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wanted to see?
20
I had to say something.
He wanted me to say something.
I could tell by the way he d removed the
staples from my mouth and waited for me to
speak.
Problem was, I wasn t sure where to start,
so I went for the obvious. Satchel, I m really
sorry about what happened to you, but you
must know, it was an accident.
He rolled his one good eye, shook his
battered head. A mouthful of cracked-up
teeth spewing from his lips when he said, Ya
think?
I pushed my bangs off my face and fought
to stay calm, doing my best to get past his
gruesome appearance, not to mention his
uncalled-for sarcasm.
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What I meant was, it s unfortunate, yeah,
but it s no excuse to do what you do. It s no
excuse to terrorize people.
What? Are you kidding? Did you miss
something? I mean, look at me, Riley! I ig-
nored my parents warnings, I lied, and look
at the result! He ran his mangled fingers up
and down his body like a game show model
displaying the prize.
The sight was miles past grisly, truly the
stuff that nightmares are made of. But I
couldn t afford to focus on that. I had to use
whatever time I had left before he decided to
dreamweave a whole new wave of terrors on
my behalf. I had to find a way to get through
to him.
Not wanting to waste another second, I
yelled, Stuff happens, Satchel! Really hor-
rible, regrettable stuff. And while I m sorry
about what happened to you, and I really,
truly am, I also have to be honest and tell
you that I m way more sorry about the way
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you lived your life before that. I m sorry that
you had no friends. I m sorry that you didn t
fit in. I m sorry you never had a single mo-
ment of fun. But most of all, I m sorry for the
way your parents made you fear every single
thing. I m sorry they urged you to hide from
the world. I m sorry for all of that far, far
more than the sorry I feel for what happened
to you at the fair.
My words silenced him. Caused him to
stand before me, patting the caved-in mess
where his hair used to be, oblivious to the
small avalanche of flaky, dried blood that
trickled down to his feet.
I get that they loved you, I really, truly do.
I get that you meant everything to them, and
because of that, they were terrified of losing
you. I get that they had your best interests at
heart only wanted to keep you out of
danger. But by doing that, they made you a
prisoner! Not being able to run, ride a bike,
play sports with the other kids at school & I
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shook my head, determined to not get too
carried away. It was imperative to keep the
message clean, clear, free of emotion no
matter how much his parents enraged me.
You had no friends, never experienced a
single moment of real and true fun. And
though it wasn t their intention, they turned
you into a freak with no life. Heck, they
wouldn t even let you have a pet animals
are too dangerous, they said sheesh! I
paused, replaying my words and relating
them to my own life.
Practically all I d done since I d died was
complain about how short my life had been.
Complained about what a bum deal I d got-
ten when I found myself dead at twelve.
Until I met Satchel, it never even occurred
to me to celebrate just how much living I d
done in such a short amount of time.
I d had friends lots and lots of friends.
I d played sports even though I wasn t
very good.
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I d ridden my bike in the rain laughing
when the water splashed up from the back
tire and drenched my sister, Ever.
I d had a pet in fact, I still do.
I d had all the wonderful, normal life
pleasures that Satchel has never once known.
His parents had robbed him of them.
And I was suddenly so overcome with grat-
itude for all that I d had I could no longer
mourn what I once thought I d lost.
My life may have been ridiculously
short but the short time I d lived had been
pretty dang good.
There are only two emotions, I said, re-
turning to Satchel, unaware of what those
two emotions might be until I actually stated
them. Love and fear. Love and fear is all
there is everything else is just an offshoot,
motivated by those two.
I paused, wanting him to hear it, to get it,
to completely understand what I was just be-
ginning to understand for myself. Not really
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sure of where the knowledge was coming
from and wondering if it might be the result
of a thoughtwave of some kind, but trusting
it was true all the same.
Only, in your family, love and fear got so
confused they began to resemble each other.
Fear got mixed up with love, until it began to
look like love, to seem like love, to feel like
love when, the truth is, they couldn t be
more opposite. I mean, think about it, I
said, desperate for him to follow, to really
listen. Your whole, entire life, all thirteen
years of it, the only time you truly felt alive
was when you were riding that Ferris wheel,
wasn t it? That s the only time you truly felt
free that s when you began to realize all of
life s glorious possibilities. Though unfortu-
nately, as we both know, you got a little car-
ried away, and, as a result, things ended tra-
gically. But I m willing to bet that if you ever
gazed down on the earth plane after you left,
well, I bet you left one heck of a cautionary
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tale behind. I bet Jimmy Mac never shook a
car on a Ferris wheel again. I bet he thought
twice before he taunted someone he thought
was beneath him. I bet Mary Angel never
stopped feeling guilty about urging you to
ride in the first place, which is pretty sad
when you consider that the ultimate decision
was yours, not hers not to mention how she
begged you to stop and you wouldn t listen.
And I bet your parents really, really missed
you. I bet they also held themselves respons-
ible since you played right into their very
worst fears. Do you ever check in on them?
Do you ever & I gulped at the thought but
forced myself to continue, Do you ever &
make dreamweaves for them?
He patted his head again, and I looked
away. I really wished he d stop doing that.
Never! No! Sheesh! he said.
I waited for a moment, hoping he d say
something more, but when he didn t, I took
another leap, hoping it might work. The
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thing is, Satchel, all of that happened a really
long time ago, which means some of them
are probably Here now. Have you ever con-
sidered venturing out, out of this room, to
see if they are?
He looked at me, well, one eye did. The
other was reduced to a black pit with long
strings of cruddy bits streaming out.
Are you kidding? I can t go out there
looking like this! His voice was tinged with
hysteria, fear. My parents will kill me! They
must be furious with me for what I ve done!
I could hardly believe it. After all those
years spent scaring an untold number of
dreamers across the globe, after all those
years of reigning supreme over their very
worst nightmares, Satchel was still afraid of
how his parents might punish him for his
death.
First of all, I said, trying to stick to the
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