I went through several different scenarios that night, ranging from low-key cool to over-the-top musical moments, those of which were complete with the traditional bursting out of singing in the least expected moments.

My favorite, without a doubt, was a cliché teeny-bopper moment.

I had been walking down the main hallway of our school, and oddly, the halls were glowing gold, making my skin slightly sparkle. Everyone was watching me, and this time it wasn’t because I had just tripped on my flip-flop and busted my lip open. They were watching me, because, WOW, did I look amazing. I’m not one to brag about my unheard of good looks, but this was an exception to my model modesty. I also usually wasn’t one to base things on looks, but, it was an important ingredient in the teenage cheese fest equation.

I had a long, flowing dress that I would never have worn in the waking world. It trailed down to the floor, and swept across it softly. The long train flowed out behind me, and miraculously, no one had yet stepped on it, nor had I tripped on it. My bright gold heels, way too high for my sense of self-preservation, were gleaming all the brighter thanks to the above-average lighting. My hair was curled, a near impossible feat seeing as my hair was as thin and as soft as your over-worn baby blanket. I had champagne diamonds in my ears and draping across my neck.

I continued walking down the hall, knowing where I was going without realizing it, as often happens in my dreams, and occasionally in real-life. I stopped in the cafeteria, where the tables had been pushed back up against the toneless walls. The golden light filtered in behind me, so that this room shone brighter than the halls had.

I clicked and clopped my way out to the middle of the floor, noting in the back of my mind the lack of cookie crumbs, crushed milk cartoons, and bitten straws that would have littered a real cafeteria. It should have tipped me off that this was a dream, but it didn’t, it never does, an advantage and a downfall depending all on the content of the fantasy swirling around in your head.

I didn’t stand there very long before something had changed. I swung my head around, unbelievably gracefully, and there he stood.

He was dressed much the same as he always was. But, I could see that his jeans were slightly cleaner and less ragged, and he had a dressier shirt, for him, thrown over his usual loose t-shirt with a band I couldn’t stand splayed across the front. He had his worn skate shoes on, and with my heels, I would have towered over him. The “would have” melted away in my Dreamland. I noticed, with satisfaction, as I walked closer, never slipping or faltering, that he was a head taller than me. He smiled and held out his hand.

I reached out to take it…

I was inches away from his outstretched fingers when music blared throughout the room.

It was unbearably upbeat for the moment, and slammed on with the swinging, melodic voice of a lead singer from a band I knew somewhere that I loved. I seemed to close my eyes for just a moment.

And when I opened them, I rolled over in my bed, stretching out my stiff jeans and twisted t-shirt.

My alarm was going off in the background, playing the same song from my dream.

--

I had recovered slightly from the uncomfortable feeling that lingers after I sleep in my clothes. It took a good five minutes just to turn my shirt around the correct way, to allow me to keep my neck unbroken while pulling it over my head, leaving me standing in an old tank-top and a pair of ragged-y boxers.

The rest of the house was still asleep. I was by no means an early riser. In fact, I was the dead opposite. But, as was becoming routine, the dream left me feeling depressed and sullen. Just another personality trait I was now as familiar with as my dramatic little sister seemed to be. I had a good 45 minutes until the house would begin to wake, and didn’t feel like starting my shower ahead of time, for fear of waking our small pack of rabid wolfhounds. (The “pack” consists of: a large beagle mix, a medium-sized Pomeranian-cocker spaniel mix, and a small mini beagle puppy… very ferocious.)

I walked back into my room on tiptoes; the house still had that unnatural chill. It felt unlived in, and it was too silent. I knew it would soon become crowded, overbearing. My little sister would soon be yelling at my mom or me for some stupid reason due to some stupid problem that was all her fault.

I knew that I had to tell him today.

Because this all had to stop.

--

He shuffled into the over-heated classroom a few minutes before the bell, surely the only time he would make it on time for the rest of the year. He knew this classroom well; he had been taking this class now for three years. It wasn’t a particularly hard class; he just lacked the motivation to pass it.

He nodded his head at a boy he knew, and leaned against a hard, crooked bookcase as the boy approached him. “Hey James,” he called out, “What’s up?” James smiled, a glint in his eye letting him know there was a story he just had to hear about to be told. He nestled farther into the bookcase, crossing his arms as he went.

James reached him then. “Dude, you’ll never guess what happened…”

James chattered on and he listened semi-enthusiastically. He had just finished nodding his head, swinging his long hair out of his face as he did, when she walked in.

A girl, a freshman, he knew. He’d have noticed her before if she was an upper-classmen.

She came in, and she was just so obviously there.

She busted into the room, her bright yellow flip flops slapping the carpet in a muffled way. Her bright brown eyes, coated in bright pink eye shadow, lit up as she raked over all the familiar faces. She waved, smiled, and even threw in some excited, clumsy jump-hugs. She threw herself at the soon-to-be recipient and wrapped their arms tightly around their neck right as she left the ground, giving the strange impression of pulling the accepting person up, almost completely up off the ground, just with the sheer force of her launch.

He watched her give at least half a dozen more of those hugs. She hopped back from her latest victim, and finally swept her eyes across the remaining contents of the room.

Her shimmering eyes stopped on a boy her age, but she did not wave, smile, or hug. At first. Then, as the boy gave her a small smile, from her appearance or her apparent friendliness, Bookcase Boy was not sure of, she smiled back.

Her eyes roamed again, she seemed to be determined to spy out everyone in the room. Her eyes flicked to him, and he stood up straighter. Her eyes flicked past him quick, though.

She slid off to sit with one of her friends, and he stared at her a bit longer, until the teacher called the class to order.

--

I fidgeted my foot back and forth, hanging my flip-flop off my big toe. I was waiting, impatiently, for one of my friends to meet me.

Someone flicked my ponytail from behind, making it swish back and forth across my shoulders. It tingled the exposed skin.

It’s funny how your body knows things: knows things before your mind is consciously aware of it. It sends you a personal signal: a tingle, a shiver, a throb, and you just know. The swish of a ponytail could do that to you.

The chair beside me slid to connect with the table in front of it, someone standing behind it to push it in. I slid my water bottle back and forth and counted to three before I looked up.

A smile had already spread across my face, pulling my cheeks up, before I had even tilted my head all the way up.

He smiled back, caught my eye for a second, and walked away with a wave.

--

The lights flicked and flittered, playing tag across her face. She could smell the hot dogs, burnt cheeseburgers, and something that smelled faintly like cinnamon.

Pop songs mingled in the air as she walked past game booths. Exhilarated, sometimes frightened, screams drifted down from the tops of rides, and muffled thumps spilt over from the bumper cars, coupled with rippling giggles.

She walked on, oblivious to the separation of her and her friends.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, and many distorted and sloppy voices joined in, whistling and shouting. She looked to the side of her, saw him, and walked over.

“Hi!” She said back, her smile faltering as she noted the flush of his cheeks, the glazed look to his eyes, and the lingering smell of some type of alcohol. The people sitting around him were the same.

He cut straight to the chase. “Hey, listen! I know we’re kinda friends, and that you’re a lot younger than me, and that we haven’t known each other very long, but I like you. I like you a whole lot.”

She laughed uncomfortably, an unspoken challenge to his words.

He stumbled to his feet. “I do!” He nearly shouted, amplifying the slur to his words.

She laughed without finding it funny. “Of course you do! You’re plastered!”

He shrugged his shoulders, unworried. “So?”

“So, tell me again Monday. If you’re hangover isn’t too bad.”

--

I tightened my ponytail, pulled on my slick, baggy red shorts, and slid my feet into my tennis shoes.

I stepped out from the over-perfumed and deodorant-laden locker room into the overheated gym.

The class before us was still out there, kicking and catching a kickball. I ran over to the table, throwing myself unto it before thinking. It shook and wobbled for a second, before settling into a semi-stable state.

Kaylee slid over beside me a few minutes later.

“So, you’re gonna do it?”

“Yep.”

She took a deep breath, and grabbed my hand for a few seconds. “You’re braver than me.”

I nodded, smiling at her reassuringly.

I sure didn’t feel that way.