# Chapter 4
Once I finally went back off to sleep, I had the strangest dreams about those two girls, which I found eerily strange—and I don't think it was just because it was on my mind when I fell asleep. The dream was so vivid I don't really know how to feel about it, I thought as I was writing in my journal. It's like I was there observing it all. I was there in that room with both girls and overheard their entire conversation as they sat in the garden. I learned that their names had been Patricia and Kat. Patricia was nineteen and Kat was fifteen. Patricia was to be wed in a few more weeks, and Kat was happy for her older sister—but she hadn't wanted Patricia to move away.
My practical side desperately tried to rationalize it all, searching for any logical explanation, but after what I heard last night—followed by that uncanny dream—I couldn't reason with myself anymore. For the first time, my logic had no answers.
After I finished writing in my journal, I went downstairs to breakfast and to get ready for my first day of school.
"Good morning, honey," said Mom, flipping french toast. "How did you sleep?"
Knowing that I couldn't tell her about anything that had transpired last night, I lied. "I slept fine," I said, walking around the table to have a seat.
"Great, honey," she said as she served us this morning as usual.
"Good morning, Peek family!" Dad came into the kitchen tying his tie.
"Good morning, hun," Mom said, kissing Dad and straightening out his collar.
"Morning, Dad," said Bobby, my little brother.
"Morning, Daddy," I said, putting a piece of french toast in my mouth. I chewed quickly, trying to act as normal as possible while my brain was still reeling from the dream. "Hey, Dad? Can I get some lunch money for today?"
Dad reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed me a ten-dollar bill with a warm smile. "Here you go, sweetheart. Good luck on your first day."
"Thanks, Dad," I said, slipping the money into my pocket. I grabbed my backpack off the back of the chair and slung it over my shoulder, eager to get out of the house and clear my head.
Before I could reach the front door, Mom called out from the stove. "Krystal, hold on a second! Make sure you walk Bobby to school this morning, okay? He doesn't know the route yet."
I looked over at Bobby, who was grinning up at me with syrup smeared on his chin, and sighed. "Okay, Mom. Come on, Bobby, grab your bag."