Page 1 of Meet Me in Paris

As I satin math class, my binder and freshly sharpened No. 2 pencil in front of me, I made a startling realization.

I hadn’t studied for this test.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t been to class the entire semester and had no idea what lay in store. How could I take a test when I didn’t understand the material?

My inner mental freak-out session sent my anxiety through the roof. My GPA was shot. My college plans would disintegrate. My entire future depended on this moment, and none of my successes to this point would matter because of this one mistake. This huge, stupid mistake. What was I thinking, forgetting about math class for an entire year, wearing . . .

I looked down and froze. Pajamas?

A loudplinkdistracted the teacher and the rest of the class, but not me. I would be focused and unmovable. If I pretended I meant to wear PJs to math class, nobody would care. I would just play it cool. Maybe some of last year’s math would pay off here. I could wing it, right?

The sound came again, only louder this time. I looked around the classroom, but nothing seemed amiss except my teacher’s critical glare as he slid a packet of paper in front ofme. The cover page read MATH FINAL. I could tell by his raised eyebrow that he didn’t expect me to pass either.

How could I tell him I’d never failed a class and didn’t intend to start now? That I’d only missed his class because I forgot it was on my schedule? Or maybe he found my PJs repulsive.

I looked down again and released a startled squeak. My PJs were gone.

Not a scrap of clothing remained.

The entire class followed my gaze and burst into laughter, fingers pointed, phones lifted for pictures, as I desperately tried to cover all the most important parts.

This could not be more humiliating. I’d made it through kindergarten and twelve grades of school only to experience this? How cruel could life be?

Theplinkin the distance turned into aplunk,and all at once,the scene disappeared.I gasped to find myself sitting up in bed, breathing hard.

My bedroom lay in darkness except for a strangely bright beam of light coming through the window. My classmates and grumpy teacher were gone.

A quick check revealed I was not, in fact, naked. My PJs—loose flannel pants and a stretchy-band T-shirt—reappeared when the dream ended, thank heavens.

The naked math-class dream again. Itwas not my favorite.If this continued through college when I started in the fall, I’d have to experiment with weird bedtime routines, like yoga or meditation.

No more school dreams,I firmly told myself.You graduated yesterday.A quick check of my old-fashioned alarm clock, a present from my grandmother, and I amended thatthought.Make that today.It was barely after eleven, so why was I awake? Was it that weird light?—

Crash!

I yelped and leaped backward as my window shattered, shards of glass littering the floor and bed.

What in the world?

A voice outside swore. I recognized it immediately. Hunter, my idioticbest friend.

With a relieved grin, I slid my slippers on and carefully made my way to the window. “You’re in such big trouble.”

“There goes my college fund,” Hunter muttered from below.

A big chunk of it, at least. “I hope you like vacuuming because once your mom finds out,that’s how you’ll be spending the day.”

He grumbled something under his breath and turned off his flashlight. That explained the strange beam of light. “Speaking of moms, what are the chances yours is still asleep?”

I glanced over my shoulder. No hallway light around my closed door. The only sound was the familiar, gentle hum of her CPAP. “Actually, pretty good. She can sleep through a nuclear blast these days.” Waking her up was the hard part. “What did you throw at my window, a boulder?”

“Just a piece of gravel. Barely even worthy of the rock family.” I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but I heard the grin in his voice. “The first nine pebbles didn’t do the trick, so . . .”

“Why didn’t you just call me? This isn’t the year 1910. My phone is literally right next to my head.”

“It went straight to voicemail. You forgot to plug it inagain.”

I glanced at my phone, which was indeed unplugged. Oops. “What’s so important that you had to break down my house in the middle of the night?”

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