Biancatlover

“Wake up.” Emma sat bolt upright in her chair, frizzy brown hair sticking up in various directions. A large red mark adorned her forehead where it had rested on her arm. The friend who had stirred her from her sleep giggled and the teacher squinted at her briefly, but did not break pace in his lecture. “What did you do that for?” she hissed. “This is just a review, I don’t need to be awake for this.” Her friend did not respond aside from trying to stifle laughter. Emma whined quietly and began to sketch vague shapes in her notebook, lingering images from the vivid dream she was having just moments a