Dreaming Awake Read Online Free PDF Page A

came into contact with. Her maternal instincts were spot-on. She always knew when I needed a hug or a word of encouragement.
    She had a great mom of her own, but she still understood what I was going through when I missed the mother I never knew. Amelia had been adopted from Korea as a baby and even though her parents loved her, there was a part of her that felt the same loss I did from time to time. Her adoptive parents were so different from her physically that Ame often overcompensated by dressing even more alternatively, as if drawing attention to her clothes would draw people’s focus away from her Asian features. It was only recently that she had stopped trying to—how did Donny say it?—
de-Asian
herself. I loved how she was starting to play up the shape of her eyes with eyeliner and no longer bleaching her hair to match her blond mom’s.
    Another long pause allowed me to take a huge drink. There were no iced coffees in Under, at least none that I’d found. I was always very wary of what I ate and drank there anyway—it was a type of hell after all. The cuisine was often so fresh it still writhed on its serving platter.
    “You’re not mad at me that I went to prom with Haden while you were gone, are you?” Amelia blurted out, surprising me so that I almost spit out a mouthful of my drink. Apparently she’d been trying to keep that one in for a while.
    “Of course not,” I said. “Haden told me you went together. I just wish it had been more fun.”
    “Well,” Donny said, “the whole night wasn’t a waste. Gabe finally put out. He was so freaked out by that séance we had after the dance that he forgot he was being a prude. He was all ‘Hold me, baby.’”
    “There’s something to be said for extreme fear,” Ame said and then giggled.
    Just then, Gabe, the boy who Donny pretended wasn’t her boyfriend but most assuredly was, appeared. “Cheerios, Theia.”
    He hadn’t heard us talking about him, thankfully, and had no idea why we were laughing so hard. When I was able to bring myself under control, I answered, “Cheerios, Gabe.”
    He’d mistakenly thought that all British people said “Cheerios” to one another in greeting, and I’d yet to bother correcting him. It was cute.
He
was cute. I don’t remember Gabe ever going through an awkward phase during our freshman year when the rest of us did. He never needed braces, his sandy brown hair landed in perfect waves, his skin was always clear, and he was a natural athlete.
    Everything about Gabe made him the wrong guy for Donny, except that he was perfect for her. Much to her chagrin.
    Donny believed that variety was the spice of life—and she liked her love life very spicy indeed. She’d earned herself a reputation, but it had never bothered her. In fact, she was somewhat proud of it. If she’d been born a guy, she would have been known as a player. Since she’d been born a girl, instead they called her names like “slut.”
    Somehow, though, Gabe had managed to really get under her skin. And stay there. And he was a sneetch, of all things. Donny had nicknamed the popular crowd at our school “sneetches,” from a Dr. Seuss book where the Star-Belly Sneetches thought they were better than the other sneetches born without stars. Donny had no use for the sneetches other than to mock them. And now she was dating one. Exclusively. It must be killing her a little.
    A boy I didn’t recognize stopped in front of us and stared at me. He looked younger—possibly a freshman, definitely not a sneetch. He worked his mouth open and closed a few times, as if searching for words that refused to come.
    “Hello,” I prompted.
    He blinked hard and dropped the stack of papers in his hands. It looked like it was an essay or a report, something important, so I crouched down to help him collect the pages.
    “You don’t have to—I mean . . . it’s okay. . . . I’m sorry,” he rambled, trying to hide that he was shaking while he picked up his