Blue Is for Nightmares by Laurie Faria Stolarz Page A

part us," Drea says.
    "Or death will surely part us," Amber hiccups.
    We open our eyes and lock them on each other for several seconds without saying a word. Then we take our hands back.
    thirtte_r)
    Breakfast is already over by the time we make it out of the shower room. So, we wait--the longest school day of the year--until after classes to go back to the dorm and make a plan. PJ
    asked to come over, but we told him we needed some female-bonding time. He didn't argue. He only promised to come by and eavesdrop.
    We sit in a circle on the floor, a chunky purple candle in the middle. I'm beyond tired at this point, can barely focus.
    I need time to make a plan, but I also need time to sleep, to live out my nightmares and figure out what everything means.
    Amber busies her fingers by plucking the lily petals from their stems and dropping them into the orange clay pot.
    "Leave the stems to the side," I tell her. "We may need them later."
    Drea grabs a fresh chocolate bar from her fridge. She peels the wrapper down and takes a bite, and for just one evil moment, I wonder why all that sugar never makes its way to the backs of her thighs.
    -Do you think we should tell campus security about the note?" Amber asks.
    "No," Drea says. "They'll call my parents and then I'll have security officers following me to the bathroom. No, thanks."
    "Maybe we should," I say.
    "Yeah, we'll just tell them that somebody gave me flowers along with a card that says 'four days'
    on it. So threatening," she mocks. "Four days could mean anything. It could be four more days until I get my period, for god's sake. Four days until hell freezes over."
    "Is that what you really think?" I ask.
    "I don't know, Stace. What do you think? Maybe you should call the police. Maybe you should tell them all about your premonitions and the symbolism of lilies. They won't think we're crazy or anything."
    "Why are you being like this?" I ask.
    "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that someone wants to kill me."
    I grab the backpack from my bed and pull three lemons (courtesy of the cafeteria lady) out from the side pocket. "No. I mean, why are you so against going to the police?"
    Amber pauses from petal-plucking to hear the answer as well.
    "Because maybe I know who it is."
    "You do?"
    "Maybe."
    "Who?" I ask.
    "Maybe it's Chad."
    "Chad? Why would Chad do this?"
    "Why else? To scare me, so I'll go running to him. To get me back, basically"

    "That's so dumb," Amber says.
    "What can I say? He's a boy. Maybe this is his little way of bringing us closer."
    "You don't, like, really believe that, do you?" Amber stops her eyes mid-roll, speaking toward the crack in the ceiling.
    "What else am I supposed to think?" Drea huddles her legs in close and crosses them at the ankle, so they make a valentine heart below her chin.
    "If he wanted to get so close to you, then why would he break your breakfast date?" I take the lemons and cut them in half with a plastic knife.
    Drea shrugs. She takes a huge bite of chocolate, making it difficult to answer any more questions. I don't think she really believes that Chad is behind this whole thing, but I think that's the only explanation her mind will let her digest right now.
    "So, what are we doing with these lilies anyway?" Amber asks, shoving a flower behind her ear.
    "Well," I say, grabbing it back, "first we're going to soak them in lemon juice and vinegar. And then we're going to put them into a bottle with pins and needles."
    "That's what I thought," Amber says, rolling her eyes. She snatches Drea's chocolate bar mid-bite and breaks off a piece for herself. "I'm starving. Did you see that gelatin slop they were dishing out in the cafeteria today? Total yuck."
    "I wasn't hungry" Drea says, grabbing her candy bar back.
    I pick up one of the lilies and admire the strong, broad petals, the way they fall open in a perfect bell shape. I trace the silky threads with my fingertips. "The person who left this," I say, "is very close." I