Dreamland (Riley Bloom #3)(5)

Heck, I could even manifest my own cheerleading outfit—all I had to do was envision it and it was as good as mine. Easy-peasy.

But I could never fill the sweater like she did.

I would never look as good in the skirt.

I would never look anything like her.

She was gorgeous, exotic, and when she wore a bra she managed to fill it.

Unlike me, she was a teen.

She was as opposite of lanky-haired, semi-stubby-nosed, blue-eyed, flat-chested me as you could get.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

I was stuck.

Eternally stuck.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought until I remembered what Bodhi had recently said:

“You have no idea how it works, do you?” His eyes had locked on mine. “No one is ever stuck anywhere, Riley. Seriously, what kind of a place do you think the Here & Now is?” I’d gaped. At first unable to utter the words, though it wasn’t long before I’d said,

“You mean, I can … I can, maybe … actually

… turn thirteen someday?” I’d pressed my lips together, sure it was too good to be true. It was all I’d ever wanted. All I’d ever dreamed. And from the moment I died in the accident, I’d been sure the possibility had died along with me.

But Bodhi just quirked his brow and shrugged in a vague, noncommittal kind of way. “There’re no limits that I’m aware of—pretty much anything is possible,” he’d said, refusing to give any details, keeping the statement purposely hazy, and yet, he’d said it all the same. And at that moment, watching the glorious cheerleader girl standing before me, well, I clung to those words like a drowning man to a life raft.

Bodhi hooked his thumb over his shoulder and jabbed it toward me, causing cheerleader girl to cup her hands around either side of her mouth and call, “Good on you, Riley Bloom! I see you got your glow on!” Oh, great. Talk about bad to worse. Not only did she have to go and remind me of just how nice she was, but up until she’d spoken I’d forgotten all about her accent.

It was crisp, and proper, and totally British.

She was pretty much as cool as they came.

I was ready to leave. Ready to cut my losses and vámanos myself right out of that place before my humiliation could get any worse, when Bodhi strode toward me and said, “Listen, Riley, Jasmine and I are taking off.”

My eyes widened. Jasmine? Her name was Jasmine? I shook my head and sighed. But of course she’d get a cool, girly name while I got stuck with one usually reserved just for boys.

“You okay?” Bodhi’s eyes flashed with a combination of impatience and concern, and to be honest, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

I looked away, my voice awful and grumpy when I said, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Words that surely failed to make me look any more mature in his eyes. His lips went flat, his face grew grim, and when he glanced over his shoulder at Jasmine with an impatient gaze, I couldn’t help but add, “So why don’t you just go already? I mean, sheesh, it’s not like I need you to babysit me!”

His gaze narrowing so much his eyes became mere slashes of green. “So, where you headed?” he asked, but not because he was interested. But because as my guide, he pretty much had no choice but to keep tabs.

I frowned, thinking I should tell him that it’s none of his business—that I was under no obligation to check in with him every second of the day. But instead I found myself saying,

“I’m going to check out the place where all the dreams are created.” Deciding then and there it was as good a destination as any.

He swung his head toward me, his face all outraged and screwy when he said, “What did you say?”

I shrugged, picked at the hem of my sweater, took my sweet time to answer. “You know, the place where all the dreams are created? I thought it sounded cool, so I figured I’d check it out. Why? Have you been?” He groaned. Mashed his lips so hard they turned white at the edges. Then after glancing over his shoulder yet again, flashing Jasmine the just a minute signal, he turned back to me and said, “Listen, Riley, you can’t go there. It’s off-limits.”

I was tempted to scoff. Tempted to remind him that we were on a break, which meant that, for the time being anyway, he was no longer the boss of me. But since all I knew about the place was what little I’d learned from the two old guys who first mentioned it back in the Viewing Room, I decided to quash my first instinct and play it another way.

“Why?” I asked, eyes widening in the way that always worked on my dad but rarely, if ever, on my mom.

“It’s forbidden. Seriously. It’s been outlawed for …” He pinched his brow, looked all around as if he expected to find the answer written somewhere. “Well, let’s just say it’s outlawed. But leave it to you to try to find it.” He shook his head, slid a hand deep into his scalp where he clutched a fistful of hair, and sighed in frustration. “Just—just stay away, okay? Just this once, just, please, take my word for it, and do as I say. Can you do that?

Can you behave yourself long enough for me to enjoy my hard-earned break?” I screwed my mouth to the side, deciding to make him wait for my reply. Enjoying the fact that he was no longer checking on Jasmine—I finally had his full, undivided attention.

But it didn’t take long before his knee started to jiggle, and this time, his fingers joined in. Twitching and fidgeting as they jumped from his hair to his sweater to his belt loop and back, eager to be rid of me—eager to move on to the kinds of things older kids did.