The Book of Dreams Read Free Page B

corridors, and rooms with high ceilings. It was divided into generous flats that were leased out to professors and artists. Dana’s family had the third floor with a spacious living room, wide kitchen for dining, and studies for both her father and stepmother. The master bedroom was at the front of the house. Dana’s small room was at the back. Once a large balcony, it was enclosed with windows on three sides.
    The glass bedroom was Dana’s haven. Like an eagle’s eyrie, it overlooked the treetops and the park below. The one solid wall was covered with pictures of Ireland and posters of animals, especially wolves. The floor was covered with a golden-brown rug that looked like a fall of autumn leaves. There was a cluttered bookcase, an iron bed piled with cushions, and a desk with her computer.
    When Dana wasn’t in her room, she could be found in the backyard. It was a gloomy place, shunned by the other tenants and overgrown with weeds and briars. Old washing lines hung limp and gray. There was a greenhouse with broken panes inhabited by a clan of stray cats. At the foot of an old apple tree was the rickety bench where Dana liked to read.
    On that warm and sunny Labor Day, she found it hard to concentrate. Tomorrow she would begin high school, her first day in grade nine. The idea was terrifying. A new school. New faces. As if junior high hadn’t been bad enough. She flicked through the pages of the book in her lap. It was one her aunts had given her, by their favorite author. He wrote about urban magic and fairies in North America.
    I wish .
    Dana’s thought was bitter. There was no magic here. She leaned back against the apple tree and stared up into the branches. Her dark hair was lank on her shoulders, her face pale. Blue shadows rimmed her eyes. Under the bulky pants and sweater, she was thin and gangly. A great longing came over her and she let out a deep sigh. She couldn’t have imagined being so lonesome and homesick. The past year had dragged on like an unending nightmare. Not a day passed by that she didn’t miss Ireland.
    She had found it impossible to settle in her new country. For one thing, she had no friends. And though she pretended she didn’t care, Dana was aware of what she was missing that day. Most kids her age had gone in droves to celebrate their last day of the summer vacation at the Canadian National Exhibition. She knew from the previous year that there were carnival rides, an international food building, musical performances, and every kind of show and display. Her father had offered to take her again this year, but at thirteen you went with your peers, not your parents.
    Her eyes misted with unshed tears. She fought them back.
    “I’m such a loser,” she muttered angrily.
    The cat dozing on the bench beside her reached out to claw her arm.
    “Ow!” she yelped. “Hey you!”
    A big tabby, sleek and strong, he was the king of the cats who lived in the greenhouse. His golden eyes appraised her coolly.
    She grinned back at him.
    “You’re right. Stop feeling sorry for myself.”
    As she tickled his ears and scratched his chin, he purred like a motor.
    “It’s just hard sometimes,” she murmured.
    There were other problems that she wouldn’t admit to. A tomboy and adventurer when she was small, Dana hadn’t welcomed the changes that came with getting older. She wasn’t interested in clothes or makeup or boys. And from the way things had gone so far, it was obvious to her that the older you got, the more you lost. Like Peter Pan, she didn’t want to grow up.
    Dana heard her father calling her to come in for lunch. She ignored him at first, then the rumblings in her stomach sent her into the house.
    The hallway was filled with the aromatic scents of cumin, coriander, ginger, and cloves. All had been crushed together with a mortar and pestle before going into a pan of melted butter. Lunch would be spiced dahl and rice.
    When Dana reached the kitchen door, she heard her father and