Waking Sleep

**Hello. I could use some help with flow, grammar, varying my syntax, and whether my ideas were communicated clearly. I don’t really consider this finished, per se, but I do want to see what I need to improve in my writing. Thank you**

Taylor was veiled in white. She soared like an arrow, twirling as she pierced the clouds. White ribbons trailed after her as she flew into the morning light. The sun hadn’t fully risen, but its low-lying embers still lightened the blue darkness. Taylor stood still, caught between sky and space. She didn’t know what would happen if she broke through the atmosphere. She hadn’t dared to travel so far away from her body nor phase out of it for so long before. She hovered, time suspended for a few moments. Wary, she dove back down, breaking through the cloud layers. Earth and sea rushed to meet her.

She slowed her descent until she could make out the waves breaking on the water. Some fishing ships bobbed in the harbor below her. Only a few blocks east of the docks was the Valorie neighborhood, where the roofs of palatial houses seemed to be right beneath Taylor’s feet. On these sojourns, Taylor often couldn’t see her family’s bungalow until she was nestled in the treetops.

The deep blue sky was brightening to a rosy color. Taylor figured she had ten minutes left, but she knew she could make it in three. Wisps of vapor streamed behind her like chemtrails as she flew north of the docks, above the cars choking the roads. She banked right into a tight copse of trees and swooped so low her fingers could touch the grass. She went up as a hill crested, a little thrill rushing through her as she zoomed down the other side. The roofs of the houses got lower and lower until she glided to a stop.

Taylor landed on the sidewalk near a low-lying bungalow with a shabby green roof. The windows were cluttered with houseplants, her cat Starlight sleeping in between two pots. She phased into the brown door and past the cluttered kitchen, going up the stairs to her room.

She looked through the door of her bedroom. The room was entirely dark, save for the reading light on Taylor’s book. Her head rested on the open pages, her prone body curled into herself. She walked over to her body and winced at the bruise on her cheek. A classmate had swung their locker too far open and hit her cheek. It was done out of ignorance and not malice, but it had still hurt. Taylor phased back into her body, curling into the same position.

Immediately, her eyes flew open. The alarm’s angry red glare clashed with the soft glow of dawn. 7:15. Taylor had given herself enough time to fully integrate. She wriggled her fingers, then her toes. Only two of the fingers on her left hand moved and three of her right toes did. She tried moving her mouth and it parted, albeit slightly. A swell of frustration rose in her stomach as her heart hammered against her ribs. At least Taylor could feel that.

When she began her nightly travels, Taylor would phase back in and be up within seconds. Spending more time out of her body made it more difficult to feel and control it- or “integrate”, as she’d termed it. Her basic functions, like breathing and digestion, still seemed to operate when she was gone. Regaining control over her limbs and face now required time and patience.

Taking deep breaths, Taylor flexed the fingers on her right hand, then the ones on her left, then both of her toes. Her left hand became fully integrated first, then her right hand slowly began streching out as she commanded it. Muscles in her arms and legs jumped erratically. Taylor was glad her door was closed when she slept; she couldn’t imagine how freakish she looked.

Her shrieking alarm broke her trance. Taylor reached to press the “off” button, but her arm swung wildly and knocked the clock off the bedside table. A low groan gathered in her throat and she stumbled over to the worn carpet. The alarm clock’s angry glare told her it was too late to keep waiting. Taylor sighed. Being able to move would have to be enough for now. After brushing her teeth and taming her dense curls into a ponytail, Taylor went to get her uniform from her closet. Brown slacks or a brown skirt below the knees (girls could choose), a tan belt, white collared shirt, and red blazer. One set and dozens of ways to seemingly mess it up- that is, if Taylor’s classmates had anything to say about it. She picked her blazer up from the floor and was about to put it on until something rough and crusted flaked off onto her fingers.

Horrified, Taylor turned the blazer to the back. Alfredo sauce had been smeared all over it. Wilted pieces of broccoli were splattered against the shoulder and arms. Taylor gagged and threw the blazer against her wall. Yesterday’s jeers echoed in her head as they had in that cavernous lunchroom. Her shoulders hunched up as she remembered being pushed against the wall, feeling the viscous sauce drip down her back. Heat prickled in her eyes and blurred her vision. Her early morning peace had been shattered. Choking down the lump in her throat, Taylor grabbed another blazer from her closet. School was just another reason to phase out.

Taylor cracked the door open slightly. A ray of sunlight snuck into her home. The breeze carried the scent of sea salt, cleansing out the stench of old butter and milk. Taylor’s eyes darted to the bus stop, scanning the regulars there. Some early morning regulars were huddling under the bus shelter. Ms. Morrison stood under the rusted bus shelter, her creaky cart beside her. An old man was sitting on the bench and feeding birds. He never rode the route Taylor took but waited for a bus that had the same stop as Taylor’s.

There was another classmate, Micah, who had supposedly moved near her neighborhood. She only knew him from a few. Recently, he’d been polling people on what he should take or leave behind. So far, friends and strangers alike had convinced him to keep a dartboard and some board games. Taylor had wanted to buy his Princess Bride DVD. He still hadn’t responded to her message.

The bus screeched in front of the stop and braked with a pneumatic groan. Sighing, Taylor shouldered her backpack and fished her student bus card from her pocket. Taylor paid the toll and held onto a pole. The bus lurched forward and rocked back, and Taylor swayed with it. She put her earbuds on and let her head loll, eyes closing.

It started with the silencing. All she could hear was the steady thrum of the guitar in her veins, the drums louder to her than her own heartbeat. The singer’s crescendoing rage seemed to draw out Taylor’s own anger. She nodded her head along to the beat. And when it dropped, Taylor was gone.

Taylor could see, but her eyes were closed. Her body was slumped against the pole, swaying with the bus. Taylor never realized how fragile she was until she stepped outside of herself like this. Knobby knees, slouching socks, a red flare of acne lining her jaw. Hanesville was pretty safe in the mornings, and she knew the people on her commute. No one was sitting close to her body, either. Still, some of the things she’d seen people do during her travels made her shudder. She never phased out when riding the bus at night.

She flexed her fingers and found that they were more substantial than they were last. She was no more than a wisp the first time she traveled, drawing up from her body like a white flame. Maybe it was just her spirit or mental projection being fully realized. The image of her mind 3D printing this ghostly form made Taylor smile. Taylor floated upward and phased through the bus’s ceiling. She hummed the rest of the song to herself and enjoyed the double-decker view of Hanesville.

Beneath her, people were walking their dogs or caring for their lawns. Wind chimes twinkled as shops welcomed their first customers of the day. Stop signs flashed ruby red as crossing guards waved children across the street. Tree boughs grazed the bus’s roof with their branches. The bus lurched to another stop, this time at Montrose. Taylor glanced over the side of the bus, curious about who was getting on. Brassy curls glinted in the sunlight. A lone leaf fluttered onto their head, and they looked up. Squinting blue-green eyes and a freckled button nose met Taylor. That had to be Micah. He looked similar to the few photos she’d seen on his public story. Hopefully, she could ask him about the DVD.

Taylor sank through the bus’s ceiling and entered her body, her eyes flying open. Ms. Morrison jumped a little in her seat as Taylor awoke. The old woman muttered to herself about crazy teenagers as Taylor leaned against the pole, trying to reintegrate. Then the bus lurched forward and Taylor went with it. She slammed into someone’s chest and fell to her knees. Her hold on the pole had slackened after she’d phased out. Taylor gritted her teeth. She knew she shouldn’t have phased out, but seeing her ruined blazer stressed her. She just needed a break. The specks of dirt on the bus’s blue floor swam in and out of her vision.

A calloused hand reached down in front of her. “Let me help you up .” Taylor grabbed onto the stranger’s wrist, a braided bracelet scratching against her palm. The bus turned, and her legs wobbled as she pulled herself up. Thankfully, she hadn’t been out of her body for too long.

Taylor finally dared to look into their eyes. She expected the stranger to be concerned or even upset but was startled to see a smile on their freckled face.

“Rough morning?” He quirked an eyebrow up at her.

Taylor was slow in responding, and it wasn’t just because her lips weren’t responding as quick. “Th…That’s an understatement.” She tried to laugh but it sounded more like she was choking on her spit. “Thank you. . . Micah? I guessed because I’d seen your story about moving.”

The surprise on his face faded. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re welcome.” He grabbed a handrail loop and pulled his phone out. Taylor sputtered, ” Wait. Are you still selling your Princess Bride DVDs?”

“Huh?”

“The posts on the freshman story.” Taylor showed him the images she’d saved. She had to scroll with her ring finger since her others weren’t fully flexing, though some feeling was returning.

He pressed his lips tightly together. “Mmm. Yeah, I had wanted to sell these, but my folks think they might keep it instead. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright. Do you at least still have the comics? I thought I saw some back issues I haven’t read yet.”

“Sure! I can bring them to school tomorrow so you can flip through them. What’s your name?”

“Taylor.” They shook hands. The warmth of Micah’s hand spread through Taylor, his grip firm. Taylor squeezed back, pleased to feel all five fingers wrapped around his hand.

Micah and Taylor walked into school together, chattering happily. They found a seat near the edge of the lunchroom. Micah and Taylor compared schedules and found that they both had art and math together. “I’ll find you in both of these classes. I’ll probably be arriving late anyways.” Taylor said. She tried to put off staring at her blank canvas for as long as possible.

“That’s cool. I switched into Mrs. Hanesberry’s because of a scheduling issue. I’ve heard she can be pretty tough, so I’ve been sitting in the back this entire time. I’ll sit up front so you can find me. ”

Taylor blushed a little in response. “Ah, thanks. Mrs. Hanesberry is really sweet, you shouldn’t worry too much about her class. ” The bell rang and Taylor bounded away, more energetic than usual.

Her morning classes went by in a breeze. She was tempted to float away when her teacher got sidetracked into a tangent about Christopher Marlowe, but the warmth of her earlier conversation grounded her.

The bell rang for second period. Taylor trudged to her gym class. When she arrived, she found most of her classmates huddled in the center of the gym. Taylor’s stomach dropped as she saw Addie, Kara, and Marion near the benches chatting. A few of the guys leaned over the bannister to get their attention. The three girls glanced at Taylor, then sniggered to each other behind their hands. They had been in the lunchroom yesterday. Taylor’s face flushed as she joined the rest of the class.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! You can get off those benches and get ready for kickball!” Coach MacAllister’s voice boomed. Taylor’s embarrassment faded as Coach MacAllister led the class in warm-ups. Taylor bent low into calf stretches, then stretched her leg forward into a lunge. She shook her arms out and hopped up and down, just for the joy of embodiment.

“Feeling good today, Taylor?” MacAllister pointed his head toward the left basketball hoop. ‘ You can pick the teams for today’s dodgeball match.” Coach MacAllister chose Ronnie to be the captain of the other team. It was implicitly understood that some friend groups stayed together, but Taylor took a perverse joy in separating the gaggle of girls by picking Marion when Ronnie had chosen Addie and Kara.

With a tweet of his whistle, Coach MacAllister started the game. The first kicker was Addie, the friend of the girls she separated. She stomped over to first base and furrowed her eyes in concentration. With a furious kick, Addie launched the ball from first base. It zoomed past Taylor’s infielders. Taylor dashed forward to intercept and caught the ball in her stomach. Her back smacked against the floor.

Gasping, Taylor fought to stay in her body. She didn’t want to risk falling and failing- not in front of her classmates, anyway. Taylor breathed in and out through gritted teeth, trying to save the pulsing pain in her head. Shoes squeaked across the gym floor as one of her classmates, Zoë, ran over to help her up.

“Thank you,” Taylor croaked, then winced. It seemed like she was watching everything happen to someone else; she desperately wished that was the case. She squeezed her eyes tightly and inched forward, her right arm slung around Zoë’s shoulder.

When she opened them, Marion had joined Addy and Kara in the crowd. Zoë was guiding her to the benches behind them. Taylor’s head throbbed harder as Addy smirked smugly at her, than whispered to Marion and Kara. The delighted smiles on Marion and Kara’s faces made it obvious it wasn’t anything sympathetic. Heat so hot flushed through Taylor’s face she thought her hair would singe. Taking a shaky breath, she focused on just her left arm- it would be the closest to the trio. It tingled as she began phasing it out. She looked down at her ghost hand and found it lined and calloused, though still somewhat transparent. If her earlier prediction was right, then it seemed like her ghostly self was becoming more solid. Marion’s gold hoop earrings became easier to make out as Taylor got closer to the group. They jingled against each other as Marion turned to Taylor, making eye contact with the injured girl. Taylor glanced down immediately and hunched over further, making herself seem more vulnerable than she really was. As they passed by the trio, Taylor backhanded Addy as her left arm remained by her side.

Addy’s head jerked into Marion’s forehead. Marion’s neck flicked back and she barked, “Hey!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Addy glanced at Taylor and opened her mouth but immediately shut it. “I didn’t do anything!”

Marion followed her friend’s gaze. “How could she have done anything? Is it always someone else’s fault?”

Zoe lowered Taylor onto the bench gently and turned to watch Marion and Addy, frowning. As the two quarreled, Kara stepped back from her friends, an uncomfortable smile growing on her face. “Do you need anything else? ”

Taylor shook her head, though her attention was elsewhere. She stretched her left arm out and rolled the wrist. “Thank you.”

“You bet. If they say anything to Coach MacAllister about it, I’ve got your back.”

Taylor was about to speak before a vise-like spasm seized her left arm. She clamped her hand over it and rubbed it vigorously. “Yeah, thanks, but I think you should run back to the center now. Coach MacAllister is going to start the game again.”

Right as Taylor finished her sentence, three short whistle blasts pierced through the clamor. “Marion, Addy enough! If you don’t get back to your teams you will be given detention. Everyone, get back in position!”

Zoe bounded over to the rest of the class. Though they were still bickering, Addy, Marion, and Kara went over to the same side of the field. So much for her plan to break them up. The caged gym clock did give Taylor some hope, however. Gym was going to end in twenty minutes, but Coach MacAllister let them leave earlier on Fridays. Besides, Taylor was recovering. Her left arm prickled with sensation. Even her stomach felt somewhat better, her breathing easier.

As expected, class ended with Taylor’s team at a loss, 3-1. The only point they earned had come from Zoe’s home run. Taylor expected it but was still stunned to find herself grimacing as she heard the final score. Sighing, she heaved herself off the benches and went to the locker room.

After showering and getting dressed, Taylor began to walk to her next class. The hallways were empty, save for a few other gym students leaving the locker room. Taylor climbed the stairs, but whispers from the stairwell drew her attention. She climbed up and craned her head down slightly to hear what they were saying.

“Yeah, I even saw her grabbing her left arm!”

Taylor braced herself and looked down at the trio. Miraculously, they had made up since in the five minutes after early dismissal. Their heads swiveled as they shot glances towards the locker room and down the hall, never thinking to look up. Of course. She rolled her eyes and continued climbing up.

“Her eyes were moving all weird as she moved past us! Kinda like during REM, you know? ”

Kara’s next few sentences were drowned out by the third period bell, but Taylor froze. She had only phased out during sleep but didn’t think partially phasing out could evoke the same conditions. Taylor tapped her fingers against the railing, motionless as the stairs swelled with students clambering to their classes. Then, just as abruptly as she stopped, she started up the stairs again, albeit a little slowly.

Their comments still ricocheted in Taylor’s head by the time she reached the art room. Suddenly, she remembered her earlier conversation and her heart leapt. She scanned the room from the door, looking for green eyes or brassy curls, but only found the same old faces

The easels were in a semicircle, centered around a projector screen across from where Taylor stood. In front of the projector was Mrs. Hanesberry podium, where she would guide the class through art critiques. Still hopeful Micah would come, Taylor sat at the easel closest to the podium. She was pulling her project from her backpack when the chair beside her scraped against the floor. Her heart beat a little faster.

Panting, Micah took a seat. He had to run over from his math class, which was a floor below art. “It’s actually not too far of a trip, but my test took longer than I wanted it to.”

“That excuse only goes so far. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“I’m willing to see how long I can use it,” Micah whispered back as the lights flickered off. Mrs. Hanesberry had entered the room and started the projector. After looking at an old-fashioned video about how art critique should go, they started analyzing each other’s pieces. Taylor’s oil painting, “Over the Seas” was met with special acclaim.

“Gorgeous atmospheric perspective,” Mrs. Hanesberry said, her earrings jangling. “I especially love how clearly you were able to indicate the trees were there by giving just enough detail and leaving the rest to our interpretation.

Taylor straightened her back and thanked her classmates, bathing in the glow of praise.

Since Micah didn’t have a piece, he could simply watch without any pressure. However, Taylor smiled as he complimented his classmates and offer constructive critique. The class’s frequent online engagement with him made more sense.

Taylor and Micah walked out of class together. Students flooded onto the streets to catch the bus home or make it on time to their part-time jobs. Loud chatter joined the racket of afternoon traffic. Taylor shielded her eyes from the sunlight and loosened her tie. They’d only been out for a few minutes, and she already felt like she was being smothered. Micah shouldered his backpack and loosened his tie, too. He glanced down at his shoes, then back at Taylor.

“Taylor, my friends and I are heading over to the skate park. If you have the time, you could come with me.” The last sentence was rushed out. Micah shifted from foot to foot, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Uhh..” The fact that they had sat together in class was more than enough for Taylor. But the fact that any of her classmates would want to spend more time with her seemed nearly incomprehensible that she wasn’t sure if she heard correctly. “With you?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to stick around the whole time, if you’ve-”

“I’ll come. I might leave early, but I’ll see”

Micah blinked, then nodded. The two of them walked towards the bus stop as Micah told her about his time there.

Even though she hadn’t phased out, Taylor still felt like she was soaring amidst the clouds.