Dream. (Cont.)

White doesn’t go with these shorts, I thought, trying my luck. The sweatshirt turned a deep blue color. I slipped it over my long arms and zipped it up to the middle of my bony chest, instantly feeling warmer. I flipped my bangs out of my eyes and kept walking. I whipped around when something crunched behind me.

“Sorry,” a girl who looked to be about my age whispered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” I turned to face her. She was a short, solid girl, with short, dark brown hair and a splatter of freckles across her nose.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Depends.” she answered.

“What kind of answer is that?” I snapped.

“Don’t know. Who are you?” she inquired.

“Alex.” I replied.

“Oh. So you’re the one, then.”

“Excuse me?” I said incredulously.

“You’re the one who’s going to save us all.”

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