Days go by in a blur, and the dream becomes a vague scene in Aubrey's head. She's convinced that it was just how her head plays tricks on her after all the weird occurrences in her life in the past few weeks. At least, that's what the voice in her head tells her. Still, the agitation refuses to leave her completely; there's something about the dream.

Aubrey stopped dreaming about the woman who gave birth to her when she was ten. After that, the memory of her became hazier every day. The only thing that helps her remember what her mother looked like is the pictures in the church photo albums. However, what she saw in her dream that night wasn't just a woman posing in front of the camera. The woman was moving and talking to her. It felt real.

But again, her mother is dead. Her rational mind settles with the fact that a dream is an unconscious mixture of her memories, fear, and yearning. It wasn't real.

Aubrey carefully rips off the band-aid wrapped around her forefinger. It has been days but the wound from that night hasn't healed.

"It's still wet?" Bob asks, frowning while eyeing her finger. "I think you're getting an infection."

"Maybe. It's not painful, though. I'll just let it breathe for now. It needs air." Aubrey throws the used band-aid into the canteen trash bin. The school lunch break is almost over but she barely touches her lunch. Her appetite has been low lately.

"I don't think it's a good idea. If it has direct contact with something dirty it will make it even worse. You should bring it to the nurse and get it checked."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"Just do it, Bree." Bob glares at her behind his teashade glasses. "You've not been feeling that great, and you haven't touched your lunch."

Aubrey frowns, noticing that Bob has been edgy since last Sunday. He's probably stressed out for the upcoming final tests. Or has something happened between him and Lizzie? But they've been spending lunch together since Monday. Things can't be that bad.

Despite being genuinely happy for them, when she saw Bob without Lizzie and her friends sitting at his table today, Aubrey secretely felt relieved. She missed her alone time with Bob. Maybe she's just used to having him for herself.

"Okay, maybe you're right. I can do that after school." Aubrey bites her inner cheek. "Come with me to the clinic later?"

"Uh." Bob scratches the back of his neck. "I promised Lizzie to meet up at the library."

Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a sly boy. He's now too busy with his new toy and has no time for his best friend.

"Oh, okay." Aubrey nods, feeling dejected but she forces a smile. "Things are going well with Lizzie, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

While the hum of students conversing and the clanking sound of metal cutlery fill the canteen air, the awkward silence envelopes Aubrey's and Bob's table. They used to talk effortlessly about anything as if time would never be enough for their never-ending chatter. But now, the pair resume eating quietly.

See, he doesn't care about you. It's time to move on and take control of your own life. No point in pursuing a friendship with him. That boy is useless anyway.

The first reminder for the next class rings, followed by the shuffling sound from every corner of the canteen. Students get up from their chairs and hurry to return their trays to the cleaning counter.

"Wanna check out the new series tomorrow evening?" Aubrey asks as they walk side by side out of the canteen. Tomorrow is Friday, their usual time to hang out.

"Um, about that, we're planning to move the choir practice to Friday evening because of the exams." Bob glances at Aubrey, apologizing to her through his eyes.

"Oh, okay. Next time then." With that, they take separate ways in the school corridors.

Who needs a friend like him? You're too precious. He doesn't deserve you.

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The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"How did you get this?" the nurse asks as she finishes applying an antibiotic ointment on Aubrey's finger.

Aubrey shrugs. "I think I hit something during my sleep?" That's the most reasonable answer she can think of, or she wants to believe. Because, in all honesty, she has no idea how it happened.

All she knows, she woke up from the unsettling dream with a wound on her forefinger. The same finger that hit a sharp object on the door in that dark hallway. But isn't that what dreams do? They manifest a current physical sensation into a fitting scene. Something like when she dreamed about a toilet and she woke up leaking on her bed.

"My bed frame is made of aluminum and it's not new," Aubrey adds.

"It doesn't look good. You shouldn't have waited to get it checked." The nurse examines her red and swollen forefinger one more time. She then grabs a bandage and carefully wraps it around the wound before securing it with tape. "It needs to be covered until a new skin develops over the wound. Don't forget to apply the ointment twice a day and put a new bandage on."

"Okay."

"And maybe it's time for a new bed." The nurse smiles warmly.

After the nurse gives extra bandages and an ointment to take with her, Aubrey says thank you and leaves the clinic. Glancing at her finger, she decides to inspect her bed when she's home, and fix what she can fix. There's no way she's going to ask Lorraine for a new bed.

Aubrey saunters along the school corridor, heading to the front yard where she parked her bike. The clinic room is at the rear side of the building, with its door facing the school backyard. Unlike normal days, the yard is now empty. All the sports activities stopped last week due to the upcoming exams.

As she approaches the corridor junction, Aubrey hears a commotion of people having a conversation. She stops dead in her tracks when she learns who they are: Asher and Britney. Not wanting to be seen, Aubrey steps back and hides behind the wall, contemplating what to do. The quarreling couple is standing in the way but she doesn't want to interrupt them. Maybe she should go back and take a detour. Yet she stands rooted to her spot.

"He knows better how to handle you than I do, huh?" Asher snorts, his voice is cold and full of venom.

"Flash news, Sebastian is a gentleman. At least he knows how to say nice things to me."

"Oh, come on! Every guy who wants to get in your panties will say whatever you want to hear, babe."

"He isn't you," Britney seethes. "He's a genuine guy."

"Sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night." Asher smirks. "Let's see how long it lasts before you crawl back to me, begging me to take you back. Like always."

Britney cackles, but it sounds fake in Aubrey's ears. "Not happening this time. But you can keep hoping because I know you will never find a girl like me."

Asher scoffs. "A girl like you? I thought this school was full of girls like you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Britney asks, her voice is dangerously low.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Asshole! Do you think you're the most wanted boy at school, huh? Go look at yourself in the mirror! You're just a stupid jock who attracts stupid girls with no brain."

"And that makes the two of us, no?" Asher laughs harder, enjoying the back and forth.

The tension in the air makes Aubrey anxious. Her grip on the plastic bag from the clinic loosens up and it slips through her fingers, creating a rustling sound when it hits the ground. The pair stop arguing and turn their heads to the source of the noise.

"Aubrey?" Asher calls.

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was just on my way to the parking lot," Aubrey says.

Britney scowls at her. "Then why are you still standing there like an idiot? Go!"

Asher walks over to Aubrey and bends over to pick up the bag from the ground. Instead of handing it back to her, he scans the plastic sack. "Were you from the clinic? Are you injured?"

"Uh, just a small infection. No biggie."

Britney rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Unbelievable. I didn't know you'd made friends with a bible-worm. Running out of girl stocks, Ashy?"

"Actually, I should've done this a long time ago; making friends with genuine girls."

"Seriously? Is this some kind of a joke? Don't you have a better chick to fool around with?" Britney breaks into mocking laughter.

Bile rises in Aubrey's throat as her vision becomes blurry. The familiar heaviness begins to press on her chest.

"Better as in thicker makeup and bolder lipstick? No. She doesn't have to do that and she looks fine. And–" Asher makes a clicking sound with his tongue "–flash news for you, she's got a brain. She has the quality any man could ask for."

Britney stops laughing. She squints her icy blue eyes at Asher. "Is that so? If she's your type, then why don't you ask her to prom instead? I dare you."

Asher smirks. "Sure." He turns to face Aubrey. "Hey, Aubrey, care to come to prom with me?"

"Huh?" Aubrey says but her voice feels so distant in her ears.

Britney laughs again but the sound comes off as a piercing hiccup. "Go on, accept it! I can't wait to help prepare your outfits! Maybe a priest and a nun costume?"

Nausea hits Aubrey's stomach as a low growl rolls on her tongue. "Wrong advice. What about a leather bondage harness, just like the one you've been hiding inside your closet? You haven't worn it since that wild night with your daddy's friend." Aubrey feels herself sneering.

"How...I..." The color drains from Britney's face, horror flaring in her eyes. She opens her mouth but fails to utter any more words.

"Cat got your tongue, girl? Should I list all the things you're hiding on the bottom rack of your wardrobe?"

Britney takes a few steps backward, eyes wide staring at Aubrey. "You're... freak!" With that, she turns on her heels and runs to her car.

Asher, who has been gaping for a good thirty seconds, finally finds his voice. "Holy shit! Did she really... do that?"

Aubrey smiles, her eyes never leaving the girl who is now standing in front of her red mini cooper and rummaging through her bag in panic. "You have no idea."

"How did you know all of this?"

"Who doesn't know Britney?" Aubrey turns her head to Asher. "Don't you know what kind of girl your girlfriend is?"

Asher gulps. "Ex-girlfriend. Apparently, no."

"On that note, yes, I'd like to go to prom with you, Asher."

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