Angela arrived home, tired and weak. She dressed for bed, resisting the urge to just fall asleep at the sink with the toothbrush still in her mouth. She climbed into bed, drifting as soon as her head hit the pillow. The crystal begun to glow, causing her to open her eyes and sit up. She found that she was fully awake, her weakness now gone. Deciding to find out why she was now awake, she stood and walked to her mother. She was working at the table, not noticing Angela.
"Mom," Angela called. The woman looked up, finding nothing but her daughter asleep on the bed. Angela grew annoyed that she didn�t answer. "Mother!" Once again the woman looked up, but saw nothing. Angela reached out a hand, and gently touched her mother�s shoulder.
The woman jumped up and backed away, frightened. Nothing, she saw nothing. "W-Who�s there?" she asked, fear dripping with her words. Angela stood before her, shocked. Her mother could feel and hear her, yet she seemed as if she couldn�t see her. Angela ran to the mirror, and peered inside. Between the cracks and the fogginess, it was hard to see. But there was nothing, she saw nothing. Why was it that Angela could see her own hand in front of her, yet she has no reflection?
Angela saw her body laying on the bed. The girl held in her gasp. This was all new to her, yet she knew it wasn�t a dream. The Maker of Dreams had let her know everything she needed to have her dream become reality. Smiling, Angela spun in a circle, faster and faster until the whole room was a blur. When she slowed, a new room had taken place of the run-down shack.
A modern, upper class bedroom with dressers instead of suitcases, and a queen sized bed! An actual bed, complete with sheets and a beautiful blue comforter! Four pillows, two just for show! Angela ran to the bed and sat on it. It was soft and sank beneath her. Oh how Angela missed an actual bed. Not moving, she let the rest of room sink in. Painted and wallpaper trimmed walls, fit to anyone�s liking. A television, a large television, sitting on a sturdy table in the corner of the room. Another table with a chair and a mirror sat next to the bed. The mirror wasn�t cracked or chipped, it was actually shaped and smooth. Angela knew it wasn�t much, but considering she had nothing, it seemed like everything. Just as Angela reached to run her hand over the smooth mirror, the door opened.
"Zac, you just shut up!" Taylor Hanson yelled, then immediately slammed the door shut. Angela jumped from the sudden noise. She glanced at the clock, then realized there was a four hour time difference between Atlantic City and California. With a bright smile, Angela watched as he took a seat. "Oh damn," Taylor whispered, and let his head fall on the table. He was there, right there in front of her.
Silently, she kneeled next to him, trying her best to resist the urge to reach out a hand and touch him. He couldn�t be real. His hair was so angelic, beautiful and shiny. It lay over his neck in pieces, moving lightly as he breathed. Angela couldn�t see much, considering he had his head on the table. She let her smile grow. Taylor Hanson, her life, her dream, right there. She had to see his face, so she tapped his shoulder and quickly backed away.
Taylor immediately sat up and looked around. Angela found her way back to him, and let her black eyes roam his face. His looks were soft, delicate, almost feminine. No wonder he had so many people questioning his sexuality. He was a beautiful man, simply beautiful. There�s not many beautiful men out there. His eyes were breathtaking, the bluest of blue. So crystal clear, it was easy to see that he was a musician. His lips were average, the sign of a gentleman. Taylor was obviously a modern city man. He wouldn�t be able to live without electricity. Angela let her hand graze over his face, close enough to guide him but not quite touching. Taylor let his head be guided, side to side. He felt confused, but asked no questions. Angela studied his shaky movements before letting her hand fall.
Taylor shook his head clear, then got up. Angela stayed close behind as he walked to the dresser. He leaned against the dresser, clearly bored. Angela held her laughter. He was a major pop star, in the middle of recording his album, and he was bored. Figures. His forehead scrunched and his finger went straight to his mouth, biting on his nail. Insecure, he was insecure.
"There�s got to be something on TV," he muttered. Without much warning, he had jumped onto the bed and as flicking through channels. "Alright! Stanley Cup Playoffs!" Angela groaned. Her father had been the hockey fan of the century. Suddenly she noticed she had made a noise, and she was starting to freak out Taylor. He dropped the remote and looked out into the room.
Angela stepped to him, and put her hand close to his face again, just to calm him. She was sure that her presence and her mistakes had concerned him enough. He followed her invisible hand back to the television. Her fingers lightly trickled over his face, still not touching him. The act set an aura of calmness through him, and his breathing returned to normal.
As he watched the game, Angela continued to study him. He hadn�t yet lost the excitement of his sixteenth birthday, a little more than a month before. An earring hung from the cartilage of his left ear. Angela shook her head in disapproval. He was insecure but obviously independent. Angela had never seen both in a person. That boy was certainly unique, and she hadn�t even been near him a half an hour.
Angela smiled as Taylor did. His smile was beautiful, it lit up the room in ten different ways. It showed his independence in ways she�d never known. Without even trying, he had already told her everything she�d ever want to know about him. This was her gift, this is what she did. If only he�s say another sentence she would be able to know more about his personality. When and where he was born, and if he�d ever find the one made for him. She also noticed that he anger in him had left. When he had burst into the room he was yelling at his brother. This was obviously his way of calming down. Angela heard someone coming upstairs, so she retreated to the corner.
Zac opened the door. "Hey dude, dinner�s ready." Taylor didn�t say a word, which annoyed Angela. He only smiled at his brother, and Zac knew that was the apology. "It�s okay man, I�m just gonna piss you off again tomorrow." Taylor stood, shut off the television and walked out of the room.
Angela followed, only to be smacked in the face by the door. It seemed that Taylor had a habit of shutting doors behind him. He heard the thump and the curse from Angela. This was the third time that something weird happened. Instantly her hand was in front of his face, trying to calm him, but he raced down the stairs. Angela noted the few stairs that creaked. That would be a problem.
Angela took a step onto the stairs and waited. She was confused by the fact that she was human-like. She could be felt and heard, but she was just invisible. She had to be careful. The Maker of Dreams had let her know that her spirit had left her body, which worried her. As long as her spirit remained in this world, in this realm, she was alright. That meant her body would wake up, probably in the morning. But when exactly was the morning? Angela had never been good with the whole time difference between her home and here. Too far, too weird for her.
Angela slowly continued down the stairs, and by the time she reached the kitchen, everyone was already eating. There was light conversation, mostly between the adults and the smaller children. Taylor picked at his food, standing out from the rest of the family. His mother noticed.
"Taylor, is there something wrong?" she asked. Taylor up and shrugged. "You could at least answer me, what�s up?" He put his fork down and sighed. Angela hurried to him, waiting for him to speak. It would further her analysis. She smiled as he collected his thoughts.
"Something weird is going on in my room. I�m not sure�" Angela snapped her fingers in front of his face, making him forget everything. "Man, I just had it. I forgot now." His voice was sweet and planned out, clearly that of a March boy. She had examined his smile and concluded he was a mid-March boy. The table went back to their other conversation, but Taylor remained to himself. Angela silently thanked herself for learning everything she needed in a situation like this.
She let her eyes gaze over the family. The three boys, their mother, and two little girls. Angela noticed that there had to be a few missing. Three chairs were empty, one being a highchair. That meant there was a baby. Angela shook her head, upset. Babies and toddlers were nothing good for her.
Angela looked back at Taylor. He seemed so forlorn. Why would someone with popularity, this huge family that seemed to be very close, and everything he could want, be as desolate as he was? It confused her. When she had money she loved it. She loved everything. She had a reason to be this upset. She lost everything.
Angela noticed Taylor didn�t eat much. Her presence was clearly bothering him. But she couldn�t just get up and leave now, she was too close to knowing everything. Maybe her presence would be able to challenge his sanity. Wouldn�t that be fun? Angela smiled, but quickly cleared the thought from her mind. As she did this, she felt a tickle in her nose.
Angela sneezed.
Taylor jumped. He had been paying close attention to the rest of the family. None of them had sneezed. And it was custom for an �excuse me� to be uttered when a sneeze came along. Diana looked around, but no one said anything. Everything was still until Taylor got up and ran upstairs. Angela followed, not thinking.
The family heard two sets of feet thumping up the stairs.