“Alice, are you crazy?” Max says.
“Do you really need me to answer that question?” I reply.
“Do I need to remind you that you are terrified of small confined spaces?” he asks.
“Nope, no need for that,” I mutter, glancing around the tiny torture chamber. “I am well aware.”
“What are you doing with Socrates?” Max asks then, and I look down to see the lizard dangling helplessly from my hand, no doubt certain that death is imminent.
“Does everyone in this whole school know Socrates?” I ask.
“He was our class pet in elementary school, and Jeremiah adopted him,” Max says. “So, yes.”
“Well, that explains it,” I say, holding Socrates up and looking him in the eye. He responds by blinking at me several times, and it occurs to me that when Jeremiah gets back from the bathroom, he is absolutely going to be out for my blood.
“Alice,” Max says, gently bringing me back to reality. “How about we allow the elevator to move again, before you have a breakdown?”
But I brush the idea out of my head. I have other things on my mind. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“It’s okay,” Max says, not getting it. “Let’s just press the button . . .”
“No,” I say, “not about that. About what I said. About how I felt. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t enough, Max, because you are. I was afraid. For my whole life, the dreams were all I had. They were the only thing that made me feel less alone. And you were part of that. And you got over it, you learned how to function, but I didn’t. And I didn’t understand that when I lost the dreams, I wouldn’t lose you, too.”
Max isn’t saying anything, he’s just staring at the floor, so I keep going. “And you were right! I do need to live in reality. And I’m trying. I know I can’t just escape my problems. I mean, I’m standing in an elevator! And I even talked to my dad about my mom.”
At this, Max meets my eyes with a sad smile. “That’s really great, Alice,” he says. “I’m glad to hear it.”
But I keep talking. “So I’m saying, everything is fine!” I try again, because this isn’t the response I wanted. “I mean, look at me! I’m literally standing here in an elevator, confronting my fears, because of you. It doesn’t get any more real than this, Max. I don’t need the dreams if I’ve got you.” The hand that’s not holding Socrates is feverishly tapping rhythms against its own palm, and my body is starting to feel a little hot. Is there no air in here?
Max just keeps giving me that sad smile.
“Max?” I ask. “Say something.”
“I don’t know, Alice.” He shakes his head. “Maybe we’re just too different.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, the blood draining from my face as Socrates squirms between my fingers. Now it doesn’t matter if I’m in an elevator or not. I could be buried six feet beneath the ground and I’m not sure I would notice.
Max keeps talking. “I’ve been thinking about it all, too, about what I said. The thing is, you’ve always lived in the dreamworld. And it’s one of the most incredible things about you. I don’t want to take that away from you, but it seems like I do. Maybe we worked in the dreams, but in reality . . . maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
I stand there for a moment, frozen. “But I fixed it,” I try again. “I’m in an elevator.”
“I know,” Max says. “And right now we need to get you out of one, before you lose it.”
Slowly, he presses the Stop button again, and when the doors open this time, we find Jeremiah, Celeste, and Dean Hammer waiting for us.
“We had to call security,” Dean Hammer fumes. “Are you two all right? And who is responsible for this reptile?”
Without a word, I hand Socrates to Jeremiah and leave Max to explain while tears begin to slide down my cheeks.
NOVEMBER 1st
Somewhere out there, it sounds like Darth Vader is chuckling. This makes zero sense, since he was arguably the most serious man in the entire solar system, in the history of time. But there it is again, deep and sinister: Ho-ho-ho.
“What is that terrible noise?” I ask, sticking my head out of the safari tent and rubbing my eyes.
“Hippos.” Max looks up from his reading at the breakfast table. He gives a nod to the left. “We’re camped next to the river, and they seem to have a lot to say this morning.”
“I can’t tell if they are laughing at us or plotting our demise,” I say, grimacing as the strange bellows echo over the camp. “What?” I ask Max, who is giving me a look.
“Nothing!” He shrugs his shoulders good-naturedly. “You’ve just never been a morning person.”