Somniphobia, p.1
Somniphobia, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Somniphobia
Pressure
Cleithrophobia
About the Authors
Teaser
Copyright
“IT’S JUST TERRIBLE, BILL. ALL THESE PEOPLE GAWKING AT THE POOR FAMILY’S BELONGINGS.”
Bill eyed his wife. “You mean like we are?”
“Oh hush,” Mildred scolded, staring at the display of home items set on several tables at the yard sale. If it gave her something to share at her weekly pinochle game, so be it. “We’re concerned neighbors, Bill. Maybe we can take something off their hands so they’re able to move on as soon as they can. It’s just a shame about Josh. Sweet boy.”
Bill scratched his jaw. “Can’t say I remember him much.”
“Well, he was an odd one. Quiet, kept mostly to himself. And now he’s suddenly in a coma, in need of full-time care.” She glanced around and added in a loud whisper, “So sad that his parents have to move out of state to get help from their family.”
“No rhyme or reason for said coma?”
She picked up a mixing bowl. “One day, he just wouldn’t wake up. Doctors called it a medical mystery.” Mildred felt a chill and set the bowl back down. The household items suddenly seemed sad and lonely to her. “Maybe we can donate to help out.”
Bill picked up a broken sphere with an odd-looking character inside. He assumed it was one of those funny court jesters, wearing a cap and fluffy pants. With a frown, Bill set the ball down. “I think a donation would be best, Milly. Let’s go home now.”
“Raad, what scares you the most?”
“Cliffs, dude,” Raad said. “Or ledges on tall buildings. I get the chills like I might fall over the side. And clowns, definitely. Such a cliché, I know, but I saw some creepy movies as a kid.”
Sam Barker listened as he sat with Raad, Jules, Larry, and Bogart in the bleachers at lunch on Friday. It was the spot for seniors to hang out. Sam and his friends had been waiting three years to get to this level of the hierarchy.Freshman year, they’d been in the cafeteria. Sophomore year, they sat in the courtyard. Junior year, they ate in front of the school on the steps and now, finally, they were on the bleachers. The only downside, in Sam’s opinion, was that the football field attracted the most sunshine.
The sky was clear today, and it was a good thing Sam had applied sunscreen twice before lunch. But as a drip of sweat slid down his forehead, he realized he was going to need to apply a third coat soon in order to not boil like a lobster. With his blond hair and fair skin, he probably should be wearing a hat at lunch from now on just to be safe. He pushed his vintage black-rimmed glasses up his nose and carefully unwrapped his sandwich as he listened to Raad talk about his fears. Yesterday, the lunch topic had been the best films of all time.
“Oh,” Raad continued, “and those amusement rides that make you drop from way up high. I feel like my guts get left behind. Sooo not good.”
“I love those rides,” Bogart announced, and then took a massive bite of his pepperoni pizza slice. Bogart was the most talkative one of the group. He was also the guy who always wore shorts. There hadn’t been a day in high school that his calves were covered, even when it was freezing outside.
Jules stood against the side railing as he snacked from a chip bag. He didn’t sit often and was usually on the move. Larry chomped on the hamburger and fries that his mom had dropped off for him before lunch. The guys always teased him that his mom still brought him lunch during senior year. Sam had stopped telling him how much trans fat was in those meals when Larry had finally said, “Bro.” Larry was a guy of very few words. His hair was long and frizzy; Sam didn’t think he owned a comb.
Raad leaned back on his elbows and had his legs stretched out and crossed in front of him. He wore his clothes two sizes too big but managed to look stylish in them somehow. His white tennis shoes were always clean and bright. Sam wasn’t sure how he managed that. He wore his dark hair overgrown so that the ends nearly reached his shoulders. Of course Raad wasn’t eating. He usually skipped lunch, no matter how many times Sam told him about the benefits of three meals a day.
Sam was actually surprised his friend was afraid of anything at all. Raad was so easygoing. That was probably why he was able to remain friends with Sam, since everything bothered Sam. Raad had never seemed to pay any mind to his pal’s cautious way of life. If Raad hadn’t accepted him for who he was since elementary school, Sam felt he likely would have drifted away from the group. Jules, Bogart, and (sometimes) Larry just didn’t fully get him.
Sam studied his sandwich—organic turkey, no dairy, on gluten-free bread, with mustard and fresh organic lettuce, tomato, and pickles. He’d made it himself. No way would he eat from the school cafeteria. Who knew how many hands had touched the food prep, how many people were breathing on it. Not only that, but their school district hadn’t yet conformed to organic ingredients or no preservatives in their meals.
Sam had researched his upset stomach issues last year and realized gluten, heavy oils, and preservatives didn’t sit well with his digestion. His frequent anxiety gave him a nervous stomach. He also had to steer clear of caffeine and sugar or his anxiety shot into overdrive and he couldn’t calm down or sleep through the night. He was on a clean, dairy-free, gluten-free, stimulant-free meal plan for the time being. He’d started packing his own meals so he wouldn’t have to keep explaining this to his mom.
“Talk about scary. Did you guys hear that Josh’s family is moving away with him?” Bogart asked.
“Yeah, bummer all around,” Raad said, and cleared his throat. “What about you, Sam? What are the top things you’re most afraid of?”
“The world,” Jules muttered under his breath.
Bogart snorted.
Sam ignored the comment as he carefully chewed a bite of sandwich before speaking. “I’d say small, confined spaces, definitely the extreme dark, and large bodies of water.”
“You mean like the ocean?” Bogart asked.
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I never learned to swim.”
“Your dad never taught you?”
Raad looked at Bogart and Bogart adjusted his hat. “Um, I mean—”
“It’s okay,” Sam said. Everyone knew Sam had lost his dad in third grade. “No, he never taught me.”
“I can teach you, Sam,” Raad told him.
Sam shook his head. “No thanks. Besides, it’s healthy to have fears.”
Before the moment could get more awkward, Jules interrupted. “So are we going to Misty’s party or what?”
When it came to deciding what the group was going to do it was always we. If possible, the group hardly did anything without everyone involved.
“Yeah, I’m in,” Raad announced. “Something to do.” Then everyone else decided to go, too. Although Sam would rather have stayed home. Parties had stopped being fun sophomore year when everyone stopped playing party games and started worrying what everyone looked like. But he was part of the group, so he was going anyway.
Raad’s birthday was Sunday, though, and he’d chosen to hang out at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex to celebrate with the guys. Sam was pretty sure that was going to be more fun than Misty Salazar’s party.
Sam walked behind the guys as they entered Misty’s house. He wore a freshly ironed collared shirt and dark blue jeans. He always ironed out the wrinkles in his clothes or he felt uncomfortable wearing them. His hair was buzzed short so he never had to style it, and his glasses were freshly polished to a vibrant shine.
The music was loud and there were a ton of kids. Sam didn’t especially like big parties. Large parties were attended by the loud kids, the social kids, and often the popular kids. The entire opposite of Sam and his group.
Misty lived in a huge two-story home with a large backyard and swimming pool. That was where most of the partygoers hung out. As Sam followed the guys into the backyard, he made sure to keep a safe distance from the pool. Of course there wasn’t a lifeguard in sight. With so many kids there, all kinds of accidents could happen. He shuddered just thinking about the possibilities.
He settled at a table by the fence, positioning himself as far away from the enclosed water as possible. But the scent of chlorine still filled his nostrils. His friends me andered around, talking to other kids. Sam was fine sitting alone. He didn’t really talk to other classmates, unless it involved school, and mainly just hung out with his small group of friends. He wasn’t the best at small talk, anyway, and he was used to other kids ignoring him or not really being interested in what he had to say.
Sam accepted that he was somewhat of an odd one out in high school. He didn’t do sports; he didn’t join clubs. He had a specialized diet, and he only wore certain cotton fabrics because polyester made him break out. He was set in his ways and he rarely tried new things. He admittedly considered everything that could go wrong before he decided to do something, instead of thinking of all the things that could go right. But his way of living made him feel comfortable, so he accepted that about himself. It was just that others rarely did. Well, besides Raad.
Surprisingly, a girl named Lydia Gomes walked over to Sam’s table. She had curly brown hair, freckles, and a nose piercing. She wore jeans and a colorful sweatshirt. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup like some of the girls at Marina High, and she was always nice when Sam had group study with her in English lit.
She held two red cups in her hands. “Hi, Sam. I always wanted to tell you that your glasses are pretty cool. They’re so unique.”
“Than ks, um, they were my dad’s.” He adjusted them on his face, even though he didn’t need to. It was a nervous habit. “When I needed glasses, my mom put my prescription in them.”
“That’s really neat. Do you want a drink?” She offered him a cup.
Sam eyed the drink suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Well, I’m told it’s Misty’s Birthday Poolside Punch.”
“Do you know what’s in it?”
Lydia frowned at the cups. “Definitely some kind of fruity stuff.”
Sam looked around and noticed kids acting silly and talking funny. He held up a hand like a crossing guard. “No thanks, Lydia. If there’s even a chance of alcohol being in it, then I’m not having it. I’m a firm believer in staying in control of my mind and my choices.”
She gave him a smile. “You sure? A couple of sips won’t hurt.”
He adjusted his glasses again. “Actually, that’s far from true—”
“Sam, just take the drink. Sheesh.” Jules was abruptly at the table and grabbed the drink out of Lydia’s hand, slapping it down in front of Sam. “Don’t mind him. Sam’s a glass-half-empty kinda guy …”
Sam had been about to explain how alcohol could cause someone to become drowsy and in less control. Instead, Sam cleared his throat. “I make smart and careful decisions in order to navigate around future challenges.”
Jules rolled his eyes. “Right.”
The rest of the group walked over to the small table. “What’s going on, guys?” Raad raised an eyebrow.
“Just Sam being Sam.” Jules left it at that and took a big swig from his red cup.
“So have you guys heard about the cliff diving going on in Santa Cruz?” Lydia asked. “I hear it’s pretty fun.”
“Yeah, a guy I know does it,” Bogart jumped in. “Says it’s an extreme rush. You gotta love heights, though. Guess that leaves you out, Raad.”
“No doubt,” Raad said.
“One day, I’d like to try it,” Lydia said.
Sam shook his head. “People have actually broken their necks and other body parts from reckless jumps off cliffs and bridges. Not long ago there was an incident on the news about a guy that did a cliff dive. The cliff was so high up that he couldn’t control where he landed. He ended up falling on a bunch of rocks, breaking every single one of his bones, and splitting open his skull. They said his brain was eaten by the birds when they found him.”
“Dude.”
“That’s gnarly.”
“True story. I’d definitely steer clear of that activity, Lydia,” Sam warned.
“Um, okay,” Lydia said, and looked around the backyard. “Oh, I see my friend. Talk to you guys later.” Then she took off rather quickly.
“Good one, Sam,” Jules blurted as Lydia rushed away. “Real smooth.”
“What do you mean?”
“You really impressed Lydia with your death talk.”
“She should be impressed. Making safe choices in order to have a secure and long life span is a plus.”
Jules made a sound like a buzzer. “More like a negative with your doom-and-gloom attitude.”
Sam frowned. “I don’t have a negative attitude.”
“No? Why wouldn’t you take the drink?”
“I don’t like to be uninhibited.”
“Whatever that means. Why are you sitting so far from the pool?”
“You know I can’t swim. Are you aware of how many accidents happen in home pools?”
“What’s the leading cause of death in the US?”
“Well, that’s easy. Heart disease.”
Jules threw his arms up, spilling some of his drink on the ground. “I rest my case! You’re a walking encyclopedia for doom and gloom!”
“All right, Jules,” Raad cut in. “Chill.” He patted Sam on the back. “No worries, Sam. It’s all good. Let’s all just relax and have some fun.”
Sam nodded his head even though Jules was making him feel bad. Maybe high school girls didn’t understand Sam, but at least he had one good friend who did.
Jules must not have liked what Raad had said, or maybe he had had too much to drink, because he took the cup Lydia had brought for Sam and shoved it in Sam’s face. “Here, Sam. Some of this will help you relax.”
Sam attempted to block Jules’s hand, but the drink splashed into Sam’s mouth and down his shirt anyway. Sam quickly stood and pushed Jules away. The cup fell to the ground, spilling the liquid into a small puddle. He tasted the artificial sourness of the drink, spat it out on the ground, then swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jules and Bogart laughed.
“Oh shoot,” Bogart muttered, with a hand over his mouth. “You’ve really done it this time, Jules.”
Sam blinked rapidly. The disgusting taste of the drink lingered in his mouth, and he didn’t know what was in it. He didn’t like the taste. He didn’t like to be taken out of his comfort zone. And sometimes, he just didn’t like Jules.
“Jules, not cool,” Raad said. “You okay, Sam?”
“No. No.” Sam shook his head as he stalked into the house, searching for water to get the bad taste out of his mouth and to clean his shirt. His breaths became uneven and he knew his anxiety had kicked in. There was a pressure building in the center of his chest. His hands started to clench and unclench as he pushed through kids, trying to get to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and found a water bottle, quickly opening it to drink some and swish it around his mouth before spitting it into the sink. He could feel kids staring at him, but he didn’t care. He just needed to calm down and regain control. He pulled off a paper towel from the roll and poured some water on it and then dabbed at his shirt. The drink had stained it a weird blue color. It was likely ruined.
Sam started to sweat, and he couldn’t stop blinking. His entire body felt stiff with tension.
He needed to change. His shirt was dirty and wet.
He felt like the party, the kids, were closing in on him.
He wanted out. Needed out.
He tossed the paper towel, stomped through the party, and exited through the front door.
The long walk home and the cool air against his face would calm him down. It usually did.
“Sam went home, Raad,” Bogart told him. “Saw him leave out the front door.”
Raad nodded. Even though he hadn’t been the one to upset Sam, he felt bad for what went down. He felt bad for Sam a lot. “He probably just needed some time to cool off.”
“What’s the big deal?” Jules asked. “It was a joke. I joke with people all the time. You don’t see anyone else throwing temper tantrums.”
“It wasn’t that funny, Jules. Especially to Sam.”
Jules snorted. “Why does he have to act all weird? He’s always so uptight with his don’t do this, don’t do that attitude. The guy needs to loosen up. He’s always spreading his potential doom around. I get tired of it. You too, right, Bogart? Larry?”
Bogart shrugged and looked down at the ground. “I don’t know.”
Larry shook his head. “Bro.”
“Right,” Jules muttered, giving them both an irritated look.
Raad shrugged a shoulder. “Sam’s different. We’re all different in our own ways. No one’s perfect. You got to accept people for who they are, Jules. I accept you, don’t I?”
When Jules didn’t say anything, Raad just said, “Let’s bail.” He was no longer in a partying mood.
On the day of Raad’s birthday, the Mega Pizzaplex was packed. There were long lines for Monty’s Gator Golf, Roxy’s Raceway, and Fazer Blast, but the guys had waited them out and got their play time in. Glamrock Freddy and Roxanne Wolf walked around the mall area greeting children. Sam could hear mechanical sounds as the characters moved, and he wondered if there were people inside the costumes or if they really were animatronics.
The scents of pizza, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air. Sam figured they piped those smells through the air to get more sales, and sure enough every other kid held a fluffy ball of cotton candy and a bag of greasy popcorn. Sam tried not to shudder.
Chatter filled every inch of the space. People were talking. Kids were yelling and parents were scolding. Someone laughed really loud. Music played from all directions. It was sensory overload. And not just the sounds: Neon lights glowed throughout the entertainment mall, giving the place a futuristic feel. Visiting the Mega Pizzaplex felt like being inside a video game.
