"It's nothing, okay? I swear, it's ... nothing," Maria replied in an agitated voice.

"When you say it's nothing in that tone, it most definitely is not nothing. It's something. Now are you going to tell me, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Maria dodged Liz's eyes, carrying the full container of dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Liz followed her. "Is it school? The algebra test? Because, you know, I didn't do so hot --"

"No, it isn't school." Maria set the large grey container down on the countertop and picked up an empty duplicate. She quickly walked back out to the restaurant.

"Your mom, then?" Liz called, walking after her. "That whole thing with Kyle's dad? I can totally understand how that could get to you."

"No, Lizzie. As much as that whole situation ... grosses me out, I'm dealing with it, honestly." Maria began stacking dishes in the container. "Until I'm asked to be maid-of-honour at the wedding, I refuse to get very rattled about it."

"Well, you're getting very rattled about something. You've been more scatterbrained than usual all day," Liz noted, piling dirty cutlery on top of the dishes.

"It's just ... I just ... I had this really weird ... dream. At least, I think it was a dream. I'm not sure." Maria shook her head.

Liz smiled at her. "Was it that one with Richard Simmons, the yoghurt and the chihuahuas again?"

"No," Maria made a face. "God, I wish I'd never told you about that." Liz giggled. "No," Maria continued, "this wasn't weird, like ... funny. It was weird, like ... bizzare, strange, peculiar, odd, demented."

"Oh, well then," Liz smiled. "That can only mean one thing. Or, should I say, person."

"Why do you automatically assume I mean Michael?" Maria demanded, exasperated.

"Michael?" Liz grinned in mock-amusement, thoroughly enjoying the look on her friend's face. "Who said anything about Michael?"

"Liz, this isn't funny." Storm clouds brewed in Maria's eyes. "This is seriously creepy." She sat down in a booth and stared at at the small rack of condiments, focusing on a Tabasco bottle. "Last night ... I had this ... dream -- only, it wasn't a dream -- I was actually ... there."

Liz frowned. "Where?"

"In his ... mind," Maria's cheeks flushed a deep red. "I was inside ... Michael's ... mind."

Liz's eyes widened. "You sure you haven't been mixing in any paint thinner with that cedar oil?"

Maria looked up at her. "I know this sounds crazy. But that isn't even the worst part." She closed her eyes, frowning. "What was there ... what I ... saw ..." Maria's voice trailed off as she stared at Liz and slowly shook her head, lost deep in thought.

"What did you see?" Liz asked, sitting down opposite Maria.

"At first, not much," Maria admitted. "I mean, this is Michael, after all. I guess he spends so much time venting and freaking out that there isn't really very much left inside. There were some books, this ... drawing, and ..." She bit her lower lip anxiously.

Liz leaned in towards her conspiratorially. "And?"

Maria took a deep breath. "And --"

"Hey."

The two girls were so deeply engrossed in their conversation, they hadn't seen Isabel Evans approach their booth. Instantly, they both jumped back to their respective sides of the table. Isabel giggled. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Maria said quickly, shaking her head. "Nothing. Not a thing. You?"

Isabel looked from Maria to Liz, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Lunch."

"Maria was just telling me about a ... dream ... she had last night. No biggie," Liz smiled.

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Is this about Michael?"

"No!" Maria's face registered horror.

Isabel indicated for Liz to move over, and sat down beside her. "You're not a very good liar, Maria. Spill."

Maria looked around nervously. How could she even begin to explain it? "Okay," she sighed. "This is ... um, this sounds unbelievable, but last night, I had this ... dream ..."

"Yes," Isabel nodded. "We've established that. Go on ..."

"Well, it all started yesterday afternoon. Michael and I were in the hall at school, and we had this completely unreal argument about him being so ungrateful and selfish and all that, and I totally put him in his place and told him he should have thanked me for helping save his sorry ass at the reservation, which, granted, he eventually did do, but --"

"Maria, the point?" Liz gestured.

"Right," Maria smiled sheepishly. She couldn't help it, she tended to get carried away wherever Michael was involved, in spite of her self. "Sorry. The point is, he told me he had to be, like, this ... stone wall ... around me, which is ... ridiculous, of course, but he said he had to be like that, because otherwise, he would be too ... confused ... that I made him confused."

It was an approximation of the truth, but Maria didn't want to share the exact conversation with the other girls, particuarly the parts about Michael admitting to sometimes feeling human, or the napkin holder he had made for her. That was private between the two of them, it was special.

"So, what does Michael being confused have to do with your dream?" Isabel asked.

"Well, I kept thinking about what he said. Like, what was going through his mind to make him feel that way, and what exactly he was so confused about," she replied. "I just ... I needed to know. I had to know. I couldn't get it out of my mind. It tormented me, it bugged me all day and all night."

Isabel's eyes widened as her face began to transform from confusion to understanding. "All night?" she repeated. Maria nodded. Isabel's voice grew very serious. "Maria, what was the very last thing you thought about before you went to sleep last night?"

Maria felt the same chilly tingle at the base of her spine as she had in her dream. "I wanted to know what was behind the stone wall ... I wanted to know what he was thinking," she whispered, staring down at her hands in her lap. She had an inkling where Isabel was going with this, and it terrified her. She didn't want to say it out loud because hearing herself say it would be admitting it, and admitting it would be acknowledging that it had actually happened. And it couldn't possibly have happened. Could it?

"Well," Isabel said softly. "I guess you found out."

"Wait," Liz frowned. "You aren't saying ... I mean, you can't possibly be saying --"

"I am," Isabel nodded. "Maria dreamwalked into Michael's mind."