Page 6 of The Mist of Stars

“Actually, I might skip first period”—I lift the book and pat the cover—“and find a place to read this.”

“Oh, okay.” He deflates a bit. “I’ll see you at lunch then.”

“Sure.” Then again, I may have to convince Aislin to take us off campus so I can avoid him and talk this problem out with my best friend.

He strides off, ducking under the branches and disappearing from my vision.

I blow out a breath then bang the book against my head. “What the heck did I just do?”

“I’m not sure, but it was pretty awkward to watch.” A tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed guy ducks under the veil of tree branches.

I dramatically roll my eyes but smile. Laylen is Alex’s friend, but he’s also mine and Aislin’s. I’m unsure how he’s friends with Alex because he’s so nice.

“I didn’t even realize he liked me.” I plop down on the grass, set the book on my lap, and open it, not bothering to hide the fact that I have a stolen book—Laylen would never tell on me.

While Henry suggested I read it off campus, I’m not that concerned since no one really comes out here when class is going on.

“I’m guessing you don’t like him.” He sits down in front of me and picks at a loose thread on his black jeans.

“Not like that.”

“You probably should’ve said no to the date, then.”

“He caught me off guard,” I protest, glancing up at him. “I didn’t want to be mean.”

He rests back on his hands. “You might want to work on the you-letting-him-down-gently speech then, because the sooner you have it, the better.”

“Yeah, probably.” I glance down at the introduction page. “Why were you eavesdropping on our conversation, anyway? And shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he scoffs, stretching out his legs. “I was coming out of the woods and overheard you guys talking. It was unavoidable.”

I peer up at him. “Why were you walking in the woods?”

He shrugs, the movement stiff. “I just needed to take a walk.”

“You’re being super cagey right now.” I cross my arms and rest them on top of the book. “What’s up, for reals?”

He shakes his head, wisps of his blond hair falling into his eyes. “Nothing, I swear.”

“Liar.” I notice a drop of something red on his neck. “You have something right there.” I tap my finger against my own neck.

He shifts his weight and quickly wipes it away. “Crap, I have to go.” He jumps to his feet and strides away, toward the academy.

“Okay then,” I mutter, returning to the book.

I flip a few more pages until I find the table of contents. I run my finger down the page, skimming the chapter titles until I find the section titled“Dream Repetition.” There are also sections titled “Everlasting Dream” and “Dream Interpretation.”All of those chapters are in a row, so I start with the repetition one. I skim that for a while then move on to the next. None of the information is that compelling until I reach a specific page that captures my entire attention.

Dreams,particularly ones that rarely change, usually have a deeper meaning. In some cases, the meaning is in the items or persons that are present in the dream. Some foreseers, who are often experts on dream theories, believe that repetitious dreams can be connected to a past life or forgotten memories. Even more specifically, research has been done that proves that most people who have reoccurring dreams often have stars present in them. It is believed that under the right circumstances, the dreamer can follow these stars, like a map, back to the original point of where the dream is stemming from. This requires a lot of training and isn’t recommended without an expert foreseer’s guided help.

I get snaggedon the mention of the stars, which are the main part of my recurring dream. It also mentions foreseers, and my dad is one. Not that I’ve ever told him about my dreams—I haven’t told anyone about them. I’m not even positive why, other than it seems pointless, as if I am overreacting. Now I’m questioning if perhaps I should’ve confided in someone about them a long time ago.

“I don’t know why it keeps happening.” The sound of a familiar voice has my back stiffening.

Alex. And he’s close.

I quickly close the book, scramble to my feet, and rush out of the canopy. Then I basically head-dive into the bushes across from it and end up banging my knee. I have to bite down on my tongue to stop myself from moaning in pain.

“I don’t know.” He sounds even closer now.