as I am. He is partnered with Liam, a nice boy, but not someone I'd expect Zayn to be friends with. I am deciding on whether or not to say something when Zayn starts to speak. "Jessie, do you have a partner yet?"

"Sarah and I are together, but we need someone else."

"Can Liam and I join you?" He asks, but it come out more like a statement than a request. After we collaborate for a few minutes, we decide to do our project on Salvador Dali, and to meet at my house the next day. The four of us exchange phone numbers, and we brainstorm ideas.

I go home and go straight to my bedroom. I realize for the first time what day it is. March 11. It's so close, I think. The darkest day of the year snuck up on me, and it will soon take over. I sit with my laptop for a while and I go to sleep.

I open my eyes and find myself in complete darkness. I hear a voice in the distance. It sounds vaguely familiar, but I cannot make out where or who it is coming from. The voice gets clearer, and I can tell it is a man yelling. What is he saying? Then I see a house. In the house, a man and woman are fighting. A girl and boy watch from the top of the stairs as the man walks out of the house and slams the door shut. The woman sits down and puts her head into the palms of her hands. She starts to cry, unaware of the children's presence. The man gets into his car and speeds off. He drives angry, irritated by every little obstacle he faces. Suddenly, a little boy runs out into the road chasing a ball. I gasp and try to scream at the boy to move. I cannot make a sound, so I try to look away,which I am also unable to do . Then the man seems to come to his senses. He quickly swerves off the road and hits a tree. Alerted by the noise, the woman goes outside. At first sight, she screams and runs toward the car. The girl and boy soon run out after her. By this time, the police and ambulance are arriving at the street, and a crowd has gathered around the car. I hear what sounds like sirens.

I jolt up to the sound of my alarm. I have been crying, tears are streaming down my face. The nightmares have started again. Every year around this time, my only nightmares are dreams concerning my father's death. They come in different forms, but my most consistent one is me sitting in a chair, watching the world spin and break apart like pieces of a puzzle. Then it melts away, and I start to fall. I fall into nothingness, unable to make a sound or movement, until I wake up screaming.

Isaac used to get nightmares when he was younger. When one of us were woke up by one, we would go into each other's rooms and play board games or video games until the sun came up. He stopped having them by the time he was 15. I sometimes think that they never stopped. Maybe he just deals with them differently now.

I get out of bed. Today is Saturday, March 12, the day my group is working on our art project. And Monday is the 6th anniversary of my father's death.

I look at the clock. It is already 10:30. I pick up my phone and see that Sarah texted me.

HEY, SORRY, BUT I CAN'T COME OVER TODAY. I FORGOT THAT MY AUNT IS GETTING MARRIED, AND I HAVE TO GO TO THE WEDDING. I'M SO SORRY!!!

How can you forget a wedding? And what the hell is up with the all caps? Oh well. I go downstairs and see my mother in the kitchen. She made pancakes.

"Hey," I say. She turns around and immediately puts on a worried look.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

I remember that I woke up crying. "Nothing, I just had a nightmare." I cannot have my mom worrying about me now. She already has enough stress, and the time of year will not help.

"Are you okay?"

I give a weak smile. "I'm fine, mom."

She stays there staring at me for a moment before she returns to her work. "I made you pancakes," she says as she hurriedly prepares things in the kitchen.

"Thanks," I say. I go to serve myself and sit down at the table to eat.

"Listen," she says, still running around in the kitchen. She reminds me of Eve, her small frame trying to reach for things above her head. "Isaac is going to drop off Eve at Haley's house at noon, and I'll be leaving soon, so I'd appreciate it if you could clean up the house a bit before your friends come over."

I swirl the syrup onto my pancakes. When I do not respond, she turns to me. "Okay?"

I nod. She comes closer to me. Quietly, she says, "And I know boys are coming over, so promise me you won't do anything foolish?"

I look away from her. "Mom," I drag out, disgusted by her implications. I look at her in disbelief.

She sighs. "Fine," she says. "I trust you. Bye, Hun, I love you." She starts off to the door. "Bye Isaac, Eve, I'm leaving," she yells up the stairs.

Eve runs down and hugs Mom. They whisper goodbyes. Isaac yells down "bye," and she leaves.

I sit at the table eating my pancakes. For a while, I sit there, thinking. About everything. Mom. Dad. My nightmares. Zayn. After a good half an hour, I get up and start to ready myself an the house for the arrival of Zayn and Liam.

A/N:

Get ready for the cheesiest chapter of your life. No joke. It is terrible. I honestly hate it more than I hate stairs. Which is a lot.