The Reality Bug by D.J. MacHale Page A

those dreams where you’ve got to take a test, but suddenly realize you never went to any of the classes. But I didn’t panic. After all, Lifelight was supposed to deliver a perfect experience, right?
    It did. When I stepped into the room, I was thrilled to see all my teammates from junior high. But they weren’t getting dressed in the yellow jerseys of the Stony Brook Wildcats. They were putting on the crimson jerseys of the Davis Gregory Cardinals. I had always dreamed about playing for the Cardinals. My dream was about to come true. Sort of.
    The guys all greeted me, but didn’t act like anything was out of the ordinary. I wanted to grab them all and hug them and tell them how psyched I was to be back, but I played it cool. For some reason I knew which locker was mine. Hanging up inside was a Cardinal jersey with my number: 15. Any doubt I had about being in the right place went away when I picked up that jersey, turned it around, and saw the stitched lettering over my number. It read: PENDRAGON .
    As I look back and analyze what happened, I can figure out why Lifelight did what it did. But at the time, I was totally taken up with the illusion. Even though I knew what was going on, it didn’t matter. I’m not sure if it was Lifelight doing it to me, or it was my own brain guiding things, but it was like I had forgotten that I was lying in a vast pyramid and mind tripping through a computer. As far as I knew, I was really there.
    And the game was awesome. The stands were full, and rocking like it was a championship. The band pounded out a war rhythm. The cheerleaders fired up the home side. Our opponents were the crosstown rival Black Knights of Easthill High. Our starting five were the same as back in junior high: me, Jimmy Jag, Crutch, Petey Boy, and Joe Zip. Man, I missed those guys. Coach Darula was on the bench looking confident, the same as always. As we came out of the locker room and headed for the court, I got that old familiar feeling in my stomach. The butterflies. They always started dancing right before tip-off. It meant I was ready to play.
    And man, did I play.
    From the opening tip-off, I was on fire. Being a point guard, I was used to shooting and scoring, but what happened in that game was nothing short of phenomenal. Everything clicked. We played together like a dream team. Most every shot I took found nothing but the bottom of the net. I didn’t gun the ball, though. Oh no. I dished it around. I shot no-look passes to Joe Zip, who laid it in. I alley-ooped a few to Crutch, who could leap high enough to jam it home. I stole the ball a bunch of times and generally ran the offense like a pro. It was a dream game. Yeah, that’s exactly what it was.
    We didn’t win by a hundred points either. The game was close, which made it that much more exciting. With only a few seconds left to go, we were actually down by two points. Jimmy Jag passed me a give-and-go, I drove the lane, and as I went in for the lay-up, I got hammered by their center. Yeah, you guessed it. Two points down, seconds on the clock, and I was on the foul line. It doesn’t get any sweeter than that. I stood at the line with my hands on my hips, totally exhausted and sweating. It was awesome.
    I looked around at the crowd. Everyone was on their feet, cheering for me. The ref bounced me the ball. I dribbled once, bent my knees, lined up my shot and … swish. All net. The crowd went nuts. I took another second to soak it all in before my next shot. I gazed around at all the excited faces. Some I recognized, others were people I had never seen before. But they were all cheering for me.
    Then I saw something that made a great moment even greater. Sitting on the bleachers behind our bench was my family. Mom, Dad, and Shannon. But that’s not all. Sitting behind them was you, Mark. Next to you was Courtney. You were all waving and cheering. It was the best moment I could imagine.
    The ref bounced me the