Claire lifted her head from the desk as golden sunlight streamed in through the window. Dammit. She stuffed her pencils back into her pencil case and crammed her notebooks in her backpack. She’d fallen asleep during class again. Why didn’t anybody wake me up?

The classroom was empty as she looked around, not a single bag in sight. Not even the teacher’s purse was there. Empty, it was completely empty. The clock that hung high in the classroom read ten past five. She cursed under her breath, her lip gloss now dry on her lips. She was supposed to be home an hour ago. 

The ticking of the clock felt loud in the silent classroom. She’d never been in the school at this hour, nobody was supposed to be. Even the clubs were supposed to end by 4:15. The amber glow from the golden hour seemed to cast the whole room into a deeper sense of quiet. 

Claire shivered; she never liked the golden hour. It made everything seem muffled, almost surreal. It never felt like reality. She swung her backpack over her shoulder, still shocked at how nobody woke her up. 

“Not even the teacher?” she mumbled to herself. 

Scrawled onto the blackboard, the words “HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU’RE DREAMING?” made her feel even more displaced. Beneath the words was a rough sketch of a teenage girl looking up at the ceiling with worry. Even from afar, Claire could see that the dark black marker was pressed strongly against the board. Thick black scratches forged her fearful face. Was she dreaming? She pinched at her skin, remembering the technique from a teen horror magazine she had read a while ago. If the skin didn’t stretch like dough or slime, then it wasn’t a dream. Her skin remained firm. Feeling silly, Claire let out a sigh of relief and pushed open the wooden door of the classroom. 

The hallway, just as empty as the classroom, still had the same copper glow to it. Claire’s footsteps echoed throughout the halls, her shiny black shoes clicking against the floor. Her arms swung more than usual, the urgency of the situation making her increase her momentum. Rows of blue lockers lined both sides, occasionally broken up by the ugly beige brick walls of the school. She’d already missed the start of her MTV program- she’d have to ask Becc to catch her up on it tomorrow. There was no way her parents would let her have the television when she got home, they were gonna be totally pissed. 

Claire gnawed on her fingernails as she paced down the hallway. It was an anxious habit that annoyed her friend but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Her dad was going to kill her for being so late. She had no excuse and he’d be pissed to hear that she was sleeping during class again. 

She whizzed past a clump of posters but did a double take when she saw the familiar handwriting that she’d seen in the classroom- handwriting that wasn’t anybody’s she knew. “HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU’RE DREAMING?” Claire gulped, a sickening feeling growing in her stomach. The same image of the girl sat under the header. 

“The hell is this? Some anti-alcohol campaign?” she ripped the paper off the glazed bricks, trying to bury the unsettling feeling that had begun to spread throughout her body. Claire hoped that her angry tone would suppress the discomfort she felt. That poster hadn’t been there earlier this morning. Shaking her head, she stuffed it into the pocket of her uniform. 

The setting sun glared at her, reflecting off the polished floor. Claire squinted at the brilliantly blinding light but quickened her pace towards the staircase. 

“Damn this creepy old building,” she grumbled. 

“Damn this creepy old building.”

Claire froze. That wasn’t her voice. She whipped her head around, looking for the source. It was higher-pitched than hers, unnaturally so. It sounded like a teenage girl mocking someone with a high pitched voice. The hallway was still empty. 

Above her, a frozen clock’s hands stood at 11:03. Was this some sick prank? Had someone decided to play a game with her? She was sure she hadn’t misheard it. Someone was there with her. 

“Who’s there?” A part of her cringed inside. It was a stupid question. Obviously nobody was going to answer, it was like telling an armed robber to leave the house. 

Claire reluctantly turned around again and sped up her walking. 

“Who’s there?”

Eyes wide with fear, she broke out into a sprint, refusing to turn back around. Someone was there with her. Someone was watching her. Claire flew down the staircase, her heart pounding in her chest. This couldn’t be real. Hard footsteps sounded behind her. The weight of each step sounded nothing like the voice that had just called out to her. It was heavier, like the footsteps of a heavy man running with purpose. 

A wail of fear poured out of her as she kept running down the stairs. The metal railing glinted in the sunlight. 

“Stay away from me!” she cried out. “Leave me alone!” 

The heavy pounding behind her stopped, but it didn’t mean that Claire did. She kept going down the stairs as fast as she could. Mascara stained tears streamed down her face. Caramel curls that smelled of hairspray clung to her damp skin. She’d broken out into a cold sweat. 

A wave of relief washed over Claire as she hit the ground of the first floor. But it wasn’t over yet. Fifty feet away stood the tall blue doors of the exit. She made a beeline toward them, her heart racing. She wasn’t sure if that person was still following her or not. She couldn’t hear them, but she didn’t want to take a chance and look. 

Claire’s shoe bent awkwardly under her foot and she tumbled to the ground, her right cheek making contact with the floor. Her eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the landing and her body let out a thud as it hit the polished deck. 

She let out a groan, opening her eyes and she pushed herself up, but her breath caught in her throat as she saw the paper beside her head. “HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU’RE DREAMING?”

Claire let out a frustrated scream and slapped the paper away, clambering back onto her feet. “Damn you!” she called out, although she wasn’t quite sure who she was addressing. It wasn’t directed at the source of the voice but rather the person who had left those damn posters lying around the school. As she resumed her sprint down the hall she made sure to pinch herself again, just to double check. Claire’s skin was still firmly attached to the rest of her body. 

“Damn you!” the voice mocked. 

Letting out another frustrated shout, she threw herself at the blue doors, pushing against the panic bar. It didn’t budge. Claire pushed again, harder this time, but it still remained locked. Her attempts to escape were to no avail. 

Exhausted and scared, Claire dropped to the ground, hands hiding her face as she curled into a ball. 

The loudspeakers positioned above the classroom doors crackled to life, beginning to play a faintly familiar song. Life could be a dream, life could be a dream. 

Sobs racked her body and she pushed her head closer to herself so that her fingers moved through her hair. Through her tears, she saw the magnificent orange glow cast on the floor beside her. A piece of paper fell to the floor. 

Between choked sobs, Claire mustered up the courage to look up. She squinted as if she were trying to limit her own view. Part of her didn’t want to see who was there. If she couldn’t see it, maybe it wouldn’t hurt her. But her eyes relaxed as she saw an empty hallway. 

This has to be a dream. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Maybe she was still napping up in the classroom. After all, waking up in dreams wasn’t uncommon. She’d experienced them before. Maybe everybody’s wrong. Maybe you can pinch yourself in dreams. She gave herself an internal push, keeping her eyes glued on the paper that sat next to her. It was blank. Wake up. You can do it, wake up. 

Claire pinched herself again, harder this time. It was a pinch meant to summon pain, not to test the elasticity. Wake up! But she remained with her back curled against the cool blue metal doors, illuminated by the sun. 

 With trembling hands, Claire reached for the blank paper. She could see faint dark marks on it, signaling that something was on the other side. It stuck easily to her manicured and sweaty hands, which she used to her advantage in picking it up. She turned it over slowly, afraid to see what was on the other side. 

It was the same text, “HOW DO YOU KNOW IF YOU’RE DREAMING?” but the image under was slightly different. It showed the same girl with fear in her eyes, looking up, but this time, there was something in the ceiling above her. 

It mirrored her, its gleeful face hanging upside down, eyes wide. It looked like her but even through the sketch, Claire could tell that it wasn’t her. Something was off in its eyes, its smile. Claire did her best to swallow the lump in her throat. Maybe it was a dream- it didn’t feel like reality. But she had already woken up. Although it felt like a dream, something more sinister hung heavy in the air. Another paper dropped to the floor beside her. 

Quivering with fear, Claire slowly grabbed it. She flipped it over. She didn’t want it to be real, she wanted to wake up

“LOOK UP.” 

“No,” she sobbed, shaking her head back and forth. “Go away. Get the hell away from me,” She dragged out the last word. Through blurred tears all she could see was a field of bright orange reflecting at her. 

Another paper dropped to the floor, hitting Claire’s head as it fell. “LOOK UP.”

With her head still shaking, she repeated herself. “No, no, no. Please.”

One more dropped to Claire’s right and she slapped it across the floor, watching it slide away. For a moment, the thick paper stuck to her hands, presumably from her tear-soaked fingers. 

“What do you want?” she croaked. 

She expected the voice to echo back her question, but to her surprise, it didn’t. Except for her weeping, silence filled the hall. 

“What do you want?” Her voice grew more agitated, more aggressive. Her body was rigid, waiting for a response. Any response. 

A soft voice whispered in her ear and she could almost feel the breeze of it tickle a few strands of hair. She shuddered at the cool breath traveling down her neck. “You. I want to be you.”

The floor underneath Claire felt as though it was melting, hot and sticky like the plastic from a hot glue gun. Her sweaty palms slid against the floor. Her rubber soles squeaked against the polish. Please, just let me sink.

But there she remained, still backed up against the wall, her face burning with fear and nowhere to run. So she looked up. 

“Claire,” Allen looked up from his novel. The hum of the ceiling fan murmured quietly from another room. He threw his hand to gesture at the dark sky through the window. “You’re four hours late. Where the hell were you?!”

Claire sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck as she gave a shy smile towards her dad, her skin warm and glowing under the old kitchen lights. “Sorry dad, something at school came up and I had to stay late.”

“Yeah, well next time make sure your mother and I know.” He squinted at her, noticing how bright her gaze seemed, how flushed her skin looked. “Why do you look so happy?”

She threw her head back, letting out a laugh. “I feel like I’ve gotta appreciate life a bit more, y’know?” She walked over to the kitchen table and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I want out of life.”

“And what’s that?”

“Nothing much, just gotta enjoy it more.”

He let out a grunt, trying to hide his small smile. “Just because you’re happy doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. No television today or tomorrow.”

Claire grinned as she dropped her backpack on the floor and kicked off her shoes. “That’s fine, I’m sure there’s better things to do anyway.”

Allen watched her disappear down the hallway. “Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry!”

Her voice faded as she moved down the hall. “I’m good but thanks!”

He heard the creak of the linen closet open before it slammed shut. Another door opened. Whatever she was doing wasn’t any of her concern as long as she stayed out of trouble. Allen didn’t quite understand this sudden shift in her attitude, and frankly, he didn’t want to think about it. A teenager's business was a teenager’s business, not his own. But as long as Claire was happy, he was happy, and her happiness towards him was something he hadn’t seen in a long time.