Free The Girl Who Could Not Dream by Sarah Beth Durst Page A

good.”
    The mother sighed. “Remember last time?”
    â€œYeah, but I was
little
then.”
    â€œIt was last week.”
    The bus turned on its blinkers as it stopped. All traffic ground to a halt behind it. The other kids jostled to line up, and the three boys continued to shove one another. One of them pushed extra hard and bumped into Sophie.
    From the backpack, Monster yelped.
    â€œMom, Mom,
Mom,
there’s something in her backpack!” the toddler cried.
    â€œOf course there is,” the mother said, pulling the toddler back from the curb. “She’s going to school.”
    Hurrying, Sophie piled onto the bus with the others. Heading for the empty middle of the bus, she found a seat to herself and hefted the backpack with Monster onto her lap. She leaned her head against the window and hoped no one sat with her.
    Monster poked at her from within the backpack. “I want a view,” he whispered through the nylon.
    â€œNo,” she whispered back.
    He was silent for a moment. Then: “I’ll eat your homework.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYour book report looks tasty. Just needs ketchup.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMunch, munch . . .”
    Sophie unzipped the backpack one inch so that Monster could press his eyeball against the window. With all the streaks of dirt on the window, she didn’t think anyone outside could see the odd eye looking out of her backpack.
    â€œAh, lovely,” Monster said as they passed a post office. It had a flag by the front door and a golden eagle on its peak. “Tell me what that building is.”
    â€œWe can’t have a conversation.”
    â€œI’m being quiet.”
    â€œYeah, but I’m sitting alone. This looks weird.”
    â€œThen don’t talk. I’ll do a monologue.” He shifted within the backpack. “‘But soft, what light through yonder window breaks—’”
    â€œShh.” Sophie zipped the backpack closed.
    He poked a tentacle tip through and wiggled the zipper open an inch.
    Madison leaned over the seat behind her. “Hey, talking to yourself again?” She was chewing gum, smacking her teeth together. Her nails were painted sparkly pink, and she was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a pooping unicorn.
    â€œYes. Just talking to myself.” She zipped the backpack shut, and this time Monster didn’t try to open it. He lay still inside, as inert as textbooks.
    â€œOkay then,” Madison said. “So long as you aren’t talking to me.”
    â€œYou’re the one who started this conversation,” Sophie said, and then wished she hadn’t said anything. She did not want to draw attention to herself by arguing with Madison. She didn’t know why Madison didn’t just leave her alone. If she wanted to pretend that she and Sophie had no connection, simply ignoring her would work. The bus around them grew quiet.
    â€œI don’t talk to crazy people,” Madison announced.
    â€œThen you talking to me proves I’m not crazy.”
    â€œI’m telling you
not
to talk to me because you
are
crazy.”
    From the backpack, Monster murmured, “She’s not very bright, is she?”
    Madison’s eyes narrowed. “What was that, Crazy Sophie?”
    â€œWhat was what?” Sophie tried to mimic Monster’s innocent look. “I didn’t say anything. Are you hearing voices? Bad sign if you’re hearing voices.”
    Other kids snickered—this time at Madison, not at Sophie. Before Madison could pick a new insult, the bus wheels squealed, and they turned into the school parking lot. Sophie bolted off the bus.
    All the kids poured into the school, squeezing together in the doorway and then breaking apart on the other side. Monster chirped as kids pushed and jostled. As soon as she could, Sophie ducked into the girls’ bathroom.
    In a stall, she unzipped the backpack. Monster flopped his tentacles