"Cammie." I sat up. I knew that voice, but I had no idea how. The voice couldn't register, but it sounded male and teenager-ish. Where was I? There was no room like this in the Gallagher Academy.

The place where I was in was a medium-sized room with dim, cold lighting. In fact, the whole room seemed cold. The floor was a gray/blue tile, and the walls were white. I noticed bugs in the obvious places: in cobwebs (how could spiders survive up here? It had to be below 40 degrees!), under door hinges, on the insides of the cylinder lighting fixtures. There were no windows, but I knew it was night. I could feel the floor vibrating, so I bent down with my ear to the cold tile, closed my eyes, and listened. It sounded like hip-hop music, blaring loudly. Suddenly, my observations were interrupted.

"Cammie? I'm… I know you're probably wondering what you're doing here, but… I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry."

Who was this guy? He seemed to know me. Why was he sorry?! Then I heard another voice, also male, but deeper and a bit louder. "Good job, son. Maybe you'll follow in the old man's foot steps after all." The boy spoke again. "Um, yea Dad. Just…" he seemed to stop, realizing that he couldn't say something. What?! "Just don't put this on me, I guess." Dad Voice came on again. "If you want it to be that way, son." "I do." "Well then let me do my job."

I heard the door open; it sounded as if it had metal plating inside its outer wood coating. They seriously needed to oil down it's hinges. I saw a man - a little over six feet tall - enter the room. He kept his face hid out of my view continually. Then he came up behind me, slapped something on me, and all went black.

______________________________________________________

I sat straight up in my bed. My head was alive with questions – at the ungodly hour of 3 am, mind you - about the dream I just had. Who was that guy? And why was he apologizing to me? How did I know his voice? And most importantly, WHERE WAS I?!! I guess I said that last part a bit loud, because Macey McHenry answered.

"At dorm room 208 of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women," she said. Well, duh. But I guess Macey McHenry is smarter than I think (after all, she did graduated completely into my junior class, and is in Mr. Solomon's class with me, because she finished, "but that wasn't what you were asking, was it?"

We ended up talking for about half an hour before finally falling asleep. I eventually came to the conclusion that it was just a dream.

Right?