Do I dare to dream?

I held up my face on my hands, my elbows planted precariously close to the table edge.

In and out. My fingers slowly grew warmer and damper as my breath pushed past them.

Through the tiniest of slits in between my fingers, I observed the stain on the wall that had always reminded me of Australia.

"The line between skinny and fat is so thin. You only ever know if you're firmly on one side or the other, like if you're skinny. Or fat."

With great difficulty, I turned my face in my hands to glare at Akira. "Seriously?" I muttered, unintentionally loud enough for her to hear.

She continued twisting her thin waist in front of the mirror, adjusting her bold-patterned crop top. "Yeah, you know, how like some people are skinny, and others are over the-"

"No, I meant, I just told you that my dreams predict the future, and you're telling me-" I exhaled furiously. "Have you been listening to anything I said?"

Akira absently hummed, now flipping her sleek, purple-dyed hair from side to side. "In your dreams, do I always stay skinny, or-"

"This might surprise you, but my dreams tend to be about things other than you." I rolled my eyes, rubbing at my temples. Her nonstop commentary about weight was making me acutely aware of how the fat on my face bunched up in my hands.

I sighed wearily and half-straightened up. "Could you please break up with William already?" Akira's new boyfriend was a crazy fitness zealot, who only ate from the hours of 12-4 or something insane like that.

His weird eating and constant weight, calorie and whatnot calculations had turned Akira insecure overnight.

"No, I like him, we're super compatible," Akira mumbled, which made me scoff in disbelief. Before I could complain more, Akira had materialized her phone out of nowhere and was taking rapid-fire selfies.

Sometimes I-wait, no, all the time, I wondered why I remained friends with her.

I stared down at my dream journal, ignoring the obnoxious taps on a phone screen coming from Akira's direction.

The latest dream had been about Henry. I didn't know him well anymore, I just had a crush on him back in eighth grade.

Yeah, most people would say: "Shocker, you had a dream about an old crush, move on weirdo?"

But since I was thirteen, everything in my dreams started slowly coming true. Convoluted imagery and chaotic visions from nighttime actually happened in real life.

For a long time, I thought I was crazy.

I grimaced at that thought. Let's not discuss my potential insanity in the past tense. I'm probably crazy.

Because my mind can never shut up, now I'm internally chastising myself for my overuse of the word crazy. That's derogatory, and not politically or scientifically correct, some small part of me scolds.

Stop censoring me in my own head, you fascist, replies my internal monologue.

Shaking my head to chase away these thoughts, I resume my analysis of the dream journal, flipping to some past pages.

Once I dreamt that our kindergarten teacher would get hit by a car. I mean, that's what happened. My actual dream was a confusing mix of images, showing candy spilling out over Briar Street, kids laughing at a playground, and a white Ford pickup truck.

Then it happened the next day, Ms. Wilkinson, laden with candy for the class Halloween party, got hit by a white Ford pickup truck.

She just broke a leg, but I never stopped feeling guilty for not warning her.

There were other dreams, all more confusing and cryptic than the last.

Automatically flipping through all of them, I landed again on the Henry dream page.

In my dream, Henry was reading in the middle of a rugby match. A giant crab came at him and started pummelling him.

I closed my eyes and frowned, trying to summon more parts of the dream. A cheerleader with a bright purple banner streaked across the field while Henry died.

There was more. But I couldn't remember it to save my life. Or Henry's.

Unable to stop myself, I checked the time. Oh, God, almost seven. There was a rugby match tonight and I was quickly running out of time.

If Henry died, and I could've stopped it, I'd hate myself forever.

"Akira," I gritted my teeth, turning to my friend. "I need your help, please."

She bit her lip in that worried way, and I knew if I wanted to discuss my problem, I'd have to discuss her's.

"What's wrong?" I asked, eyeing the phone tightly clasped in her hand.

"Oh, God, William's angry with me." She took a small, shuddering breath. "Because some guy left a flirty comment on my post last week."

I wanted to scream TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, maybe jump up and down while I did it. But with tremendous self-control, I asked, "Why is he angry with you? Did you, um, flirt back?"

"Not really, but kinda?" Akira's normally pale skin was flushing red.

"Tell William you didn't mean it, or that he's just a friend."

"I'm trying, but I can't get a hold of him tonight." Akira's face tightened with upset, before she got herself under control, removing her hand from her hair. "Anyways, what do you need help with?"

Her voice was back to it's uncaring, floaty girl drawl. If I had been a better person, this discussion wouldn't be over.

"In my dream, Henry gets killed in the middle of a rugby match. I need your help figuring it out." I hoped she wouldn't laugh.

She better not laugh. This girl spent two hours yesterday telling me about zodiac signs and compatibility and other associated nonsense.

"Henry Chan?" Akira asked, sounding more interested than usual as she took a seat. "Boy, you really believe you can predict the future, huh?" She took the notebook from me.

"I already know that there's a rugby match, but Henry's not on the team. So, how could he die in the bleachers?"

"He's not in the bleachers," Akira told me, and I stared at her, stunned. "I just mean, he takes pictures, right? School photographer? He could be on the actual field."

I got out of my seat, pacing. "Okay, but our school mascot is a bird-"

"-eagle-" Akira corrected mildly, and I ploughed past it.

"-whatever! In any case, there's no way an aquatic animal could beat him to death." I paced more, making a couple of frustrated circles.

"You know, a lot of people hate him? He's such a weirdo, with his weird pictures and weird comments-"

"He's not weird," I defended, wholly unnecessarily. "He's just different. Okay, that sounds bad. God, should I just call him and warn him? What the hell would I even say? Beware of crabs?"

"No, that would be weird." Akira said, and I just barely stopped myself from shouting at her. "Okay, maybe the crab is just a metaphor you know? Like maybe he gets posioned. Oh my God, is he allergic to crabs?"

My earlier irritation evaporated. "That could totally be it. Or maybe he chokes at a seafood restaurant and dies during the Heimlich." My blood ran cold suddenly.

Oh shit, I know what happens.

"Yay, I'm so smart. But I already knew that, it's just written in the stars-"

"Stop," I said, breathless. "It's Henry, isn't it? He left you the weird flirty comment." I didn't wait for Akira to confirm it. "And your fucking compatible bitchy Ken doll boyfriend is a cancer! Cancers are crabs! Oh, shit!"

I was already fumbling with the phone number. Henry didn't pick up, and Akira was next to me, clearly dialling William.

"Oh, screw you!" I spat into Henry's voicemail. "We gotta call the cops!"

"No time, I have Coach Bilinsky's number, I'll call him." Akira pressed the phone to her ear.

I could see myself liking Akira more and more by the minute.

"Hello? Coach, it's Akira, William's girlfriend? You need to look for him. No sir, I'm not there, he's mad-"

I glowered murderously at Akira and she stuttered, switching topics. "S-sir, you need to stop him. I know he's not playing, and he's going to do something terrible to Henry Chan. Please, hurry!"

My heart was pounding in my head, ears, the tips of my fingers. In fact, the whole room became a thudding heartbeat.

Akira pressed her hand to her mouth, looking at me with wide eyes. "Coach just found them. Oh, God, William-" She removed the phone from her ear. "William was beating the crap out of him."

Both of us stared at my dream journal.

I dropped into the seat, exhausted. "Thank god for your love of astrology."

"Screw that, tell me everything about your dreams." Akira sat down next to me, looking expectant.