“Hey Caroline,” I whispered.

“Morning! Did I wake you up? You sound out of breath.”

“No,” I answered with a yawn. “I woke up like a minute or two before you called.” I wanted to talk to Caroline about my dream, but I couldn’t let these nightmares dictate my entire existence. At the end of last year, I let them get the better of me. I started hanging out with my other friends less and less. Caroline stuck with me; she was the only one who knew about the things I saw when I closed my eyes at night. While I knew she was cool with just the two of us hanging out after work every night, I couldn’t make her forgo every social event. Senior year would be different and I was going to make sure of it. Caroline was going to have enough pictures and exciting things to fill up her Instagram account for five years by the time we graduated. “Your ridiculous ringtone you programmed into my phone disrupted the serenity of my room. It nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Disrupted the serenity of your room?” she asked with a laugh. “I love how you always sound like an SAT prep book when you talk. Seriously, Dr. Sawyer cried when she announced your perfect score on the state writing exam last year."

“I almost forgot about that!”

“She was so proud,” she replied. “And she practically hugged me when I confessed to her I’d added a thesaurus app on my phone just so I could look up some of the words you use. It’s like she knew you were a good influence on me.”

“I guess I’m just weird.”

“I like it! Remember the note you wrote me in third grade asking if I wanted to be your friend? You told me you appreciated my sassy disposition in it. We were nine then! You have a better vocabulary than most of the English teachers we’ve had. It’s just who you are.”

“That was a killer note,” I agreed.

“So, I’m guessing you called because you want to know what I’m going to wear to school today, huh?”

“It’s the first day of our senior year of high school. Honestly, would you expect anything else from me?”

“Not really, especially since you’ve called me every morning for the last four years so we can discuss clothes.”

“Wardrobe can make you or break you in high school, Evey!”

“But we don't care what people think,” I countered. I heaved myself out of bed and headed to the opposite side of my room. I needed to stare at my dream board for a minute. Looking at it always made me feel better, especially after having a nightmare. It was covered with pictures of Caroline and me interspersed with famous monuments. Caroline and I dreamed of traveling the world. One day we’d see the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, and The Coliseum. I added a picture of the famous Las Vegas sign to the collage. This small town wouldn’t be able to hold us for much longer.

“Of course we don’t.”

“So the point is to look fabulous while not caring?”

“My thoughts exactly,” she replied. “And what can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”

I shook my head and laughed. I walked away from my desk to stand in front of my closet. Any day now it was sure to bust and spit out a mountain of clothes. Why was it I could never bring myself to throw anything away? “I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t noticed, but I think I’m going to wear some jeans and that new loose-fitting tank top I got at the mall last week with a pink cardigan.”

“Oh that sounds cute! I’m going to wear jeans, too, but I think my green button-up shirt will look good with some sandals.” Caroline and I had been best friends since my fateful note in the third grade. From then on, we'd been pretty much joined at the hip. Being an only child could get lonely at times, and she was the closest thing I had to a sister. “I'm so excited! I’ve been waiting for senior year for so long,” she said.

“Me too!”

“Just think, one more year and we'll be in college! Co-ed dorms, here we come!”

“Somehow I don't see my dad moving me into a co-ed dorm. The thought of us living ten feet away from college boys would probably make him have an aneurysm,” I said with a laugh. “When will you be here to pick me up?”

“Seven thirty. I want to get to school a little early since it’s the first day, and we'll have the dreaded opening assembly.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Don’t remind me!”

“I know. Every time Principal Louden goes into his ‘Aim for the Stars’ speech, I have to fight the urge to hurl.”

“Tell me about it,” I replied. “Last year I thought about performing a makeshift lobotomy on myself with a pen.”

“Let’s not rule that out this year. If the speech goes from awful to agonizing, it might be our only option.”

“I’ll have my pens at the ready.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!”