I open my eyes. I climb out of bed and tiptoe across the chilly floor, over to the window. I pull back the curtain and check the weather.

Gray. Overcast. With even darker clouds on the horizon.

I blink and shut the curtains.

Then I walk to the mirror, the big long one on the inside of my closet door. My eyes are closed again. This is partly because I am still almost asleep, but mainly because I am trying to remember the dream I had last night. I had a dream about a girl who was beautiful. Popular. Perfect. Loved. I can see her clearly, now.

Before I get dressed for school, I dare to turn my head toward the mirror. A small part of me is hopeful, wishful, in spite of everything.

I open my eyes again, searching for the beautiful, popular, perfect, beloved girl I saw in my dream.

My face falls as I see the truth.

She is not there.

Only Daphne Blake stares back at me.