Fear is coming. I smell it; sickly sweet hiding filthy decay.  It’s too soon.  I need to get ready. 

Three concrete blocks served as benches in the girl’s locker room.  Most of us had finished our showers and were dressed for next period.  The hiss of a few showers—and echoing voices—came from an adjoining room.  Chatter, like loose butterflies, fluttered around me without touching.  No one talked to me.  I was the unknown, the transfer student.  My nails weren’t long.  My hair wasn’t overly styled.  My jeans weren’t faded enough, not yet broken in.  My shoes weren’t the latest thing; built for maximum comfort and cross-training athletic support.  They were just sneakers.  My lace-trimmed, midnight blue top wasn’t quite Goth, or as fashion-forward as the in-crowd liked.

In a perfect world, it wouldn’t matter; but this was high school.

Sitting to my right, Gloria—one of the few girls whose name I knew—flipped through the pages of Guitar World magazine.  I smiled brightly and ventured a comment.  “So, you play guitar?”

She ignored me for a while, then spoke without looking up.  “Yeah.”

More silence.

“You’re serious about it?” I asked.

Another beat of silence.  “Yeah.”

I sighed and shrugged long, ash-blond hair from my face.  No one was making it easy for me to fit in.  I’d tried talking to the hunk who sat in front of me in home room.  He’d turned in his seat to visually measure the attributes of my flat chest, and promptly lost interest.  Still, he’d talked to the guy next to him, filling him in on the possibility of getting a college football scout interested.  The student hoped for a full ride at one of the better schools. 

This was one of the few dreams I’d collected over the last few days of being here.  Everyone needs a hobby.

I turned toward the girl on my left, a black girl with tight braids and yellowy-orange clothes that seared my gaze.  She looked back at me, saying, “What?”

“Hi, I’m Alexis.  You’re Darcy, right?”

“Do I know you?” she asked.

I shrugged.  “No, not really.  I just thought we could be … friends.”

“You need a token black in your line up?” she asked.

It was true that this school was mostly white, with few other ethnicities, but…  “I’m new here and I just thought, since we both have this class, we—”

“Give it up,” the girl said.  “You’re an NS; Nothing Special.  You need to hang with your own kind, the rest of the losers.”

Several of the nearby girls laughed at that.

My face burned with embarrassment, but I pressed on, needing as many dreams as I could gather.  “So, what makes you special?”

She stared at me for a long moment.  “I’m going places.  I’m going to win the election for student body president, major in government at an Ivy League college, and intern with a progressive congressman.  I’m going to be a shaker and mover, and fix this damn world once and for all.” 

“That’s a good dream,” I said.

Her brow furrowed.  Her voice heated, “A dream?  You don’t think I can really do it?”

I held up a palm to ward off her anger.  “No, that’s not what I—”

She yelled, “I’m going to show you.  I’ll show everyone!”   

Our coach, Ms. Dawson, came into the dressing room, wearing a track suit and glasses, her long hair tied in a dark knot at the nape of her neck.  She bellowed, “Quiet down.  There’s ten minutes left in the period.  Go on out, sit on the bleachers, and wait for the bell.”  She left. 

On our own, we stood, gathered our things, and headed out past the coach’s office.  A short hallway led us into the back of the gym.  The nets were still up for the next class to take their turn at volleyball.  A cylindrical bin made of wire held a collection of white volleyballs.  We scattered, taking possession of the benches on the left side of the sprawling space with its high, steel-beamed ceiling and scores of lights. 

As several minutes dragged by, I mentally viewed my collection of dreams, categorized under the names and faces appropriate to each, thumbing through them like the pages of a magazine.  I held the dreams close, treasuring them. 

The lights in the gym still burned, but some new quality in the air tinted everything crimson, a red shift.  A feeling of oppression closed upon me.  I froze along the edge of the basketball court.  My classmates were scattered about, most of them on the bleachers, oblivious to the change.  A few, though, were falling silent.

I hunched, braced against an attack I knew was coming.  I had dreamed of this—and dreaded it—and now waited for the inevitable.  I didn’t have a choice; my family had always been warriors of the Dream Lands, fending off the demon intrusions from Nightmare.  My right hand pressed against my chest, against the medallion under my top.  The family crest had awakened; its cold, watery light filtering through the cloth, fanning between my fingers in a silvery haze.  The necklace—a focus of power—had drawn out the enemy lurking here.  My presence put the students at greater risk, but I needed contact with their hopes and dreams to fuel my waning power.

My eyes scanned the empty courts, sliding toward one set of double-doors leading to the outer hall.  Those doors stood open.  A female figure lingered there, dressed outlandishly in a blood-red robe cinched at the waist by a faded black sash tucked so that the ends weren’t loose.  She carried a red lace parasol that formed a demonic halo, a stark backdrop for her jet-black hair. The overall effect suggested an animated poppy.  Looking human didn’t mean she was human. Anything could lie under that cruel smile.  The whole shell was fear given substance, anchoring an eternal darkness.

As she marched across the glossy, polished floorboards, the feeling of a crushing presence grew.  The air thickened, becoming harder to breathe.  A mirage-like waver took over the surrounding walls, as if the whole gym was sliding into the altered space of another dimension.

Discussions trailed off.  Gasps went off like fireworks, as students became aware that something weird had unfolded.  The approaching figure drew everyone’s stare.  Several girls stood, as if something deep inside warned them that they needed to face this threat on their feet, or maybe just run away.  A new surge of confused voices showed they had no clue about the awfulness of the coming terror.

Across the gym, back at the double doors, a male student entered on some errand—and promptly vanished.  I’d seen this effect before, at other places.  He’d entered the gym that was still in the human dimension, not this aspect of it that had been bent into elsewhere.  Until the enemy went down, the barrier would stand, trapping everyone but me.  Hyper-real as a dream warrior, I could leave; the demonic barrier couldn’t hold me. 

My honor did.  Duty.

Gloria stepped off the bleachers. She stopped next to me, forgetting that she had better things to do than to talk to some geeky transfer student.  “What the hell?  Where did he go?”

I could have explained, but the enemy was sashaying ever closer, her fevered stare locked onto me. 

As I stayed silent, Gloria turned my way as well.  Her mouth opened, another question forming.  That question became lost as she noticed the silver-blue light shimmering close to my chest.  She said, “What the hell?”

“You’re repeating yourself,” I muttered.  “Get back to the stands.  I’m the only one who can deal with this.”

She tore her stare from the silver fire and backed away without another word.

I headed onto the basketball court, trying to draw the demon after me, away from our captive audience, but Poppy continued along the court, getting between them and me.  Now I’d have to take the fight to her before she started playing with the students.  Dream Land demons always play with their food.  The dead faces of too many flashed in my head, those I’d not been able to save, those who’d died alone before I could get to what was left of them when the demons depart.  It wasn’t the flesh or blood they devoured, but the dreams and hopes, the promise of bright days yet to come.  The fallen comprised my other collection, the dark stain on my heart.

I pulled my hand from my chest, releasing the force of the dreams I’d borrowed.  The silver-blue light surged out, a real fountain that peeled sideways, bending around me into a film of hardening light.  The shell whirled, drawing out the fire I carried, and then contracted to become a second skin.  My clothes ghosted away as the light haze solidified.  I wore a sheath of celestial blue with silver threads shot through.  Silver gloves and boots materialized, complimenting a tiara of curled, silver leaves which held back my hair.  I knew from past experience that the tiara would be set with sapphire birthstones. 

There were gasps of surprise from the other girls, and an “Oh, my God.”

The light-play dimmed to bare glimmers chasing my contours, and lastly, a sword of light filled my hands—a thing of dreams that could never be seen back in the human dimension.

Poppy laughed.  “Ah, the magical girl appears.  So, you are going to save everyone from The Terrible Darkness That Comes A-Hunting?”

I ran forward, sword poised above me, a warrior’s shriek of rage ripping from my lips: this was all the answer I had for her kind.  I brought my sword slashing down at her head. 

She jerked the parasol off her shoulder, moving the red lace with its wire bracing forward to catch my sword.  Red jags of lightning and silver-blue sparks danced at the contact point.  I’d expected my sword to carve easily through the parasol, but it held much of her power, resisting my attack, stalling me out.

Her image stretched several yards sideways as though she were taffy, then compressed with her standing at a new location. 

I angled toward the left of the bleachers, getting between her and the largest concentration of students.  They stood there like this was a computer game being acted out for their benefit.  We all think we’re immortal until evil comes to eat us alive.

The demon laughed again: her shrill joy wrapping something darker, the way her human form hid pitiless hunger and savagery.  “You can’t save them all.  You’ve grown too weak.  What’s wrong?  Don’t your friends want to share their dreams with you?  Selfish humans; wanting the future just for themselves.  Well, I have come to feed, and no one can stop me!”

The mask of her human face slipped, turning puffy as she swelled larger, her teeth sharpening, becoming triangular and multi-rowed like a shark’s.  The whites of her eyes filled in with inky darkness as she loomed the way only a shadow could, if it were able to climb mid-air without support.  Crimson tentacles spilled out from under her robes where her legs should have been.  Her black hair lifted in snake-like tendrils that waved like seagrass. 

Her gaze slid across the girls.  “Hmmm, who shall I eat first?”

There was a mass exodus of students running down the bleachers, heading for distant, double doors.  Darcy and Gloria held their position, whether from courage or fear, I didn’t know.  Certainly not from loyalty.  Several of their friends remained as well.  I wished I had a few. 

Why would anyone care about me?  

A red tentacle shot from the hem of Poppy’s robes, angling off the floor, spearing into the heart of one of the girls.  Angie?  Andrea?  It didn’t matter; I was in motion, my sword a dazzle of silver-blue as I swept it across the tentacle, alert to more limbs that might shoot out.  The slashed tentacle exploded into poppies that littered the floor.  The stricken girl collapsed at the edge of the bleachers, no wound showing what had been done to her, but I knew.  I spared her a fleeting glance.  Her eyes were wide, empty as her heart.  She spoke to herself.  “I’m nothing special, too.  Just another loser.  No one will ever want me.”

Poppy laughed.  “Poor thing.  She wanted to marry a CEO, raise a nice family, and be the admiration of many.”  She smiled, her teeth clacking together like razors.  “So much for that.”

I leaped at her, knowing full well she and I were only playing with illusions here in the Dreamscapes.  My sword slashed across her torso, but she melted—a wash of blood and dark decay that flowed across the glossy floor.  A dozen feet away, the sludge surged upward.  Poppy reformed; her smile wider.  “I don’t want to release you from suffering, but if you continue to annoy me, I might forget that.”

Fight with your heart, but also your head, I reminded myself.

The girls who reached the double doors were huddled, desperately trying to push out, but the barrier defeated them.  I heard their echoing sobs, their cries of frustration and despair.  They needed me, last of my line.  There was no one else to save them.  I raised my sword but kept it point-down.  I jammed the weapon into the glossy floorboards and watched its length vanish, as if into an unseen sea.  Poppy screamed as the missing blade thrust out of her chest, stabbing back in my direction. 

Time, distance, and direction are meaningless in a dream.

I poured out my strength, trying to end her, but my sword flickered, most of its strength already expended.  The blade guttered out midair, and the hilt dissolved in my grip, disarming me.

Crap!

Poppy’s smile remained.  There was nothing humorous about it, just a baring of teeth—a dark promise of pain.  A half dozen of her tentacles jutted my way, winding together, fusing into a massive club that got bigger as it neared. 

I threw up my arms to shield myself, but was battered off my feet, slammed back into the bleachers.  Pain exploded along my spine.  My head whipped back onto a flat surface and I saw starbursts as my vision grayed.  I couldn’t make my body move and knew I needed to—not for myself, but for the dreams about to die. 

I heard a scream end in a gasp as another girl was speared. 

I pulled myself up, my vision clearing, my body weak and trembling.  Gloria and Darcy were looking at me, wanting me to do something, anything, but I didn’t even have a dream of my own to call upon.  Still, I glowered at Poppy.  “You can’t have them.  Every dream is precious. 

The world needs them all!  I.  Will.  Stop.  You.

Her back turned to the threat, Gloria called out to me.  “You can have my dream of playing in a band in front of millions, adored by the world, touching the lives of everyone.  You’ll see me shining in the colored spots as the crowds roar and you will be amazed.”

One of the girls I didn’t know spoke.  “I want to be a journalist and work for Rolling Stone magazine so everyone will think I’m cool.”

Another girl said, “I want to be a vet and help all the helpless, fuzzy creatures.”

Darcy said, “I’m going to be the first fully black President.”

Another girl said, “I’m going to Hollywood to become the brightest star ever!”

Another girl said, “I want a garage where I can work on electric cars so I can help save the planet!”

Their dreams came fast and furious.  My heart burned with them.  I felt my shoulders lighten from a load I could barely carry.  Silver hazed me once more, stronger this time.

Poppy swelled even higher, expanding sideways into new lumps of tentacles.  Her clothing melted away.  Her hair became a patch of black fire.  Her two eyes touched, merging to become a single organ, a well of darkness.  More and more tentacles boiled out of her writhing bulk. 

Instead of reforming my sword, I pointed a hand at the volleyball nets.  The fibers transformed to titanium mesh, ripping free of their poles.  The mesh flapped over to Poppy, wrapping her.  The mesh sliced deep into her substance, drawing black fire from fresh wounds.   Struggling, she sank into the floor, but the mesh—under my control—didn’t let her escape.  Pinned, she screamed in rage, rippling the dream zone. 

I gestured with my other hand.  The cylindrical cage of wire holding the balls fell over and filled in with light that became substance.  Flooring bucked up and added support.  A silver cannon formed.  The cannon belched thunder and smoke.  A barrage of volley balls streaked at Poppy.  The balls transformed mid-air.  Spiked missiles, they struck the demon and exploded with the full force of my indignant fury.  Tentacles shredded.  Demon flesh splattered everywhere, a red scum that bubbled and blackened at the edges as silver flame ate into it.  At the center of the explosions, a portal to endless darkness hovered just above the gym floor—a window into Nightmare through which more evil might come.

I called upon the last of my shining strength, formed a rapier in my hand, and rushed down to the floor.  As my feet hit the polished wood, it parted for me.  I sank into reddish darkness.  A moment later, I rose across the floor, beside the floating black hole.  “Eeeeeeeahhh!”  I stabbed my blade into the hole, knowing the concentrated essence of dreams would be too potent for it to handle.  The hole collapsed in upon itself as the demon fled. 

I’d won.  This time.

The rapier ghosted away as the red quality of the air cleared out.  The gym no longer wavered like a mirage.  We were back, the barrier broken.  As broken … as … me.  Awash with pain, I slumped to my knees, wearing my street clothes once more.  As a dream warrior, I retained the injuries I’d acquired while the rest of the world shrugged off the passing of an evil dream. 

There are definite drawbacks to being a magical girl.

I crashed to the floor, darkness crowding.   I lost a few moments, then felt my head and shoulders being raised.  My eyes opened.  Gloria and Darcy had me.  They held me, the other girls ringing us all.  All eyes were on me, no longer blind to my hidden depths. 

“Hey.”  My voice lacked strength, weak as the rest of me.  At least I could feel my legs.  I could probably get up.  In a minute or two.  With a great deal of pain.

“Hey,” Darcy said, “still want to be friends?”

“Took the words out of my mouth.”  Gloria caught my eyes.  “Someone’s got to stop you from becoming a fashion disaster.”

The would-be vet said, “What the hell happened to the floor?  It was blown to splinters, but now it’s back like before.”

“When a pocket dimension collapses,” I said, “it takes the damage with it.  This isn’t the same gym as … the other one.” 

I saw excitement and the light of hope flow back into the dead faces of the girls that had lost their dreams to the demon.  With the demon’s shell destroyed, their dreams were their own again.  And the dark stain on my heart grew a little smaller.  I wept with quiet joy.

“What’s wrong,” Gloria said.  “We won, right?”

“Yeah, we did.  Hey, someone want to help me limp to the nurses’ office?  I’m going to need some serious down time.”

Some of them picked me up and carried me, while others formed an honor guard to lead the way.  It was embarrassing, and glorious, and the beginning of better days because I realized I did have a dream—a dream of friends, a dream come true .  Sort of.  A nagging voice in the back of my head said: Real friends don’t accept you just because you’re special.  That’s shallow.

Still, their gushing acceptance watered my parched soul, so I’d take what I could get.