The sun was shining brightly as Julie bounded back and forth, weaving and dribbling through would be defenders with practiced ease. She glided to the rim, tossed the ball through the hoop, then made her way back to the middle of the street with cool, calm confidence. But as Julie turned for the ball she saw that all the nameless faces she had been taking to school on her makeshift basketball court were gone. She stood alone in the middle of the street. A sinking feeling of dread sprouted in the pit of her stomach, and she knew it was coming. Before she even turned she knew it was coming, and there it was - the magenta '92 Suburban, bearing down on her with deadly speed.
Julie was frozen. She tried to move but her legs refused. It was as though she was stuck, bogged down in a swamp. That hateful, dreaded goddammed Chevy Suburban bore down on her and her feet were glued to the ground. The fucking thing clipped her, sending her spinning through the air just as it had her brother all those years ago. Remarkably, Julie felt no pain as she tumbled to the ground. All the same, she knew she was ruined. Her bones were shattered and her organs crushed. She could hear the bleating sirens as emergency vehicles sped to the scene, but they would be too late. They couldn't save her, just like they couldn't save her brother.
The wail of the sirens grew louder and Julie wondered who would be the first to arrive, the police or the ambulance. Whoooooo-ooooooooo, Whoooooooo-oooooooooeeeepp, BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The sound of the sirens faded into something much louder and much more annoying - the familiar bleep of her alarm clock. As Julie shook the cobwebs of the dream world from her consciousness, an overwhelming flood of relief washed over her. She was safe in her own bed, living her comfortable, easy life in the suburbs, with 70 or 80 more years to look forward to. She was not dying as her poor brother had half a lifetime ago.
Field trip, Julie thought to herself. Her class was going on a field trip today. She climbed out of bed and pulled open her closet. Julie took a moment to admire her reflection in the picture frame mirror mounted on the inside of her closet door. She was blessed with eye-popping good looks, and although she tried to be humble she could not entirely escape the cloying clutches of vanity. Her perfectly shaped figure, wrapped in a pink, cream-colored skin with flawless complexion, scantily clad in white panties and a 36C sized brassierre, stared back at her, and Julie felt a rush go through her body. Even fresh out of bed, this early in the morning, she was stunning. Being beautiful had its drawbacks, but on the whole it was a remarkably uplifting and empowering experience.
As Julie rummaged through her wardrobe she mulled over what she should wear that day.
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