"Whose house were you at?" my dad asked. "Claires," I said.

"Really? Because I saw a boy out there with you."

"It was uh her older brother, they wouldn't let me walk home alone cause.it was dark."

He stared at me and nodded slightly "alright then."

I went up to Finneys room and knocked the door. "Come in," he said. I walked in and he looked at me as I closed the door. "Oh my god, how was it?" he asked. "It was amazing," I said and sat on his bed.

"What happened?"

"We talked for ages about normal things, like stuff we like and then he asked about the police. I told him everything and then he asked if I had any other dreams about things like that. So I told him about my one of Billy and he looked so upset. Then we talked about it for awhile and changed the subject."

"So he's nice?"

I nodded, "and he wants to see me again." I smiled.

"Oooo, and are you going to?"

"I think I will."

We talked for awhile and then the topic of Vance was brought up so I wanted to change the subject to Finney. "Do you like anyone?" I asked. He shook his head "no definitely not."

"Not even that girl in your class?"

"Oh yeah her, I guess she's alright."

"Sorry for bringing it up you used to really like her."

He shrugged me off and changed the subject.

Dad told us it was lights out and I needed to get to my room. I went to my room and got in bed. I lay and looked at my ceiling as my dad told me goodnight and turned off the light.

I couldn't stop thinking about Vance, I knew I would see him tomorrow but I didn't know if he wouldn't want to talk in school.

If he didn't would I need to stop talking to him completely or could I continue meeting up with him. Did he think I was a weirdo because of my dreams, was he going to tell everyone about them or would he understand and be very respectful. Would he tell everyone that I cried while talking about Billy or about the fact I didn't dream about my best friend Griffin. Would he tell them how he liiked how my hair lay or how he liked my face or how he wanted to kiss me or how he wished I was his, only his to keep, to hug, to kiss, to touch, to comfort, to talk with, to love.

Or would he say how he hated my hair, how my face was ugly, how he hated my teeth, my legs, my chest, my waist, my hips, the shape of my eyes, the way my lips looked, the sound of my voice, the way my arms looked, my nose and every imperfection on my horrid body that I wish he would take and kiss away each imperfection making me look like a model, making me finally pretty, finally loved, finally not alone..