Little Sweet Dreamer - Wattys Edition

Chapter 1

"Hey, Haz!" Anastasia said. Her voice tore me out of my trance. My eyes met the taupe inner walls of my locker, and my fingers were still clasped around my Macbeth book. "You good?"
I nodded wearily and glanced over in her direction.

Her eyes flooded with concern. "You look beyond tired."

The hell hole I called school was the reason for the lack of energy coursing through my body—my eyelids were like lead, and my head throbbed painfully. I stayed up all night studying for my Spanish test—why did I even have to take Spanish when I couldn't speak?

The bell rang, and she raised her eyebrows. "Hello? You tryna be late for class?"

"Sorry," I signed. "One sec."

I quickly grabbed the various items I would need for my classes before lunch and followed her through the glossy beige and white-tiled halls. Could I nap today at all? Psychology was probably my best bet since that class was boring—the teacher didn't seem to care about what he was teaching. So I wouldn't miss much except maybe a PowerPoint that looked like a third-grader prepared it.

I entered Homeroom and sank into my seat. Anastasia sat next to Blake, who stared into my soul. "You don't look so good. What's up?" I shrugged.

He turned his attention to Ana. "What's up with her?"

Out of everybody in my friend group, Anastasia and Blake were my closest friends. We grew up on the same block before mom moved due to dad's death, attended the same schools since kindergarten, and had the same parent—nope.

Jeez, my brain was fried.

"She's exhausted, I think," Anastasia said.

He frowned. "Want me to run and get you a coffee or something?" I shook my head. Blake was too thoughtful for his own good, knowing very well he'd be reprimanded for leaving by our teacher.

"How're you gonna pass the Spanish test today if you're this tired?" he pressed.

I signed, "I'll take a nap later—during lunch." And, Psychology... I knew he would disapprove if I told them that part.

"So you're not gonna eat?" All I wanted to do was close my eyes to soothe my friggin headache, without all of these pestering, albeit thoughtful, questions.

I sighed and signed, "I'll eat first and then take a nap."

He shook his head. "Next time you pull a stunt like this and don't get your proper sleep time, I'll have to beat you. Do you understand?" I laughed and rolled my eyes.

Thanks to me, Anastasia and Blake both learned to understand American Sign Language. As a child, I stopped speaking, so I could only communicate through ASL (before I could write fluently). And since your brain is a sponge at that age, they got with the program quickly. Of course, they didn't sign back to me since they could still verbally communicate, but they understood me.
I lost my voice a week before Dad died. As my dream traveling grew stronger, my voice weakened until it finally disappeared. No matter what Mom did to get it back, no expert could explain why it was gone. My vocal cords were perfectly healthy. But I still couldn't speak.

The bell rang, causing chairs to screech as they were pushed back and people to grumble; first period—the great evil—was upon us. Slightly slumped, I walked out of class and down the hall to the worst first-period class ever to be invented: Physics. I could only handle so much torture in the morning.

My school had its cons, like the students and first-period physics, but it wasn't too terrible. Some of the gems in my school were the teachers. They were understanding of my situation and didn't count class participation against me. If I wanted to answer a question, I'd write it down on paper, raise my hand, and then hold up the answer. But other than those small instances, I kept to myself in class. And it was acceptable.

But my classmates were a whole other story. The popular people tended to be white with blue eyes and blonde hair and were most likely to win prom queen and king. Typical. A lot of them were rich, or at least extremely wealthy. And they partied—a lot.

But although the students here went by the usual class separation in school, the bullying here was different—or maybe just new. There was fake-ness and talking behind your back rather than anything physical. So even if people acted like they thought it was cool I could sign and then talked trash about me, I wouldn't know because no one was brave enough to say anything to anyone's face. I didn't mind that, in all honesty. It helped me get through school without feeling ashamed for being unable to speak.

"... the terminal velocity can be determined with this equation..."

I pulled my head out of autopilot, trying my hardest to focus on the board. Physics dragged on, and my eyes were growing heavier by the minute. I bounced my leg, but that seemed to make me sleepier. My teacher started floating as she wrote on the board. Confused, I looked around my peers, who didn't seem to notice her sudden departure from gravity.

"Hazel, are you all right?" my teacher whispered. My eyes snapped open, and I looked at her, nodding as I shook off the dream.

"Why are you so tired, hun?" she asked. I began to sign and then stopped to write in my notebook. I stayed up late studying for my Spanish test.

My teacher nodded sympathetically and said, "I understand. Try to stay awake, though, okay? I don't want you to miss any of this." I nodded and mouthed, "Sorry." She nodded and rubbed my back, returning to the front of the class. I realized some eyes were on me even though a physics problem was left on the board.

"Class, does anybody have an answer?" Ms. Iaradi asked. People returned their focus to her, and I sighed in relief.

It was going to be a long day.