The Sleepwalkers Read Online Free

has the one from the table clenched in his trembling fist. He looks at the new envelope, dumbly. Everyone falls silent now, watching him. It occurs to him that this is another part of the dream— he still hasn’t woken up yet. This is the part where everyone’s looking at him, and he looks down and finds himself naked . . . or covered in blood. Out the window, he hears the sound of the ocean, unending.
    “Well, open it,” his mother urges.
    Fumbling, he crams a thumb under the flap and tears. It’s a cheesy card and a check for two thousand dollars. Mom is smiling at him. He tries to smile back and can’t. Everyone waits for him. Suddenly, his head feels light, unright. He puts the check in his pocket and looks at the other envelope, the one addressed to “Billy.” Awareness washes over him. Everyone’s watching him, everyone’s waiting.
    Someone—Bean, probably—yells, “Speech!”
    Caleb clears his throat, still looking at the envelope.
    Silence swirls around him maddeningly. Except it’s not really silence.
    Finally, he speaks: “I’m not going to Africa anymore,” he hears himself say. He hardly knows why he said it, but it occurs to him in that instant that it’s already said. It’s already in the air, too late to take back.
    Now everyone’s going to ask him why. That’s the question percolating upon all of their lips, even now. And as he looks at the envelope in his trembling hand, he knows he will never be able to tell them the truth.

Chapter Two
    Dear Billy,
    I have been erased. The world doesn’t spin right anymore. Colors run away from me. I know why the caged bird sings. His song means “help me.”
    Do you remember my sister? She was a beautiful singer. Much better than me. She sang the same song. She still sings it, only very, very softly now. You must remember my sister. My greatest fear of all is that you don’t remember me anymore because there’s no one else who will. I have only been here six months, and already the world is washed clean of the faintest shadow of me.
    I live in the House of White Walls now. You will be glad to know I am making excellent progress. They send my mother letters every day, detailing my fantastic advances. I am erased from the world. I exist only in a one-paragraph report, biweekly delivered.
    Horrible things unravel me more and more. Every night, it steals my breath from me. My soul has grown dangerously thin.
    I was just writing to let you know THE WORLD IS ENDING AND THE DROWNED CHILDREN WHISPER TO ME EVERY NIGHT, and it’s HORRIBLE. You Don’t Know. I hear them GASPING.
    They are coming now. They come at night and steal pieces of me. Save me, Billy
    Billy, I love you I love billy. Lovely billy. SAVE ME!!
    Love, Christine
    xoxox

    B EAN FOLDS UP THE LETTER SLOWLY , carefully, and places it on the little foldout tray next to a half-spilled bag of airline peanuts. He picks up two peanuts delicately, tosses them into his mouth and starts chewing, staring all the while at the back of the seat in front of him. Caleb waits for the joke, for the wiseass comment—he longs for it, in fact, needs it to steady his nerves, to know that at least some things never change: no matter what, Bean takes nothing seriously. But Bean doesn’t say anything. He just takes a sip of his Coke and looks at the letter distrustfully, as if he expects it to sprout arms and slap him upside the head.
    “So . . . ?” Caleb says, and even this prompts no response. “What do you think?”
    “Dude, it got into my head,” Bean says, cracking an ice cube between his teeth and glancing sidelong at his friend.
    “Yeah,” says Caleb. Out of all possible responses, this is perhaps the worst he could have received. “Dude, you’re stupid,” “Dude, you’re gay,” “Dude, this person is just some wacko; pull your head out of your ass”—these would have all been acceptable, if embarrassing, quips from his best friend. They would have been comforting. This is not comforting.