A/N: John-Paul - it's nice of you to say I type fast, but like I said, I have up to Chapter XII already completed and waiting for a review. I like to update only after I get a nice new review (hint). Not much excitement in this chapter I'm afraid, but there's more to come when you review. It's like magick

Chapter VII

I went through the day on autopilot, zombie-like and unresponsive. Not the best idea with NitWhite for a teacher, but it wasn't exactly my choice. I couldn't stop thinking about the dream and the throbbing in my foot that suggested that maybe it was something more. Maybe I was just a somnambulist. Somehow, though, I didn't think it was that simple, that…normal. There had to be something more, but what? For all I knew, maybe I was really from another world! That would be interesting, but it would also open up hundreds of new questions that I couldn't find the answers to. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a basketball whizzing straight for me. Absently, not even looking up, I caught it and tossed it back to the kids playing Knockout in front of me. I glanced up at the clock, wondering when I had gotten to gym.

'Wow, I've been really out of it today,' I thought. 'I have to tell Caitlin and Brad about this whole thing, maybe they can help me figure it out.' I tried to stop thinking about it, but I couldn't.What else was there to think about?

"The party," I muttered, "think about the party. I'll have to set up tables with drinks and snacks out there, and what do I want to wear? And music, definitely need music so we can dance. Maybe string up some coloured lights? Yeah, that would be cool, light the way for everyone. Pizza. Definitely pizza." Thinking about the party preparations that had to be made helped me to stop thinking about the dream and what it could possibly mean.

I really didn't want to go to third block with NitWhite, but I had to. Thankfully, he was one of the teachers who let us choose our own seats. He didn't want to, but he made a bet with me at the beginning of the semester and lost. I bet that I could beat him at chess and if I did he would let us choose our own seats all semester. I won. They like me in History. All but NitWhite, but that's just as well with me. I don't like him either. I don't think anyone does.

I took an inconspicuous seat in the back of the room and tried to hide behind the guy in front of me. I tried to look like I was paying attention and knew the answers to the questions asked (who the Hell cares how many members of Congress there were in 1776?) while not thinking about the dreams. NitWhite seemed to be trying to single me out as usual, so I decided to play a little game.

"Who here knows at what time the Declaration of Independence was signed?" he asked. "Anyone? Anyone at all? No?" He turned to face me. "Ah yes, Miss Reaver. You usually have an answer to everything. What time was it?"

"Do you want the textbook answer or the movie?" I asked. Several kids laughed. NitWhite frowned (nothing new).

"I told you, Miss Reaver, I do not like comedians in my classroom," he said sternly. "Do you know the answer or not?"

"I do not," I replied. "But I have a suggestion."

"And what might that be?"

"Why don't we ask you questions?"

NitWhite started to retort, then paused. Smirking, he said, "Well, I don't see why not. A round of "Stump the Teacher", is it?"

"In a manner," I replied guardedly. I knew NitWhite could never resist showing off. Kids started firing questions at him, all of which he answered quickly and easily, buffing his nails on his shirt like some hotshot. I'd show him who was hot. I watched my time until there wasn't much left. The last question was mine, I made sure of it.

"If the opposite of 'pro' is 'con', what's the opposite of 'progress'?" I asked after he had answered several tough questions in a row without even thinking.

"Con…gress," he said, shooting off the answer before his brain registered the question. Just as he was about to give me his "What did I tell you about comedians?" spiel, the bell blared. Unlike most other days, this time I bolted out of there before he could tell me to stay behind. As soon as I was safely out of the classroom and lost in the throng, I shouted back, "You got served, Nitwit!"

"That's NitWhite!"

I laughed and hurried along, eager to find Caitlin and Brad so I could talk to them about my dreams. My foot still hurt, but I could ignore it now. I looked over the surging sea of heads and backpacks for my friends, and finally spotted them ducking into a water fountain alcove (though whatever comes out of those fountains, most people are sure it isn't water) and looking around for me. I waved to them when they looked my way and they quickly caught up with me.

"Hey guys, what is up?" I asked. They laughed.

"Nothing much, you?" asked Brad.

"Uh," I said, wondering how to respond to this. I could tell the truth, but I didn't know if now was the best time. Caitlin seemed to sense my conflict.

"Is something wrong?" she asked in concern.

"I'll tell you at lunch, OK?" I said softly. This did nothing to ease her concern, but Caitlin nodded. The three of us continued to English/Lit. I knew Caitlin wanted to know what was going on now that she knew there was something going on, but she had to wait. I didn't want anyone else to overhear.

The minutes crawled over like insects, but there was nothing we could do. Finally the bell rang, releasing us to lunch. We got our "food" from the kitchen quickly and sat at our table in the back of the cafeteria.

"OK, what's going on?" asked Caitlin immediately. So I told them, her and Brad. I told them everything. When I had finished, they just looked at me. Quietly I slipped off my sneaker and showed them the bandage around my foot.

"Ouch," commented Brad softly. I smiled and carefully replaced my shoe.

"What did your parents say?" asked Caitlin.

"Dad's the only one who saw it, and he probably figures I just cut myself in my sleep somehow. When Mom sees, she'll say the same thing. You know how they are."

"Yes, I do," muttered Caitlin derisively. I smiled.

"Be nice," said Brad. "What do you think this is?" he asked me.

"Not a clue. All I know is that I'm waking up with someone else's blood in my mouth, injuries inflicted in dreams are real, and my foot really itches!" Caitlin and Brad laughed as I pulled off my sneaker and scratched irritatedly around the bandage. "It's not funny," I growled through clenched teeth.

"No, Brad just poked me," Caitlin said, poking Brad. I grinned. Caitlin was extremely ticklish if you poked her in the right place. It was funny to watch her twitch, even if it did cost you a punch in the arm. Caitlin turned back to me. "So, on a lighter note, what about your party?"

"Yeah, you need any help setting up?" asked Brad.

"Nah, I'm good, but thanks," I said. "I'm gonna bring Dad's generator out there to hook up a stereo to, set up some tables with snacks, maybe string up some coloured lights. By the way, don't have dinner before you come, we're having grilled stuff. Hot dogs and hamburgers, you know." I had changed my mind about the pizza. "And be ready to dance."

"I don't like dancing," said Caitlin.

"Too bad! It's my party, and you'll dance if I want you to," I said cheerfully. Caitlin punched me playfully and I laughed. I couldn't wait for the party, though I usually hate parties.

"Ah, you can dance a little for her Cait," said Brad. "C'mon, it's her Sweet Sixteen." He smiled at me. "Tonight your life's gonna change forever."

He was wrong, actually. That happened the following night.