Page 7 of In All My Dreams

I pretend not to notice.

There are lots of kids with golden hazel eyes.

If I don’t react to his reaction, maybe he’ll realize it’s just a coincidence. I feel his eyes locked on me, but I refuse to look away from Auden.

He clears his throat loudly. I continue to ignore him. “You took quite the fall. Your head might hurt for a little bit, but we’re going to make sure you’re as good as new by the time we get done with you,” he finally says.

I urge my body to stay still. Give him no reaction.

“What are they going to do to me?” Auden’s lower lip trembles. I know she’s terrified of the doctor because the last time she went, she had to get her shots for school. I clutch her hand tighter with my own.

“Well, first, they’ll get you checked into a room and clean up the small cut on your head. Don’t worry, it doesn’t look deep, sowe should just be able to glue it. No needles allowed near that face. Then they’ll take you to get a head scan, just to make sure everything is okay in that big brain of yours. Afterward, you’ll get to go home with your mom, and hopefully, they’ll prescribe lots of rest and ice cream.” Ian’s voice is calm but playful as he talks to her. The last time I heard him speak this way to someone, it was when we were about the same age as Auden.

And he was talking to Irene . . . his twin sister.

My best friend.

And she’s dead because of me.

Please, please, please. I silently beg whoever will listen.

Don’t let history repeat itself.

4

Georgia

Five Years Old

“Tag, you’re it, Georgia!” Irene screams loudly from behind me after slamming her flat palm onto my shoulder.

I turn, glaring at her before Ian comes running out from behind the willow fronds. I hate being it. I don’t run as fast as Irene, and I can’t hide as well as Ian does.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” I pout, crossing my hands over my blue overalls for dramatic effect. “I hate this stupid game!”

“Georgia Lynn Harris!” my mother calls from her seat near the lake, her finger beckoning me to her.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now, Georgie,” Irene snickers.

I roll my eyes at her and reluctantly follow my mother’s summons, dragging my white sneakers through the dirt as I get closer to the edge of the lake. “Yes, Mama?” My eyes refuse to meet hers, and I stare defeatedly down at my shoes.

“Come here, my littlest love,” she says calmly and pats her thigh at the same time. I go and sit on her lap, and she wraps her arms around me tightly, enveloping us both in the smell of her perfume. “You know what I’m about to say, don’t you?” she asks with a smile.

I twirl my fingers around the locket she wears around her neck. “Yes, Mama,” I mutter quietly.

“So tell me what you did?”

I huff out a breath. “I got mad because Irene tagged me too hard and hurt me.”

“And?”

“And I was mean and didn’t need to yell at her?”

My mother laughs loudly, pushing her dark hair out of her face. Then, she dips her chin and places it on my shoulder. “Only five years old, and you’re already the smartest person I know.” She laughs. “Yes, you were rude, Georgia. But also, you chose the game today. You can’t get mad when you lose and say you hate it, okay?”

“Irene always tags me instead of Ian,” I pout. “It’s not fair. Ian’s never it!”

“Georgia.” My mother’s voice is suddenly stern again. “Ian was it three times already, Irene was it twice, and now it’s your turn. That means you need to stop whining about it, and play the game fairly. Or you go to your room and play alone for the rest of the day. You pick.”

---