My head was spinning from the second I arose from my deep, dark, slumber. I barely remembered figments of the scrange dream I had, but even then none of them made any sense, and I couldn't piece them together in a coherent way, even if I tried. All disoriented and walking on the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder who or what was going on, where and how I was, and why. Heck, I didn't even know if I was.

"Maddie!" It was my mama. "Do you wanna finish your, uh, Froot Loops?"

"Sure!" I called back at the same volume as her, but she somehow wasn't able to hear me, before heading downstairs to have breakfast and go to school.

Many minutes later, I was standing in front of the desolate, wind-squept rock face of the kindergarten building once again. The bell of the WATCH Tower clock chimed and I knew it was time to enter the building. Step by step, step by agonizing step, I strode toward the entrance, opening the door. The cold, harsh exterior of the building melted away into the warm, yellow light of human interaction as I stepped over the threshold into the building.

"Dingalingalingaling!" Mr. Pony was being their usual eccentric self, imitating the noise of the handbell they were ringing to summon us all to the carpet. "Good morning, buckaroos! Hope you're all feeling chipper today, cause we've got an exciting day ahead of us!" Mr. Pony put their hands to their mouth mischievously. 'But first, let's start off the day properly, like a well balanced breakfast! It's time for centers!"

This time, I was ready. With an uncharacteristic amount of confidence, I used my hind legs to rocket off the floor like a person who had undergone so many body modifications that they could effectively be considered a cyborg and launched myself towards Jordan. He flinched as I came to an aburpt halt in front of him.

"H-hey, Maddie," he trembled, surprised by my sudden movement. "Uh, how are you today?"

"I'm fine, I guess, thanks," I said, smiling and closing my eyes. Then I immediately pouted and crossed my arms. "But what's more important right now is your amnesia. Do you remember anything now?"

"My… amnesia?" Jordan looked confused for a second, until his face finally lit up. "Oh, right! That. Uh, no, nothing new comes to mind. Although I did have a really weird dream last night, so, uh, maybe those are like, repressed memories?"

"Maybe," I conceded, "but I also had a weird dream too, and I don't have amnesia, so I don't think that's it."

"Also, another thing. That being over there - " he gestured toward Mr. Pony " - said that it was time for centers. What are centers?"

"Oh," I explained. "It's basically just a time to hang out with other people, and talk about whatever. Mr. Pony over there has us do it every day so we can get to know each other better."

Jordan's face turned a stammering shade of red. "Ah..." he said, adjusting himself. "I see. And, uh, one other thing I noticed was that I had this in my pocket." He procured his little notebook. "I took a look through it and it seems to be full of rare, valuable, and limited edition stamps. But why?"

"Well," I said, trying to approach this topic as delicately as possible, "It's… kind of your hobby. You are a stamp collector."

Jordan's eyes widened for a second before he frowned. "Is that right? I'm… a stamp collector?"

"Sort of," I clarified. "you only do it because your parents make you. What you said you really wanted to be was a..."

Shoot. I crossed my arms and pouted in order to start thinking. After several long minutes of thought, I could only come up with three answers: Doctor, Dentist, and Lawyer. Now, I had to make my choice very carefully.

"...Lawyer?"

Jordan put his hand over his nose and mouth quizzically. "Hmm.. a lawyer? Sorry, but that doesn't seem right to me."

Double Shoot! Uh, time to try another option. "A Doctor?"

Jordan put his hand over his nose and mouth quizzically. "Hmm.. a doctor? Sorry, but that doesn't seem right to me."

Toripple Shoot! I was running out of ideas. "A Dentist?"

Jordan held his hands out in front of him as if he was clutching a distended belly that he didn't have. "Really? I don't remember because I have amnesia, but somehow that just feels right to me." He then raised one of his arms as if to offer an alternative point of view. "So I guess that makes me a stamp collecting dentist then, huh." He then pointed melodramatically. "I'll fill in both my stamp notebook… and your cavities!

I laughed. Even if he didn't remember who he was, Jordan could sure crack a good joke.

Jordan returned to normal. "Earlier, you said centers was when we could get to know each other better. So what about you? Do you have anything you want to do, or any hobbies?"

Quadruuple Shoot! Just like that, I had been put on the spot. Jordan had turned the tables on me so easily, but fortunately, I remembered the conversation I had yesterday with shep. "I like oyster crackers," I said nonchalantly. "Those little delicacies are my favorite food."

"I see," said Jordan, looking off to the side and placing this thumb under his chin. "But isn't there anything you want to be when you grow up? Like a basketball player, or an alien, or a movie star?"

Quintuuple Shoot! This was the question I had been trying to avoid, but now I had to stare it in the face and think deeply about myself. I thunk deeply, recalling everything that had happened in the past few days, from centers, to lunch, to the kickball game, to naptime, even back to the very instant I had first stepped foot into Paige Prep. I also remembered the scrange dreams that I had, and throughout all the turmoil and the whirlwinds of chaos, only one thing stood out. One thing remained constant. I knew. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew what I wanted to be.

My eyes snapped open and I shouted "That's it!" out loud, for some reason, causing Jordan to flinch again.

"What's it?" he asked.

"I want to be a decider." I stated with certainty.

"A… decider? what's that?"

"A person that decides things. You know how William makes sandwiches, Jacques makes maps, and Owen makes people laugh? Well I..." a noise like an electrified soda pop played in the background. "make decisions!"

"That's awesome," said Jordan. "I'm glad you were finally able to figure that out."

"Thanks," I said, smiling and closing my eyes briefly before reopening them and looking to the side somewhat embarrassedly. "Which means..." I took a deep breath and procured the Lucky Penny. Its dull copper glint stood out in stark contrast to the fair skin of my ouscretched palm. "I guess I don't need this anymore. Here Jordan, I want you to have it." He held out his hand and accepted the coin before holding it up to his little spectacles as if he were an archaeologist inspecting an ancient artifact.

"Thanks," he said. "But… what is it?"

"It's my Lucky Penny," I explained, tears welling up in the tear ducts of my eyes. "I let it make – no, I used to let it make decisions for me that were otherwise too difficult. But I'm not going to rely on it anymore."

"I see," said Jordan, taking one last look at the Lucky Penny before slipping it into his pocket. "It must've been very important to you. I'll take good care of it."

"Thanks!" I replied, absolutely beaming.

Jordan looked away suddenly. "I, uh, should probably talk to a few other people too," he remarked. "You know, since, uh, I don't remember most of them."

"Yeah," I agreed, flexing my muscles in encouragement. "If you think you can do it, go for it."

"Right." Jordan awkwardly waved goodbye, and then walked off. I was so proud of him, for some reason. Feeling the massive burden of the Lucky Penny lifted off my shoulders, I skipped away at double speed to talk to… Kyle.

As I approached the lad, the smell of gasoline invaded my nostrils. I endured it for the time being, for Kyle was apparently very funny, and according to some, a genius.

"Howdy, Kyle," I said, closing my eyes, smiling, and raising my hand as a form of greeting.

Kyle tilted his head downward, so that his heavyset, furrowed brow could better frame the maleficent glare from his almond-shaped eyes. "Go away," he growled.

"That isn't a very nice way to greet someone," I said, doing the you-know-I-had-to-do-it-to-em pose. "Come on, Kyle, it's just centers. Won't you talk to me?"

The smell of gasoline intensified. "...Fine. But only for a little bit." The way he said 'fine' made it sound more like 'foin'.

"Great, thanks!" I said, enthusiastically and positively encouraging the conversation. "My name is Maddie, and I like making decisions. My fun fact is that my favorite food is oyster crackers!"

Kyle twitched. "Gow! I already know that crap. Me name is Kyle," he responded begrudgingly. "And I like lawnmowing. My fun fact is that one day, I will become a lawnmower."

I was somewhat taken aback. "A lawnmower?" I asked, imagining the vehicle in my head.

"Gow!" went Kyle again, twitching irritably. "Everyone always says the same thing. I don't mean the machine, you embyssal. I mean a person that mows lawns. Like a kitchen, that you cook food in."

I stifled a grin at his humorous comparison, which only seemed to annoy him further. "Okay," I said. "That makes a little more sense."

I could hear the beginnings of the low rumble of an engine in the background. "Well then, I answered your questions for centers," Kyle growled through gritted teeth. "Now leave me alone. Or else I'm going to get angry."

The acrid smell of gasoline spiked in intensity upon making that last comment. I decided it was probably better to let him be for now rather than request he ask politely and skedaddled, leaving him to fume by himself.

Between the relatively short interaction I had with Kyle, and the fact that I hadn't spent time fretting over who to talk to using the Lucky Penny, I actually had time to talk to one more person. Wow, I was really operating at peak efficiency.

Next, I figured I should hang out with Julia, since out of the three other people in my table group she was the one I talked to the least, so I felt kind of bad about that. Gotta keep the squad together, you know?

"Hey Julia!" I said, drawing her attention away from the purple plastic clipboard she had her assignment book attached to.

"Oh, good morning, Maddie," she said, adjusting her single-lensed glasses. Wouldn't that make it just a glass? "You seem like you're in a good mood today."

"Yeah," I agreed, flexing my muscles in encouragement. "I finally know what I want to be when I grow up. A decider!"

Julia put one of her hands to her chest, a somewhat surprised look in her eyes. "A… decider? As in, someone that makes decisions?" That's a little unusual."

"Not really," I replied nonchalantly. "Like I just said to Jordan earlier, William makes sandwiches, Jacques makes maps, Owen makes people laugh, and I make decisions."

Julia looked downward slightly, closed he eyes, and crossed her arms in a certain way so that one hand cradled her elbow and the other extended an index finger as if she was about to begin a lecture. "I suppose that is fair."

"By the way, thanks for your advice on writing my letter to my pen-pal yesterday. Getting all of my thoughts out of my brain and onto the paper really helped me organize them."

"Oh, there is no problem," she remarked nonchalantly. "It's just a trick that I learned in my advanced writing class."

I frowned and put my hand to my chin. "Advanced writing class? Did we take one of those?"

"Oh, no, that wasn't here," she explained. "This was a separate class, outside of Place – er, Paige Prep."

"Wait, so you go to two schools?" I asked.

"In a way," she looked directly at me, adjusted her glasses with one hand, and held out the other as if she were accepting an ancient coin. "In addition to this school here, I also take advanced classes elsewhere for math, science, and language arts."

"Whoa," I remarked. "That explains why you were so good at contractions, and the math quiz."

"Indeed," she continued, maintaining the same pose. "Because of these classes, currently I'm on track to skip the first grade and go straight to the second one."

"Wow, just like Tim. You've gotta be a genius, Julia."

Julia's expression darkened slightly. She turned to the side and raised one of her hands In front of her as if she was putting on a long, heavy duty rubber glove. "It's not like that," she asserted. "I'm not in those classes for being smart, I'm in them because I'm not. By that way, when I'm older, I will have more time for extracurriculars so I can get into a good university."

I leaned backwards slightly, sweated in the face, raised my arms as if to defend myself, and opened my mouth like John Bosco Baccibelli Bapoueleh's younger broterr, Benjimon Bubacelli Bapoupeleh. "University?" I asked in shock. "You're already thinking about that? I don't even know what I'm gonna have for lunch yet!" I tried to imagine myself being so old, and it just seemed so unfathomable.

"Yes," she continued, changing back to the pose where she was adjusting her glasses and holding out her hand. It almost made me wonder where her clipboard was. "Once I get there, I plan on studying chemistry so I can do experiments in a lab."

I was floored. "Wow, it really seems like you've got it all planned out," I commented.

"Yes, along with tennis and violin lessons, it always keeps me busy and makes sure I have something to do. Though… it can be a lot of work to keep up with sometimes."

"I can imagine," I said. "I don't even do half of those things, and I'm exhausted by the end of school."

"You should try to see if you can sign up for some of those extracurriculars," she suggested. "It would be great to have someone else I knew from school there, and plus, it will look good for universities."

For the sake of maintaining my generic relatability, I had to question internally whether such things were really for me, but at the same time my mama says I have to be polite when talkin' to people. "Yeah, I'll think about it," I replied. "But do you really need to be worried about universities when you're only in kindergarten?"

She shrugged. "It never hurts."

I left the conversation having gained a newfound admiration for Julia due to how much of an overachiever she was. I certainly didn't have that kind of motivation – I'd sooner be playing video games with William than taking violin lessons or advanced classes.

"Mr. Pony rang their handbell, signaling the end of centers. "Okay class, we're going to do something a little different today," they announced. "Rather than going to your assigned seats, please line up behind the line leader at the door?"

"Are we going to lunch already?" asked Kathleen.

"Not yet, but another teacher and I have organized a little something we like to call the class swap!"

"Class… swap?" asked William.

"You betcha! For this one period, you'll be swapping teachers with another class in order to experience a new subject!"

"Wow, Jacquesypoo," remarked Owen, balling up his little fists in front of himself with his eyes sparkling. "It's like A Whole New World! Don't you dare close your eyes."

Jacques looked a bit offended by that comment and turned away from Owen.

"Silence, troublemaker," warbled Randy. "Everyone, hurry and get in line. The more time we waste here, the less time we have at the class swap."

The rest of the class begrudgingly obeyed Randy and lined up before exiting the classroom in an orderly fashion. However, when we went into the lobby, we noticed another line of students, led by a ball-shaped, cross eyed boy in a tie dye shirt. This must be the class we were swapping with.

"Okay friends, time to go inside," encouraged the being at the back of the line in a voice that sounded like 2006 Justin Bieber. Tie dye boy strode into the classroom from whence we had just came,, followed by the rest of his class, which included some quirky looking girls and angry looking boys. Once they had disappeared into Mr. Pony's chamber, I took a better look at our temporary new teacher. They looked a bit like a variation of Mr. Pony, and I felt like I had seen them somewhere before, but I couldn't remember where."

"Good morning, new friends!" greeted the teacher sweetly. "My name is Ms. Uni, and I'll be your teacher during the class swap.