It was the same dream that I had been having for weeks now. The same dark, shadowed room. The same paint chipped walls, but this time it was different. There was something there in the room, a boy. He was sitting in the very back of the classroom. He could only be described as beautiful. His hair was a light brown that had blonde streaks in it like it had been kissed by the sun. His eyes were the deepest shade of blue I had ever seen, like the ocean but with more depth, like they had a story to tell, a sad one with a terrible ending. I knew I had never seen him before. I would never forget a face like that, but somehow he seemed familiar. The way he stared at me, it was like he knew more about me than I did. I felt strangely exposed standing in front of him. It felt like he already knew all of my secrets, my life story, yet he hadn't even spoken a single word. He opened his mouth,

"Sam," he shouted in a voice that wasn't his, "Sam wake up you're gonna be late for school!"

I awoke with a start, sitting straight up before I even opened my eyes. My head ran into something hard causing it to fly back and hit the headboard. "Ow!" I yelped, rubbing my forehead as I opened my eyes for the first time. "Good morning to you to," Dylan said as he glared at me while rubbing his own forehead, "Although you could've skipped the whole giving me a concussion thing." "Sorry." I replied, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to get a better look at him. Dylan has been my best friend for over ten years now. We met at church camp when we were both only six years old and have been best friends ever since. Dylan had light, blonde hair that you could only get from staying out all summer, and eyes that were a dull shade of green but pretty all the same. I had never really thought of him as attractive before, but he had spent the summer in London half way across the world with his mother and came back completely different. He had changed a lot over these past few months and it was for the better. He seemed more confident in everything he did, and he even got asked to go to a party by some upperclass girls, but he had turned them down. He had stated that he didn't understand why they liked him now if they hadn't liked him before, and he's right. I had actually been relieved that he had said no, I guess I just felt a little protective over Dylan because if there was one thing I did know, it was that all that the upperclassmen wanted was something that I knew Dylan would not give. His virginity. I knew Dylan wouldn't scoop as low as giving himself up to a girl who wouldn't have given him the time of day a few months before. He deserved better than that.

"Hello? Sam, you're staring at me, why are you staring at me?" I snapped out of my daydream and answered. "Sorry, I guess I'm still asleep." I lied. "Well wake up because it's seven thirty and we need to hurry if we want to make it to school on time!" he exclaimed, standing up and dragging me off my bed and towards my closet. This is basically what happened every morning, I would oversleep and find that my mom had let Dylan in to come wake me up. He was always there in the mornings, waking me up and making sure that we got to school on time so that his perfect attendance record wouldn't be screwed up. The boy hadn't been late to a single thing since he was born, literally. He was born on the exact day that the doctors said he would be, right up to the minute. I grabbed my "Made in Brooklyn" shirt, my holy jeans, and my red worn-out converse and stumbled into the bathroom to change. When I looked into the mirror I almost laughed out loud at the sight. My huge mass of curly brown hair stuck out on end forming a giant afro on my head. I did my best to smooth it out but epically failed leaving me with no choice but to yank it up into a knot on the top of my head. I examined the rest of my face to find that my face was sticky with sweat. I always woke up drenched in sweat after that dream, but I never know why. Its like there is a whole other part of my dream that I can never remember, something awful that left my heart racing, and my whole body sticky with sweat.

My huge brown eyes stared back at me in the mirror. They weren't anything special, just a dark brown with flecks of gold that matched my hair. I didn't stand out much which was a good thing, but that also meant guys didn't notice me either. I wasn't beautiful like most of the girls at my school, at least I didn't think so. And my clothing choices didn't exactly scream "date me!" I didn't wear short skirts or too tightly compressed tank-tops that left me gasping for air like most girls. I was more laid-back. I liked wearing jeans and T-shirts, they were just more comfortable. Plus, it wasn't like I was trying to impress anybody.

I have been living with just my mom, Amy, for the past three years now ever since my dad passed away. Pilot Bryan Argent. He died in a plane crash. A man had hijacked the plane and held my dad at gunpoint. He shot him in the head, causing the plane to crash and everyone on board to die. My dad was my best friend, besides Dylan of course. He used to take us, and my mom to the park to play basketball on the weekends. Dylan wasn't all that athletic, so he always ended up cheering from the side lines with a twisted ankle or a bloody nose. We would play for hours on end until we were all drenched in sweat. Ever since he died I hadn't touched a basketball. That was our special thing and I felt like since he was gone, I wasn't allowed to enjoy it anymore. I had quit playing at school and tried to avoid the park whenever I could. I knew that Mom grieved the hardest. She tried to hide it, but my room wasn't that far from hers and I could hear her crying at night or praying to God to bring him back. He was the love of her life. I knew that sometimes it was hard on her, being a single mom, and she didn't always do everything right, but I was thankful for her.

After I finished getting ready I flew down the stairs to find Dylan eating breakfast with my mom, as usual. He was being his naturally charming self, telling the same jokes and stories that had my mom gasping for air and spitting her coffee all over her food every time. "Hello darling!" chirped my mother in her usual perky voice, as she stood up to give me a hug. "Hey," I replied, grabbing an apple off the counter and stuffing it in my backpack "Come on Dylan let's go I don't want to be late!" I chided, knowing that I was really the one causing us to be late. Again. "Bye Mrs. Argent," Dylan yelled, "Have a great day!" "Oh stop it, you kiss up." I snickered as Dylan said goodbye to my mother, still waving from half way across the front yard. "What? I'm just trying to be nice. We need your mom to be in a good mood so that you can go to the back to school party at Shelly Cooper's house tonight!" he replied.

I stopped dead in my tracks, causing Dylan to slam into my shoulder. "What," I asked, "Dylan you know I don't do parties! Especially ones hosted by Shelly Cooper." I added, my voice defiant. "Oh come on Sam, it happened a long time ago! I'm sure she feels awful about it now." A few years ago I went to one of Shelly Coopers pool parties and things got a little crazy. Of course there was alcohol involved and when Shelly got drunk, she was insane! When I wasn't looking Shelly came up behind me and untied my bathing suit top and it fell right off! I was so humiliated that I didn't go to school for a week. When I did come back I found out that Shelly had posted pictures all over school. I don't know why she hates me so much, I had always been nice to her. "Yeah I bet she just feels terrible." I replied with mock hurt in my voice. "Well I can't go by myself, who will I talk to?" he asked, he actually sounded a little bit hurt. "I'm sure you will find someone to talk to." I replied bitterly. He shot me and uneasy side glance. "Are you okay? You seem a little crabby today." he said cautiously. "Yeah, I guess it's just that time of the month again." I replied, knowing that would get him to lay off. Guys always got uncomfortable when you talked about stuff like that, and often tried to change the subject. "Okay..." Dylan searched for another subject to talk about. "How have you been sleeping lately, you were kind of jumpy this morning. Is it that same dream as always?" I decided not to tell Dylan about the guy in my dreams. I don't know why, it just seemed like something I should keep to myself. Besides, it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, just the same boring dream."

The bell rang as soon as me and Dylan took our seats in Reading class. Our teacher was , an eccentric old man who we had been lucky enough to have as a teacher since the sixth grade. He had been married and divorced twice since me and Dylan entered middle school, and he was also insanely superstitious. "Okay children take a seat! Everybody take a seat!" everybody was already sitting down, but that didn't stop him from saying it every class day. "Today we are going to be talking about dreams." I thought it was a little strange that we would be talking about dreams in reading, but nobody ever questioned . "Now most people think that dreams are just an act of your subconscious. They would be wrong. Each dream has it's own psychic print." I looked over at Dylan and rolled my eyes as we both laughed silently. He wrote something down on a piece of paper, folded it up, and passed it across the aisle to me. Scrawled on it in small messy handwriting was a note.

I wonder what kind of psychic message your dream has.

I shook my head, and crumpled up the note. trying not to laugh. Was he kidding? Dylan knew I didn't believe in that psychic crap "Dreams are like complex messages, and no matter how bizarre they seem, they always have a meaning. Whether their message is good or bad, well, that depends on you. They can serve as a message, or a warning. Whether the message is clear or not." My ears perked up at this, if every dream really did mean something, I wonder what mine meant. And was it a message or a warning. The rest of the morning flew by in a whirlpool of words and numbers as our teachers tried to cram everything we forgot over the summer back into our over worked brains. Before I knew it, it was time for last period. As Dylan and I were walking to class I got this weird feeling in my stomach. Butterflies? I didn't know why I felt so nervous, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. When I walked into the dimly lit chemistry lab, I couldn't believe my eyes! I must've been going insane because at the back of the room there was a new student sitting in my assigned desk, his bright blue eyes staring at me. It was him, the boy from my dream. He was here, and he was real.