If you don't like:
mutant, love, school, identity, or dysfunctional family stories then, just don't read. You can resist. Not like anyone's actually reading this anyway. Slackers.
Chapter One CHAPTER ONE: IN WHICH WE HAVE A DEBATABLEY SUSPENSEFUL BEGINNING top
Since i haven't posted Chapter Three yet (because it's not done), i've decided to give a small sneak peek of some upcoming characters to stave of the verbal abuse by my single avid reader (you know who you are!). So here you are, dear:
CONTENTS:
Chapter Two
Sneak a Peek at the JSM Characters
The bus turned up the long circular drive to the front of the school. It was a stoic building with smooth brown-gray walls made of cold cinder blocks. It was low-slung, never at any point reaching above the white pines that surrounded it in dense intermingled clusters. The campus was massive, tipping in at one hundred acres. And ten-foot barbed wire fences surrounded all of it. The security was beyond top-notch. It had to be. This was no ordinary school; this was a school for the hunted. For the hidden.
A single bronze plaque was mounted beneath an onyx statue of a panther at the entranceway. It was delicately polished so that it would shine even at night when only the palest light of the stars could give it away. The letters on the plaque were square and blocky in neat even rows. They spelled out five words. Five words that no one who went there could ever forget; five words that would change their lives forever.
For
Gifted Individuals
The Institute was a government funded establishment, but the Public was not supposed to know that. No one was supposed to know that. No one did. Even the highest authorities thought it was privately funded and even the highest authorities still did not know its true purpose.
The Institute posed as a private school, letting in no more than fifty students per year with few exceptions. It kept up its guise well, going so far as to send out applications for the coming year’s admittance. Everyone dreamed of being accepted to the Genesis Institute; their SAT scores were impeccable, hardly anyone scored below a fourteen hundred. The Institute’s physical standards were rumored to be no less impressive. The military clamored over each other to acquire one of the Institute’s graduates. To graduate from the Institute meant ultimate success.
The students learned the bitter irony early on. Without the Institute they were nothing. They were less than nothing; they were not even acknowledged as citizens. They had no rights. They were no better than animals to the Public. They were less than that; they were something unnatural, something feared.
The Institute hid them, fed them, trained them, and taught them everything they needed to know to survive among the rest of the world. And for the rest of the world to leave them alone. For now.
A battle was brewing on the horizon. No one knew when, even the students could not see that far ahead, but it was coming. Soon. It was in the air. It was in the hostile looks their kind got in the streets. It was in the teasing and harassment. It was in the hate crimes and graffiti on the tunnel walls. It was in every home and every young child’s mind. Mutants. They spit as they said the word. Down to the very last child, they spit.
But no one knew that was what the Institute did. There was not even the slightest connection, not one suspicion among the Public. They were safe, but all that was about to change.
The bus screeched to a stop at the arch of the curve and swung open its doors. The students clamored down the isle and stepped off the bus and onto the black asphalt curb. Once all the students were off, the driver slammed the door and floored it, leaving the kids standing in a large plume of dust, smoke, and exhaust.
They had arrived.
John Scott Matthews rolled over in bed. It was too early to be getting up, but, then again, he had never been much of a late sleeper. He never slept after the Dream anyway. He knew it would come today; it always did. Today was the anniversary of his parents’ deaths and his brother and sister’s disappearance. Eleven years exactly in…. Scott looked over at the clock. …Two hours. Eleven years since he ran away. Eleven years as an orphan. Eleven years in foster care, bouncing from home to home until it just became normal. He was a wanderer, never staying in one place long enough for it to become a more than just a house to him. He belonged nowhere.
Scott shrugged off the bedcovers and sat up in bed. He’d thought it would be different this time. The Kelleys were good people, they had a steady, simple life that Scott thought he could get used to. They didn’t hound him all the time like others did and they let him have his own space without constant pestering and sticking their noses through the door where it didn’t belong. They were an easy-going people he thought he might grow to like. He couldn’t love them, he didn’t love anyone anymore, but he could try his best to like them.
That was before the Dream, before he knew he couldn’t stay. He could never stay.
Scott went over to his closet and pulled out some clothes. He put them on, then began to empty out the closet. In two hours, he’d be gone, one way or another. He folded the clothes and packed them into his green duffel bag. He gathered his personal items and packed them extra carefully. All of his belongings fit into that duffel bag and there was still a pitifully enormous amount of empty space left. Scott sighed. That’s what you got from life as an orphan. The memories were the only thing he really had and they were even more empty than his bag.
Scott closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They would be coming for him today. They didn’t know it yet, but they would. He would tell them, show them, rather, and they would come. It was what they did. They were so predictable. They were gathering mutants for the coming war, Scott knew, and it was time he joined it. They had tried to take him once and he’d run away. He wasn’t ready, then, but now he was and he would willingly go with them when they came.
He strolled over to one of the windows and pulled up the blinds. Both windows faced the front lawn and gave good views of the landscape from their two-story height, but Scott preferred the one on the right for no particular reason at all. His eyes roamed over the rolling pastures sprinkled with mares and their newly born foals. He followed the thin yellow dirt path that served as a driveway out to the road, then swerved around the whole front property, his eyes led by the white fences that surrounded it. The sky was a pale gray that made the grass look extraordinarily lush, a brilliant emerald green highlighted by an unseen sun. It was a beautiful day and Scott savored the moment, throwing open the window and breathing in the rich country smells he knew he would miss in a few months. Nowhere else with whatever exotic scent it had could compare with the healing smell of horses.
Scott sighed again and closed his eyes, reaching deep back into his mind and slowly releasing the mental shield he had held there for so long. If he’d released it too fast he probably would have knocked himself unconscious; he had kept the shield there for so many years that the sudden absence of it within his mind would have been too much of a change for him to handle. Well, maybe not, but it would have been an unaccustomed strain that would still leave him a little disorientated for a day or so. He had put the shield up as soon as he had learned how, so that the Institute wouldn’t be able to find him and had not taken it down since. It was a constant drain on him, but over the years he had grown stronger and been able to bear it better.
Scott shook his head. It felt light and uncharacteristically fuzzy, like a draft was across his brain. He felt so exposed. Scott shivered. A wind had begun to stir through the grass, the trees, and moisture was in the air, Scott could smell it; there was going to be rain tonight, the few dark wisps of clouds that drifted near the horizon proved it.
He shut the window and left his room, trotting down the stairs and into the kitchen. The Kelleys were up. Marie was making breakfast and Scott knew that Robert was out tending to the horses. They both started their day early, around four o’clock in the morning. There was much to be done on a Kentucky farm.
Marie smiled at Scott as she slid a plate full of eggs, bacon, and biscuits across the table to him as he sat down. His mouth twitched up lightning fast at the corners, then returned to its normal blank state. He’d had rare occasion to smile over the past years and was dreadfully out of practice. He hated himself for it, but he was getting better; three weeks ago he might have even frowned, so there was progress.
Marie beamed. She knew what an effort that was for him, and she was impossibly grateful that she was the first to receive such a blessing.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked with a pleasant, well-meaning smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” Scott lied, “like a log.”
“Call me Marie,” she insisted for the umpteenth time, “That ma’am stuff makes me feel old.”
Scott swallowed a chunk of egg. “Yes, ma—Marie,” he said politely.
“That’s better,” she said and began to fix her own breakfast. “Robert’s going to town later today to pick up some things for me, you wanna go with him? It’d be a good time to get your school shopping done.”
Scott shrugged and took a bite of biscuit. “Sure.”
“Good,” Marie smiled and Scott wished with all his heart that he didn’t have to leave so soon. He knew he could’ve had a great life there; that it would probably have been the only place he’d ever be happy at. The name John Scott Kelley had a nice sound and Scott had started to become attached to it. But he couldn’t stay. Not now. The Dream wouldn’t let him.
Scott finished his breakfast, then went out to the barn to go help Mr. Kelley. Scott enjoyed working with Robert, he was a friendly, no-nonsense sort of man that liked to keep everything real. He loved horses and had been teaching Scott about them. Horses were his life and his passion; any spare time he had was spent out with the horses, riding them, training them, and whatever else he wanted to do. Some of that fire had rubbed off on Scott who was out there with him almost every day. He liked horses because they didn’t judge him, they didn’t try to analyze him, then explain their brilliant deductions with a whole load of psychobabble. Scott didn’t like psychiatrists. All he wanted was someone he could trust and someone who could trust him in return. Horses were like that for him. He trusted them.
Robert and Scott came back in at seven thirty and lounged around, watching TV. Marie joined them and she and Robert began discussing the horses. It was Kentucky, after all. Scott sat quietly on the couch and listened, it would likely be one of the last times he would hear their voices. He didn’t have long to wait, he knew; the Institute would be coming soon. The doorbell could ring any minute now. Scott dreaded hearing the sound.
Brr-ring-ding-dong! It was 8:03 in the morning.
Marie looked at Robert, her eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Robert shrugged and Marie went to answer the door.
Scott couldn’t see who it was from where he was sitting, but he could hear the person speaking.
“Hello,” the person said, “You are Mrs. Kelley, I presume.
”
“I am,” Marie said cautiously.
“I’m Kevin Pierce,” the person said. He had a young voice, Scott noted. There was a pause where Scott assumed they were shaking hands. “I’m from the Genesis Institute,” he continued.
“Oh!” Marie said with a smile and opened the door wide, “Well, do come in!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Kelley,” the visitor said, stepping into the room.
Scott could see him now. He was a tall fellow in a dark suit that looked oddly misplaced. He was young, maybe the same age as Scott or younger even, and looked incredibly comfortable in his new environment. The youth took off the wraparound sunglasses he had been wearing and slid them into his jacket pocket. He smiled, his blue eyes bouncing around the room and alighting on each face. The Kelleys smiled back and Scott sat up a little on the couch.
“Have you come for Ginny?” Marie asked with a hopeful smile. Scott knew her daughter had applied for Genesis ever since eighth grade. She’d applied twice in tenth grade, hoping two applications carried more weight than one.
Kevin’s smile faded a bit. “No,” he said, his expression politely remorseful. He paused a moment so the Kelleys could recover from the hard blow, then he continued. “Actually, I’ve come for Mr. Matthews,” he said with a nod to Scott.
Scott’s eyebrows twitched up a little in amusement. He had made a point to never fill out any Genesis applications. He knew now that the whole thing was a fraud. He had thought as much before.
“Scott?” Marie asked; her smile was put on. Scott knew she meant no offense, she was just trying to hide her disappointment. “He never told us that he applied.”
“I didn’t think I’d get accepted,” Scott lied before Kevin could come up with a reply.
“Looks like you did,” Robert said with sad smile. “Guess you’d better pack your things.”
“Yes, sir,” Scott nodded and got up to go fetch his duffel bag from his room. The Kelleys were quiet until he left the room. He could hear them talking in low, earnest voices all the way up the stairs. He walked slowly so he could hear.
“Does he have to go?” Marie asked. “We’ve just filed adoption papers, this will nullify them, won’t it?”
“I’m afraid so,” Kevin apologized, “but this will be a great opportunity for him. It can get him into any college he wants completely tuition free. He won’t even have to pay for books or rent. It is a very advantageous situation.”
“We know,” Robert said sardonically. “The kids bring home pamphlets every year. We’re just not sure it’s the right thing for Scott right now. He’s had a rough year….”
“Excuse me, Mr. Kelley,” Kevin said, his face stern and his lips pressed thin, “but it seems to me that Scott has had a rough life. We do background checks, Mr. Kelley, before we come to pick up the student and they weigh heavily on our actions. This was not a spur of the moment thing, we are well aware of Scott’s situation and we believe this is the best thing for him.”
Robert shook his head. “You haven’t been with him for the past three weeks. There’s no way you can know all that’s going on with him. No one knows what’s going on with him. He couldn’t’ve had a healthy life, not the way he acts. There’s no way to tell how this will affect him.”
“You’re right,” Kevin said, relenting, “You’re right. I don’t know, they don’t know, nobody knows, but Genesis…” he sighed, shook his head, and began again. “We have the best psychologists, psychiatrists, and therapists available anywhere. If anyone can help him, we can. Sending him to pubic school in three days isn’t going to make him any better.”
“Now you’re right,” Robert said with a sad smirk.
“Robert,” Marie said slowly and her husband turned to look at her. “He smiled at me this morning.”
Robert blinked twice. “Smiled…?”
Marie nodded. “We’re just starting to reach him,” she begged Kevin. “Can’t he stay just a little longer? Is that too much to ask?”
Kevin’s shoulders slumped. “It is, ma’am,” he said quietly. The room was silent for a long moment.
“Alright,” Robert said finally. “Alright.”
Marie looked at him as though he had betrayed her.
“What?” he said, trying to redeem himself. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Marie. He wouldn’t’ve been with us forever; he’d have to leave soon anyway. Who knows? Maybe this is what he needed all along.”
Marie just sighed. “Okay.”
Scott trotted down the stairs with his bag. He hadn’t bothered to listen to the end of the conversation; he would have left either way. He came just in time to see the Kelleys signing the transfer papers and Marie wipe a single tear from her eye. Scott hated doing this to them, but he knew it had to be done. He had to leave.
Kevin offered to take his bags, but Scott ignored him and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. He bent down to give Marie a tentative hug, then straightened for Robert. The corners of his mouth twitched upward for the second time that day and Robert beamed back at him, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
“We love you,” he said. Marie smiled and wiped another tear from her eye.
Scott gave a short nod, then followed Kevin out the door. They trotted down the porch steps and out to the black sedan that was parked a little ways off. The Kelleys waved good-bye from the doorway as Scott ducked into the dark interior of the car. He waved back, but he doubted that they could see him through the black tinted windows; he could hardly see anything.
Kevin went around to the other side and sat in the back with Scott. Two men dressed in dark suits took up the front seats. One, Scott assumed, would drive while the other slept or something and then they’d switch after so many hours. The current driver glanced back in the rearview mirror at Kevin. He nodded and the man started the car and drove off.
“Why did you come?” Scott asked as soon as they turned onto the main road. He unzipped his duffel bag and began to rummage through it. He hadn’t put on his gloves this morning.
Kevin watched him and smiled. “You were accepted. Why else would we come?”
“I didn’t apply,” Scott said, slipping his hands into his gloves. They were made out of a thin material that fit like a second skin. He intertwined his fingers and pushed them out, popping his knuckles.
“We never check applications,” Kevin smirked. “The people who apply aren’t the ones we’re looking for.”
“And who are you looking for?” Scott asked. He unfolded a pair of green-tinted, wire-framed glasses and put them on. It was dark in the car, but he didn’t care.
“People like you, people like me.” Kevin shrugged, “Mutants.”
Scott glanced at him over the top of his glasses. “That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
Kevin shook his head with a crooked smile. “We have ways of knowing,” he said.
“Stalker,” Scott teased with a straight face.
“We do what we must,” Kevin sighed. He chuckled a little. “They’ll explain it on your first day of school; I wouldn’t worry.”
Scott zipped up the duffel bag. “I’m not.”
“Liar,” Kevin said. “You’re nervous.”
“No, I’m not,” Scott said. He wasn’t.
“Scared?” Kevin tried.
“Not really.” What should he be scared of?
“Bored?”
“How long’s the car ride?” Scott returned.
“Five hours,” Kevin answered dryly.
“Not yet,” Scott replied. “Unless you plan to ask me questions the whole way there.”
Kevin laughed. “Okay, I’ll shut up if you tell me one thing.”
“And what’s that?” Scott asked, his interest piqued. He didn’t really mind Kevin talking; he just didn’t like people trying to nose into his business.
Kevin twiddled his thumbs, then tapped a tune on the tinted window. Scott could tell he was working up to something; he could almost hear Kevin’s mind whirling, the gears clicking loudly. He tapped faster and faster on the window then stopped abruptly. Scott knew what the question would be without having to mindprobe. Some things were just that predictable.
“Your powers,” Kevin tried to ask casually, “What are they?”
Scott gave him a look. Wouldn’t you like to know, he thought rather loudly.
“Don’t give me that look,” Kevin scolded. “I know you’ve got a power or two. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Besides, that’s one of my powers. Knowing when someone’s using theirs, I mean."
“How’s that work?” Scott asked. He had never really encountered any other mutants besides ones in his family; he was curious about what other types of powers there were. He wanted to know if there were others like him or if he was all alone. He’d known there were others but he found it hard to believe that they would ever understand him. He didn’t know what they’d be like.
“If I tell you, you’ve got to tell me,” Kevin bargained.
Scott nodded after a moment. “Okay.”
“Well,” Kevin said, turning sideways in his seat to look straight at Scott, “I might as well show you because it’s sort of hard to explain. It’s one of those multifaceted things, you know?”
Scott nodded again. Kevin snapped his fingers and Scott began to glow. Red fire danced along his skin, outlining him completely. The fire didn’t burn him; it just tingled faintly as a mint might do in your mouth. Scott stiffened in his seat. Fire. He broke out into a cold sweat, fighting the violent urge to smother the flames. Anxiety rose in his throat and he almost gagged on it. Fire.
“That’s what I see,” Kevin said, oblivious. “Every mutant has an aura around them that glows really bright when they use their powers. It’s like it erupts into solar flares.”
Scott moistened his dry lips. “Are the auras always red?” he asked. He crossed his arms so Kevin couldn’t see how much his hands were shaking.
“No,” Kevin said, eager to tell more about his powers. “Everyone has a different colored aura. Yours is more like this,” Kevin snapped his fingers again and the flames changed color.
Scott almost jumped in his seat. The fire had turned black. Its furthest tendrils were a cold icy blue that leaped sporadically along his skin. The flames were violent and fierce, and the sight of them consumed his mind. Fire! He saw them in his sleep. They were in his Dream, cold flames that ate him alive, that devoured his very being. He hated them. He was afraid of them. He worried every waking hour that he would see them again and despised the moment he knew they would come.
They came then, filling his mind with a painful coldness that always lingered long past its welcome. His hands ached, the bones felt numb on the inside and the joints were stiff. The eerie flames blazed along his skin, vaulting and plunging drastically all over his body like some savage untamed thing gone berserk. Scott heard the fires crackling in his ears. He knew it made no sound, but its roar was almost deafening to him. It was all he could hear.
Then there was nothing. Kevin was still speaking as though nothing had happened.
“I’ve never seen an aura like yours before,” he said. “It’s such an odd color—or colors, I should say. I’ve never seen a bicolor aura, that’s kind of weird.” Kevin shrugged, dismissing the matter. He looked at Scott oddly, then waved his hand in front of Scott’s face. “You alive?” he laughed.
Scott blinked, dazedly. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. He didn’t sound so sure.
Kevin leaned back in his seat, satisfied. “So, what’s your power?” he asked with a condescending smirk.
Scott looked at his arms. The flames rippled calmly as though blown by a gentle wind. He held out a hand and the pretty little fire slid complacently into his palm, abandoning its job as an aura. He twirled the fire through his fingers and it danced like a ribbon in the breeze. He stopped and it pooled in his palm, caressing his cupped fingers with a strange affection. Scott snapped his hand shut, cruelly snuffing out the playful flames. Black and blue smoke wisped out from the cracks in his fist. Slowly, he opened his hand and gray dust sifted out from between his fingers and settled on the duffel bag in his lap.
“What was that?” Kevin asked with a crooked smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes.
Scott shrugged and rubbed his hands together to remove the remnants of dust. He was still trying to figure out what had happened before. “Isn’t that why I’m coming with you? So Genesis can find out?”
Kevin nodded, “Yeah.” He sat quietly for a moment, thinking, then, “It’s probably some form of telepathy,” he concluded.
Scott’s mouth gave a fractional twitch. Of course it was a form of telepathy; most powers were. You controlled them with your mind, didn’t you?
They were quiet for the next few hours of the trip, all speaking subjects seemingly exhausted. Kevin stared at the floorboard of the car the entire time and Scott looked out the tinted windows, trying to catch just the merest glimpse of familiarity. There was none, only the black glass obscuring the view.
Slowly, Scott began to build up his mental shield again. He left it incomplete on purpose. It would arouse suspicion if a “new” mutant already knew how to put up a full shield, and Scott knew his was the strongest around. The part he did put up was undetectable and hid his memories and innermost thoughts from any prying minds. Anyone who looked would only know what he wanted them to know which was hardly anything at all.
Scott was confident with his powers; if practicing for eleven year didn’t make you strong, nothing would. And he had practiced. A lot. He had practiced until he could simulate almost any other power he could think of and all of the ones he’d come across during his lifetime. His specialty was invading minds without being detected. It was one of the most profitable skills, he had found out over the years. He didn’t use it for schoolwork; that was trivial stuff. He used it for times like this, so he could find out more about a person and how much of a threat they were to him. He knew Kevin had another power that he hadn’t told Scott about. Then again, Scott hadn’t told the complete truth about his powers either. He tried to excuse the fact that Kevin hadn’t told him, after all, a one for one trade was fair, but he had a nagging pinprick of suspicion that would not go away. Kevin’s other power was telepathy and Scott was wary; he didn’t know how hard Genesis trained their psychics.
One of Scott’s other powers was shapeshifting. He had never attempted human-shape shifting, but he had fully mastered all animalian forms. He could even isolate specific powers of an animal and use them alone or in combination with others. His shifting was seamless and he had perfected the theatrics of his power. Anyone would have been amazed at the ease with which he could morph from shape to shape without staying in one particular form or another. He could even maintain the half-shape, the most difficult form of shapeshifting.
Scott didn’t dare speak of his final power; he could not even think about it without such a hollow ache in his heart, and yet it always consumed his mind. The way he acted, how he perceived things, his entire life revolved around that one power and keeping it hidden. But he couldn’t, it was too strong for him. He was so afraid to use it that when it manifested he had no control over it, all he could do was to sit tight and wait it out. Too often though things did not work that way and people got hurt. Really hurt.
Scott closed his eyes and bit his lip, fighting back the tears. It was his fault that he was an orphan, his fault that Alison and Michael were gone. He knew it and he would never forgive himself for it. His mother’s dying word were ones of forgiveness that he could never accept. In his last moments of life even his father had forgiven him, it had been in his eyes, was written all over his face. There had been nothing but love and understanding from his parents when they died. But before….
Scott opened his eyes and stared desperately out the tinted window, seeing only himself reflected in the glass. It seemed to him that his memories were being played out on the dark screen. He could see his father’s face as he realized that his wife was dead. There was so much anger there, and fear. Scott would never forget it. All these years he had been doing everything he thought was in his power to prevent that from ever happening again, and yet it had only a year ago. Anyone he ever cared about always died and it was always his fault. He didn’t know if he could stand it anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone; they’d always failed him just as he’d done them. It hurt too much to care anymore. He’d tried a year ago and that had ended in disaster. He couldn’t let it happen again, not if it would result in that. Too many people got hurt when they became close to him.
I’m a walking health hazard, he thought bitterly. Don’t come close or you’ll end up dead. Like everyone else I’ve met.
His jaw clenched in anger. It wasn’t fair. How could one person be the center of so many catastrophes? Why did everything always have to happen to him?
Because you’re a mutant, he answered himself. Because you can’t have great power without giving something great in return. Whether you wanted that power or not.
Scott sighed silently. Pouting about it wouldn’t do him any good, not now, not after all he’d been through. Pity didn’t make his powers stop manifesting; it surely didn’t make him feel any better. Pity didn’t protect the people he loved and it didn’t take back what had already been done. If it couldn’t do that, then it wasn’t worth messing with. By that standard nothing was worth messing with, but Scott didn’t take it that far. If nothing were worth doing then there would be no point in life and that was a very dangerous place to be, particularly with powers like his. But there were things to do yet, and, despite everything that had happened to him and everything that would happen to him, Scott still had a will to survive. It would be a pity not to after putting up with everything else for so long.
Slowly, the car began to ease to a stop. Scott could hear the wheels grinding gently against the road. It sounded like they were on rough sandpaper. They were almost there. He would soon be at the Institute. Scott had spent his whole life preparing for this moment, it was what all mutants did, it was their only hope for normalcy. From the very moment they were born their parents began grooming them, hoping beyond hope that their powers would emerge early and that the Institute would have no other choice than to take them. If the parents had gone to the Institute, then it was most likely that their children would too. Some even made agreements in advance.
Scott’s hadn’t. He knew for a fact that they had never been to the Institute. His father had even told him once that they had a rare recessive gene that prevented their powers from fully manifesting. From an early age mutant children were taught about genetics to help them understand how special they were, so Scott had known what his father was talking about. It was a very rare gene that only occurred when mutants interbred too much, ironically enough. It was like a safeguard to keep them from becoming too powerful and to give the normal humans a chance. The mutant gene was dominant but that didn’t mean they would take over the world. The gene for brown eyes was dominant and yet there were still a lot of people with blue eyes out there. Scott’s mouth twitched a little at the corner. And green, he thought teasingly, but not so much.
Finally, the car stopped and Kevin opened the door and got out, signaling for Scott to follow him. They were in a nondescript parking lot of some sort in the middle of which sat a long yellow seventy-two-passenger bus. As soon as Kevin and Scott started walking towards it the doors folded open and the driver glared at them until they boarded. The doors snapped shut almost taking off a corner of Scott’s duffel bag as they closed. The driver didn’t wait for them to sit; she just started up the bus and hit the gas, slinging them about like rag dolls. Scott could feel every irregularity in the pavement the bus hit as he and Kevin worked their way to the middle of the vehicle and into an empty seat. They sat down quickly to avoid more jostling. Needless to say, it did not have the desired affect.
The bus swung around a corner and Scott braced himself against the seat so he wouldn’t lean into Kevin. Eventually, the ride settled down and he was able to look around without his vision being vibrated too terribly much. All of the seats were filled two to each seat except for the long one in the back that had four. Exactly half of the people on the bus wore dark suits while the other half looked like they had been ripped out of bed at some unearthly hour in the morning. Everyone was silent; the only noise was the rumbling of the bus’ engine. Most of the people were just kids really, Scott’s age and younger, though some could not have been older than ten. All of them seemed almost dead with sleep.
It’s no wonder, Scott thought as his eyes roamed over the glassy-eyed students. If they came to get me at eight and from there it’s a five-hour drive, which means Kevin had to leave by three, and I’m the last, then the rest must have been gotten up really early. Assuming they all live as far away as I do—did—which they probably don’t, so that’s not so bad. Then again, it’s the summer and nobody gets any sleep in the summer.
Somewhere in the back a person stifled a loud yawn and soon the yawn was travelling around the entire bus. Kevin yawned twice and Scott, who was not in the least bit tired, yawned three times. Someone in the front sneezed and, though it wasn’t contagious, they got a mumbled “God bless you” from anyone with enough wit left to speak. That left the middle section for some kind of unifying bodily function that no one felt like giving at the moment.
Scott was looking around, trying to decide whether or not he should just cough and get it over with, when he noticed a slender brunette sitting across the aisle from him was watching him out of the corner of her eyes. Overcome by a sudden curiosity and sense of mischief that was not completely out of character, Scott plunged himself into her mind. He retreated for a second to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes had a horribly annoying habit of glowing during the most inopportune moments when he was using his powers. Stealthily, he crept back into her mind.
—Looks familiar, Scott heard, coming in mid-thought. I wonder who he is? I’ve never seen him around here before; Genesis must have picked him up from far off. A lot of these people aren’t from around here. That’s kinda weird. I guess we must’ve run out of people in our area. Go figure. I’ll bet he’s from some obscure country. Does Genesis even take foreigners? I’ll have to ask Dad. I don’t think they do, so he must be from, like, California or some place. Gotta nice tan, that’s for sure. There was a mental huff. Of course, you were always a sucker for blondes.
Why, thank you, Scott interjected, his voice dancing playfully around in the girl’s head, but it fades pretty bad in the winter
The girl blinked twice, stunned.
The tan, I mean, Scott clarified, not the hair.
What? The girl stammered. Who…? How?
You missed when and where, Scott informed her, but I guess you already know those. As for your questions, you said I had a nice tan and I was merely thanking you. After all, that’s polite, isn’t it? Scott’s mental voice took on a sarcastic edge. Or does Genesis have a different code of manners? Packing you off onto a crowded bus with a glare isn’t exactly the nicest thing to do to a person.
No, it’s not, the girl agreed harshly, and neither is invading someone’s private thoughts. Who are you and what do you want?
I’m Scott Matthews, his voice shrugged meekly, and I just wanted to talk because I’m bored.
Did it ever occur to you that some of us would like to sleep? The girl thought, slumping in her seat and folding her arms across her chest as though she was getting ready to doze.
I’m sure some of you would, Scott replied easily, but since you in particular live only a couple of miles from here I doubt you’re one of them. I’ll bet you were one of the last ones to get on this bus, too. When did you get up? Eleven maybe? If you were really tired you would’ve told me to shut up and go away.
The girl smirked. Who are you, my psychiatrist? If I were tired I would kick you out, so shut up and go away.
Ah, see! You’re not tired! Scott crowed triumphantly. Told you so!
The girl laughed. Okay, you got me. So what do you want? I know you just didn’t suddenly decide that you wanted to antagonize me.
Actually…. The girl gave Scott a mental shove and he obligingly staggered back a bit with a good-natured snort. What’s your name? He asked, figuratively stepping back up. He could have probed for the answer but he felt that a little bit of honesty would do better.
Amanda, the girl answered with a slight head nod. Amanda McLean; my dad works at Genesis.
Oh, really? So you’d be coming here anyway, huh?
Yeah, Amanda thought, that was part of the deal when my dad signed on. I was two then, so he’s been working there for, like, sixteen years. Me and Al and Mic were automatically accepted as soon as our powers showed up. I should’ve gone last year but my powers were so spastic, they’d work for, like, a month then they just—poof—quit, and Dad decided that I should wait ‘til they were a fixed thing, y’know?
Yeah, well, I’m just a newbie, Scott lied. Honesty could only go so far, especially if her dad was part of the Genesis staff. Some things were just better left until later. Scott had planned to slowly expose his powers over the course of the year to avoid arousing suspicions; if everything worked as planned, and it often didn’t, then everyone would think he was a normal student, steadily mastering his powers under the tutelage of the Institute. If he messed up now his strategy was shot. The thought put him on edge.
Pretty good for a newbie, Amanda thought. Are your parents mutants?
Yeah, but they didn’t go to the Institute. He’d gone from a lie to a half-truth to a whole truth. At least his conscious felt a little better.
What generation does that make you, like, second or something? Amanda asked.
Yeah, Scott’s voiced shrugged, I think so. I don’t really know about the rest of my family; my parents didn’t ever talk about them. I figured they were probably just normal or something and they didn’t like us.
Typical, Amanda huffed. People are so stupid. They hate us and they have no idea why.
They hate us because everyone else hates us, Scott interjected. What does it matter to them? People have been doing it since the beginning of time. Why should they change if we won’t?
Ah, a little bitter there, I see, she commented.
You would be, too, Scott thought silently to himself, if you had been through the things I have, seen the things I’ve seen. Instead he thought outloud: Well, it works both ways. But that attitude won’t get us anywhere. How does Genesis stand?
It doesn’t, Amanda replied. It lies as low to the ground as it possibly can. If anyone found out what it was really used for they’d nuke us in a second, they hate us that bad.
I don’t think they’d nuke us. You never know, that might just mutate the rest of ‘em, Scott thought. Now, a hydrogen bomb, that would be doable; there’s no radioactive fall out.
Amanda laughed outloud, drawing more than a few stares from around the bus. In fact she drew them all. Amanda lifted her hand and vigorously rubbed her nose.
“Almost sneezed,” she said, looking around sheepishly. With that explanation everyone turned back in their seats, averting their eyes. No one really believed her, but none of them were interested enough to care.
Smooth move, Sherlock, Scott thought to her.
Shut up, she snapped.Like you could do any better.
I would have coughed, he advised.
Give me a break; it was spur of the moment, she huffed.
Moments make the life, Scott quoted.
And stop doing that! Amanda whined.
Doing what? Scott asked, clueless. What had he done?
Nosing around in my head! She thought, raising her voice in agitation.
I wasn’t, Scott told her truthfully. You don’t have to yell.
I’m not yelling! She yelled.
Uh-huh, he mused skeptically. Perhaps he shouldn’t have thought that outloud. He could feel Amanda fuming inside her mind. No, he definitely should’ve kept that to himself.
I don’t like it when people start to probe around in my head. Talking is one thing, probing is another, she thought, enunciating everything in a very clear, slow fashion.
I didn’t probe, Scott firmly insisted. Why are you so quick to blame me? I just said what I was thinking. When was that a crime?
Since I was thinking it first! Amanda came back stubbornly. You haven’t exactly proven yourself all that trustworthy. You snooped around in my thoughts earlier without asking for my permission; how am I supposed to trust you after that? Egotistical jerk, he heard her mumble very quietly in her mind.
I heard that, he told her in a smart aleck voice. He was just teasing.
See! You did it again! She exploded. Stop it before I tell someone. I’m serious! You’re freakin’ me out.
You’re a very volatile person, aren’t you? Scott stated more than anything else. You’re being childish about this whole thing. I just wanted to talk and now you think I’m some psycho stalker person that’s probing your mind, for what? Information? Humph. Yeah, right. His tone was cruelly skeptical; it laughed at her to her face.
Amanda’s teeth ground together. Now, you’re insulting me? She fumed as though she couldn’t believe anyone would ever have the nerve. She was beyond words.
You started it, Scott retorted. The girl was a rather infuriating character and she was starting to get on his nerves. Leave it to him to pick the worst person on the bus to talk to. He was beginning to wish he had just left her alone to start off with.
Did not! Amanda protested. And I’m not a child!
Yeah? Scott sneered. And what do you call that, hmm? Maturity? Sounds more like impudence to me.
Yeah, well, what makes you so all high-and-mighty, huh? She spit back. A little probing power? My dad could disable you in a second.
Doubtful, Scott thought to himself, then: Oh, now we’re calling in the parents, are we? I’m shivering in my boots. Really, I think I’m gonna wet my pants.
Mean!
Argumentative.
Snot!
Fool.
Idiot!
Imbecile.
Lamebrain! Nitwit!
Drool. Dolt.
P—
Hey! That’s not nice! Scott interrupted. Moron.
You’re right; it’s not! Flake!
Ignoramus.
Jerk!
You used that one already. Booby.
Lout! Blockhead!
Very original. Thou hast as much brains as earwax, lummox.
That only applies for males! Puke!
Wrong again. Twit.
Immature!
Borrowing one for me, I see. That’s sad. Dufus.
That was pitiful! Dork!
I know and so was that. Oaf.
Numbskull!
Simpleton.
Nitwhite!
Nitwit, you half-wit, and you already used that one.
Whatever. Clod!
Dirt? Come on, surely we can be more creative. Sapsucker.
A bird? How’s that an insult? Sloth!
Obviously you haven’t seen a sapsucker. Ape. Beat that.
Animal! See, I covered them all!
Cheater.
Lame-o!
Farfignuget.
What?
Ha! Thou art bamboozled!
Hick!
Oh, I’m hurt. I die, I die…nose-picker.
Where’d you get that one? Kindergarten? Urchin!
Same place you got that one, vagrant.
Fruit—
—Cake.
Square!
Swirly.
What’s that? Queer!
Am not. Same thing as light in the loafers, you feather.
Now, you’re going obscure. Lizard!
You covered all the animals. Stewpot.
You’re just making those up! Ringworm!
No joke, Sherlock. What gave you that idea? Plague.
Rat!
Flea.
Barf!
Pus-tu-le. Septicemia. Subcutaneous hemorrhaging. I could go on for hours, you know. I did a report on the bubonic plague in tenth grade. It was eight pages. Sputum.
Mine was on scurvy. Maggot!
Ouch. Grub.
Weevil!
Earwig.
What is it with you and ears? Turd!
I don’t know; what is it with you and bodily by-products? Do we have digestive envy? Putrid particle of palpitating pus.
Alliteration, nice. You seem to have a fascination with infection and disease. Is there something you would like to tell me? Birdbrain!
Nothing you’ll ever find out, squirt. I’m sure you would just love to dissect my brain, bird-like as it may be. How about you get your dad to do it for you, hmm? I’ll bet he’d do anything for his little gir-rl ‘cause she can’t do it for herself. So much for those superior genetics, huh?
Cruel! Amanda spit back at him. Scott had known he was poking a sore spot there. You don’t know anything about anything!
You don’t know anything about anything, he mocked in high-pitched voice. Why did he just do that? It wasn’t like him. It was mean.
Cruel, cruel cold-hearted fool! She cried. Leave me alone!
Scott saw a tear forming at the corner of her eye and he broke. He didn’t try to get back as Amanda kept yelling at him. He mentally kicked himself as each word left her mind. You deserve every single word of this! He yelled at himself. She’s right; you are cruel and cold-hearted! You know you are! And it’s your fault! It’s your fault they’re dead! Your coldness killed them! You know it’s true; don’t lie to yourself!
It’s not, it’s not! He wanted to cry out but he knew he would be wrong. His coldness had killed them; all of them. Never again, his mind choked out, never ever again! He abruptly cut the tie between Amanda and himself, silencing her voice and withdrawing into his own mind to suffer a beating that the girl could never give. Images assaulted him filling his mind with a long remembered pain, an ache in his heart that would never go away. Darkness and cold devoured him, eating away like acid dripped on his soul. He shivered.
Amanda jerked in her seat, her thoughts coming to a sudden halt as Scott left her. He was gone, totally gone. She couldn’t feel him anywhere. No, wait. There was something…something—in the back—of her mind. It was like a small knot, the remnants of a broken tie. She could feel something still pulsing through it. Emotions, tangled ones. Very tangled. She almost couldn’t figure them out.
Ambivalence, she thought, coming up with the right word, then: He didn’t close the link all the way.
Slowly, she edged closer to the knot. She had been right; the link was still open to the equivalent of a pinprick, not enough to send thoughts across but enough to pick up strong emotions. The pit of Amanda’s stomach dropped as she drew nearer to the hole. The emotions grew stronger as she got closer, engulfing her in Scott’s turmoil. He was sad, she could tell, and angry. But most of all he was afraid, very afraid. His fear came across very clear, so vivid she almost thought it was her own; her nervous heartbeat was only the faintest shadow of the rabbit-racing going on in his chest.
What have I done? She thought as she began to squeeze herself through the link, widening it as she went. Did I do that? Is he afraid of me? Is he mad at me? What have I done?
Her travel was slow, she felt like she was trying to plow through Jell-O with a toothpick. Why was it taking so long? She knew her body was sweating heavily. She wasn’t used to this much mental strain. She hated to think about the headache that she was going to have tomorrow. Her dad had told her not to do something like this. Oh, well, she thought, too late. And she toiled on.
Suddenly, a link flared out almost connecting with her own. It was from Scott; there were links everywhere, jumping around him like solar flares, yet always failing to connect. It was as though he was trying to reach out and then decided against it at the last moment. Quickly, Amanda reached out with her mind and grabbed it before it faded away, sustaining it with her own power. She didn’t tie the links together, but merely jumped across from one link to the next, getting a free pass into his mind. The link shot back to Scott like a rubber band stretched too far, slinging Amanda straight into his consciousness.
Amanda came to with a jolt. She couldn’t have been out for more than a second from the impact; the emotions were still swirling around her, quickly escalating to something much more than that. They began to pound against her like a fierce ocean tide, pushing her back, closer to the edge of Scott’s mind, then sucking her back in as they ebbed, only to push her back even farther as the emotions came back stronger with every turn. His emotions seeped into her, affecting her as they affected him. Her stomach clinched and cramped with fear, her teeth ground together in anger, and tears watered her eyes but refused to fall.
Amanda could feel bile creeping up her throat. She was nauseous and weak, her energy sapped from all the strain of reopening and maintaining a link, but she had to finish what she had come there to do even if she wasn’t quite sure what that was yet. A coldness washed over her then and she almost buckled under it. It was so cold! She knew her body was shivering from it. Amanda set her will and trudged on, she had to go deeper into Scott’s consciousness to speak to him. Emotions were just on the outskirts of the mind and could only react to other emotions; she could not speak to them, not with any hope of being understood, anyway.
The deeper she went within Scott’s mind the worse she began to feel. She was using more energy than she had to give. Suddenly, a thought streaked past her, too fast for her to hear. Others soon followed, shooting off like sparks around her. She was almost there. And then she was. Thoughts zoomed around her, making her dizzy as she tried to follow them. They were everywhere, swarming like a colony of aggravated bees. She tried to go further but couldn’t. She was stopped by a mental shield.
Wha…? She tried to think but the thought was snatched out of her head before she could finish it and flung out into whatever there was out there. Suddenly she felt more confused than the situation warranted and it kept getting worse as her muddled thoughts were ripped out of her head not quite fully formed. They were being transmitted to Scott, she realized, then, because she was in his mind she was feeling what he was feeling which was what she had been feeling thrown back at her. As she thought this, she immediately began to feel better and Scott no longer had her confused thoughts jumbled in with his own.
Amanda decided she would have to look into that phenomenon as soon as her dad taught her how. But, first, she had to finish this. Amanda tried to catch several of the wild thoughts zooming around in Scott’s mind to further her connection and to get his attention. She got one then quickly let go as she felt it ignoring her to continue on its way out, dragging her along. Amanda slowly trudged back, slipping once and almost letting the constant push of Scott’s mind drift her back out to her body as log on a steady river. She could feel her strength ebbing, being drawn out of her like a string on a spool. She had to do something fast if she was going to do anything at all.
Summoning every shred of power that remained in her, Amanda locked her place within Scott’s mind and shouted with all her mental strength, hoping beyond hope that he would hear her though his mental shield.
I’M SORRY! She yelled, barely holding onto consciousness. She was so tired.
Her cry reverberated through Scott’s skull, doubling and quadrupling its power as it echoed back onto itself and amplifying as it bounced off of her. Suddenly, Scott’s thoughts came to a halt, all of them vanishing except for one that lightly tapped against Amanda’s presence.
What? It whispered softly in her mind as it brushed past.
I’m sorry, she thought back to it, her mental voice straining to be heard. Amanda’s stomach wrung itself with the effort and her head pounded. I didn’t mean to upset you, she continued weakly, I just…I just… The bus lurched forward at that instant, tossing her stomach up into her throat. I think I’m gonna puke! She splurted out as she was jerked back to her body.
Scott blinked, coming out of his thoughts and into the real world. He saw Amanda convulsing out of the corner of his eye, partially concealed by the vibrations of the bus, and he jerked sideways in his seat, holding out an illusionary grocery bag, his mental powers fortifying it so that it was only the merest wisp of imagination away from being substantial. The girl had only enough wits about her to turn her head and hurl into the bag as Scott tried to keep it steady as they were bounced around on the bus.
The Genesis representative sitting next to Amanda started in her seat at the sound of retching. She glanced over and saw her charge leaning over in the aisle, then gagged a little herself. Oh, no, Scott thought with dread, a sympathetic puker. He looked around quickly and saw a few others swallowing hard, eyeing Amanda with his same dread. Most turned away as she convulsed again, bringing up more bile than Scott thought could possibly fit in her stomach. Two pairs of eyes were held by morbid fascination and their owners held their hands over their mouths.
Amanda sat up in her seat and looked across at Scott. She smiled tentatively, opening her mouth to say something…then jerked forward and retched in the bag illusion again. She straightened slowly when she was done and wiped her mouth on a proffered tissue. She smiled gratefully to the wielder, who then threw the tissue into the sloshing grocery bag with an odd look.
“Any better?” Scott asked with concern.
“Much,” Amanda replied with a closed-mouth smile.
“So you won’t be needing this anymore?” he said just to make sure.
Amanda shook her head.
“Okay,” Scott said, eyeing her with distrust as he tied the illusionary bag securely.
“What’s that look for?” she asked with a teasing smile, her earlier animosity forgotten. The Kleenex boy’s eyes widened and he thrust out another tissue, turning away as soon as she took it. Amanda gave him a sideways glance and stuffed the tissue in her jacket pocket. Scott watched her and she shrugged.
He cleared his throat. “Umm…” he said, brushing his finger on the side of his nose. “You have something, uh…you’ve got…stuff…in your teeth.” He bared his teeth and scraped at something invisible between the front two.
Amanda blushed fiercely. “Oh,” was all she said, then turned away, picking at her teeth.
“Better?” she asked with a smile as she turned back.
“Much,” Scott nodded. After a short silence he turned to Kevin. “How long ‘til we get to the Institute?”
“Not long,” Kevin said, eyeing the barf bag with disgust. “Maybe twenty minutes. We have a lot of garbage cans,” he added with a look at Scott.
Scott nodded firmly and held the grocery bag out in the middle of the aisle, far away from him, but low to the ground for Amanda’s sake. And the sympathetic pukers’. That would be unpleasant.
He sat quietly in his seat, staring straight ahead. He could feel Amanda’s eyes on him, seesawing back and forth between him and the front of the bus where he stared. He glanced over at her and their eyes met briefly. She smiled a little and he looked away, his eye glittering happily behind his glasses. Scott shook his head slowly with a rueful twitch to his mouth.
So much for the unifying bodily function, he thought to himself, then almost jumped out of his seat as he was suddenly seized by a racking cough. The entire bus burst out in spontaneous coughing as though they had been waiting for the very moment in which they knew he would start it. Even the bus driver joined in.
Nevermind, he revised, his eyes widening comically.
And so passed the next twenty minutes with various sneezing, coughing, and poignant throat-clearing.
The bus turned off from the highway, barely reducing its speed as it bowled down a small two-way road that twisted and turned. The students were slung about and, soon, many had latched onto their seats with a desperate death-grip. Scott shifted expertly in his seat, clutching his duffel bag to his chest; he had spent many years riding the bus to school, this time was no different. The bus barreled through a series of open barbed-wire fences. Guards stood on either side of the chain-linked obstructions, staring stoically at the students as they passed. Scott reached past Kevin and drew a smiley face on the grimy bus window and one of the guards’ mouths flickered up in a brief smile. The bus driver glared at him through her rearview mirror. Scott narrowed his eyes, returning the gesture.
The bus swerved abruptly, tossing Kevin into Scott, as it turned down a long, circular drive. Its tires rolled smoothly on the new black asphalt. Scott could see only the low façade of the campus; the massive front covering up any of the buildings he knew must lay behind it. The Institute was huge, spreading out before them like the Great Plains in the West, its cold brown-gray cinder blocks reminiscent of a small-town post office. An ebony panther defended the entrance, its wary onyx eyes following the students and it glossy pelt reflecting a muted picture of their faces, warping them slightly as its form curved gracefully into the elegant lines of the cat statue. Scott could see two others further ahead, lying Sphinx-like on their cinder pedestals, protecting their dangerous riddle, the thing hidden beyond the façade.
The bus stopped in between the two statues at the arch of the curve and the driver flung open the doors. All was silent for a brief moment, then the students exploded into action, grabbing their luggage and shoving each other to get at the door. Just after they clamored off, the driver snapped the doors shut and shot back around the circular driveway and out the way she’d come in. Exhaust clouded the air. Dust spewed into the students’ faces, thrown up by the bus’ spinning tires.
The Institute, Scott thought. We’re here.
“We’re here,” Kevin echoed. He smiled grandly.
“Honey, we’re home,” muttered one of the students. A few laughed tentatively, loosening the tight knot of people they had formed. They mingled uneasily in the courtyard.
Scott separated from the group to look for a garbage can. He saw one tucked behind the panther statue to his right. As he dropped the barf bag into the can, his other hand drifted over the glassy surface of the statue. His glove slid along the fluid muscles of the cat, feeling the watery texture of the cool stone. He could see his reflection in the animal’s hide and a skewed picture of his gloved hand skimming over the onyx, leaving illusionary ripples like a bug on an ebony pond.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Kevin said, coming up behind Scott. His hand caressed the animal’s head as if it were real. The oil from his bare fingers smudged the fine stone. He frowned and wiped it away with his sleeve cuff, then stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Mm-hmm,” Scott agreed, his eyes lingering on the statue’s delicately sculpted features. “Who made them?”
“A student,” Kevin answered, “about two years ago. If you look closely, you can see his signature right above the nose." Kevin pointed to the spot, careful not to let his finger touch the statue. “He’s a junior this year, I think.
”
Scott leaned forward, searching for the telltale mark. He saw it just above Kevin’s finger; it was a finely etched phoenix about the size of an English pea with a double M monogrammed on the bird’s breast. “How did he do it?” Scott asked, straightening. His eyes did not leave the etching.
“He’s a Forger,” Kevin said, “a Firestarter, of sorts. It’s one of his powers.”
Scott raised coppery eyebrow. “A Forger?”
“And a Firestarter,” Kevin smiled. “Don’t worry; it’s a code. Genesis has lots of them. One for every type of power, they say.”
“What happens if they find a new one?”
Kevin shrugged. “They come up with another name. Come on,” he said, jerking his head after the migrating crowd, “it’s time to go.”
Scott and Kevin joined the others, trekking across campus to the Dorms. The front of the Institute was extensive; every corridor had a one-way glass wall facing the inner courtyards. The main body of the school was shaped like a Punnett square cut open through the middle with four courtyards and a crossway. Inside each square was a concentric design of fountains, tiled ground, and various flower arrangements. A very large, round stone table anchored each ensemble.
The students marched through on a black marble pass scuffed roughly down the center from many feet crossing before. They went beyond the building without hearing a sound, without seeing a soul. It was eerie. Behind the main building (the Public building, as it would later be known) were the barracks, the Dorms. Unlike the school, the Dorms were painted white, a very stark white with black mortar between the cinder blocks like a giant grid. It had a dizzying effect if you looked at it too long.
I suppose you get used to it, Scott thought, acutely aware of the ground that seemed to tilt beneath his feet. He looked away, searching the crowd for Amanda. She was gazing up at the building with awe, her stride wavering with each step, weaving in and out of a straight line. She ran into a girl with a vibrant purple Mohawk and ducked away from a viscous glare. Scott’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. Go figure.
The group split up simultaneously, each student hovering by their Genesis representative. Scott walked beside Kevin; Amanda and her representative followed slightly behind. They passed four low-slung barracks marked with bold black letters before they stopped in front of the last one in the row labeled “M”. The Dorms were alphabetized. Last names first, Scott thought, glancing back at Amanda McLean. Typical school mentality. I feel like a Roman legionnaire being assigned to his decade…then again, maybe I am.
Kevin produced a key out of his jacket pocket and inserted it into the round lock where the knob should have been. He placed his left hand on the scanner beside the door. It beeped, flashed green, and Kevin’s wrist twitched, turning the large key. He pushed and the door swung inward, revealing the thickness of its fortified steel and unveiling the long, straight corridor with the sun’s light. Kevin stepped back and motioned for the girls to go in first with a bow. Amanda’s representative shook her head and smiled, taking up his offer. Scott went next and Kevin after him, pausing to shut and lock the door.
They strode down the hallway with purpose, the clicking of the representatives’ heeled shoes echoing authoritatively in the uncanny silence. Amanda and her guide dropped off at a room near the end of the hallway and Kevin and Scott stopped a few doors down in front of an empty wall. Kevin stared at the wall, confused. He frowned and tapped his toe against various places, then ran his hands over the smooth whiteness. He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest, obviously puzzled.
“Something wrong?” Scott asked, glancing between the empty space and the thoughtful teen.
“Ah, no,” Kevin said, tapping the bottom of the wall again. “It’s just that—.” his foot suddenly disappeared into the sheet of white. “Mm-hmm,” he finished, reaching through the wall and moving something. Scott heard the whispering of well-oiled hinges, then started as Kevin vanished into the wall. “It’s okay,” he heard the rep say. A hand floated out and waved him in. “It’s just an illusion; the older students like to mess with new guys’ heads. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”
“Uh-huh,” Scott muttered dubiously. He closed his eyes and stepped forward…into a wide, well-lit, spacious room. “Whoa,” he said, blinking, “I’ve got a kitchen.”
Kevin laughed and pointed out some other features with a quirky smile. “Yeah, and you’ve got a bed, a closet, and…your own bathroom!”
“Really?” Scott said, tossing his bag onto the queen-sized bed and dashing off to the short passage across from the kitchenette area. He opened the furthest door and peered inside. “Does everything work?” he asked, calling over his shoulder.
“I think so,” Kevin answered seriously, “but you might want to check.”
Sounds of running water and a flushing toilet emanated from the bathroom, and Scott reemerged, wiping his wet gloved hands on his pants. “Nice,” he commented as he began his tour of the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and plucked out a wrapped sandwich from the vegetable bin. “Very nice.”
He unwrapped the sandwich and threw his trash into the can under the sink. He opened all the cabinets and all the drawers, noting where all the plates and silverware were, then closed them and checked the faucet. He glanced in the linen closet and inspected the tall cherrywood dresser, sliding the drawers in and out to make sure the runners wouldn’t jam. He stepped back and gave the room another once-over, his eyes bouncing from wall to wall. It would do, but it needed something, something to make it less…generic.
“Can I paint it?” Scott asked, looking at the blank walls with new eyes. He took a bite of his sandwich. Deviled egg, he thought, with paprika mixed in, just like Marie made them.
Kevin shrugged. “I don’t see why not; it’s your room as long as you’re here.”
“What if I painted it chartreuse?” Scott deadpanned.
Kevin winced, a hiss of air slipping through his teeth. “Then I’d think you’d get some neighborly complaints,” he said honestly. “You might get away with it for a week before someone made you paint over it.”
Made, Scott thought, a dozen ways of how they could “make” him do whatever they wanted flashing through his mind. That’s nice. Very reassuring. Boosts my vote of confidence. He took another bite of his sandwich.
“You’re going to fix that door, right?” he said around a mouthful of food. He nodded to the sheet of white that covered the exit.
“Yeah, sure,” Kevin said with a quick glance over his shoulder, “in a minute. Are you all settled in? Do you need any help with anything? Unpacking…?”
Scott looked at the single duffel bag he’d thrown on the bed. “I’m good,” he said. The corner of his mouth twitched into an unidentifiable expression.
“Okay,” the rep said, shrugging. He turned to leave then stopped abruptly. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, coming back. He fished a rectangular sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket and the large key he had used to open the barrack door. “There’s your schedule and your key. If you have any problems just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled. “Classes start in three days; they’re in that first building we passed through. The first day is just Orientation so you don’t really need anything then; Genesis provides all the supplies anyway. They’ll give you a tour of the campus then, but feel free to look around before, if you want; there’s maps everywhere.”
Scott took the key and schedule, glancing at both before he slid them into his jacket pocket. “M’kay,” he said. He’d planned to explore the campus before school started, prior to the offer, as any good soldier would. It made sense to survey the field before the battle. And a battle it would be, against students and teachers and misbegotten test scores. Scott wasn’t sure which one he dreaded most, failing or passing, both could have horrendous repercussions.
“Alright,” Kevin said, finally leaving. He waved briefly from the door. “Well, see y’ later.”
“Bye,” Scott said, finishing off his sandwich. He brushed his hands off on his pants then went over to his duffel bag. He unzipped it and dumped the contents out onto the bed.
It took him precisely two seconds to put away his clothes and two more to distribute the rest of his things throughout the room. A few books went in the second drawer of the dresser, toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush went on the bathroom counter, sketchbook hid under the mattress, and a filled picture frame went face-down on the nightstand beside the bed. He couldn’t bear to look at them. Not today. Not after the Dream was still so fresh in his mind. Maybe tomorrow, he thought to the people in the picture, maybe then.
He sat on the edge of the bed; his legs were tucked up underneath him Indian-style. He took the key Kevin had given him out of his pocket and dropped it into the shallow drawer on the nightstand, sliding it shut with a loud snick, then pulled out his schedule. He scanned it quickly, memorizing it with a glance. He had Psychology first period and the same teacher for homeroom, a R. McLean. Amanda’s dad, Scott thought, amused. That could be…interesting. He had Government and Economics next as half credit courses, which meant he’d have one the first semester and the other the next semester, but they were both taught by the same teacher.
Third was Physics, followed by English IV, then Journalism. Oh, the irony, Scott thought. First you learn the rules of writing then you’re taught to break them. That’ll be fun. His humor didn’t last long as he read the rest of the schedule. Calculus was sixth period and then his day ended on a semester class of Art I that would be switched to PE in the second semester. There was an asterisk by his seventh period classes with a note at the bottom:
Physical Education and an alternative elective are required each year unless excused by a figure of authority.
That’s nice, Scott thought, folding the slip of paper and placing it in the same drawer as the key. He lay back on his bed, his arms under his head and his leg crossed over the other knee. He looked at the clock on the nightstand, then stared at the ceiling. 1:47pm. He had roughly nine hours to go before he would get tired. He rolled over and went to pull up the blinds on the widows beside the bed. Light streamed in, making the room warm and cheery like nothing else could. A few people were outside, mostly ones from the bus but there were some Scott didn’t recognize.
He sighed and let the blinds drop halfway. What could he do for nine hours besides look around campus? His eyes drifted over the blank canvas walls. He needed a pencil. And some paint. Scott patted his pockets and pulled out a pen. He’d used it that morning to mark off on the feed list when he was out in the barn helping Robert. He carefully placed the pen on the top of the dresser, then searched his new room for a pencil. He found one underneath the refrigerator and blew off the dust and food particles.
Scott nabbed a chair from the kitchen table and brought it around to the partition between the kitchenette and the living/bedroom area. He stared at the wall, wild images floating around in his head like a whirlpool of imagination. Blues, greens, purples. Maybe he would use chartreuse after all. He glanced at the other wall opposite him. He knew what would go on that wall, but he couldn’t do it. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe then. He shrugged and set his pencil to the wall. His hand glided along the wall lazily, sketching and measuring in the most relative sort of way. Finger width was an inch; finger length was four inches. Everything was proportional.
It was nine thirty when Scott finished. The light had faded hours ago and he had moved the lamp from the nightstand so he could see. He turned it off and dropped his stub of a pencil on the floor, leaning back in his chair to view his work. All that was left was to paint.
It’ll have to wait until tomorrow, he thought, standing up and stretching. His back and arms popped gratefully.
He left everything as it was, pencil shavings and all, on the floor. He took off his jacket and shirt on the way to the door to turn off the lights and threw them in the corner. He ventured back to the end of his bed and fell onto the puffy mattress without bothering to get under the sheets. He shoved his hands under the pillow and drifted into sleep.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, he mused as his eyes slipped shut behind green-tinted glasses. He almost smiled, his lips twitching slightly at the corners. The Dream would not take him tonight. And maybe then he could paint that other wall. Maybe, just maybe, this year would be a dream come true instead of a continuation of the same nightmare he’d been living in for eleven years. Maybe, just maybe….
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Obviously, this is Drake Darkmourning, if you will please excuse the fact that i misspelled his last name in the picture. Rebecca, you haven't met him yet; he's coming up in Chapter Three, which is closer to its finishing point than it was over the summer. just slightly.
i've recently been learning how to color in GIMP so that's what i've done here. As you can see, i'm not terribly good at it, but i think it gets the point across. |
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The sketch for this picture was originally intended to be Amanda McLean, but i'm thought it might be more apt for another character later on...i don't think she shows up until Chapter Four or later, at least, not in the original text, so i used the same sketch colored differently for this... other character. And, yeah, her eyeballs are kinda screwy; i assure you that was unintentional. i can never seem to get both eyes right at the same time...i tried to fix it in GIMP, so it's better than it was orginally. |
 | This is the "other character" i was talking about. Since i have not previously mentioned her name anywhere in my text, it is safe to do so now without giving anything away: This is Claire. I'll drop the hint that she is rather pivital to the story later on. |
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Again, originally this character was supposed to be Scott but it didn't turn out to look much like him. Scott doesn't glower like that; this could be another drawing of Drake, but in a different style than the one above the above, or a drawing of Michael or Kevin or pretty much any of the other male characters. |
