experience, the right kind of life. But no matter what kind of background checks and understandings you may have, the fact is that love lives in fickle hearts.”
“Speaking of fickle,” Sarah began, “I never said disparaging remarks about Ray behind his back. That was a complete lie.”
Mary giggled. “I know! But I wanted to see how he’d react.”
“Not well, apparently,” said Sarah.
“Nope!” Mary guffawed.
Sarah’s eyes found the cracks in the pavement beneath her as she walked. “I can’t believe Susan slept with him. How could she do that to me? And while we were going out, too! You and she are like my best friends.”
Mary found Sarah’s hand with her own. “At least you still have one best friend.”
“Yes,” Sarah said, grinning at her. “I do.”
Retracting, Mary brushed her hair over her shoulder. “So what should we do tonight? Should we go to the I-House party?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “We’ve already had a lot of excitement today.”
“Martin might be there,” Mary coaxed. “And he’s like way more your type.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I hate it when you talk about my type.”
“Deal with it,” was the response. “Maybe some guy-profiling will lead you to make better choices. After all, Martin reads a lot like you and he’s also a psych major. You guys could be totally lame together.”
“Hey!” Sarah said.
Mary shrugged. “Just saying.”
Gazing into the blue summer sky, Sarah found her hair caught in a sudden breeze. Her brain was pollinated, ready as it was for a flash of inspiration. The day had so far yielded to success. Perhaps she should go to this party…
There was no telling what had yet to be told.
“Okay,” she said. “I will go and talk to Martin.”
“Yes!” Mary celebrated. “Finally some sense! Plus those international kids hate Natty Boh, so they may have some decent beer.”
Sarah snorted.
“You know what you really need, Sarah?” Mary began. “One of these,” and she gestured to the dreamcatcher tattoo that was once again safely hidden beneath her shirt. “The boys love it!”
Sarah sighed longingly. “I do want one,” she said. “But not for that reason. I so wish I was a Dreamdrifter. After years of psychology courses and A grades – after an internship and a published article, after everything I’ve done – I still feel like you’re doing the better work. And you don’t even try, really. I feel so pathetic sometimes.”
Mary replaced her Wayfarers on the bridge of her nose. “You’re right. But only about my not really trying. Everything else you said was wrong. You are going to make such a tremendous difference in so many lives. I can already see it! You are going to get your doctorate and set up a practice and make the world a happier place, just like you’re always talking about doing. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a husband and a couple of brats along the way. Life is unpredictable.”
“I guess,” said Sarah. “But I’d still rather be a Dreamdrifter.”
“Don’t rather be,” Mary replied. “What I hate most isn’t chemistry or douche-bag boyfriends. Nope! It’s when somebody truly amazing with so many gifts feels like they are worthless. You are going to be great! If I’ve learned anything from being a Dreamdrifter, it’s that real compassion flies higher than wings or dreamcatchers. That much is basic psychology. So cheer up! There are many colors in the sun.”
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About the Author
Shayn Bloom was born in Moscow, Russia and has been a writer since the age of thirteen, penning novels, poems, songs, articles, short stories, and novellas. Shayn lives and writes in Baltimore, Maryland.
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