From a Dream: Darkly Dreaming Part I Read Online Free PDF Page A

remembering pieces of a dream. My hands suddenly turned icy cold, and I hurried to button up my jacket.
    A few minutes later, as we sat idling at a stoplight a few blocks from school, Sean nudged me and pointed toward the rear windshield. A second later, I noticed a humming sound, almost a growl, coming from behind us.
    “Check this out,” Sean said, letting out an impressed whistle as he stared into the rearview mirror.
    Turning to look, I searched for the source of the noise, which was growing louder every second. In the distance, I saw a black motorcycle weaving effortlessly—recklessly—through traffic like rails in the pavement were guiding it. The rider wore a black helmet with the shade pulled down. Suddenly, the bike was almost on top of us. Watching it fly past, I could have sworn the anonymous rider turned as his reflection streaked by the window. I exhaled shakily and realized I had been holding my breath.
    Sean and I both swiveled forward at the same time. That was when I saw the red traffic light. I gasped as the motorcycle accelerated and burst through the intersection just as the light changed to green. Sean whistled again and stepped on the gas.
    “That was awesome ,” Sean muttered. “Do you know what kind of bike that was? It was an Aprilia. You never see those around here.”
    “Do I look like a gearhead to you?” I smirked at him.
    “Kinda.”
    Sean crouched away from me, anticipating my attack as I reached over and smacked him with my binder. He did most of the talking the rest of the way to school, but as soon as we pulled into the student parking lot, he stopped, silently watching as Allison passed by with Natasha and Shelley.
    “Maybe you should say something to her,” I said quietly.
    Sean laughed weakly as he maneuvered into a free space at the end of the lot. Deep down, I knew Sean and I probably wouldn’t hang out if he were dating someone like Allison, but I still felt bad watching him pine after someone he couldn’t have. As we got out and walked through the parking lot, I felt a wave of relief that it was Friday. I was ready for the weekend and a decent night of sleep. Sean fell in step with me, and I reached out to squeeze his hand. He smiled, already back to his usual self.

Chapter 3: Stranger
     
     
    W hen we reached the stairs to the school entrance, I glanced back toward the parking lot and did a double take at the sight of a motorcycle sticking out from behind some cars. I shook my head in disbelief. The thought of any of my teachers riding a motorcycle to school was laughable.
    I was about to nudge Sean, but the second bell was only seconds from ringing, and I had to practically run down the hall and into Ms. Kluman’s room, where I slipped into my seat just in time. As Ms. Kluman collected the homework, I tried to envision Mr. Aguilera, the youngest and arguably the coolest teacher at Winters, riding to school on a motorcycle. And nope. I still couldn’t imagine it. But it couldn’t have been a student’s. There was no way.
    According to Sean, after he had gotten his license, his mom had looked at him like it was the last time she was going to see him. Plus, almost every time I had been at his house over the summer, Sean’s dad had sighed and told me how lucky my dad was that he didn’t have to insure a teenage driver. Two-wheeled transportation was definitely not an option, and I figured most parents of teenagers felt the same way as my dad. In his words, he would have my head if he saw me even looking at a motorcycle.
    I groaned inwardly as Ms. Kluman began screeching about the average quiz scores in our class. To make things worse, I wasn’t sure if I had done the homework correctly. As it was, I didn’t think Ms. Kluman liked me very much, which made sense since I hated math with a burning passion. Ms. Kluman was the antithesis of Mr. Aguilera, who taught the AP Calculus class. Mr. Aguilera wore mostly jeans and T-shirts.
    Ms. Kluman, her white hair tied in a