Blue Is for Nightmares by Laurie Faria Stolarz Read Free Book Online Page B

Drea goes to grab it, but I get there first. "Hello. Hello? I know you're there."
    "Give it to me," Drea says.
    I shake my head and listen. I can hear someone breathing on the other end--thick, even breaths.
    And then he finally hangs up.
    "Drea," I demand, clicking the phone off, "who is this guy?"
    "I told you. He's just someone I've been talking to." "What's his name?" I ask.
    "I don't know," she says. "It's not important anyway" "His name isn't important?"
    "Names are just tags we put on to label ourselves," she says. "They don't mean anything."
    "What are you talking about?"
    "Forget it," she says. "I didn't think you'd understand." "Does he go here?" Amber asks.
    She shakes her head.
    "Then how do you know him?" "Well, not that it's any of your business," she says, "but he called here one night by accident, basically a wrong number, and we just started talking."
    "Do you call him?" I ask.

    "No. He says he can't give his number out."
    "Why?"
    "Hey, I'm not on trial here. Enough questions." Drea pulls the diary from her drawer to write.
    "So not smart." Amber extracts a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her pajamas, taps the box against her palm, and lights one with the candle flame. She sucks on the cigarette as though it's an asthma inhaler.
    "Since when do you smoke?" I ask.
    "Since I found an only half-used pack in the lobby"
    "Well, if Madame Discharge smells that, we're all dead."
    "I think it's airy enough in here, don't you?" Amber makes fish faces as she blows 0-shaped puffs of smoke toward the broken window. "Besides, with that stuff you're burning, it smells like skunk piss in here."
    I wave the tendrils of smoke from my face before moving over to the corner window, the one that isn't broken. It's black outside--just a few scattered stars in the distance. I make a wish on one of them, for peace and safety. The glass is chilly, like the room, and the heat of my breath forms a cloud. I draw a peace sign in the middle of it with my finger and then peer down through my print.
    There's a man looking up at me from the lawn. It's hard to see too well in the darkness, but I can tell he's older, maybe forty or fifty-ish, and that he has sort of dark, wispy hair. He's wearing a pair of jeans, I think, and holding a large shopping bag. When he sees that I notice him, he looks away, toward the windows of the other rooms. "Guys, there's somebody out here spying on us."
    6o
    "What?" Drea joins me at the window to look. "Maybe it's a janitor."
    "Maybe we should call security," I say.
    'And tell them what?" Amber says. "That one of the janitors is working outside? Big news flash.
    They'll have us committed."
    "We already called them once tonight," Drea says.
    "You guys are worse than a couple of old ladies." Amber bounces up and in between us to look.
    Her eyes widen. "Jel-l000, Big Boy," she says. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Eat your heart out, Brantley Witherall. Maybe there's hope for me yet."
    'Are you kidding?" Drea says. "He's ancient."

    "Yeah, well, times are tough." Amber combs her hands down the front of her pajama top, all sexylike, then flips the top up, revealing two lacy red demi-cups, her boobs oozing out the top.
    'Amber!" Drea screeches, pulling her away from the glass. "What do you think you're doing?"
    "Lighten up," Amber says. "See, it just goes to show you, don't laugh when Mom tells you to always wear good underwear."
    "Clean underwear," Drea corrects.
    I remain at the window, staring out at the man from behind the curtain. I can tell that he's tall, and from the movement of his body as he walks, searching the other windows, that he's also very strong. He peers in my direction and smiles, somehow able to see me. I panic and pull the shade down.
    "You guys are just too paranoid," Amber says, chomping on Drea's candy bar. "There's enough security around here to keep god away"
    "Easy for you to say," Drea says. "You don't live on the ground floor."
    "Fine, you want me to call campus police?" Before Drea or