Pietro goes to Poland. That's all I got.

Pietro didn't know where he was. All he knew was the place he was walking around in was dark, cold, and unfriendly.

He walked around until he stopped in front of a door. There was something writen on it.

Prisoner #214782.

Pietro looked through the bared window.

He saw a sickly boy that looked like him but with brown hair.

Pietro's eyes shot wide open. He looked around and saw he was next to Lance on a plane to Poland.

"You okay, Tro?" asked Lance.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a dream."

Pietro's class was going to Poland for a field trip. He assumed he had that dream because the town in Poland they were going to was near the one that had the death-camp his father suffered in.

He looked over and saw Lance reading a book.

"Whatcha doing?" Pietro asked.

"Trying to learn Polish," said Lance. "I'm having a hard time learning it. I won't understand anyone!"

"Too bad you're not like me. I can learn a new language in six to nine hours."

"Sixty-nine hours?"

"No, six to nine hours."

"Oh."

"We should be in Poland soon," said Pietro.

"It's you're home country, right?" asked Lance.

"Yeah. My dad grew up in Poland, then moved to American after World War II."

"We'll be landing shortly," said a flight attendent.

"Wonder what we'll do in Poland," said Lance.

"Different stuff," said Pietro.

"Will we have time to do it all?"

"I know I will. I'll finish everything in six to nine days."

"Sixty-nine days?"

"No, six to nine days."

"Oh."

"Buckle up," said Pietro. "I see ground."

Pietro's class was looking at the sights, listen to their teach talk. He slipped out and went to the fountain. A sixteen year old boy with black hair and brown eyes was sitting there.

"Hi," said Pietro, sitting next to him. "I'm Pietro."

"Hello," the boy said with an Italian accent. "I'm Petruchio."

"Are you Italian?"

"Yes. My family moved here to Poland from Italy when I was fourteen. I've lived here for two years."

"How do you like it?"

Petruchio shrugged. "It's a nice place. I miss Italy though."

"I understand."

"Pietro!" called a boy from the group.

"Gotta go. Bye."

"Bye."

Pietro went with his class.