2015 Young Explorer's Adventure Guide Page 8

  …………………………

  At the ungreatly lunch hour of 10 a.m., Luna and Ashley weaved through the Maitland Middle School cafeteria and snagged an empty spot tucked between the jockoids and headbangers. “Can you believe the latest dreamscape happened in Orlando? That’s like around the corner,” Ashley gushed.

  Luna’s tray, piled high with chick’n fingers and faux-fries, clattered against the table. “Dreamscapes aren’t real.”

  “Then explain all the weird comas.”

  Luna dunked a chick’n finger into BBQ sauce. “I can’t.” She shrugged. “But neither can you.”

  “Scientists found fifty similar cases throughout the country,” Ashley said. “Every single one saying they had to live the same day over and over.”

  “They’re all a bunch of looney tunes.” Luna tore into the crispy nugget, sick of the same conversation.

  “Every one? All of them perfect strangers.”

  “Yup.”

  “Then explain how all fifty said they woke up by changing the past.”

  “Nothing to explain.” Luna licked the tangy sauce sliding down her thumb. “My dad says it’s not real.”

  Ashley’s cheeks blazed a deep red. “Your father’s opinion is as wack as a Jackson 5 reunion on the Dead & Kicking hologram tour.”

  Luna chucked her half-chewed chick’n finger at Ashley. The BBQ smothered finger tumbled through the air. Unfortunately, her not-so-hot aim sent it sailing past Ashley and smacking Tony Perkins on his pimpled forehead.

  Tony leapt to his feet, growling some not-so-nice words, and slung a fist full of fries in Luna’s direction. She ducked and a second later heard someone behind her shriek. Next thing, the entire cafeteria exploded into a BBQ dripping, finger-licking food fight. Chairs skidded across the floor. Tables were flipped onto their sides for cover. Luna even witnessed one of the kitchen ladies toss a spoonful of mock potatoes into the crowd. Unfortunately that juicy bit of intel couldn’t save her with Principal Belcher.

  “I’ve seen your face too many times this year, Miss Luna Rey,” Mrs. Belcher said, her hands folded on top of a thick file on her otherwise spotless desktop. “There was the altercation last month with a fellow student about good hair.”

  “But natural is good,” Luna whined.

  “What about holding the science lab’s frogs hostage when you found out they were going to be dissected.”

  “Do you really want to contribute to the torture and extinction of innocent amphibians?”

  “I appreciate your passion,” Mrs. Belcher said, “but your actions have consequences. Since warnings and detentions have no effect, how about three days suspension.”

  “But—

  “Or would you rather face charges of vandalism and disorderly conduct?”

  Luna sank in her chair. Her father always said she had a bite like an African bullfrog when provoked. But that defense sure wasn’t going to stop Mom from burning her backside a new shade of black.

  …………………………

  Who would have thought that eight hours later Principal Belcher’s suspension would be the least of her problems? Luna huddled with her mother and brother on wooden benches, front and center, in the Orange County Courthouse. Being prime time on a school night, Luna wasn’t surprised they were the only ones seated in the gallery. What didn’t make sense was why her father was facing an old white dude in a black robe. Her father had never been in trouble before. Not even a speeding ticket. All her mother had said on the ride over was that Dad needed their prayers and support.

  “Do you have anything to say about the charges set forth against you today?” The judge’s gruff voice echoed in the enormous hall decked out in marble floors, massive bronze doors and stained-glass domes.

  Dad nodded hesitantly. “I, uh…”

  “Speak up then,” the judge said, waving his gavel. “I don’t have all night.”

  “I admit, Your Honor, that I am guilty as charged. And although I’m not one to make excuses, after the day I’ve had, it kind of just…well…happened.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  Dad cleared his throat and with a deep breath confessed everything. That for fifteen years he’d loyally served as second in command of everything money at the nonprofit Save Amphibians from Extinction, or SAFE. How after lunch he’d uncovered that someone was smuggling hundreds of thousands from the Macaya Breast-Spot Frog De-extinction Fund. And as he drove home, he’d dipped into his Wonder Bread stash—his oldest and most burdensome addiction—hoping for a moment of pause to make sense of it all. But things just kept getting worse: creeping traffic, his daughter’s suspension, a busted A/C in ninety-degree weather. His stress had elevated to a severe meltdown.

  Luna shook her head, confused. If someone was stealing from SAFE, then why was her father the one facing the judge?

  “Your Honor,” Dad concluded, “my emotions got the best of me. I threw chunks of bread out my car window. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until the cop pulled me over. It’s like I was under some kind of spell.”

  Luna gasped, the reality of the situation sinking in.

  The judge released a stern harrumph. “Mr. Rey, as an employee of SAFE, you should know better. Hasn’t our planet suffered enough? Despite any alleged wrong doing at your place of work, I find your performance absolutely incomprehensible.”

  Luna whimpered as her mother’s grip tightened around her limp shoulders.

  “For that reason, I have no choice, but to serve you with the maximum penalty for defiling our Mother Earth. I sentence you, Mr. Charles Rey, to ten years at the Ocala Work Camp where you will sift through mounds of garbage every day for any recyclables our generation has tossed aside.”

  Ten years? Luna would be twenty-two and done with college. Luna’s head throbbed harder than the time her brother had accidentally whacked it with his skateboard. Except for a high-pitched ringing in both ears, she was swallowed in silence.

  Luna came to as Mom pulled her in tight, smothering her in sour apple perfume. Her eyes met with Dad’s, hopelessness overshadowing his usually confident glow. She wanted to shout, “Dirty bully!” and punch the crusty old judge in his wrinkled face. She wanted to save the day with a “Take me instead” or scream, “Don’t leave me!” and hug her father one more time.

  But before Luna could do anything, the bailiff led her dad out of the courtroom and out of her life.

  …………………………

  The next morning, Luna dragged herself out of bed and down the dim hall. She’d barely slept, just tossing and turning, unable to breathe, the judge’s crabby, old voice haunting her thoughts. I, Mr. Honorable Crotchety Pants, sentence you, Mr. ‘never did a bad thing in his life’ Rey, to stinky garbage picking and a lifetime without your daughter.

  She inched her way to the kitchen and froze in the doorway. Her eyes widened. Sitting next to Sting, chowing down on chick’n and waffles was her father. Luna zipped over and tackled him with a hug.

  “Morning to you too.” Dad laughed.

  “What are you doing here?” Luna cried. “The cops must be looking for you. We’ve got to get you out of here…get you somewhere safe.”

  Dad’s forehead wrinkled. “Cops?”

  Mom’s apple-bottom stopped swinging to the “uh-oh” breakfast theme song as she turned from the stove. “What has gotten into you?”

  Luna pulled away and eyed her father. He was clean shaven, dressed in his usual blue suit and paisley tie. Except for the baffled stare, he appeared as normal as any other morning. She looked from her mother to her brother and back to her father. “But, we were all there in the courtroom last night when the judge sentenced you to forever at a work camp.”

  “For what?” Sting laughed. “Forgetting to carry the one at work?”

  “Quit playing, Luna, and sit your behind down,” Mom commanded. Luna did as she was told. Shaking her head, Mom poured coffee into Dad’s cup. “Heard on the news about another dreamscape case.”
<
br />   Dad snorted. “Reliving the same day over and over and over? That mess isn’t real.”

  The hair on Luna’s arms stood at attention.

  “My bio teacher says the brain is able to do much more than we think,” Sting said.

  Luna sucked in her breath.

  “Real or not,” Mom continued, “something’s going on…”

  Luna squeezed her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. Maybe the pain would wake her up from this…this… déjà vu nightmare.

  As Dad moved the conversation to Sting and his upcoming game, the mechanical bird burst from its cuckoo heirloom home. Luna’s stomach somersaulted with each shrill “cuc-koo.” She watched as the tiny bird made its final popping sound and—for the second time—dangled over the edge.

  Mom jumped from her chair, just like yesterday, to coddle the dead bird.

  Luna hugged her belly. “I’m stuck in a dreamscape.”

  “What, Luna-tic?” Sting cocked his brow.

  Mom and Dad stared at Luna as if they were contemplating whether or not to commit her to a juvie ward for the mischievous and deranged.

  “Enough with the nonsense, Luna Del Ray,” Mom snapped.

  Luna picked at her breakfast. She wanted to crawl back under the covers and start over again, tomorrow. Start over again. Luna sat up. If dreamscapes were real, then maybe the other stuff was true too. She could change history. She could save her father.

  Since littering was what got them into this funk, the solution must be to keep her father from tossing bread out the car window. Luna considered her options.

  She knew her dad turned to popping slices whenever stressed out. If she made sure he never uncovered the fraud at SAFE in the first place, ergo no stressor. Luna shoved a forkful of syrup-soaked waffle in her mouth. Short of a natural disaster, Luna’s father would not even slightly consider missing work. The last time he’d taken a personal day was over three years ago. Luna’s chewing grinded to a halt. Even if she could convince her father to stay home for just one day, what if he uncovered the fraud all over again tomorrow?

  Luna ripped off chunks from her crispy chick’n. What if she could figure out who was stealing at SAFE and turn in the perpetrator? If her father got ten years for littering, imagine what the judge would serve up for embezzlement. She squished the torn chick’n bits between her fingers. No, that wouldn’t work. Although Luna had an ego only a few shades lighter than Sherlock Holmes, she wasn’t into playing detective. Plus she refused to smush her afro puffs under some ridiculous hat like the pipe-toting sleuth.

  Luna’s final option was to keep the loaf out of her father’s reach at all costs. She knew keeping bread from her dad when he’s stressed would be hard, but thank greatness her father was only half right. What’s done was done, except maybe, just maybe, this day could be fixed. And Luna would wake up for real tomorrow.

  …………………………

  After fibbing to her mom that she was headed to the park with Ashley, Luna hiked a mile after school to catch the 4:15 bus and rode for over an hour to beat Dad to his car. With every ticking second, her nerves tangled into knots. Luna paced by his Mercedes Biome, her heavy steps echoing through the parking garage.

  Within minutes, her dad approached. “What are you doing here?”

  Luna flashed a nervous grin. “We…um…learned about the awful side effects of, uh, diabetes today,” she flubbed, “like how Ashley’s uncle had his foot chopped off. And our teacher said that too much sugar is a huge factor in causing the disease. And with your bread addiction and all I…” Luna’s speech drifted into silence under Dad’s narrowed eyes.

  Without a word they climbed into the car and Dad rolled down the windows. Luna countered with, “My hair,” and the windows rolled back up. Grumbling, Dad drove out of the garage.

  “Dad?”

  “Not another word until we get home.”

  Luna relaxed her jagged breath. She could handle this. Just thirty minutes, and then this rewind-and-repeat would all be over.

  Dad hit a triangular shaped button on the center console. You have two voicemail messages, a monotonous female voice spat. First message…

  “This is Gladys, SAFE’s CEO executive assistant, again—

  Dad smashed the button. Next message, the computer announced.

  “Mr. Rey, SAFE’s board chair here.”

  Dad’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.

  “In addition to my earlier requests, please send over—

  Dad opened his window and swallowed in the fresh, humid air.

  “Is everything okay?” Luna asked.

  He nodded, his face pale. “Just work stuff.”

  His fingers tapped repeatedly as traffic slowed, his eyes lingering on the glove box. Luna held her breath. Dad’s gaze bounced between the rear view mirror and his window. He jumped the car into the middle lane. The car picked up speed at a sparrow’s pace.

  Luna fiddled with the radio. Maybe some soft jazz would ease his mind.

  Rush hour slow jams, brought to you by wheat-slims. The synthetic low-cal carb substitute. It’s yummerrific!

  Dad dove for the glove box.

  “Dad!” Luna snatched away the half-eaten loaf.

  “Luna Del Rey, give it to me. Right. Now.” Dad lunged, grabbing at the red, yellow and blue balloon logo. The silver Biome swerved.

  “No. It’s a matter of life without your daughter.”

  He managed to grasp at a corner of plastic wrapping and the two indulged in a hostile game of tug-o-war.

  “Let go, Luna.”

  “No way.”

  Luna pulled. Dad dipped forward. The car jerked. Dad tugged back. Luna tightened her grip. And yanked. A neighboring car honked. The loaf slipped from Dad’s fingertips. The plastic ripped. Bread flew—slices on the floor, Luna’s lap, and the windshield. The Biome barreled, headed for a stopped car. Luna shrieked. Brakes squealed, burning rubber.

  The car stopped in time. Luna exhaled.

  “Dad, are you—

  BOOM. Luna’s head lurched forward. Someone smacked the Biome’s bumper. Thank greatness, no one was hurt. Dings, dents and Dad’s jacked up stress was not the outcome Luna had planned, but she’d changed the past. She had stopped Dad from littering.

  …………………………

  Luna and Ashley snaked through the school cafeteria, Luna huffing in disgust. Turns out she hadn’t done what she was supposed to, whatever that was. She was stuck eating the same food, listening to the same “blah-blah-blah” and watching Mom’s cuckoo walk the plank all over again. Wonder Bread, one. Luna, zero.

  They snagged an empty spot between the jockoids and headbangers. “Can you believe the latest dreamscape happened in Orlando? That’s like around the corner,” Ashley gushed.

  For once, Luna looked at her friend with interest.

  “How do they know it’s a dreamscape?” She asked. “I mean, what makes all these cases the same?”

  Ashley’s honey-mustard-covered chick’n finger froze inches from her open mouth.

  “What’s the sudden interest?”

  Luna shrugged. Maybe if she understood all there was to know about dreamscapes, she could figure a way out of this mess.

  “Since you’re asking,” Ashley leaned in, “they share three things in common. First, someone slips into a coma for no reason. One day they’re fine, the next they don’t wake up. They relive their last waking day, over and over, until finally, the coma ends within three days.”

  “Three days?” Luna popped a fry in her mouth. She could ride that out, no problem.

  “After making a significant change.” Ashley nodded. “But scientists believe there are some people who never wake up.”

  Luna’s fry caught in her throat.

  “They think it’s because the coma person didn’t change the right moment within three days.”

  A three-day limit? The right moment?

  Luna’s jaw clenched. What if she never woke up? Trapped in
the same day…forever. Keeping bread from her father’s grip hadn’t worked. Maybe stopping him from discovering the fraud would be significant enough. She had two chances left to get it right. Otherwise this dreamscape would become her only waking nightmare.

  …………………………

  Luna slipped out of school after lunch, quickly gathered supplies from the corner store, and trekked the long mile to the city bus stop. Clutching her overstuffed backpack, her pits swelled in sweat as the bus wormed through heavy traffic.

  Sixty minutes later, she paced in front of the SunTrust Center in downtown Orlando, the beige and green skyscraper her father worked in. She ran her plan through her head, hoping she’d devised a fail-proof strategy to make sure her father never uncovered fraud at SAFE. Not today, tomorrow or ever.

  A security guard with a handlebar mustache swaggered in Luna’s direction. “What’s your business here, Miss?”

  “Excuse me?” Luna challenged, hands on hips.

  He leaned in close. Luna cringed under his sardine-coffee breath. “If you got no reason to be here, then roll out.”

  “My dad works here. He’s the finance director at SAFE.” Luna thumbed at the building. “Just waiting to meet him for lunch.”

  The wanna-be law enforcer cocked a brow. “Shouldn’t you be in school, quarter pint?”

  “Teacher in-service day.” She shifted her heavy backpack.

  He fingered a walkie-talkie clipped at his hip, his narrowed eyes flickering with distrust. Near the building’s entrance, wheels swooshed on the sidewalk, followed by a loud crash. The guard rushed off, his sights on a gang of skaters.

  Luna glanced at her watch. 12:40. In approximately five minutes, her father would dine on a pseudo-turkey sandwich and faux-fries. He’d made a foofaraw over this fact during ‘take your daughter to work day’ two years ago.

  At exactly 12:45, her father strolled from the building. Luna hunkered down behind yellowish-brown hedges. As soon as he turned the corner, Luna dashed past the nosy security guard harassing the skateboard-clutching teens.