The grey morning light bleeds through my blinds. Savannah slowly worms her way out from under the covers, looking as sleepy as I feel.
I had another dream about Casper. Madly in love and on the run. What is going on? I don’t like the guy. Yeah, he looks good, but that doesn’t mean I have to dream about him like I’m in love with him. Maybe my mind really is giving me a story to write. I rub my face and slip out from under the warm covers. Okay, I know it was only a dream, but it felt real. Too real. Or maybe I’m delusional and unaware of how much.
I arrive at school still stupefied.
“Good morning.” Cherry smiles. She usually greets me the same way every morning—very cheerful and way too energetic. This is where we are opposites. Cherry can wake up before her alarm, whereas for me, sometimes it takes my mother yelling and screaming at me to wake up to turn the damn thing off. I can’t help that I’m a deep sleeper.
“Morning.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
I shrug, not looking at her.
“Did your parents find out about last night?”
I shake my head. I look up to tell her, but my eyes catch Casper’s, who watches me as he walks by. He furrows his eyebrows like he’s frustrated. Why is he looking at me like that? And why the hell is my heart pounding like a freaking animal stampede?
“Is there something I don’t know?” Cherry raises her eyebrows and puts a hand on her hip.
“Eww, no.”
“Are you sure? Because it just got really hot in here.” She fans herself.
I roll my eyes. “I had another dream, Cher. We’re in love. It’s so bizarre and it feels real.”
“Okay. I think your secret crush has seriously gone into a full overdrive.”
I give her a pointed look. “I don’t have a secret crush on him.”
“Tell that to your subconscious.” She says, scrolling on her phone. “It’s okay. It was a dream. It’s not like you’re going to actually fall in love with the Douchebag.”
She’s right. I’m overreacting, but it’s a strange coincidence that I’ve had two dreams about him and he’s staring at me like he’s in love.
When the final bell of the day rings, I flee to my locker, as fast as the thick crowd allows me. I pull out my backpack and a folded piece of paper falls out. Probably a note from Cherry. I shove it in my pocket, grab the books I need, and close my locker. Walking out to my car, I open the note.
I can’t explain it, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Call me. Casper.
I roll my eyes and sigh. Oh, clever girl, Cherry. Clever. I’ll get her back somehow.
I get home and release my dogs into the wooded backyard so they can play. They rush past me almost knocking me over like I’m nothing but a vase. I watch them wrestle with each other, knowing the dropping temperatures make them frisky. Except Savannah. Little delicate Savannah. It’s like in the high fifties and she holds up her tiny paw like the ground is too cold. I pick her up and she snuggles close to me, shaking.
I’m off from work tonight, thankfully, but I have to cook dinner before I start my homework. I’m not supposed to talk on the phone as a stipulation of the grounding, but I have time before my parents come home so I call Cherry.
“Very funny.”
“What?” she answers as innocently as she can.
“You did a good job with the crappy handwriting so that it looks like Casper wrote it. Good job. Just wait for payback.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can stop. It was funny, but come on, don’t drag it out like you usually do.”
“Meg, seriously, what are you talking about?”
“The note you left in my locker.”
“I didn’t leave a note.”
“Then who did? Did you get someone to drop it in?”
“No. It wasn’t me, geez. What does it say?”
I read her the note.
She gasps. “Omigod. He left his number. Is it really his?”
“He overheard us talking about those stupid dreams and he’s playing a cruel joke.” I pause a minute. “You didn’t tell anyone about my dream, did you?”
“Yeah, I told the entire school. What do you think?” she asks, sarcastically, and obviously, a bit offended.
“Sorry. What if he overheard me and now, he’s messing with me?”
“I doubt anyone listens to us. Maybe he’s finally realized what a fox you are and can’t keep his eyes off you.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think guys like him would go for this pastiness,” I joke, and she laughs. “Besides, I’m not going to be one of his conquests. He’d be the last person I’d date.”
“Good. You can do so much better. Like Vincent.”
Hearing his name does funny things to me. “I never see him. How can I get to know him?”
“Maybe you need to visit the office more. Get his number…” her voice trails off.
“Oh, like you have with Luke?”
“Love takes time,” she laments.
“What should I do about this note?”
“Ignore it. Or call the number and see who answers.”
“No. I’m not going to call and relive humiliation. Remember in fifth grade when Maggie wrote all those letters and cards saying they were from Casper? Casper pretended to like me and asked me out only as a joke.”
“I know. Throw it away. If it really is from Casper, you know it’s not good.”
“True.”
I hear the hum of the garage door opening.
“I gotta go. See ya tomorrow.” I hang up, let my dogs in, and run down the hall to my room. I open my backpack, pull out whatever book I grab first, and pretend to be
