Wednesday News:

First off, I must say that I do not think that I failed the verbal French EOC. She would summon each person into the examination room and ask them questions in French. There was only one moment where I nearly ruined the whole thing; She asked me what I liked, "Qu'est ce-que tu aime?" and I had no clue whether she was asking me about what foods I liked or what I liked to do, so I said, "Um." a few times, as well as "Un moment, s'il vous plait." It was rather amusing; then, I was finally able to choke out, "J'aime jouer au basket. . .et musique." which means, "I like to play basketball. . .and music."

Next, I think that I'm going to try out for the scholarship thing that they're doing for eighth graders this year. I downloaded the form today and filled out my personal statement.

Last, to try to keep it short, I had an interesting dream last night that did not involve the alcoholic intoxication of my aunt, nor any other family member. I'm sure it started at a different point, but the first part of the dream I can recall is walking around the bottom floor of a mansion-esque building with my core class. We were being sheparded about by Ms. Vasili, and other teachers seemed to be stationed on various floors, of which there seemed to be at least 12. The mood of the dream, even at first, was not light; there was this stress that was tangent in the air, like we were trying desperately to find something, or else to get away. The house we were in would have been perfect in a horror movie or Scooby-Doo episode; huge, with white sheets over most of the furniture, cobwebs, the light fixtures dangling, broken, from the cavernous ceiling; one of those buildings that must have been beautiful once, but was now just a huge space housing loneliness.



At the beginning of the dream, we were ushered into a big, theater-like room by Mr. Bennett, who was standing guard by the stairs that we had climbed up. There were two staircases: one at one end of the main hallway of each floor, and one at the other end, and each staircase was a wide spiral that led to the highest and lowest floors of the house. But anyways, the room we were in was large, even bigger than all the others, almost completely dark (broken light fixtures), though a small lamp seemed to be shining from the stage, a vast, empty platform. The back wall disappeared into blackness beyond it. There were rows of seats that dominated the middle of the room as it sloped downwards toward the stage. It was very similar to a decadent version of the Hanes Auditorium, except without the loft. As we were pushed into the room, we received the raised finger from Ms. Vasili and Mr. Bennett that we have grown to interpret as, "Hush."



Walking over to where Alexis, Peter, and Shannon were all grouped against the corner closest to the door, oddly silent and white-faced, I asked them if they knew what was going on.

"No clue," they all responded, just as terrified as I was. Despite Ms. Vasili's and Mr. Bennett's instructions, whispers began to break out over the theater, whispers that gradually turned to mumbling, to loud speech that echoed around the walls.

"Quiet!" shouted Ms. Vasili. Everyone became silent immediately and turned to where she stood on one of the theater chairs. "We are trying to keep you safe here! The killer is currently several floors below us; we're hoping that by hiding you here, we'll be safe until the police arrive or until he leaves; otherwise, he'll find us. According to Mr. Holbrook's report, all of our exits have been blocked." There was a second of sheer terror that rippled through the silent students. Ms. Vasili dismounted the chair as the truth began to sink in: someone had been killed, the person who killed that someone was, at the moment, not far from their current position, and the killer, whom they assumed was armed, was hunting them. Lovely.



It was then that Mr. Holbrook came rushing into the room, winded, from his position on the stairs, gesturing frantically with his arms. He came to a stop next to the place where Ms. Vasili had descended from her chair and spoke quickly with her. She stepped calmly back onto the chair and announced, "The killer is on the move; we've heard him climbing the stairs. Get into line and we will move to the top floor of the building, where we will be safer." Everyone moved in a frenzy; the teachers seemed rather calm about the fact that all of our lives were in danger. As we filed out the door and into the main hallway, fights broke out about who should be forced to be the last person in line, as they would be the most vulnerable to an attack as the class retreated up the stairs.

Mr. Holbrook, at the front of the line, held up a hand to stop and quiet us. He cocked his head to the side, listening. After a moment, we realized that he was most likely listening to see what staircase the killer was using. After a strained moment of silence, we were able to hear rather rapid footsteps ascending the staircase behind us, the one that was closest to the door of the theater. Mr. Holbrook, with a gesture over his shoulder, began to sprint to the staircase at the opposite end of the floor, Ms. Vasili and all of the students right behind him. Mr. Bennett, however, remained behind, and as I disappeared into the stairwell, I looked over my shoulder and saw him piling chairs in front of the doorway of the killer's stairwell, in order to delay him. Good old Mr. Bennett.

Then, after we had reached the top floor, which was smaller than the other floors, we sat against a wall and waited for word from Mrs. Allman, who happened to be the killer's staircase guard of this floor. Guarding the staircase that we just ascended was Ms. Pollack, who greeted us all warmly, giving each student a pat on the back to usher them into the hall: "C'mon young man, Miss Pretty, in you go." Another interesting thing about this floor was that it was all one room, with no rooms breaching off of the main hall; also, the ceilings sloped, since we were on the attic level. Someone near the middle of the line against the wall suddenly shouted, "Shut up!" and we all grew silent. We could hear footsteps again, but they were erratic this time: it seemed as though they were ascending Mrs. Allman's staircase while also descending Ms. Pollack's staircase at the same time. Then, there were none for a second, but they soon started up again, on the floor right beneath us, pacing back and forth. Some girl was crying in the corner; one of the guys slapped her cheek to try to hush her. There was a yelp from a few floors below us, a yelp that sounded as though Mr. Bennett's defenses (on the previous floor we had been on) had been destroyed, and a thud as someone fell to the ground. Then, very close at hand, it sounded as though the killer was ascending again, though we could hear ascending footsteps coming from both staircases; we were trapped. This room had no furniture that we could use to block up the doors, so we all came together in a terrified group, the teachers facing the staircases, and this was when I woke up.