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  In the back of his mind he could hear his mother saying something, but between brushing his teeth, the water running, and the suspended toothpaste, her words stayed right there—in the back of his mind.

  Again in the mirror, he noticed on the other side of his head that a bar of soap was mimicking the toothpaste, and it began to amuse him. He smiled and began to twist his hair with his free hand. He decided to step back and take it all in, when he noticed that he could not feel the floor, or at least he wasn’t standing on it anymore. He, along with the soap and toothpaste, was suspended in midair. And if things weren’t interesting enough, he noticed a bottle of mouthwash floating by on its side, and in the mirror a towel sailing just over his head.

  He became concerned when he heard a rumbling sound growing steadily in the distance and making his mother’s words through the closed bathroom door even more indistinct. It finally dawned on him, it’s an earthquake, and fear began to overtake him for the first time. An earthquake? No, never in the Exclave … a tornado, he thought, which would explain that rumbling sound getting louder. He had heard about tornados before but never experienced one. Is this what it’s like … slow motion and things floating all around you? Momma must’ve been trying to warn me, direct me to safety. Is it too late for me to take cover? he wondered.

  He began to panic, and his mind raced, but all about him was in slow motion. He quickly reached for the door, or so he thought, but it was as if his mind and body were separate, and when he looked at his hand, it seemed like minutes went by as it traveled to reach the doorknob. When his hand finally reached the doorknob, he turned it and kept on turning it round and round. It spun around as if broken. He decided just to pull the knob, but the door wouldn’t open. He tried a second time and then a third. He tried to pull it with all his might, but the door still would not budge. It wasn’t locked, but he figured, somehow with all that was going on, it must’ve gotten jammed.

  He began to yell,“Ma … Ma … Ma!” But he couldn’t hear the sound of his own voice, even though the rumbling sound that now resembled that of a train didn’t seem loud enough to drown it out. He continued to yell,“Ma … Ma … Ma!” and wondered if she had given up on him. She wouldn’t have left me here, would she? he thought. She wouldn’t have left me here to … to … unless she had good reason … a really good reason.

  After wrestling with the door for what seemed like an eternity, he let go of the doorknob and noticed the floor coming apart beneath him. Feeling gravity return and take him down with, and through the floor, he tried to grab the doorknob once more, but it was too late. As he plummeted below, he noticed seven distinct shadowy figures. He closed his eyes and braced for impact. Like his mother’s response earlier, it never came, and he knew as he sat up in his bed, it was all a dream, a stupid dream, he thought. He liked dreams, though. They were one of his favorite things, next to his hair.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MISS TRACEY

  NAZ was wide-awake now and something was wrong. He had done something, and he could sense it as he heard the sound of someone’s footsteps approaching his bedroom.

  “It’s time to get up; you’re already late,” a woman said coldly.

  It was a voice he hardly recognized. It was not his mother. His mother wasn’t there. And this time he wasn’t dreaming. He was sure of it.

  “I’m up,” he replied, knowing he had done something wrong. If I’m going to be late it’s not going to be my fault, he thought. He wasn’t even allowed to use his alarm clock anymore. A clock he had gotten as a gift was now on a shelf in his closet for fear it would be knocked off his nightstand and broken during an episode of sleepwalking.

  “You got up again last night, and you made a mess in the bathroom,” said the woman on the other side of the door.

  Uh-oh, he thought.

  “That therapy isn’t doing you a bit of good,” she continued.

  “You’ve only been here two months,and that makes the third time. Maybe we should put a lock on your door.”

  A lock … that would be kinda cool, he thought. Then I could have more privacy. Maybe I could start putting things back up in my room,and nobody would know.“Teenagers should have a little privacy,” he said under his breath, and then louder he offered,“I’m sorry, ma’am,” in the most apologetic tone he could muster. He was trying to butter her up so she would seriously consider putting that lock on his door.

  As if she didn’t hear him, she added in a scolding tone,“And you better put everything back the way it was before you go to school.”

  He could tell by the words she used that it wasn’t that bad, but she was what they called in the Exclave,“Drama.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he assured her, and within seconds he was on his way down the hall to the bathroom to assess the damage.

  She called to him from her bedroom.“And how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me ma’am? I don’t have any kids. I’m still a young woman.”

  Tracey Billings was a single woman, barely in her twenties, who worked as an executive assistant. She discovered that she could make extra money by taking in foster kids. She liked to think that she had gotten a good deal by taking in two at a time, but often wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew.

  He answered,“Yes ma … I mean, Miss Tracey,” as he entered the bathroom. Again he thought,“Drama.” “Nope, it isn’t that bad,” he continued, as if to convince himself. And it wasn’t. Still he didn’t like not being in control and having what everyone liked to call“a problem.”

  The tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush were in the sink, where they probably fell in my dream, he thought. What he didn’t understand was the soap, towel, and mouthwash. He never touched them in his dream, so they shouldn’t have been out of place, but they were. Isn’t that how it works? he thought. It was another question for his therapist.

  Miss Tracey was right about one thing. Going to see a therapist wasn’t working. He had been going for three years now, and he still walked in his sleep. Even worse, he still heard the voices. That was something he kept to himself; instead he chose to ignore them.

  When he finished in the bathroom, he tiptoed down the hallway so he would not attract Miss Tracey’s attention again. He could see the light coming from under the door of the small bedroom at the other end of the hall. He walked down the hall and put his ear to the door to listen, then made a fist to knock. His little sister woke up every morning to the alarm on her phone, and he could hear the faint but unmistakable sounds of the classic Motown song. “Love Child,” … every morning the same song … her favorite song, he thought. Before his knuckles could meet the wood door, Meridian emerged fully dressed from the bedroom. She had a knack for beating him to the punch.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MERI

  MERIDIAN Liberty Slaughter was a fiery little girl who always spoke her mind. She never made excuses for herself, and it was her greatest ambition (one of many) to have her own law firm. Meridian wanted to be first at everything. She had lived in the Exclave her whole life and believed it was her destiny to make a difference there—in a big way. Her sandy red hair and caramel skin tone coupled with her active imagination and relentless nature,earned her the nickname“Firecracker” at a very young age. At the age of three, she was diagnosed with a mild congenital heart defect, but refused to let anyone baby her, especially Naz.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly, as if she had won some great prize the night before. Her eyes wide and her step lively, she sped past before he had a chance to shush her. When she got to the bathroom door,she turned to him and continued in a low whisper,“I’m not thinking about her.” She then ducked into the bathroom before he could respond.

  He smiled and shook his head as he walked back down the hallway. He liked dreams a lot and his hair even more, but when it came to Meridian, she meant everything to him. Anything else was a distant second. In his mind, he was all she had, and she was all he had. He swore that she was a spry old lady in a
little girl’s body, and the old folks said she was an old soul that had been here before.

  She started school at an early age, and because of the grades that she received, Naz’s guess was, she would probably finish even earlier. She was only nine and already in the fifth grade. She wanted to be a lawyer, singer, tennis pro, and chess grandmaster, but not eventually when she grew up. She wanted it right now. Naz knew that he needed to get her out of the Exclave as soon as possible. But he also knew it wouldn’t be easy. It was her home and all she had ever known. She was always saying that, even if she left the Exclave for college or something, she would come back one day to make a difference.

  They had a good morning system. Meridian showered the night before and Naz in the morning. They both awoke at the same time. He would go into the bathroom while she got dressed, and then they would switch, simple yet effective. In less than thirty minutes they would be walking out the door. They wouldn’t bother with breakfast. They would get free breakfast at school. The less time spent at Miss Tracey’s, the better. She couldn’t cook anyway, they reasoned.

  As they opened the door to leave, Miss Tracey, as if on cue, recited,“Be careful, Meri, and …,” she hesitated, as if she had forgotten or as if she didn’t really want to say his name.

  Before she could finish, Merichimed,“His name is …”

  Miss Tracey cut her off.“I know what his name is, little Miss Know-It-All. That’s why I don’t have kids.” Her voice became muffled as the door closed behind them.

  “Why are you always messing with her? I don’t wanna have to move again,” said Naz.

  “Trust me. She’s never had it so easy. We take care of ourselves. The two of us are easy money for her. So I’m gonna make her work at least a little for it,” Meri said, laughing.

  “Look,” he said, pointing to the hairs on his chin.

  “What?”

  He moved his chin closer to her face and continued to point, but she turned away from him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Can you take my magnifying glass out of my backpack?” she asked, laughing.

  “Whatever,” he said and, grabbing her backpack, he spun her around until she again faced him. He shook his head and laughed, too.

  The sky was now dimly lit from the rising sun, and unlike the hot, humid day before, there was a noticeable chill in the air. It was like that in the Exclave. The temperature could change drastically from day to day. As the pair walked onto the sidewalk, their breath rose in a light mist before them. He stopped her with a motion of his hand and surveyed the scene. This was more instinctual than anything, and he himself didn’t understand why. He heard of all the bad things that went on in the Exclave, but he had never witnessed one incident during the more than three years he’d been there.

  Naz saw two boys. One was a little taller than he was, and the other a little shorter, but husky with a Mohawk haircut. The boys were clearly older than Naz, and they were walking from the direction in which he and Meri would have to go to reach her bus stop. He pulled out his phone to see what time it was. He estimated they had just enough time to reverse their steps and head in the other direction around the block to her bus stop to avoid crossing the path of the two older boys.

  “Let’s go this way,” he said, as he steered her around. He then noticed a car parked across the street. There were always cars parked on the streets, nice cars. The people in the Exclave didn’t have a lot of money, but they did have nice cars. How is that? Naz wondered. He had never seen this car before. A man with a hat was sitting inside and looking at them. The man quickly looked away, as he if he didn’t want to be seen.

  Naz turned away, dismissing his fear as unfounded, just a symptom of his paranoia. He had always been this way, though, or so he thought. He could only remember as far back as three years ago. It had been that long since he came to live in the Exclave with Meri, their mother, and Meri’s father. Everything before that was a blank.“Repressed Memories” were what his therapist liked to call them. The only thing Naz knew was that he had not always lived in the Exclave. What could have happened, he wondered, before I came here that made me so paranoid?

  “Always so suspicious,” Meri said, shaking her head as they started up the block.

  “Únete a nosotros,” said the taller boy loud enough for Naz and Meri to hear, but to no one in particular, it seemed.

  “Why would you say that?” Naz asked Meri, as he purposely ignored the boys.

  “Please, my bus stop is that way,” she said, pointing behind her with her thumb over her shoulder but not turning around.“What did you see this time?” she asked, just now turning her head.

  “Nothin’. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, innocent until proven guilty.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” he shot back.

  Meri one-upped Naz with embarrassing regularity, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure if he allowed the privilege, or she indeed possessed the power to accomplish the feat. Knowing he would inevitably lose the battle of one-liners as he always did, he asked suddenly.

  “Meri, what do you think about dreams?”

  “Dreams?” she responded curiously.“You mean regular dreams or deluxe, king-sized, wake-up-everybody-else-in-the-house dreams?”

  “I mean dreams, Meri,” he said, laughing.“Do you think they mean anything?”

  “How would I know? I’m only nine years old.”

  “Oh, only nine years old, huh? Now watch this. When you wanna do something that you know you’re too young to do, you’re gonna say, ‘I’m almost ten years old’.” It was his best Meri imitation.

  “All right, true story. I got this. What was your dream about?”

  He had to stop and think. It was less than an hour ago, but he was already starting to forget the dream. He was like that, when it came to his dreams.

  After a few seconds she askedsarcastically,“Now am I supposed to be reading your mind,too?”

  “No, I was trapped in the bathroom, and there was an earthquake. I was falling, and there were seven people … watching … I think.” He remembered the part about their mother but conveniently left it out.

  “And that’s it?” She instinctively knew he had left something out.

  “Isn’t that enough? I mean, picture it. You’re locked in the bathroom, an earthquake hits, and stuff is flying all over the place. You’re falling, and there are seven …” He stopped talking.

  “And?”

  “And you wake up. That’s it.”

  “Who locked you in the bathroom? Was it Miss Tracey? ‘Cause I’ll take her out for ya, you know,” she said jokingly, as she balled up her fists and punched at the air repeatedly.

  “No, I don’t remember that part,” he said, laughing along.

  “Who else was in the dream?”

  “Just me … and the seven shadow people.”

  “Shadow people? Um… let me think.” She stopped walking, put two fingers from each hand on her temples, and closed her eyes.

  He stopped a few feet in front of her, looked back at her, and shook his head in amusement. She opened her eyes after a few seconds and continued walking.

  “I’ve got it,” she said.“I don’t know about the seven shadow people, but something big is about to happen in your life. That’s the earthquake. The stuff, as you called it, flying all over the place means you’ve lost control. And finally,” she paused.“Now this is the most important part.” She paused again but then waited to speak.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Being locked in the bathroom and falling symbolizeyour inadequacy to deal with the situation.”

  He looked at her with his mouth wide open for a second andthen asked in disbelief,“You serious?”

  “Nope, but it sounded real good, didn’t it?” she said, laughing.“What do you think, psychiatrist or lawyer? I could be,like, the first behavioral attorney.”

  “More like the first psycho-lawyer.”

  They both laughed.


  “And who’s inadequate? Inadequacy? You’re supposed to be helping me. Inadequacy … where’d you learn that word anyway?” he added almost under his breath.

  “You sure Miss Tracey didn’t lock you in the bathroom?”

  They both continued to laugh.

  They approached Meri’s bus stop just as the bus was arriving.

  “Seriously, I don’t think it means anything, just random ‘stuff,’as you like to say. We all have dreams, right?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. What do you dream about?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  As the other kids began to get on the school bus,he began to grill her.“Do you have your money?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where’d you put it?”

  “In my sock like you told me,” she said in a sassy tone.

  “Remember, nobody will ever think to look for it there. Where’s your phone?”

  “In my pocket,” she said, patting her back left pocket.

  “Is it on vibrate?”

  “Always.”

  He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone to see what time it was again.“Did you charge it last night?” he asked.

  “Of courseI did. Did you charge yours?” she asked indignantly.“Momma never asked all these questions,” she continued, with a cold look on her face.

  “Momma’s not here,” he said angrily.“She’s not here,” he repeated calmly. He looked at his phone again and noticed it only had two out of four bars lit up,indicating he had forgotten to charge it the night before.“And don’t worry about my phone,” he said with a sheepish grin on his face.