Pulled Under

Jason seems wholesome and pure. And a little clueless, apparently. Not the kind of guy who would play a joke on anyone, especially a girl he just met, a girl who just awoke from a seizure. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Why would I be? We really do close later on Saturdays.” He shakes his head. He didn’t understand that I meant closed permanently. “Do you have somewhere you need to be? You lost track of time or something?”

I take my wet hair and twist it nervously. “Are you sure this place isn’t closed to the public? Like, open only for private parties? Because I was told . . .” I pause, then let out a heavy sigh. What I was told makes no sense right now.

His mouth is slightly parted, and he seems to be trying to understand this strange language called English that I’m speaking. “Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about. First, let me find your parents or where you’re supposed to be staying.” He stands up and brushes the sand off his legs. “What loop are you in?”

“Twenty-one hundred.” I remember that from when my dad was driving around, trying to find our cabin.

Again, he shakes his head, then looks at me, disappointed. “Our loops aren’t numbered. Little Bear Path, Bobcat Bend . . . any of those sound familiar?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll let you use the courtesy phone to call your trailer. You just press star nine then your trailer number.”

“I’m not staying in a trailer. I’m staying in a cabin. It’s twenty-one hundred loop. I remember it clearly.”

“Miss . . .” He stands there with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s like you just got left behind along with E.T. We don’t have cabins in Fort Wilderness. I think you got your campgrounds crossed. Let me guess, you don’t know what E.T. is either.”

“Of course I know what E.T. is!” I place my hands at my hips to appear more sure of myself. “My dad only made me watch the twentieth-a

He smirks. “The movie I’m talking about just came out last month. Steven Spielberg?” He shrugs, walking away from me in a hurry.

I scramble to my feet and start following him. He may be cute, but he can’t tell me that E.T. came out last month. I know when E.T. came out, and it wasn’t June, wasn’t this year, and definitely wasn’t while I’ve been alive. It was a long-ass time ago, so he’d just better lose the attitude, or else I’m going to have to . . .

Wait a minute. He’s really leaving. “Jason, hold up!”

There’s a family just arriving and settling into the picnic table that was next to us a moment ago. The father’s hair is layered, and he wears a beige suit that looks like it’s made from terry cloth. The older boy has white socks all the way to his knees. Hot! And the younger boy has on these big headphones wired to a small yellow box in his hand. Is that . . . ?

“Hey, man, neat Walkman. Is that waterproof?” Jason asks, passing him by.

“Thanks. Yeah, it is. I just got it today!” The boy smiles at him, then at his dad, and then the whole family looks at me fu

“Jason, hold on. Wait. Can you wait, please?”

He stops, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs. “What is it? Look, first you make fun of my dolphin shorts when yours look like a shipwreck. Then you try telling me that there’re cabins when I’ve known this place for eleven years, and what we have are trailers. You won’t tell me what that device is you got there, and now you’re questioning my knowledge of new movies?” He huffs. “I just used up my entire break trying to help you. You’re free to use the courtesy phone. The medics should be here any moment. But I need to get back to work.”

“Just . . . Can you just answer one question for me, please? One question, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.” He keeps walking, and I have to run ahead of him, then turn around to get him to stop. My feet start burning on the hot sidewalk. “Where do you work?”

“Towel rental booth. Your one question is up.”

“No. No, no, no, that wasn’t it. Okay, look, please don’t think I’m crazy—”

“Too late.” He crosses his arms. I’m trying really, really hard not to notice his ta

I point at him. “That’s . . . that’s very fu

He gets that look again, where he’s trying to understand my language, read my face, my thoughts, analyzing everything. He’s killing me here with this nonresponse thing of his. Then what does he do? He laughs. “Whoa, that is just radical, man. I can’t believe I fell for that.” He brushes past me.

“What? I’m serious. That’s my question for real, Jason. What year is it?”

He turns around, and it’s as if he suddenly remembers his Disney cast member ma

A lightning bolt shoots out of the sky and splits me in two as I stand there looking at him. At least it feels that way. Nineteen eighty-two? As in 19 . . . 82?

As in my mom and dad were . . . fifteen and sixteen?

Slowly, a smile spreads across my face. I laugh. This is great. This is just friggin’ fantastic! I’m just going to enjoy this until I wake up, and then I’m going to write it all down as the awesomest, most vivid, wacky-packy dream I have ever had in my entire life. “No, that’s all, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Have a magical stay here in Walt Disney World!” Jason smiles politely, then proceeds to make his way behind the help counter at the rental shop.

“Thank you!” I call out, watching him assist the next customer, a mom with a striped shirt tucked into white, elastic-banded shorts, and her little girl with pleated barrettes in her hair, carrying a Strawberry Shortcake doll. The girl has on light blue shoes that look like they’re made of jelly, and I so want a pair!

I love this dream!

But there’s only one way to know if it really is or not. I turn back around, open up my camera app, and start snapping off picture after picture of the famous River Country. The green lagoon ahead of me; the quiet beach area to my right, next to all the cypresses I swam through; and the blue pool to my left, where people are plunging down two slides that drop them about six feet above the water level. Those had vines all over them just yesterday, or whenever it was that I last saw them. If it’s all still on my phone when I wake up, then I wasn’t dreaming.

I smile and take in the sights and sounds. Even the smells of suntan lotion and BBQ cooking from somewhere nearby. I can’t send these photos until I have a signal, but at least I have them. And just to ensure that Dina, Rudy, and Marcus don’t think I stole these off the Internet, I turn around and snap off a few selfies with the water park in the background as well.