Half a pill was not enough to keep Freya asleep for the whole night.
She dreamed of standing out on the strand of stones in the Sillas River. The river and the trees around it were bright as day, but the sky overhead was an empty black, without moon or stars.
In her hands, she held the two halves of the meteorite, wound around and around with electrical tape. The Starball was sealed inside. She lifted the bundle over her head and threw it as hard as she could. The meteorite flew upriver and clapped against the water like a cannonball, sending up a plume of white spray. She looked hopefully at the sky, wanting the stars to come back, but they didn’t. A low, rumbling roar rose through the stones beneath her feet, and she knew she’d made a terrible mistake.
The river rose where the meteorite struck. A mass of green-black vines broke the river’s surface, writhing like serpents. The current carried strands of them past her on either side, twisted and braiding around each other, branching out to cover the river’s surface like capillaries.
When they drew close, Freya saw they were not vines, but long black eels with needle teeth and glittering eyes. They grew over the banks of the river, winding around and around tree-trunks, and pulling everything towards the center mass. With a groan of soft, rotten wood, the eels tore the trees down, and ripped the rocky rise into the river. They devoured the earth, drawing everything into the black water, and they were growing over her bare feet, trying to pull her in, too.
Freya cried out and ran, darting across the rocks and racing down the path. Branches whipped at her face and tore at her clothes. Behind her, a wall of squirming eels roared down the river like a flash flood. There was no way to make it to high ground. The writhing wave would pull her under and tear her apart.
She woke up in the darkness, her legs kicking against a tangle of sheets. Her hands clenched into baby fists that had no strength. Her heart pounded so hard she had a senseless fear Lassa would hear it and come yell at her, but the house was empty, and she was alone.
Freya tried to get back to sleep, but it was useless. The dream stuck in her, refusing to fade away. She was caught on the border between too-tired-to-get-up and too-wound-up-for-sleep for what felt like hours. She fell into an exhausted darkness. It felt like it only lasted for minutes before the dawn woke her. The sun’s rays were falling on Yggdrasil, painting the whole room green.
She checked her phone, it was 6:15 AM. Even if she could get back to sleep, she would be late for school. It felt like there was a heavy stone crushing her into her mattress, each breath an effort. Fifteen minutes were sucked away before she could manage to get up and go to the bathroom. She didn’t want to look in the mirror, but she did anyway, and her eyes were haunted and red. She tried to get mad at Lassa for doing this to her, but it didn’t work. She just felt shitty and small.
The only thing good that happened all day was that it didn’t rain. Freya rode her bike to school again and trudged through classes and barely heard a word anyone said. It was like there was a shell of thick glass around her, and everything that came through it was dull and distant.
She spent the first half of the day telling herself she could go home after lunch. But, after she ate, she decided not to. She would feel the same way at home. She was surprised to find she was still hungry, and she wondered if Lunesta withdrawal gave you an appetite.
After Mr. Manzinni’s class, Freya felt lightheaded. Walking felt like swimming. People looked at her as she struggled to reach her locker. She wondered if she was too out of it to ride her bike home but decided it didn’t matter.
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On her way to the racks, Freya saw a group of people milling around just inside the auditorium. The doors were open, and there were students scattered among the seats. Mr. Sales and the band director sat in the front row by the orchestra pit, taking notes. On the stage, a tubby freshman absolutely mangled Hamlet’s Soliloquy.
“Oh, God,” someone in a group near the door whispered, and the others stifled giggles.
Freya recognized the voice as Saria Jefferson. Peter Berl stood next to her. They watched the stage. Freya hurried away before Saria could notice her and ask why she wasn’t auditioning. Freya’s eyes were watery as she rode home, but she told herself it was just the wind. She could barely make it up the hill to her house.
Lassa was still gone, but there was another half pill on her nightstand. She must have come home for a change of clothes. How long could it go on like this? Freya imagined what life would be like if she and Lassa never saw each other again. She felt weirdly hopeful, and she had to tell herself it was dumb to daydream about it. Lassa would return, and things would get worse.
Freya made an omelet, but she was still hungry after eating. She ate a blueberry yogurt and counted the cans of Ensure in the fridge so Lassa couldn’t spring that on her again. There were still ten cans.
Freya wanted to go right to bed, but she knew she would wake up at 3 AM and be stuck all night. She forced herself to stay awake by flicking through channels on the TV. She couldn’t watch. It was just flashing lights and empty noise. It took forever to get to 9 PM.
Freya looked at the half Lunesta on her nightstand and got undressed. Lassa had thrown away the old CD she used as the Starball’s throne. In the nightstand drawer was a tangle of hairbands and, as she pulled one out to corral the Starball, she was reminded of the river of eels. She could remember the whole dream vividly, which was strange.
She wished there was someone she could talk to about it. It was so stupid she was seeing a psychiatrist and couldn’t even mention a weird dream. She was never going to tell Garbuglio about the Starball.
Jane had been interested in dreams, but Freya wasn’t sure she would have told her either, even if they were still friends. Betty was the one she could tell everything. Freya wanted so badly to talk to her, but there still wasn’t an answer to her last email.
Freya took out her phone and typed:
Hey Bets, miss you tons. I know you probably can’t respond to this while you’re grounded, sorry for flooding your inbox :P Miss you more than anything. Just walked by auditions for the Winter Play and saw Peter and Saria there, feel a little guilty for not auditioning. Maybe I’ll try out for the spring play. I saw Radomir yesterday, he’s teaching a dance class! Things here have been crazy, Lassa’s making me take Krav Maga classes. I thought it would be super weird, but everyone is cool. I’m the only girl there but Jane is thinking about joining, (Dan Gregulus is in the class. :eyeroll: ) Jane and I haven’t really talked much since you left, so I hope the two of us reconnect there. Hope things are cooling off with you and your mom, I’ve been having a tough time with Lassa, really a tough time with everything. Would love to talk with you on the phone if you can find time somehow-
Freya stopped tapping on the phone and read back over what she’d written. It felt needy and sad. She scrolled up in the thread and saw she’d sent two mails for every one she’d gotten back. A few times, there were three. The time between replies got further and further apart, and Betty’s replies got shorter and shorter.
They weren’t friends anymore.
It was time to admit it. Betty had new friends in Wisconsin. She didn’t need Freya any longer. It was obvious she was just responding out of politeness or pity. For an instant, Freya wanted to fling her phone against the wall as hard as she could.
She visualized it sailing through the air and breaking apart into a million pieces. It would leave a big ugly dent in the drywall, and Lassa would scream like a banshee when she found out.
Freya didn’t throw the phone. She took a deep breath and deleted the draft. Then she plugged the phone into her charger and took the half-Lunesta from her nightstand and swallowed it without water.
She turned out the lights and got under the covers. In the darkness, she reached out and touched the Starball. It was still warm. She thought about sailing through space for light years and light years surrounded by the nickel shell, completely alone. Then she turned off the light.