A Dream
Blood drips from a knife. My weary eyes watch it. I know whose it is. It’s mine. “Goodbye Davis,” and everything goes black.
“Goodbye Davis.” I awake to an empty classroom and no stab wounds. “I don’t appreciate you sleeping in my class.”
“Sorry Mr. Grouman,” I said.
“You’re off the hook this time but don’t let it happen again,” said Mr. Grouman.
“Ok,” I said. When I leave I start rubbing my head. That dream was very unpleasant.
“Why are you rubbing your head? Did the principal punch you?” says Shalee when she sees me.
“Why would the principal give him punch? Think a little,” says Paris as she walks by.
“I wonder if she’s out to get me because I’m your sister. I wonder if she’s out to get Mom and Dad,”
“Shalee.”
“I wonder if she wants to conquer the world,”
“SHALEE!” Her head jerks up. “The last contact the principal had with a fist was the Anna incident,” I said. Then I walk to science.
