I had a weird dream that night. The Child Snatchers captured me -- only they didn't look like the two people who'd taken my friends with sandwiches and pins, and it was a larger group. A burning man, someone with a Star Wars gun, and a winged couple -- what, were they supposed to be angels? The only halfway normal looking one in their group was this guy in a parka. He looked mean and, frankly, evil, but he called me something. Deserey? I wasn't sure where the name had come from. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me to pick a better name than Desmond. 

They were fighting these other two lunatics, both dressed like they were going to Comic Con. I couldn't tell, but I thought they were all fighting over me. I tried getting away, but it was no use. They got me. Took me to this house with these other kids around my age -- I think it was an orphanage, maybe.

 There was a woman there -- said she was me from the future. She was everything I wanted to be, which I guess made sense since it was a dream. Long, curly hair the same shade as the midnight sky. Glowing brown eyes, deep and wide. Gorgeous, dark skin that somehow made her look like the queen of the world. Her lips were full, sharp jawline and cheekbones. And even though her arms were thick with muscles and her breasts were only average size, she still looked pretty feminine, which seemed strange to me because I'd never seen a girl without makeup before. But she didn't need it in order to look like a work of art. I had a hard time believing I could ever look anything like that. 

The rest of the dream was spent in the house. I didn't know what the significance of it all was. The other kids they'd taken were a bunch of dumb asses -- and ya know they say people in your dreams are people you've met before, but I had never met any of these kids before in my life. 

I figured I'd wake up when the fight broke out, because I was usually jolted awake when my dreams got violent. This time I stayed asleep, and the dream went on. The kid with the burnt jacket started it. He was big and burly with stupid beady eyes, and an ugly snarl curling on his lips. Every now and again he'd light a match and stare at the flames like he thought the fire was the most beautiful thing in the world: a little fire baby. 

At some point he'd leaned over to the blonde girl on the other side of the room, whispering something to her, which resulted in a slap to his cheek. I wasn't sure why I did it, but I reacted by jumping forward and kicking him in his shin. 

"You bitch!" he hissed, tackling me to the floor. Things got sort of fuzzy after that. My vision was blurred, I couldn't remember who's fists went where. At some point I bit him, I think, because he growled and smacked me over the head. My heart was pounding. Adrenaline shooting through my veins. It drove me to keep going. There was shouting. I couldn't tell if it was from us or the other kids. 

The fight only stopped when someone stomped into the room and shouted, "Hey!" I was yanked off the fire baby, tossed over to one side. I could only see red, trying to get back at him. Wasn't even sure why, just something about his face made me want to fight. He was still trying to attack me from the other side of the room too, but someone stood between us. They had their hands out, holding us both back. It took a few minutes for me to calm down. Slowly, the energy started draining from me, and it began to dawn on me how tired I was. I must have had at least a dozen bruises and minor injures. My lip pulsed. Knuckles sore. Head throbbing. The muscles in my arms and legs were cramping up. I wanted to sleep for a million years. How could I feel so exhausted in a dream? 

"What the hell is going on in here?" She was a blonde woman. Kinda like the girl, except her eyes are a lot sharper. She was much more fit too. 

"That little weirdo said that he liked the way I smelled." The blonde girl turned up her nose at the fire baby. She really was pretty hot. Skinny, but somehow in good shape. Her blue eyes mimicked the sky, and she even managed to pull off those Dora the Explorer bangs. It was just that she talked way too much, and her voice was grating. 

Fire baby shrugged. He didn't seem at all apologetic for his dumb ass comment. Who the hell compliments the way people smell? "I'm usually a lot smoother, but I'm kinda freaking out." 

"You're not her type," the older blonde said. She glanced at me. "How did you get involved?" 

"She bit me!" Fire Baby hissed, rubbing the spot that my teeth must have clamped down on. 

"I can't help it!" I said. "Your face is irritating." 

"I'll show you irritating!" He made another run at me, but the blonde woman shouted again, shoving him back. 

"Hands to yourselves!" She glared at both of us pointedly until she was sure we weren't going to jump each other again. "Now, do I need to separate you two?" 

I looked back at the boy, he rolled his eyes. "No." 

"Good. And you." The woman turned back to the younger blonde. "Next time, hit with a flat palm." She demonstrated how to do it before moving to leave. 

"Wait!" The younger blonde trotted after her, making her turn around and raise an eyebrow. "When do I get to go home?"

"You're safer here." Strange word for a kidnapper, I had to admit. This dream was making less and less sense by the minute. "Trust me."

She started off again, but the younger blonde stopped her again. "Well, where is here?" She followed her to the doorway. "And why do you look like me?" The older blonde took a deep breath, I could see from the way her shoulder rose and fell. Young blondie was getting worked up now, her voice rising an octave. "Please, would you just tell me what the hell is going on?" It was hard to sit still. I wanted to hit something again. I don't know. It was my nerves, I think. She was working me up. But how did you feel anything in a dream? This was by far the most vivid one I'd ever had. 

"Look," the older blonde sighed. "It's safer for you if I don't." What the hell did that mean? "And we look alike because…" She shrugged cluelessly. "Because we're like family." The younger gave a slight shake of her head in confusion. Had she never seen this woman before? What were they? Distant cousins? 

"Look, my dad," the girl went on. "He's gonna be freaking out!" 

"Yeah, and my mom and all of these guys' parents." One of the other boys spoke up. He'd been huddled in one corner with the other, eyes wide in a panic since the fight started. He may have even tried breaking it up with a meal, "We can settle our differences with a non violent solution!" I just hadn't heard it during the fight. At least, I hadn't registered the words until afterwards. He was incredibly dorky looking. Sweater vest. Khakis. Nicely combed hair. I could only imagine his house had a white picket fence surrounding it. 

I scoffed. "Yeah, speak for yourself, pal. My parents won't miss me." 

He looked like he wanted to protest, but the blonde girl cut him off. She spoke over him, as if he hadn't said anything at all. "-- if he ever lost me --" 

"He won't lose you," the older blonde interrupted. She took a step forward, her hard eyes softening just a bit. I didn't really understand the scene unfolding in front of me. Why was this woman acting so… Emotional? What the hell was this family's drama? It seemed weird that I'd have something in my own dream that I didn't understand, never mind something that had nothing to do with me. "Ever. I promise." With that, she was gone. 

"Well, that was…most unusual." The second nerd spoke up this time. His blonde hair was done up like the sixties -- his clothes too. Sweater. Dress pants. Shiny shoes. He looked like a tiny professor. He was the only one dressed close to the Child Snatchers I'd seen on the streets, but he was a kid. My brain must have been mixing up the details… 

"Why are you dressed like it's the seventies?" Fire baby quizzed. He glanced up at him from where he was leaning on the wall, another match in his hand. He looked mostly unharmed from our fight, but there were a few minor cuts on his face, and I could see the bit mark from my teeth on his neck now. His left foot hovered an inch or two off the ground too, so I must have done something to that too. 

My own injuries didn't feel that bad. My lips still hurt every few seconds, and my neck was stiff, arms like lead. The top of my head throbbed, but other than that I was perfectly fine. 

The little professor dude screwed up his face, shoving his glasses up his nose. "It's… 1965…."

"Why are you dressed like it's the 60s then?" Fire baby asked again with a small shrug. 

"Because it is!" the professor look alike shouted. "The year is 1965!" 

"Dude, it's 2009." This game from a boy, the only other person of color in the room. He was wearing a football jersey and shorts. 

"What are you talking about?" Blondie squealed. "It's only 2007!" 

"Uh, no?" It was dweeby kid earlier, the one that looked like he'd never so much as turned in a library book late. "It's 1996." That was the closest one yet. Why didn't anyone know what year it was? 

"Try 1986." This came from a new boy. He wasn't wearing a parka, but he really reminded me of that guy who'd used that name -- Deserey. Something about the eyes, that cold little flash hidden in there. 

"Mm, the other kid was closer," I said. "Just a year off. It's 1995, not 96." They all gapped at me like I was insane. "What?" 

"No...it can't be." Glasses gasped, stepping to the center of the room. He spun in a circle, like there was some invisible thing floating in the air that only he could see. "But it must be! It's the only logical explanation!" 

"You wanna share with the class?" The icy guy glared at him as he nearly stepped on his toe in his frantic spinning. 

"Time travel!" Poindexter yelped. He was waving his hands around wildly."The reason none of us can concede what year it is! Our vast contrast in attire. The-the-the very nature in our tongues of dialect --" He was stumbling over his words as he grew more and more flustered, the rant only cut off when the fire boy cut in. 

"You got a word a day calendar or somethin'?"

"Dear brute, this is a scientific discovery of a lifetime! How can you not be more enthused!" 

The boy shook his match out as it got too close to his fingers. He glanced at the icy boy before lighting another one. "What does enthused mean?" 

"Excited, happy, la, la, la, derpy, derpy, derp," I explained, making faces. I thought my definition was pretty spot on, but no one else seemed to appreciate it. 

"It is pretty exciting," the dweeby boy grinned. "Just imagine all the applications you could apply it to." He gasped, his grin widening ten fold. "We could visit the dinosaurs!" 

He was starting to get on my nerves, but I tried to humor him with a grin of my own. The guy seemed pretty excited about it, it would be super bitchy if I didn't at least pretend to give a shit. 

"Man, I don't wanna time travel!" the sporty kid complained. "I got a life! There's a game next week and I gotta be there! I'm the quarterback!" 

"Forget about time travel and football! We have to get out of here! We have to get back home!" Blondie snapped. 

"Y'all are whiny," I told them. "I'm out." I walked out, grabbing the sketch book I'd found earlier, sitting in the hall. I didn't have anything in mind before my pencil hit the paper, my wrists moving automatically, the lines formimg before the picture presented itself in my head. It was something I'd drawn something over and over again, a default image I guess. The axe girl I tagged everywhere. I guess she was sort of my signature or whatever. 

"What's she so angry about?" I glanced up to see Ice Boy sitting next to me. Well, not really sitting, more like crouching. He was eyeing my drawing with interest, but somehow he didn't strike me as a critic. 

I glared back at him, pulling the book closer to my chest. "Some punk ass white boy's all up in her shit." 

He tilted his head to the side. "Fair enough." He moved so that he was sitting in front of me. "Sorry to crash your party. They're arguing in there. Very annoying." 

"Mm." I went back to my sketch. "Somehow I think your goal was to just annoy me." 

"Maybe," he admitted. We sat in silence for a few minutes. "I'm Leonard by the way." I didn't tell him, but that was the dorkiest name I'd ever heard. "And you are…?" 

"Out of your league." 

"Obviously. What's your name?" 

I glanced up at him. His eyes were hard, a wall of ice barricading the darkest of secrets it seemed -- a multitude of grey. Sharpe. They didn't miss anything, as if he'd been geared up to be the perfect little spy since early childhood. I could have painted them if I had any supplies. I wondered what made a person like that. "Deserey." I wasn't sure why I told him that. It wasn't my name, not really. I didn't even know why my brain was so stuck on that name. I must have heard it somewhere in passing. Maybe this was my subconscious' way of trying it out. 

"Deserey," he repeated. His voice had a draw, dragging out each of the syllables as if they were all equally important. I couldn't figure out if there was a secret message behind the way he said the name or if he just spoke that way to sound cool. "Nice name." 

My mouth quirked upwards. I turned back to my sketch again. "Yes, yes it is."