BOGEYMAN DREAMS

Leda sleeps with Ma and Pop. One night in how many?—hundreds?—I get to sleep by myself.

I should be nice and invite Ray off the floor, but he’s burping from too much junk food.

We live, sleep in a tiny, dim square. Dark shadows. Hidden feelings.

I don’t know why Ma babies Pop. He doesn’t cough all the time but still acts sick. I wish I could see where. Understand why. It’d make everything easier. If he had a cast, I’d write my name on it.

Pop’s wrong. The towers’ falling means something. Else the school wouldn’t be teaching it.

Think critically.

Ben, Sabeen, and me all felt something. But I think we all felt something different.

Muslim terrorists. Was Sabeen crying because she thought me and Ben would think less of her? Being Muslim doesn’t make her less than. Sabeen’s the nicest girl I’ve ever met.

I turn onto my side, facing the blank wall. Ben’s drawings show what he’s lost. I can’t draw as well as him, but I’d draw circles: me in one, my family in another. Our circles overlap just barely. Families can break.

If I go to a new school, my circle of friends will break.

I close my eyes. I’m so sad. Knowing what I know now, I wish I hadn’t seen the video. I open my eyes. Is that true?

I punch the pillow and pull the sheet up to my neck. “Sleep,” I tell myself. “Sleep.”

I’m in Ben’s room. In front of his computer. I hear a whirring howl. Outside, I see a plane. I scream, “Stop!” But the huge silver plane, pointy like a bullet, keeps getting bigger and bigger, keeps flying toward and through the window into me.