Hours must have passed... I had no way to tell... but Belle and I were awakened by excited calls from Cakey and Donkey.

"Girls! Belle! Marcie! Wake up! Wake up! We're rescued! Wiggy's here!"

---

 

42. The Upside-Down Puddle
 

If you spend much time in a place with no windows, where no light comes in from outside, your time-sense disconnects in a weird way. You can tell when a minute or two has passed, but unless you have a clock, an hour doesn't feel any different from two hours or four. Day and night are exactly alike. Hunger and sleepiness come upon you suddenly, without warning. When you wake up, you have no idea how long you've slept, or whether it's tomorrow already or still today.

When all of us girls slept together in the big dorm room in the cave, it was different because so many girls had watches and because all of us followed the same schedule.

Now there was only Belle and me, and neither of us had watches. I had to believe it was night, because Belle was sleeping. It didn't feel like night to me, and I wasn't sleepy at all. The cave was silent, except for the sound of Belle's breathing and her occasional murmur or sigh.

After a while I got tired of lying in bed, so I wrapped myself in my blanket and hunkered down on the floor. I was so bored that I finally picked up the book of fairy tales, but the light was too dim to read by. Plus, there were no pictures. Just page after page of words.

From where I was sitting I could look over my bed, out through the pantry's cage-like door into the great room of the cave. It was dark out there. None of the girls had bothered to leave a candle burning. No one was out there, and there was no one in the two dorm rooms beyond.

If I looked under my bed, I could see Belle sleeping. I lay on my side, using the book as a pillow, and watched her blanket rise and fall with her breath. I imagined how strange it would look if someone could see us from above: two girls lying on the floor, on either side of an empty bed.

I found to my surprise that Belle was right: sleeping on the floor *was* comfortable. I thought she was being polite or accommodating, but it was true. At least, *this* floor was comfortable. The cave was made of soft rock, soft to the touch, soft to walk upon, and — as Belle had discovered — soft to lie on.

Whatever time it was, it had to be very late or very early. There was nothing to do, nothing to hear, nothing to see... eventually I got tired of being awake and dozed off.
 

---

 

Hours must have passed... I had no way to tell... but Belle and I were awakened by excited calls from Cakey and Donkey.

"Girls! Belle! Marcie! Wake up! Wake up! We're rescued! Wiggy's here!"

I sat up, groggy, barely comprehending.

"Wiggy's here?" Belle asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "Really? Did she row back? Did she bring help?"

"She didn't row back!" Donkey answered scornfully, but then, happy and excited again, she said, "She came in a helicopter! With reporters!"

Now I was awake. "Reporters?" I echoed. "Oh, no!"

"Hey, they were looking for you, Marcie," Donkey explained. "After you stopped that thief in Hawaii, these two reporters were trying to find out where you went."

"So how did they find us?" I asked, as confused as I could be.

Cakey said, "Wiggy rowed to that island, and she found some people. They put out a call."

"They called reporters?" I asked dubiously.

"No, they called the search and rescue people."

"What about the adults?" Belle asked. "Did they find them?"

"Not yet," Cakey said, "I was just going to say that. They think the ship's crew ended up on some other island, 'cause there's, like, millions of them around here. So they sent the search and rescue people to look for them. The reporters heard the calls, and they volunteered to come pick us up."

"Lovely," I said.

"What's the problem?" Donkey asked.

"I came here to get away from reporters. Now they're going to be up close and personal." I blushed, but it was no time to be modest or ashamed. "Plus, they're going to find out about my secret."

Donkey scoffed. "What are you, crazy? Nobody's going to tell them."

"Give us a little credit, Marcie," Cakey said.

"What about Mirina?" I asked. "And Graffy and Grooty?"

"We stick together," Cakey informed me. "Nobody's going to tell on you. Not Mirina, not the twins, not nobody. No way. Okay?"

"All right," I said, hoping she was right.

"In fact," Cakey added, "Mirina's stalling the reporters, so they don't come in here before you're ready."

"Speaking of which — it's time to bust you out of there!" Donkey cried enthusiastically. "Let's do it!"

So saying, she placed a screwdriver against the latch and pounded it with a hammer. She was clearly enjoying herself, but the noise she made was deafening.

"Stop! Stop!" Cakey cried. "You're not getting anywhere that way! Put the screwdriver against the tumbler, here. Knock that out, and the door will open."

Without another thought, Donkey moved the screwdriver and gave a mighty blow with the hammer. A small piece broke off and flew directly into my face, striking my forehead.

"Sorry, Marcie, sorry!" Donkey called. "Did I hurt you? Maybe you two should move out of the way."

"Maybe *I* should do this," Cakey retorted. "Are you okay, Marcie?"

"Yeah," I said, and touched my forehead. "It didn't hurt, but why is my forehead wet? Am I bleeding?"

"No, you're not bleeding," Belle answered. "Your forehead isn't wet, either."

"Yes, it *is* wet," I insisted. "I can feel it." I looked at my hand. My fingertips glistened with water. I told the others, "Look at my hand. It's wet, too." Glancing around, I tried to find the little piece of latch, but didn't see it.

"You couldn't get wet from something off the door anyway," Cakey said. "Can you move out of the way now, so I can finish knocking this thing open?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, but I wanted to know where the water was coming from. I glanced up at the ceiling and saw a wet spot directly above my head. It looked like a paper-thin, upside-down puddle. As I watched, the puddle on the ceiling grew thicker for a moment as water gathered in its center. The center swelled until it hung like a sack, then turned to a pear shape. The stem grew longer until the drop let go, falling in slow motion until it landed, fat and full of wetness, directly on my right eye.

"Ack!" I spluttered, more from surprise than anything else.

Then came a very different surprise, one that made my heart fall within me. No, no, no! I cried in silent protest as a familiar voice whispered, "Sorry!" and a hand brushed the hair from my forehead. "I didn't mean to wake you."
 

---

 

Before I explain the voice and the hand, I have to explain something to you, the reader. At long last, I have to tell you exactly what's been going on.

I've been telling you this story... or this set of stories... without hinting at what's coming or how I got home. You must know that I did get home. Otherwise, how could I tell you this story?

At the very beginning, I told you this would all make sense in the end. At least, I think it does. I hope it does.

I also began by saying that I told you this story to try to get things straight in my own head. That's what this is all about.

After taking off with Wiggy and the Amazons, after my dream as Marcie Auburn, after being shipwrecked on the island, and dreaming that I woke up at home... and above all, because of the stupid fairy tale that followed me wherever I went, dreaming or waking... you wouldn't be surprised if I told you that I woke up somewhere else now.

You wouldn't be surprised, but I'm pretty sure you'd at least be irritated and out of all patience.

Well, if you are... take a number. You have to get in line behind me, because *I* cannot take any more.

You might feel cheated or angry if I woke up at home once again... but how do you think that *I* feel?

At this point, you may be "sick and tired" as my mother says, of me going back and forth, of changing from Marcie Donner to Marcie Auburn and back again, of being home but not really home, and of having dreams that are no different from waking reality...

However confused, bothered, or upset you find yourself — multiply that by a million and seventy and you'll get an idea of where I am.

And where am I now?

Instantly, of course, I knew: I was lying in my bed, in my room, at home.

My mother was standing over me.

"What hit me?" I asked.

"I was going to take your pulse," she explained, "and I accidentally dropped my watch. It just grazed your forehead; it didn't really hit you."

"Why was it wet?" I asked. As I spoke, I licked my lips and realized what an arid, dry mouth I had.

"I just washed my hands," she answered.

"Oh," I said, and fell silent.

By now I'd had my fill of wondering what was real. By now, I'd gone through it with the Auburn family, Belle, my mother and Cassie, and Belle a second time. This time, at least I wouldn't make a fool of myself.

"What day is it?" I asked.

"Friday."

"What's the date?"

"December 29th."

I let out something that was a mixture of a groan and a sigh. "Mom? I just had the strangest dream, and I'm not sure what was the dream and what was real. In fact, I'm not sure that I'm not still dreaming."

"Wait until you wake up a bit, and your head will clear," she counseled, but I knew from experience that *that* wouldn't work.

"Let me ask you," I said. "Did we go to Ida's house for dinner?"

"Did we ever! Cheesecake and liver... what a combination! She is *so* upset that her dinner made you sick."

"And the secret tunnel... is that real?"

"Yes, but remember: don't tell anyone!"

As if I would! "And then, after that, I've just been sick in bed? I didn't go anywhere? Nobody called to offer me a trip to the South Seas?"

Mom laughed. "Is that what you dreamed? A South-Sea vacation? Sounds like a wonderful dream."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Just wonderful."

"I'm going to go downstairs and bring you up some food," she told me. "Some broth and tea and toast. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," I said. "I'm going to make my way to the bathroom."

"Can you handle that by yourself?"

"Yes, sure."

She waited to see me get to my feet and hobble a few steps. As I stood, I noticed that the curtains were open. Morning light gently filled the room.

"Mom? Are the reporters still outside?"

"No, thank goodness! Thursday afternoon they all went away: lock, stock, and cameras."

"Are they still in front of the courthouse?"

"No. Your father drove by last night, and there was no one there."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Ms. Gifford called, but I was busy and couldn't really pay attention. I was just so relieved that they left! When your father comes home he can tell you all about it, or if you feel up to it, you could call Ms. Gifford and ask her. She does want to talk with you."

I nodded.

"But have something to eat first," she cautioned. "You need to get your strength up."

Mom waited as I shuffled toward the door. "You're sure you're alright by yourself?"

"Yes," I replied. "Oh, Mom! Two more things: Is Cassie Auburn coming to visit?"

"No," she said. "Why would she come here? Did you dream that, too?"

"No, Jerry told me. She's going to Princeton. She might stop by."

"Oh, that will be nice," Mom commented, but she didn't sound like she meant it. "What's the other thing you wanted to ask?"

"Did you buy me a book of fairy tales?"

"When you were little? Of course I did."

"No, now. For Christmas. A book of transgendered fairy tales."

"No, I didn't." Then, after a pause, "Did you want me to buy you a book like that for Christmas?"

"No, I—"

"Because, Marcie, I don't even know if there is such a book. Do you want me to look for one for you?"

"No, no," I said. "Please don't. It was just something I dreamed. I wondered whether it was real."

"No, it wasn't. But if you want—"

"No, I don't, Mom. Thanks. Forget about it. Seriously. Please forget I ever mentioned it. I don't want one. It was just a weird thing in my dream."

"Okay," she said, and seeing that I was done asking questions, she went downstairs.
 

I made it to the bathroom, slowly but without incident. While there, I did an anatomical inventory and found that I was still Marcie Donner, to all effects and purposes.
 

When Mom brought the food back up to me she said, "You have an appointment scheduled this afternoon with Mr. Angle. I've already told him that you probably won't make it, but he kept the hour open just in case. Shall I call and tell him you're not coming?"

"No," I said. An appointment with a therapist sounded exactly like what I needed. "No, please tell him that I'm coming. I want to go. I need to talk to him about something."

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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