The other students and I shuffled through the hallways of Portland High as we headed to our homerooms. I took a seat in the back of the classroom and laid my head down on top of my books. I was still cold and tired and couldn’t warm up no matter how hard I tried. I must have dozed off for a minute or two and dreamt that someone was calling my name. I came crashing back to reality when my name was called even louder this time.
“Willow Flynn!” Mr. Singer yelled out as part of his morning roll call.
I looked up and raised my hand. “Here.”
I put my head back down on my pile of knowledge and forced myself to stay awake.
“Tessa Anderson?” Mr. Singer sang. Sure, he called my name with venom in his voice, but called out to Tessa as if he were reciting poetry. “Tessa?”
Mr. Singer scanned the classroom. Perfect Tessa Anderson was nowhere to be found. He gave up.
“Michael Cooper.”
Michael Cooper was sitting two rows to the left of me, but didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at me and smiled. Nervously, I kept my head down and looked away.
“Michael Cooper! I see you back there,” Mr. Singer shouted. “Answer me!”
Michael slowly turned toward the teacher. “Sorry. Here.”
Just then Tessa Anderson sailed into the room, waved to Mr. Singer and sat. “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Singer. My locker was jammed and I couldn’t get it to open.” She was such a suck up and a liar.
“Not a worry, Tessa,” Mr. Singer beamed. “Just glad you made it here at all.”
Mr. Singer was so creepy looking with his long, bushy sideburns and slicked back, greasy hair. He was stuck in the 80s and looked as if he were hoping to win “best costume” at a retro-themed Halloween party.
I must have dozed off again for a split second, but was awakened after something hit me in the head. I looked down and saw a tiny paper airplane on the floor next to my feet. I sat up and looked around.
There was Michael Cooper, with his intense, dark eyes, smiling at me again. He was starting to give the creeps as much as Mr. Singer.
He mouthed to me, “Read it.”
I picked the airplane off the floor and opened it. Inside, scribbled in pencil, was a note.
“Sweet dreams, my dear,
Sweet dreams, you dare?
Be done with dreams
And face your fear.”
What the heck was that supposed to mean? I glanced over at Michael but his back was to me as he coughed and faced the plate glass window. I crumpled up the airplane and stuck it in my coat pocket. I’d toss it in the garbage on my way out of homeroom. But I needed to get outta there fast in case Creepy Cooper tried to talk to me.
I looked at the clock. The minute hand ticked. The bell rang. Homeroom over. I bolted for the door and ran straight into Tessa Anderson.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
She shot me a dirty look. “Chill,” she said, before twirling back around and hitting me in the face with her long, shiny blonde hair. Tessa looked exactly like the sort of girl who’d be smack in the middle of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, while my picture would be plastered on the side of a box of apple cinnamon flavored oatmeal.
I rolled my eyes, tossed the note into the trash and raced into the hallway, hoping to disappear into the abyss of other swarming students.
CHAPTER
FOUR
In the Middle of Nowhere (Willow's Journey #1) Page 3
