Holly's Dreams Come True

We're out of Nembutal so I decide to skip breakfast. On my way out the door I stop to chat with the maid. She's smoking pot by the pool side, getting a tan in one of our Vitra chaises longues. I'm hoping for a bit of conversation to get me in gear for my Spanish exam at 10. She's so stoned all I get is eh seņor Jimmy, el sol sale para todo el mundo. Zapatero a tus zapatos I answer triumphantly before getting mom's Jag out of the garage. On the way I stop at the Body Shop in Westwood for wasabi bath salts and a caffeine fix and it's 10:30 by the time I get to Summerbreeze. So much for Spanish.

I have thirty minutes to kill before my next class starts. There's time for a quick circle jerk with the lacrosse boys in the locker-room... Or may-be a spliff with the PhDykes in the library... Before I can make my mind up I'm attacked by a squadron of Oakley-sporting freshmen who're after my vote in the Summerbreeze High student council elections. A cute brunette tries to convince me to vote for popular candidate Phoebe Silverstone. I flash her my trademark killer smile and give her my word. I even accept a "high on summer breeze" campaign button. She's bursting with fruit flavors.

Damon rescues me and drags me to the cafeteria for a protein shake. He's wearing purple cords and a torn I killed Laura Palmer T-shirt and looks good enough to eat. He munches on a muesli bar while detailing the plan for Saturday night's party at his parents' Bel Air villa. The bell rings and we split after exchanging our ritualized civilities and complex pseudo-handshakes. Damon's the lead singer for Truth In Advertising, the only boy in a trashcore band of whirlgirrrls with green hair and toxic attitudes to match. He's the nicest person I know, über-straight and involved with a brilliant and stunning sophomore named Akiko since like forever. Needless to say I'm madly in love.

In maths I get a seat in the back corner. I spend the first half of the class staring out the window. Outside the palm trees bend leisurely, caressed by the warm sand-speckled wind. At one point I think I spot a shiny green mass moving in the shadows behind the bougainvillea, but the teacher chooses that very moment to ask me some unintelligible question. I mechanically give my usual answer (square root of x over pi squared?). This somehow seems to satisfy him. Feeling pretty proud of myself I try to pay attention but I can't understand a single word coming out of his mouth. The monotone monologue is not altogether unpleasant and the equations on the board blur in strange hypnotic patterns. Before I know it I'm asleep, head resting on the witty graffiti covering my desk.

I dream that I'm in the woods behind the football field. I'm hidden behind a tree and watching Damon getting it on with Phoebe Silverstone. They're lying in the grass and tearing at each other's clothes, panting and gasping. I'm like totally turned on by this. But then I spot Akiko also hiding behind a tree a dozen feet away. She's also watching the show, unaware of my presence. Then suddenly, Damon rolls off Phoebe's half naked body as Akiko steps out into the clearing. She's holding a baseball bat in each hand. Everything happens pretty quickly after that. She throws Damon a bat and Phoebe's mouth opens in a silent scream as Damon and Akiko bring their bats crashing down on her face, again and again, with brutal force and unflinching determination. I sit still and watch this gruesome killing, mesmerized. Even after Damon and Akiko have run off I keep staring at the body in the grass. Finally I get up and walk to it, leaning over to get a good look at Phoebe's unrecognizable battered face. Yet it is not the horror of her crushed skull and perky breasts drenched in blood which wakes me up. In the dream I start walking back towards the field and what finally wakes me up is the sight of Damon and Akiko, walking towards me, grinning.

When I open my eyes there seems to be some sort of commotion in the classroom. The principal is standing near the blackboard with a somber expression on his face. The teacher tells us all to be quiet. Oh God not another Kevin Williamson day I think. The principal wipes his brow with a hankerchief before speaking in a low and auspicious voice. I am very sorry to inform you that your friend and schoolmate Phoebe Silverstone has passed away this afternoon due to complications arising from a diabetic condition. We observe a minute of silence which enables me to get over my mild shock. I think yeah, sugar withdrawal, whatever...

The silence ends and is replaced by a flurry of outraged gossip and practiced hysterics. Taylor, who's sitting in the next row passes me a note. Phoebe was no diabetic, it reads, the giant lizards must've gotten to her. I fold the note and look dispassionately at Taylor and can't help but nod in total agreement.

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