When Ollie woke up to the all-too-familiar sight of his dormitory ceiling, his first instinct was to scream.
And he did—loudly.
His roommate shot up like he'd been electrocuted, clutching his chest. "WHAT?! Emergency?! Is it the quake again?!"
"No! Wait, sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Ollie flailed, hands flapping like a panicked chick.
The poor roommate collapsed back into bed with a groan, dragging a pillow over his face, muttering something about addicts.
Ollie, still panting, clutched his blanket like a lifeline. "But…but I remember I was in the library. We were prepared to die there...Why am I back in my room?!"
He turned to his poor roommate. "Did you bring me back? Or do you know how I got back here?"
The guy scoffed. "How would I know? You were already asleep when I got here. Dead asleep. Drool and everything."
Ollie gasped. "What?"
He checked himself over: pajamas? Check. Star-shaped headband perfectly placed? Check. Cuddle pillow securely in arm? Check.
