Little bits of the dream I’d been having skittered out of my head like quick, slick bugs. There was a hole in the roof of the house and leaves were blowing in, piling up in the corner of the room next to mine. Then I was in some kind of house made out of glass, maybe a greenhouse. I was chasing someone and was full of bad intentions. There was a shotgun leaning up against the wall. That was all I could grab before it all tumbled out my ears. Sunlight was streaming in my window, and I could hear the cars going by out on Route 44. I wiped the gunk out of the corners of my eyes and checked the alarm clock. It was almost ten, which was like a bonus. I almost never slept that late or that well. One of the many crappy things about having to get up early for school five days a week was that, even when I didn’t need to, I usually woke up early. My body was just trained, I guess, and it was getting worse as I got older. Last summer vacation, it was July before I started sleeping much past eight.
