Nothing to say. Here it is. Enjoy.
Cleo clicked the SEND button. She closed out of her email account, shut the lid to her laptop, and rolled back in the office chair. Yawning, she looked at the clock- 8:57 P.M.- curled up and closed her eyes.

And soon, she fell asleep. But her dreams were not pleasant. . . .

She was in a lily field. She did not recognize it, nor did she care, and she was busy plucking lush, full lilies from the soft dark earth. Suddenly, a slight rustling came from behind her. She turned around. It was Krystal. Krystal had dirt smeared on her face. Her eyes were sharp and narrow. “Why? Why did you do it?” Krystal asked. “Krystal? W-what did I do? Why are you here?” said, Cleo, dropping the lilies in shock. I'm here because I'm here. And what did you do?” Krystal let out a rough laugh. “You left.” she said, “You left. And now-” she lifted her head up to the wind and let out a shrill whistle- “You will meet my new friend.” Suddenly, an enormous eagle, larger than both of the girls put together, flew down from somewhere in the sky and landed next to Krystal. It looked intimidating, with a sharp beak the size of Cleo's head, and a devious glint in its eye. “I won't get you this time, but beware. . .” said Krystal, who had begun to back away. And then, suddenly, a flash of lightning hit the ground, the sun disappeared, and it began to rain. Krystal had somehow changed into a snake, and slithered away. The eagle let out an ear-piercing screech and took off into the dark sky. And Cleo was all alone.

She dreamed other dreams that night, but I do not have time to go through them all. But none of them were comforting, I can tell you. . .

Cleo awoke gasping for breath. The last dream, about the eagle. .It had seemed so real. . . “But it was only a dream.” she told herself. “I'm fine.” Cleo looked around. Her mother must have put her into bed, for that was where she was. She glanced at the clock. 2:40 A.M. Cleo sat up in her bed and thought about what was going to happen the following day. She was going to go to school for the first time here in England. She was nervous, and worried. “What will happen to me?” she whispered.

The next morning, Cleo slept later than usual and was hustled by her mother. “Cleo, get up now. I don't even know where this place is, and I need to find my way around the city. . .”

So Cleo got up. She dressed in a new, strange uniform—a blue-and-black checked skirt with stockings, a light-blue linen shirt with buttons, and a checked ribbon—to match the skirt—for her hair.

Once she was dressed, she walked down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. She popped some bread into the toaster and sat down at the small table to read the paper, The London Times. She was reading an article about recycling when her toast popped. She buttered it and sat back down. She had been in London for almost two weeks now. Though it was the start of September, when Cleo would normally be in school, Mrs. Halifax had wanted to give Cleo a little time to settle in. “Cleo! Hurry now! It's time to leave!” Cleo's mother rushed into the room. “Up, out, now!” The women hurried out of the apartment, and waited under the building's awning outside until Cleo's mother could hail a taxi.

They both hopped into a taxi car. “Aye, ladies, and where might you two be goin'?” said the taxi driver, who was a friendly old man with a graying beard. “Notre Dame R.C Girl's School.” said Cleo's mother, reading a scrap of soaked paper from her pocket and struggling with the wording. “Aye, right away, ma'am.” The taxi took off into the rainy streets.

Cleo stepped out of the taxi cab and stared at her new school. It was very small, very narrow, and brick. The outside was deserted. “Hey, mom,” said Cleo, “You sure this is right?” “One minute, dear.” said Cleo's mother, who was paying the taxi driver. Cleo sighed. She thought about how different England was. . . “Yes, dear, what?” said Cleo's mother, who came to stand beside her under the umbrella. “Mom,” said Cleo, “Is this the right place?” Mrs. Halifax glanced at the rain-soaked paper scrap. “It's got to be. Come along, we'll ask.” They walked up the narrow front steps and rang the bell. “This looks more like a house then a school.” Cleo commented. Suddenly, the door was opened, by a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a pinched face. “What?” “Um,” Cleo's mother began, “Is this the girl's school?” The woman looked surprised. “Well, yes,” she said, “But school started an hour ago.” “Oh, you must be Ms. Tilden, then.” said Cleo's mother. “We spoke on the phone.” said Cleo's mother. “Oh, you are Mrs. Halifax, then?” said the woman who had opened the door, who, apparently, was named Ms. Tilden. “Yes.” Cleo's mother said. “Oh, come right in.” The woman motioned for them to enter. They stepped inside. “The girls are in the other room, studying.” Ms. Tilden said. “And you,” she said, looking at Cleo, “Must be Cleo.” Cleo nodded. “Well, go right on into the study room. It's over there.” The woman motioned to a room across the hall. “Go find a desk while your mother and me work a few things out on paper.”

Cleo walked across the hall, and went into the room. There were about twelve other girls, sitting at dark mahogany desks, working away. The room was nice. It was covered in dark red carpet with dark wood paneling along the walls. There were no windows, but lots of wall lights, lamps, and ceiling lights. All of the girls looked up when Cleo walked in. “Who,” asked a girl with black hair, “Are you?”

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