A.S.OrenRookHiltPublishing

L.L.C

Copyright © 2014A.S.Oren

Rook HiltPublishingL.L.C

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All charactersappearing in this work arefictitious. Any resemblanceto real persons, living or

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ISBN-13:978-1511425582

ISBN-10:151142558X

TableofContentsAVALON THE

CURSEDTHEBARNJUNK AND APPLE

BLOSSOMSGOODBYES AND

HELLOSALMOSTTHERESPEARWOOD

BREAKFASTTHE GRAND TOUR

WITH THE HANDSOMEFOUR

THE WELCOMEBRIGADE

MARKS OF THEFIRSTDAY

THE FABULOUSDR.QUINN

CALLINGHOMETHEFIRSTNIGHT

MR.MAGICTUTORANICENTONEENGAGMENT?THE GRINCH

TUTORTHEWHOCABINSURVIVALRUNNING FOR

LIFECOLDTHEVOICE

THECAVETHE FINAL WALL

CRUMBLESFLYING

DEDICATION

ToTheParents;).ForalwaysbeingtherewhenIneed

you

AVALONTHE

CURSED

I hate the night.She’s such a cruel mistress.Evenwiththesunstillupand

night a few hours away, themoon pulls at my bones.They ache at the merethought of it rising andsubmergingme in its hellish,whiterays.

“Avalon,” he says,uttering the same namewrittenon thepieceofpaperthat was stuck within mybabyblanket.Whenhefoundmenearhisbarn,heassumedmymother gave it tome; so

that’swhathecalledme.I’mnot sure if it came from thelegend of KingArthur, but Ihopeitdid.

“Avalon, payattention!”

I glance up at thechalkboard covered inchicken scratch. I sigh, rollmypencilawayfromme,andwait for it to roll back. “Theansweristwo.”

“What?”He scratcheshis balding head, which iscovered in wispy white hair.He looks at the board beforestaring at the textbook in hishand. He scribbles morechicken scratch on the boardand smirks at me. “No, it’ssix.”

Ipushthepencilawayfrom me a little tooforcefully; it falls off theothersidewithaclatter.Iget

on my knees and retrieve it.“Lookattheanswerkey,Ed.”

Hehuffs.“IknowI’mright this time.” Frustrationthickens his strange in-betweenaccent..I’mnotsurewhy he has one. I know hisparentswereIrishimmigrantsfrom North Dublin. He wasraised with them and theHands who helped on theOrchard. Bellingham,Washington isn’t known for

having distinctive accents,but I guess any Americanaccent is miles apart from astrongIrishone.Itmusthavecame from hearing twodifferent accents while hewas learning to talk. Iwould’ve picked up hisaccent too, but I had helpfrom the Hands and SesameStreet to keep me fromdeveloping an in-betweenaccent.

Louderthanheshouldbe,hefindstheanswerkey.Isitbackdowninmychair.

His face falls, and Ifeel bad for the oldman.Hesnaps the book shut. “Yaurright;it’stwo.”

“Great, can I gooutside now?” I’m alreadyhalfwayupfromthedesk.

“Yeah,butIwantyauto stop day dreaming during

yaur studies! I don’t do thisformi health!” he yells afterme.I’moutsidebeforehecangiveanotherhuff.

Glorious sunrays kissmy skin, and the sweet scentofapplesridesontheair.Theapple blossoms have justbegun to bloom in ourOrchard. I stretch my armsabove my head and give agroan of appreciation asstiffnessleavesmymuscles.I

fall back onto the soft, longgrass. My dark golden curlsfan out from underneath myhead as I gaze up at white,fluffy clouds, which driftacross the sky. I pick outdifferent things I see: abunny,avase,andadragon’shead.

Icovermyhazeleyeswithmytanarm.Idon’twanttoseeit.Everynight,assoonas the moon appears in the

sky, I turn into a monster.The painful transformationshould kill me, but for somereasonI’mstillkicking.

Edgar says I ‘scaredthe livin shit’ out of him thefirst night he had me in hishome. I screamed andscreamed while he tried tocoolmybodywithicy,water-soaked cloths. He watchedmybodychangefromthatofa baby to a toy poodle-sized

lizard. He said he almostcalled the priest to comeexorcise me; but when Ilooked up at him with mygoldeyes,hecouldn’tbeartodo that. He took pity on meand didn’t abandon me likemymotherhad.Afterthat,henever considered giving meup.HeknewifIwentintothesystem, the Governmentwouldget theirhandsonme;and Iwould be a test rat for

them.By the grace of

something greater thanmyself, I survived infancy.The pain has never beenbearable,butI’maccustomedto thepain. Ino longer sleepthe entire day just totransformagainatnight.

Thedeliciousscentofchocolate wafts its way intomynose.Ismileandtakemyarmoffmyface.Edgarbakes

a chocolate cake, one of myfavorite foods in all theworld. I only get it once ayear, on my birthday. Edgardoesn’t like baking, but herefuses to let me make myown birthday cake. He alsodoesn’t like sweets aroundthe house. So having thechocolate cake once a yearmakesitallthemorespecial.

Tomorrow, Iwill turnfifteen. We go by ’the day

Edgar found me since wedon’tknow the actualdayofmy birth. We’ve alwayscelebrated in the morning.Nighttimeisn’texactlyatimeofcelebrationforme.

I stand. A’ spatulacovered in cake batter callsmyname.

Edgar doesn’t evenlookup fromhispaper ashepointstothebowlandspatulaonthecounter.“Lickonlythe

spatula. I don’t want yaugettin’sickonmi.”

“I know.” I grab theholy grail of cake batter andsit downat thekitchen table.Smalldoesnotevenbegin todescribe Edgar’s house, butit’s home. The living roomand kitchen are the sameroom. Old, scuffed-up woodplanksserveasthefloors,andthe stairs leading up to thesecondfloorcreak.Thehouse

alsohasalittlebathroomanda spare room where I keepmy stuff. I love this house. IhopeEdgargivesittomeoneday.

I couldn’t be happierin this moment. The batter,not toosweetwithjustahintof bitter dark chocolate,makes my tastes buds do ajig. Only one thing couldmakethismomentbetter,andIstillhaveafewhoursbefore

nightfall.“Ed,” I say in a tone

that I know will make himcringe.

“No,” he says. Heruffleshispaper.

I wipe my lips withthe back of my hand. “Youdon’t even knowwhat I wasgoingtosay.”

“Yes I do. Yau wantto watch that darn movie

again.”“Please? I know my

birthday’s tomorrow, but Iwant to watch it before themooncomesup.”

He sigh heavily.“Fine, but I don’t want towatchitagainforamonth.”

Ismileandjumpfromthechair.“Thankyou!”Irunup the stairs and grad theDVD. It took me five years,

but I finally got Edgar toupgrade his VCR to a DVDplayer. It will probably takemeanotherfivetogethimtoupgradetheTVandgetaBluray player. To him, they areuselessjunk,buthegetsthemforme.Heknowsmoviesandbooks allow me to escapefrommylifeforawhile.

Mostofmy roomhaswall-to-wall bookshelves,which Edgar built himself.

Ninety percent of them arefilledwith books, but I havetwo or three shelvesdedicated to movies. I grabmy current favorite movie,HarryPotterandtheDeathlyHallows Part One. It’s tiedwiththefirstoneasbeingmyfavoriteHarry Potter movie.Though if I’m being honest,my absolute favorite moviesof all time are While Youwere Sleeping and You’ve

Got Mail. I’m a sap forromances like those. I don’tsubjectEdgartothemthough.I save them for days whenI’m ‘sick’ andcan’tworkonthe Orchard with Edgar andtheHands.

“Igotit!”Iyelldownstairs.

I smile when Edgargrunts in return. Ihopesomethingsneverchange.

THEBARN

E dgar gets ready

toshutthebarndoors,hidingme away for the night. “I’llsee yau in the mornin’,

Avvi”.

“Okay.” I nod. Themoonwillbeupsoon,andI’lltransform.

He closes the barndoors,andItakeaseatontheground. I used to transformoutsideandmovearound;butever since I hit puberty, thesizeofmytransformationhas

quadrupled, and I don’twantthe locals catching a glimpseof me. My skin burns likecoils on a grill, but neverblisters.’

My clothes scratch atmyskin,makingitimpossibleto get ’comfortable. I takethem off in hopes that it’llbringsomeformofrelief,but

itonlyworsens.

Moon’ rays shinedownonmethroughtheopendoor in the hayloft. I digmyfingernailsintothedirtbelowme.’’’’Anitchsodeepitcannever be scratched coursesthroughmybones.

My skin flairs l’ike afirst-degree sunburn all over

my body, magnifying mydiscomforttenfold.

I can’t stand it! Theitch will drive me mad. Mynailselongateintogoldtalonsas I liftmyhand and scratchmy arm. I cry out in pain asmy skin comes off likeshredded kabob meat.Underneath, where muscles

and blood should show,pointed, golden scales revealthemselves.

As I rip at my skin,paincoursesthroughmyface,my skull reshaping into asnout. My jaw and teethbreak and shift with cracksand pops to form their newshape. I want to scream, but

myjawwon’tmove.

My bone and musclemass increases. The skin Iwasn’tabletoremoveonmyown tears due to stress andfallsaway.Aroarburstsforthas the final two parts of mytransformation take place: apair of leather-like wingsshooting out of me and my

tailbonegrowingtothelengthof a six-foot man. Threespiked bones push out fromthe tip and scales rush downfrom my back to cover thenewmuscle.

I lie in the dirt,panting. My hot breathcreatesadirtcloudinfrontofme. Pain dwindles as my

bodyadjuststoitsnewform.

I stretch my wingsout,buttheypushagainstthewalls. The barn’s too smallfor me. If this monster formcontinuestogrow,EdgarandI will have to build a biggerbarn.

I spend my nightsstaringoutthehayloftdoorat

thestarrysky.Whatwoulditbeliketogoflying?Ihaven’tused my wings in years. Imiss feeling a cool breezeunderneath them as I gethigher into the air. After awhile, my imagination runsout, and sleep becomes mypasstime.

By morning, I open

my eyes to the sun shiningdown on me. Still’ on myback,Iliftmyhand—goodasnew—as if the night beforedidn’t happened. I’ve neverevenfeltmyselfchangeback.It’s always painless. Iwish Iknew why. I turn over andglance at where the piles offleshshouldbe.Heapsofdust

areintheirplace,waitingforabreezetocarrythemaway.

I gather my clothesandgetdressed.Igrin.Todayismy birthday,whichmeansthere’sacakewaitingformeonthediningroomtable.

Every day, I try tofind something to smileabout. Edgar and the small

blessings are the only thingskeeping me going. It’s theonly thing I can do insituationslikemine.

JUNKANDAPPLEBLOSSOMS

I smile as I walk

into Edgar’s little white and

green house. A messilyfrostedchocolatecakewithalit candle and awrapped giftnext to itwait forme on theold dining room table. Edgarsits at the head of the tablewith a smile on his face, buthis eyes aren’t showing theirnormalgleam.

I take my seat at the

table and closemy eyes.Mywish, thesameas ithasbeeneversinceIcanremember,isfor my curse of the night toend. I blow out the candle,andEdgarclaps.“Okay,openyaur gift.”He sounds almostsomberaboutit.Whyishesodowntoday?

I take the square

package and rip off the oldnewspaper. I stare at the giftinmyhandforamoment.It’sa cell phone. Not one of thefancy smart ones I see thelocals using, but it’s a cellphone nonetheless. Whywouldhegetme this? Ihaveno use for it. He has alwayscalledthingslikethisjunk.

Ifrownandglanceupat him. “It’s not that I don’tappreciateit,Ed,butyouhatethesethings,andIreallyhaveno use for one. Other thanpeopleonline,you’retheonlypersonItalkto;youknowthelocalsmyagedon’tlikeme.”

“Yau’llhaveauseforitnow.It’ssowecanstayin

touch.Yaucancallthehousephone.”

What?WherewouldIbegoingthatIwouldhavetocall him? “Are you kickingme out, Ed?” My heartpounds in my chest. Thethought of leaving the onlyperson I care about is scarybeyondallmeasure.

Heswallowshardandshakes his head. The looseskin at his chin jiggles. “I’msendingyoutoschool.”

I frown. My paniceases a little. “Youmean theoneintown?Ed,Idon’tthinkIneedacellphoneforthat.”

“No,Avvi. Far away,to a boarding school. They

teachyaurkind.”

Hiswordsgetjumbledinmybrain.“Mykind?”Iputthe packaged cell down infrontofme.

“Otherswho turn intodragons like yau,” hemumbles.

“Wait. There areothers like me? I’m not the

onlyone?Howlonghaveyouknown about this?” MyknucklesturnwhiteasImakea fist. I almost don’twant tohearhisanswer.Idon’twanttoaccept thefacthehaskeptsomethingthisbigfromme.

He looks down at thetable. “Since yau were ten.When I started getting those

packages.Theywerefromtheman who runs the school. Idon’t know how they knowabout yau, but they havewantedyausincethen.”

“All these years andyou didn’t think I shouldknow any of this? Whynow?”

“They’ve been

houndin’ me for years to letyaugototheschooltheyrun.Ididn’t thinkyauwerereadyfor it. So, I chose not to tellyau.”

“Whatchanged?”

“I’m tired of seeingyau hurt. Maybe they canhelp yau. Now that yaurolder, I think yaur ready for

sometin’ that’ll take a goodamount of maturity tohandle.”

“Do I have a say inthis?” I look at the cake; Idon’tevenwantitanymore.

“Well, I can’t forceyau to do anyt’in’ yau don’twant to, but I think it wouldbegoodforyau.Theyplanto

pick yau up the day aftertomorrow. If yau don’t wantto go, I’ll call them and tellthemIchangedmimind.”Hepicks up a cake knife andwalks around to my side ofthe table. After cutting intothecake,heservesmeaslicebeforegettinghisown.

I nibble at it in

silence, not really tasting it.Myworldhasstartedthespincycle, and there’s noemergencystopswitchformeto flip. The milk chocolatefrostingInormallywouldkillfor has too much sweetnessformetoday.

I know Edgar meanswell,butissendingmeoffto

a boarding school an option?What if they want to weaselmoney out of him and aregoing to takemeoff tosomeBlack Market slave trade?“Do you have to pay tuitionor anything?You don’t havethatkindofmoney,Ed.”

He shakes his headand takes a heap of cake off

hisforkbeforeansweringme.“Nope, not a single cent.They said yau a special caseofsomekindandwillpayforall that. They really wantyau.”

I search mymind foran excuse, any, thatwill talkmyself out ofwanting to go.“What if they are some

Governmentgroupthatwantsto keepme as a test rat? I’llneverseeyouor theOrchardagain!” I put my hand overmy mouth; I didn’t mean togethysterical.

“Idon’tthinkthat’sit,Avvi.” With a groan, hepusheshimselffromthechairand goes to the bear head

hanging on the wall. Hereaches into its snarlingmouth. His hand comes outwithseveralfoldedpapers.

Heputsthemdowninfront of me before returningto his seat. “I saved thosefrom the package that camelastmonth.”

My hand hovers over

them. I’m almost afraid totouchthem.It’sasiftouchingthemwill confirm the realityof this situation. “When didthe package come? I don’trememberonecoming.”

“Yauwere out by theriver readin’ or somet’in’.”He plays with his slice, noteatinganyofit.

I put my fork downandpickupabrochurefortheelite school. It’s light bluewitha coatof armsandgoldembossed lettering,‘Spearwood Academy’.Underneath it is, ‘The placeforyourgiftedchild.’

I open it slowly. Thepicturesinsidemakemyeyes

gowide. The place could becompared to a mountainresort for the wealthy, not aschool. There are pictures ofboys studying and playingtennis, but there are otherpictures too: boys in midtransformation. I’m floored.There are others out in theworldlikeme.Itakeacloser

look at the pictures.Something is off about theirexpressions. It hitsme like awreckingball:there’snopainon their faces. Why isn’tthere?

For a moment, I putaside that thought and thinkabouttheotherissue.Nogirlsare in any of the pictures.

“Ed,thislookslikeanallboyschool. I don’t see any girlshere.”Hisbackgoesstiff.

“Look at the otherstuff,”hemumbles.

I pick up the nextthing, a two-page letteraddressedtoEd.

DearMr.Clementine,As you are aware,

your adopted daughter willbe turning fifteen in amonth’s time.Wehaveaskedyouinthepasttoallowhertocome to our school early.However,nowsheisthesameageastherestofourstudentbody.

As we have discussedwith you before, we would

very much like to teach andlearn from your daughter.She is the only female inexistence to have the sameabilities as our male studentbody.

We understand youmay have doubts aboutsending her to our currentlyall boy school. Please let us

assure you, all appropriatemeasures will be taken forherhousingandneeds.

We want to impressupon you how important wefeelitisforyoutoallowyourdaughter to attend ourschool. As we have told youover the years, we feel shecould learn from us, and it

would benefit her in allaspects of her life, includingIvy League colleges in herfuture.

If you have changedyour mind at all aboutallowinghertoattend,pleasegive us a call. We would bemore than willing to takeyour call and answer any

concernsyoumayhave.

Sincerely,

Mr.MichaelPerlow

Headmaster ofSpearwoodAcademyand

Mr.OliverRoseman

Chairmen ofSpearwoodAcademy’sBoardofGovernors

The next paper liststheir contact information. Iput the letter down and lookat Edgar. “Why now? Whytell me today? Why notbeforeyouobviouslydecidedto call them!”He flinches atmy tone. I don’t usually losemytemperwithhim.

“Yau know me,

Avalon.I’mnotthetypetobegood at t’is kinda thing.Yauthink I would’ve been abachelor all these years if Iwere?”

The sadness in hiseyesmakesme cool down. Igive a sigh. “Tell mehonestly.Doyouwantme togo?”

Hehuffs.“OfcourseIdon’t want yau to go! Someschool filled with boys andnot to mention on the othersideoftheworld.”

I consider thebrochureagain.Myeyesbugout.Theschoolissomewherein Tibet? I did not see thatcoming.

Ed runs a hand overhis wispy white hairs. “Butdo I thinkyaushoulddo it?”He gives another sigh andfiddleswithhishands.“Yeah,Ido.Howelseareyaugoingtolearnaboutyaurself?”

Hiswordshitme likea ton of bricks. He’s right.How else am I going to get

the answers to the questionsI’ve been asking my entirelife? These people know theanswers.Atleast,Ihopetheydo.

“Yaur goin’, aren’tyau?”heasks.Hecanseebythe expression on my faceI’vemadeupmymind.

“I don’t really have

muchchoice,doI?Theyhavetheanswers toquestions I’vehadsinceIcouldcomprehendmy situation. Besides, if Iabsolutely hate it and don’tlearn anything, I’ll just tellthem I want to come backhometomyOrchard.”

He gives a sad smile.“Ithoughtyau’dsaythat.”He

standsfromthetableagain.

“Where are yougoing?”Istandtofollowhim.Hemotionsformetosit.

He goes upstairs; andafewminuteslater,hecomesback down carryingsomething. It looks like anecklace.

Comingaroundtomy

side of the table, he standsbehindme.“Liftyaurhair.”Ido, and he puts the necklacearoundmyneck.Iliftittogeta better look at it, a locketmadeofglasswiththreeverysmall, fuchsia, appleblossomsencasedinthedoor.

I frown at him. He’snever given me something

likethis;it’scomeoutofleftfield.

“Mi father gave thattomimotherwhenheboughtthisorchard.Itwasapromiseto her that the apple treeswould always represent theirlove.Mimotherleftittome;wantedmetogiveittoawifeso that ifwe had a daughter,

she could give it to her. Inever got miself a wife, soI’mgivin’ittomidaughter.”He shrugs as if it’s not abigdeal. “I want yau to have apiece of home with yauthere.”

I’ve never heard himcallmehisdaughterbefore.Itouch the locketandswallow

hard.Sometearscometomyeyes.“Thankyou,Ed.You’retheonlyfatherIhave,sothiswillalwaysbehometome.”

Now it’s his turn toswallow hard as he wipes ahand over his face beforewaving me off. “Don’t gogettin’allmushyonme.”

I finger the locket.

Theglass,coldasice,fillsmewithawarmth;howironic.“Iguess I better go pack mythings.”

He clears his throat.“Yeah,yaugodothat.”

I smile at him andtake a fewmore bites ofmyslice of cake; it now tastesamazing.Ihopetherewillbe

some for me to take on myjourney. I stand from thetableandstartforthestairs.

“Take that phonething with yau. Figure outhowitworks,soyaucancallme.”

I don’t know if it’llwork for me in Tibet, but Ipick it up anyway. I’m sure

the school will let me callhimfromphonesthere.Edgardoesn’t have caller ID, so Idon’thavetoworrytoomuchabout him knowing I’m notusingit.

I’m half-way up thestairs when I stop and turnaround. I go back down toEd. He picks up our plates.

Helooksatmewithworryinhis gray eyes. Throwing myarms around his middle, Igive him a tight hug. Hereturns it before givingme akissonthehead.“I’llcallyouevery chance I get when Iknow you’ll be home,” I sayas I pull away.Hot tears falldownmycheeks.Idon’tcare

anymore.Ialreadymisshim.

“Yau better.” Hewipes the tearsoffmycheekand gives one of them agentle pat. I’m sure I’ll saygoodbyetohimattheairport,but this is ourwayof sayinggoodbye to each otherwithoutsomeonewatching.

GOODBYESAND

HELLOS

T he day has

come.TimeforEdgarandme

tomeetattheairportwiththepeople who will take me offto some strange school inTibet. Does this mean I’llhave to learn Chinese? Iknow someKorean frommydramas,butjustenoughtogetby in a basic conversation. Ihopetheyteachmeaboutmycurse. Last night seemed

more painful than usual; Ipassed out after it wascomplete.

Edgar puts twosuitcases in the back of histruck as I get into thepassenger seat. One suitcasehas most of my clothes, andthe other has my books,photos, and everything else I

could pack into it. It’sbulgingattheseams,Iswear.Around my neck hangs theappleblossomlocket.

With a slam of theclunky, old truck’s door,Edgar gets in the driver’sseat.Helooksatme.

“Yausurethisiswhatyauwant?Lastchancetosay

no.”

I nodmy head. “Yes,this is what I want. This iswhat I need, and this is myonlychancetogetanswers.”

He nods and makesthe truck rumble to life. Itgives a puff of smoke inprotest and starts to head inthe direction of town. At

some point this afternoon,we’ll make it to BellinghamInternationalAirport.

As we drive throughour little town, I can’t helpbut feel melancholy. I don’tknow the next time I’ll seethis place, and even thoughEdgarwillbetheonlypersonI’ll miss, I’ll also miss the

littlemarket, the library, andthe park with the woodswing.

I never really madefriends with the local kids.Edgartriedtoenrollmeatthelocal school, but after fouryears there, the teachersrealized they didn’t have themeans to keep up with me.

Small town schools don’tcome with a gifted program.Theotherkidsdidn’tlikeme.I made them feel inferior.Eventually, between thebullying and the school’sinability to keep meinterested,Edgartookituponhimself to home school meafterhewasdoneworkingon

the Orchard. The Handsreally helped him at thatpoint, taking on more of hiswork.

I wonder if I’ll makeany friends at this eliteschool. I laugh to myself. Aschool fullofboys . . .yeah,I’m friend material there.After the shiny newness of a

girlbeingintheschoolwearsoff, they’ll leave me alone.I’m not exactly a Playboycenterfold.

“What’s so funny?”Edgarasks.

I shake my head.“Nothing, Ed. Just thinkingaboutthefuture.”

Silence encompasses

the rest of the ride to theairport.Neither of us are bigtalkers. Most of what weneeded to say to each othercameoutonmybirthday.

Before I know it,we’re pulling into the lot atBIA.Myheartpicksupinmychest.Nomorewaiting. In alittle while, I’ll meet the

Headmaster andChairmanofSpearwood. They’ll take meofftosomeresort-likeschoolinNowhere,Tibet.

“Breathe, Avvi.Yau’ll do fine.” Ed turns offthe engine. I swear the truckgivesasighofrelief.Hegetsout; I take a second morebeforefollowing.Withadeep

breath in and out, I get outandclosethedoorbehindme.

He grabs my bags. Itry to takeonefromhim,butheinsistsoncarryingbothforme. We enter the airport.“What gate—or is itterminal?—are we supposedtomeetthemat?”Iask.

“Mr. Perlow told me

to ask one the informationdesk ladies about a privatehanger thing. Didn’t thinktheyallowedthosehere.”

Both of us make ourway up to one of the ticketcounters. A blonde womanwith a porcelain white smilegreets us. “Welcome toBellingham International

Airport.HowmayIhelpyouwonderfulpeopletoday?”

Is she for real? I feellike I’ve just met a Stepfordwife.

Edgarstaresatherforsecond,probablythinkingthesamethingasme.“Uh,Iwastold to say I’m lookin’ forMr.Perlow?”

Her smile almostfades, but then reappears.“Oh.” She looks back andforth at us and then just atme.Shecocksherheadtotheleft while the moronic smilestays in place on her face.She’s definitely a Stepfordwife.Where’s theTwilight—not the one with sparkly

vampires—music when Ineedit?

“Yes, of course.” Shepauses for one too manyseconds, adding to theweirdness of her attitude.“Please follow me. Mr.Perlow and his associate arewaitingforyou.”

She leads the way

withherhandsfoldedinfrontofher.Edgarand Iexchangeglances. We walk downseveral long hallways beforewe go through a door thatleads to a hanger bay. Sheleads us up to two menlounging in high-backedarmchairs,whichsitnexttoalarge black jet. At least, I

thinkit’sajet.Idon’thavealotofreferences togooffof.Ifmyheart thudsanyharder,it’llcomeoutofmychest.

“Mr. Perlow, MissClementineandherfatherarehere.”Shegesturestouswithanunwaveringsmile.

The man on the leftgrins andholdsouthishand.

“Thank you, Jessica. That’llbeallfornow.”

Jessicanods,andrightbefore my eyes, somethingunbelievable happens. Shebegins to fold and changeshape until she’s no biggerthan a library card. It fliesinto Perlow’s waiting handand goes straight into the

innerpocketofhissuit.

His grin widens.“Nifty trick, huh?” Is hetryingtoimpressmewithhisfancy toy? My nerves easewhen I notice how arrogantthesetwoseem.Disgustrearsitself. It takes all mywillpower to leave my faceexpressionless.

“Sure,” Isay. I takeamoment to study both ofthem.Theyoozerich:tailoredsuits, ties, pocket squares,manicured hands, buffedshoes, bare faces. I doubteither has ever seen a dayofactuallaborintheirlives.

Perlow—dark brownhair, blue eyes, and a strong

chin—mightbeinhisthirties,but he could be younger.Roseman could pass forPerlow’s brother: same darkhair, a tad shorter in length,with brown eyes, not blue.DidtheystepoutofForbes’s‘Top100SexiestMen’?

Perlowholdshishandout to Edgar, who shakes it.

Perlow grimaces at Edgar’srough handshake. What’ve Igottenmyself into?Rosemanfollowshisexample,grimaceincluded.

My stomach does atumble—notthegoodkind—as Perlow looks at me. Hetakesmyrighthandinhisandbendsovertokissthebackof

it; again, Roseman followshisexample.Ihavetoremindmyself not to wipe my handonthebackofmyjeanswhilethey’re still watching. Theyboth frown atmy nonchalantbody language. Did theyexpect me to swoon overthem because I’m somecountryteengirl?I’mnotinto

older guys like these two.Give me Severus Snape, thehot one in my head, or theEleventh Doctor; those twoolder men could make meswoonanyday.

“Pleasure tomeetyouboth,”Perlowsays.Hesnapshis fingers and holds out hishand. Roseman produces

papers from his inner suitpocketandhandsthemover.

Perlowhands them toEdgar. “I just need you tosignthese,Mr.Clementine.”

“What are they?”Edgarasks.Hiseyessquinttoread the fine print. Iwish hewouldhandthemoverformetoread,butIknowthatwould

justembarrasshim.

Perlow shrugs andwaves his hand around. “It’sjust your standard consentform to allow MissClementine to attend ourprestigiousschool.

I swear my eyebrowshavegone intomyhairline. IwishIcouldtakebackwhatI

said in the truck. So what iftheyhavetheanswersIwant.If the school is full of boyslikethesetwomen,I’drathersuffernotknowing.

Edgarreachesintohisback pocket and pulls out apen.Iputmyhandonhisarmandstophimfrommakingthepapersstiffenoughtosign.

He looks at me.“What?”

I pull him away fromthetwomen.“Idon’tknowifIwanttodothisanymore.”

Hehunchesoversohecanhearmebetter.Damnmyshortness.“Why?”

“Look at them. If theschool is anything like them,

I won’t last a week. They’reso...rich.”

Heputsahandonmyshoulder. “Avalon, I knowyau’ll be okay.Yaur tougherthananyoneI’veeverknown.AndIknewmenwhowenttowar. If yau absolutely hate itafter amonth, yau can comebackhome.”

I sigh. He’s right.Never judge a book by itscover and all that. I’mjumping the gun. “All right.Shouldn’t I read those tomake sure they say what hesaystheydo?”

Edgar begins to handover thepaperswhenPerlowcomesupbehindus.“Idon’t

meantorushyoutwo,butweneed to get going if we’regoing to get back to Tibetbeforethemoonrisesthere.”

They know about themoonaffectingme?Doesthatmeanitaffectstheotherstoo?Wait a second . . . themoonwill be up either way whilewe’re in the sky. How will

they get around that? Is helyingtoEdgar?Ireachouttostop him again, but it’salreadytoolate.

Edgar nods and signsthrough thepapers.Aweightcrashes in my stomach as Iwatch him make the laststrike over the T. He handsthe papers to Perlow and

turnstome.

I don’t even care thatpeople are watching. I hugEdgar.Idon’tknowwhenI’llsee him again. He hugs meback,tighterthanheeverhas,and kisses me on the head.“Yaubesafe,okay?Andcallme when yau can. I’ll missyau,Avvi.Iloveyau.”

Iforcebackthewilltocry.I’mfifteen,notfive.I’mnot going to cry in front ofthese men. I pull away fromhim. “Yeah, you too, Ed. Iloveyoutoo.”

“Okay! Well, it wasgreat to meet you, Mr.Clementine.” Perlow shakesEdgar’shandagain.

“Yeah. Take care ofAvalonforme.”

Perlow pulls theJessica thing out of hispocket,anditunfoldsintoheragain. Her creepy smileremains in place. “Jessica.Takeherbagsintothejet.”

I pick up bothsuitcases from near Edgar’s

feet. “I can do it. I have twostrongarms.”

“Oh, all right then.”He holds out his hand again,and Jessica goes flying andtransforming into it. I don’tthink I’ll ever get used toseeing that.Wewalk towardthejet.

I glance back at

Edgar. “Bye.” He waves atme,andIgoupthestepsintothemassiveblackjet.There’snoturningbacknow.

ALMOSTTHERE

T his can’t be ajet. A crystal chandelierhangs from the ceiling forcryingoutloud.Really?That

was needed when they hadthethingbuilt?Creamleatherseats, big enough to fit asmall family comfortably, sitscattered along the massivefloor.Thecockpitisnowherein sight. Four long beds,made of the same creamleather, line the two walls. Iputmysuitcasesdownnextto

meas I take a seat inoneofthe leather armchairs. Theysitacrossfromme.

“So,MissClementine,are you excited to beattending our school?”Roseman asks. It’s the mostI’ve heard him say sincewe’vemet.

“I’m more interested

inhearingaboutwhyIamthewayIam.”

They glance at eachother. “Whatever do youmean? You’re fine,”Roseman says withexaggeratedshock.Hewouldlose in agameofpokerwithme.

“Yes, perfectly

normal. People change intodragonsatnightallthetime.”

“More people thanyou think,MissClementine,”Perlowsays.

I sit back in theunbelievably comfortablechair and fold my arms.“Really? Then answer methis, why does your school

nothavemoregirls?”

Perlow looks down athis lap and pretends to picklint from his clothes.“Females having the abilitiesyoudoare . . .” I swearhe’spausing for dramatic effect.“...”rareinourculture.”

So I’m a freakamongst freaks then? I don’t

saythataloud.“Whyisthat?”Iask.

Again, another glanceand neither one makes eyecontact with me. “Femalesaren’t normally born in ourfamilylines.”

They’re lying, but Idon’t let on that I can see it.I’ll get all the answers

eventually.

Idecidetochangethesubject. It’s obvious they’reno’t going to spill the beansanytime soon. “So tell me.How are we going to get toTibet before night comes? Iknow jets move fast, but nojet moves that fast. Not tomention the time difference,

eventually night will have tohappen at some point whilewe’reinthesky.”

Perlow gives a smugsmile. “Ah, but MissClementine,thisisnonormaljet. Not even yourGovernment has thistechnology yet. They canhave it when we find

something better. Thismachine can cross time.Whenwe enter Tibet, it willbe breakfast time, and you’llhave the entire day to learnyournewschoolandperhapseven some of the students.Therewillbenonight forustocomeincontactwith.”

I can’t tell if he’s

being serious or not. I’msupposed to believe thesepeoplehaveamachine that’sstraight out of a sciencefictionnovel?

A rumble vibratesfloor, and I look up at them.The jet comes to life. “Well,as much as we enjoyconversing,MissClementine,

it’stimeforustogotosleep.Being awake during warptravelcanbeverytaxing.Welearned that the hard way.”He snaps his fingers. Thistime, Roseman produces asmall canister from his suit.Roseman reminds me of adog,barkingoncommand.

Perlow takes it and

sits forward. “Goodnight,Miss Clementine.” Before Ihave the chance to sayanythingorcovermyface,hesprays a mist at me. I sinklower into my seat. Theoverwhelming need to sleepovertakesme,andmyworldgoesblack.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It takes forever tocrack my eyes open. I’vebeen moved to one of thelongsofabeds.Irubmyeyes.Perlow and his lap dog,Roseman, have disappeared.The low rumble continuesbeneathmyfeet.

Across from mestandsawindow.Orangeskypeeks through dark clouds.Gettingup,Icrossovertothewindow and stare out of it.My breath hitches. A goldensunrise warms up a land ofyellow fields. If I squint, Ican almost make out theblack dots of cattle. We’re

flying toward a massivemountain; ascending intocloudsfatwithsnow.

“The mountain iscalledShishapangma.Itisthefourteenth highest mountainintheworld.”

IturntoseeRosemanhas appeared behind me. Ididn’tevenhearhimwalkup.

“Istheschoolthere?”

“Indeed,itis.”

“Wouldn’t theelevation make it hard tobreathe? Not to mention thefreezingtemperatures?”

“We don’t have toworry about things like that.The important thing is that itis the most remote school in

the world.We don’t have toworryaboutspiesofanykindfindingus.”

“Spies?” Why wouldspies want anything to dowithaschoolforfreaks?

“Mr. Roseman is justjoking with you, MissClementine,”Mr.Perlowsaysas he comes out from a

hiddendoorinthewall.“Didyousleepwell?”

‘“Yes,surprisingly.”

“Wonderful. We willbeupontheschoolwithinthehour. Sit and look outsideuntil then.” I wonder ifeveryone at this school willtalklikeasnob.

“Actually, Mr.

Perlow, I have morequestions I would likeanswersto.”

He clears his throat.“Yes, well, all in good time.Mr. Roseman and I havematters to discuss. I willschedule ameeting with yousoon and answer all of yourquestions. We’ll come get

youwhenweland.”

“But.” Before I canargue, they go back throughthehiddendoor.Isighandsitdown. The sunrise is gone,replaced by clouds of grey.There’snothingtolookat.

I wonder why theywantmesobad,ifallthey’regoing to do is dodge my

questions and me? Boredomgets the better of me, and,soon, the hidden door beginsto call, the outline barelyvisible in the wall. What’sbehind it. The jet doesn’tseemwideenoughtohouseaseparateroom.

Igetupandwalkoverto it. Puttingmy fingers into

the crack, I pry it open justwide enough for me to peekthrough. Nothing. Literally,nothing stands on the otherside. I’mmet with a void ofdarkness.Where the hell didtheygo?

Iopenthedoorwider,and my heart hammers. I’mactually scared to get any

closer to it. But as they say,curiositykilledthecat.Istickmyhandintoit.Itdisappears.Coolairsurroundsmyskin.Ipullmyhandback,allinonepiece; no ectoplasm hangsfromit.

I get ready to step in.Someone touches myshoulder. I scream and

stumble on my heels. Thehand grips tighter and pullsmeback.ThedoorslamsshutasI’mpulledoutof theway.“Areyoustupid?”

Iturntoseeaboy,nottoomucholder thanme, andonly a few inches taller—that’snotsayingmuch—withblondhair,browneyes,anda

cutemoleonhis rightcheek.It takesme amoment to getmy bearings. None of theboys back home ever mademethinktheywerecute.

“Wheredidyoucomefrom?”

“Mich sent me towatch you. Obviously, hethought right. What did you

think you were doing?Stepping intoaVoidwithnotraining?Ofalltheidiotic—”

“Mich?AVoid?”

He takes me by theshouldersandpushesmeintoa seat before taking the oneacross from me. “MichaelPerlow.Youdon’tknowwhata Void is?Wow, when they

said yougrewup away fromus, I didn’t think theymeantyou didn’t even know thebasics. A Void is a magicalplanehereforustoshapeintowhateverweseefit.”

I still don’tunderstand. Iwant to snapathim.Himtalkingdowntomeisn’taturnon.’

“Well, I’m sorry Idon’tfittheimageyouhadofme.I’llworkonthat,justforyou, okay?” I roll my eyesand stare out the window.Stillamassofgreyclouds.

“Jeez,taketheattitudedown a notch. No reason togetyourpantiesinatwist.”

I scrunch my nose at

his remark. At least, theyaren’t all obnoxiouslycivilized. “Who are youanyway?”

Hesmirks.Ah,there’sthe smugness I was waitingfor.Heholdshishandout tome.“TritonLennox.”

I shake his hand.“AvalonClementine.”

“AvalonClementine?” he starts tosnicker.

Idrophishand.“Likeyou have any room to talk.Was your mother a child ofthe eighties? Why not nameyou Prince Eric instead?” Iknow his name most likelycamefromGreekmythology.

He looks at meconfused. “What does thathavetodowithanything?”

“The LittleMermaid?”Hestaresatmeasifwaiting for the punch line.“Seriously? You don’t getthatreference?”

“Youmean thebook?I think that came out long

beforetheeighties.”

“Nevermind.”

Silence falls over uslikeawetblanket.Finally,hedecides to break it. “Is ittrue?”

“Iswhattrue?”

“About yourtransformation.”

“I guess you’re going

tohavetospellitoutforme.Whataboutit?”

“Is it trueyouchangewith the moon, and it’spainful?”

I swallow hard. Iwasn’texpectingthat.Hejustanswered one of myquestions without evenknowing it. They don’t

change at night, and it’s notpainfulforthem?Why?“Youdon’t?”

Heshakeshishead.“Ican change whenever I feellike it. See?” He holds hisarm up, and within seconds,metallicbluescalesrisetothetop of his skin with silvertalonstomatch.

Myeyesgowide,butI manage to keep my mouthfromdroppingopen.Thefirstphysical proof I’ve seen thatvalidates the truth; there areother people who turn intodragons like me. Only onething bothers me; he neverflinched,andnoneofhisskinhad to come off in order for

the scales to come through.Heputs his armdown, and Iwatchashisscalessinkbackintohisskinwithnoissue.

Hot, angry tears entermy eyes. “That’s not fair.” Iquicklywipethetearsaway.Idon’t know this kid. Hedoesn’t have the right to seemecry.

Triton opens hismouth to say somethingalmostconcernedI’vestartedtocry.“Wearehere.Icannotwait to show you around!”Perlowsaysashecomesbackthrough the door, which ledtonowhere.

The rumbleunderneath us stops, and I

look out the window.Spearwood stands before mein its massive, mansion-like,glory.Itholdstheanswerstoall my questions. I know itdoes.

SPEARWOOD

A s I step out of

the jet and onto the ground,the elegance of the schooldoesn’t distract me from thefact that no snow laysanywhere in sight; I’m

comfortably warm. How’sthatpossible?Istareupatthesky covered with snowclouds. Snow falls from fat,dark clouds, but none of ittouchestheground.

“Are we under adome?”Iask,lookingbackatMr. Perlow. Triton standsnext to him, holding my

suitcases.Herollshiseyesasif I’m supposed to knoweverything about the newworldI’vesteppedinto.

“In a way, yes. Wehaveamagicalbarrieraroundus. It keeps us shielded fromthese nasty elements andguards us against unwantedpeeringeyes.” I frown.What

could that mean, ‘peeringeyes’?

“Magical?” I guessmagic can be possible. I doturn into a dragon at night.Anythingispossible.

“We have set up aclass for you, so you canlearn all about the otheraspects of us. Since you

didn’t grow up within thefamilies,youwereneverableto learn about the magic weuse.”

I am going to learnabout magic? “Are youtalking about Harry Potterstylemagic?”

Perlow walks towardasetoftriplewidedoors,the

entrance to the school. Helaughs.“No.”

The entrance has astone archway over it. In theunderside of the stone, fiveengraved dragons surroundwhat looks to be an artisticinterpretation of the sun—aswirl with six trianglescirclingit.Westopinfrontof

the closed doors. Tritonalmostbumpsintome.Ilookat him over my shoulder, aflush rises on his cheeks.Perlow claps his hands. Thedoors open and two maleservants in suits hold them.“Welcome back, Mr.Perlow,”theysayaswewalkoverthethreshold.

Something about theservant on the right pullsmetohim.Helooks’Korean,buthis eyes take me off guard:one emerald and onesapphire. I stumble overmyself;Ican’tstopstaringathim.Hegivesmeasoftsmileandbowsatthewaist.

“Isn’t our atrium

magnificent?”Perlowasks.

I pull myself awayfrom the servant with thebreathtaking eyes and lookaround at the entrance of theschool. The ceiling seems togoonforever,butasmallhintof shimmering glass showsotherwise; it’s one massiveskylight.Thesunshinesabit

through the thick, darkclouds.

White marble withpaintedgoldsquaresscatteredacross it make up the floorsand walls—the gold squaresdon’tmoveupthewall—theyseamlessly meld with eachother.

In the center of the

roomstandsastatueofamanwearingarmor,acape,andacrown, his face stern andcold.

“That is the leader ofourkind;themanwhoprayedandmadeitpossibleforustohave the gift to turn intodragons. Without him, wewould have none of our

riches.”

“Iwouldn’tcall thisagift,” I mumble. All three ofthemturntome.Imust’vehitthe mute button, a pin coulddrop right now and it wouldechooffthewalls.

Mr. Perlow looksaway frommeandclearshisthroat.

“We’lldoaquicktourof the school, and thenwe’llshowyouwhereyourprivaterooms are. Mr. Lennox, doyouwantme to have Jessicacarrythosebagsforyou?”

I almost forgotTritonhas been holdingmy bags. Iturn to him. “I can takethem.” I reach for the bags,

buthepullsthemaway.

“I can carry them. Idon’tmind.”He’s stern as ifhehas toproveapoint,butIhave no idea why he wouldhavetodothat.

“Right then. If you’llcome this way, we will becoming up on the ballroom.This is where we hold most

parties and functions. It’snormallyreunionsforalumni,but on occasion we havecharityevents.”

Iwantonelastglanceat the boy with the prettyeyes,buthedisappeared.

Ilookaroundthewidehallway we move down.When we came up on

Spearwood, it looked like amagnificentEnglishmanororwinter resort like how IimaginedMalfoyManortobeinHarryPotter.Thisplaceisa lot bigger than thatmanor,the inside vastly differentfrom the façade it gives ontheoutside.Lotsofmarble. Ican’t understand why. The

clicking of their expensiveshoes against it aggravatesme a bit. We go through apairofdoubledoorsand intoavastopenarea.

“As you can see, wehave a large space to haveboth a dining area and adance floor for our reunions.There is also a large station

foranorchestra,whichweflyin. It’s quite nice if I do saysomyself.”

Ishetryingtoselltheplace tome?As if I’mgoingto buy it?When he looks toseeif Iapprove,Igiveanodof my head, hoping it willappease him enough that wecankeepmoving.

Hemovesoff toa fardoor in the back of theballroom.“Comingoutoftheballroom, we enter the classsection of the school. Thereare over five hundred roomsdedicated to teaching firstyears all the way up to ourcollege students. We haveclassesandteachers,whowill

teachyouanythingyoudesireto educate yourself about.Along with the normalclasses, we also teach ourstudents how to control theirnewfoundpowers.”

“Mine aren’t newfound, unless you countfifteen years as new,” I say.He ignoresme,which seems

to be the norm. The hall wemovedownnextappearslessgrand than the last one, thefloorsadarkredwoodandthewalls’ half-wood panelingpainted a deep green. Everyfew steps,we go past a dooron either side made of thesame dark and heavyredwood.Likeamaze,many

hallwaysbreakupthepatternofdoors,butPerlowwalksonbythemwithouttellingmeifthere are certain sections foreachdepartmenttheyteach.

“I don’t mean to berude,buthowamIsupposedto navigate through thisplace?Thisisonlythestartofit, and look at all these

rooms.”Iemphasizemypointby putting my arms out andmovingthemabout.

Triton laughs frombehindme.Igivehimaquickglare. He doesn’t have tomake me feel like an idiot;it’s a perfectly logicalquestion.

Perlow smiles and

pullssomethingoutofhissuitpocket; it looks like a card,like the one that turned intothe robot Jessica thing. Heholdsitflatonhishandanditunfoldsintoagirlaroundmyage.Shehasablackpixiecut,green eyes and wears whatlooks to be the schooluniform.

“Hello, MissClementine. My name isEnid. I’ll be your personalassistant while you stay hereatSpearwoodAcademy.”

“Normally, we makethe student’s personalassistantsmale,but seeingasyou’reafemale,wethoughtagirl would make you more

comfortable. She can lookhoweveryouwantherto;thatgoes for her personality aswell.Askher anything aboutthe school, and she will tellyouwhat youwant to know.She also works as a phone.Tell her who you wish tospeak to, and she will callthem. Regular phones won’t

work at this elevation,”Perlowsays.

“Um, nice to meetyou,Enid.” Enid smiles andbowstome.

“Just hold your handout, and she will transformbackintohercarryingstate.”

I hold out my handlikehehaddonewithJessica.

Enid flies into the air andfolds up into a solid blackcard inmyhand.Amazing. Iput her in the pocket of myjeans.

“Let’s keep moving,shall we? Up ahead, we aregoing to be entering oursports and fitness center.Here,youwillbeabletoplay

any type of sport you desire.You are required to stayhealthywhile you attend thisschool.We don’t expect youtobeAdonisfit,butyoumustput some effort in by fillingout your fitness log at leastthree times a week. Yourpersonal assistant will keeptrackofthatforyou.Welike

to do surprise fitness testshere of different sorts, so bereadyforthat.”

‘Fitness tests’ feelslikeithasanominousringtoit. We leave behind thehallways of classrooms andenteraspacethathastobeasbigasafootballstadiumlinedwith any and all fitness

equipment a person couldever need. Oak wood panelscover the floor. A ceruleanblue—my favorite color—makes up every other wallwiththeoppositeoneswhite.

“Through that door,you will find our twoOlympic-sized pools. Weaddedabathroomspecifically

for you years ago when wewanted you to come here.The boys know yourbathroom is off limits whenyou’re using the pool ortaking part in our swimclasses. Do you swim?” Heturns tome; his hands in theair at an odd angle near hischest. I almost feel likehe is

goingtodoasassysnapwithhisfingersatanymoment.

“Sometimes,whentheweatherwasnice,Iwouldgoswimming in the lake nearEdgar’splace.”

“Wonderful. Throughthat door,” he points, “you’llfindourfieldsandtrack.Bothare outside, of course. The

weathermagic in that area isalwaysbeautifulifIdosaysomyself. Would you agree,Roseman?”

“Yes,sir.”

Ilookatthetwomen.They are definitely ondifferent power tiers; thatmuch is clear. I glance backto make sure Triton is still

following us. He hasn’tsnickered at me in a while.He looks bored; at least wehave one thing in commonrightnow.

“Next is therecreational area.” It doesn’ttakeusverylongtocrossthefitness center. We enter acircular room, the walls a

cherry red and the floor ablack and whitecheckerboard. Above eachdoor in gold carved letters:Video Games, Movies,Library,Games,Dorms.

“As you can see, wehave rooms dedicated towhatever you wish to spendyour free time doing. Our

librarycarriesnon-fictionandfiction with the latest ineverything. You must keepyourgradesupifyouwishtouse any of these things withthe exception of the non-fiction area of the library.Your personal assistant actsas a key. If your grades aregood, you will be able to

open any of these doors. Ifyour grades fall below a 3.8,thesedoorswill be locked toyouuntiltheyaresatisfactoryagain.”

Well at least theyaren’t all fun and games. Atleast they take educationseriously. He walks over tothedoormarked‘Dorms’and

opens it. “If you come thisway, I can showyou toyourlivingcorridors.”

Again, we enter acircularroom,areplicaofthelast one. This one has fivedoors.Eachonehasanumberabove it except for the lastone. Instead of a dark woodlike theotherdoors, it stands

pure white with a goldhandle.

Perlow walks over toit. “This leads to your ownpersonaldorm.Yourpersonalassistantactsasthekeyforit.Onlyyoucanopenit,soyoudon’t have to worry aboutanyone trying to enter yourspace when they are

uninvited.Ofcourse,youcanhave visitors over in yourlivingroom,butonlyyouareallowed within yourbedroom. If this rule isbroken, it means expulsionfor the rule breakers. It alsoapplies to you and enteringanyoftheboys’bedrooms.Isthatclear?”

I lift one of myeyebrows. Does he honestlythink any of the boys herewillwanttobewithmeinmyroom?“Ihighlydoubt itwillbeanissueforyou,trustme.”

He givesme a look Ican’t decipher. I walk up tothedoorandputmyhandontheknob.Abeepsoundsfrom

theothersideofthedooranditunlocks.IguessthatmeansI don’t have to get Enid outevery time I want to open alockeddoor.

I walk inside. I stepinto a high-class apartment.The first area looks like aliving room, the carpet purewhite,whichmatchesthetwo

loveseats across from eachother in front of a largesheetrock fireplace. Inbetween the couches sits aglasscoffeetable.

Off to the left of theliving room stands a kitchenarea. It has everything apersonwould need to have afunctioning kitchen, all the

appliance made of stainlesssteel and the wood black incolor.

“Though you have akitchen to yourself, breakfastanddinnerare required tobeeateninthedininghall.”

I nod. There are twodoors in the living room.“Which one is my room?” I

ask.

“That one on the left.The other leads to yourbathroom.Wehopeitisalltoyour standards,” Rosemansays.

My standards? All ofthisisathousandtimesabovemy standards. I would behappywithashack.Igoover

to the door leading to mybedroom.

Once again, anotherbeep echoes in the room. Iease the door open. I almostcan’t believe whatmeetsmyeyes.Thebedroommakesthelivingroomlooklikeastudioapartment big enough tohousetwoofmydragonform

comfortably. Like theentrance hall, white marblecovers the floor, white withgold Celtic designs paintedacross it. I wouldn’t besurprisedifitisn’tactualgoldleaf paint. Murals of a bluesky with fluffy clouds coverthe walls. White furnituredecorates the room. A

massiveking-sizedbedstandsoff to the right side of theroom along with severalintricate bookshelves liningthewall.

I walk into the room.They follow me, their shoesclacking on the floor again.Suddenly,analarmgoesoff.Icover my ears at the sound.

“Whatisthat?”Iask.

“RememberthatruleImentioned?Thatalarmmeansit’s in force,” Perlow saysbefore he turns to look backatTriton,whohascrossedthethreshold to my room. “If Iwasn’t standing here now, Iwould’ve been summonedwhen that alarmwent off, so

youwon’thavetimetohide.”He waves his hand, and thealarmturnsoff.

“I get your point,” Isay. I foldmy arms overmychest.

“Do you like yourroom?” Roseman asks. “Idesigneditmyself.”

So it’s his tastes that

wentintothisroom,lovely.Ishrug.“It’smore thanwhat Ineed.Thedécorisrich.I’mamore rustic kind of girl: oldwoods, creaking floors, livedinfeel.Butmyfathertoldmenever to complain aboutsomethingIhavebeengiven,soIwon’t.”

He cocks his head to

therightandlooksatme,justlike a dog. He doesn’t knowwhat to make of mybackhandedcomment.

Triton puts my bagsdown near the bed. There’snodresserformetokeepmyclothesin.Iturnmyattentionbacktotheroom,scanningitfor another door. Finally, I

spotitpaintedthesameastherest of the walls—almostblends in perfectly—but thegoldknobgivesitaway.

I sure hope this is acloset. I open it. Yup, acloset,bigenoughtoturnintoa guest room. How couldanyoneeveryneed thismuchspace for clothes? Some

clothes already hang in it.They look like a schooluniform. Great, I have towearaskirt.

“Um . . . is the skirtrequired, or can Iwear pantsinstead?” Judging by theirexpressionsmyquestionmustsoundabsurd.

“The uniforms here

aremadefromaveryspecialkind of material. It allowsyou to transform into yourfull dragon form with themon. It would take severalmonths to have one pair ofdress pants tailored for yourpetite size. If you truly wantsome,Iwillputanorder in,”Rosemansays.

“Orshecouldjustnotwearauniformtotransform,”Tritonmumbles.

Both Perlow andRoseman glance at him. Hischeeks flush red.Perhaps,hehadn’t meant to say thataloud.

“Mr.Lennox—”

I sense an impending

argumentintheair.“I’llwearaskirt.Don’tworryaboutit.”

That seems to havediffusedthesituationfornow.Perlowturnsbacktomewitha smile. “Excellent. Well,I’vegivenyouthebasictour.Thereismuchmoretosee,ofcourse.The studentpresidentfor first years will show you

the rest. I supposeweshouldgetsomebreakfastinyouandintroduce you to the studentbody. Follow me to thedininghall.”

What he showed mewas only the tip of theiceberg?Evenwithapersonalassistant,howdo theyexpectmetogetfromplacetoplace

inadecentamountoftime?Ihope they offer bikes orscootersfortransportation.

BREAKFAST

T he four of us

stand in front of a set ofdouble doors. They lead intothe dining hall, where theentire student body resides,having breakfast. From what

Perlowtoldmewhilewalkingup here, at least a thousandboys attend the school. Hesaid he would need to checkthe paperwork for an exactnumber. Next to each of thedoors stands a male servant,neither of the guys isthe onewithdifferentcoloredeyes.

Iwonderwhatthehall

willlooklike.Ican’thelpbutpicture the Great Hall inHarry Potter. I doubt thatthough. Doesn’t seem like itwouldbe theirstyle.“Ready,MissClementine?”

“As ready as I’ll everbe.”

Perlow nods to theservants; they bow and open

the doors. Perlow leads usinto the hall. Triton followsnot far behind. The glamourofafive-starrestaurantmeetsme.Onlyonewordcomes tomindtodescribeit:elegant.

Several crystalchandeliers hang down froman off cream-colored ceiling.The walls—a brilliant red

withgoldpaintedvinesofivyscaling it—sparkle from thecrystalhangingoff thelights.TheivyappearssorealasifIcouldreachoutandpluckoneof the gold leaves. Aboveeach pointed vine hangs aportraitofanoldmanwithastern face. I come to the lastone;it’sofPerlow.Hehasto

be the youngest one of thegroup.

Iron, spiral stairs leadup to a balcony. Placedaround the room are a fewhundred tables covered withwhite cloths. Each one hasfive plush, black diningchairs.

On each chair, a boy

sits. Some of them look myage; others look like theycould be around their earlytwenties.

Once the doorsopened they all went silent.Theirgazespiercingmewiththeircuriosityandsomewithindifference. It’s hard tryingto keep myself from

appearing nervous, buthopefully I’m doing a goodjob.

“Good morninggentlemen. May I introduceyou all to Miss Clementine.Youhaveallbeenbriefedonthe rules. You know thepunishment for breakingthem. Please treat her with

respect. Now, where isHoraceKing?”

“Uphere,sir.”

I stare up at thebalcony.Aboylooksdownatus. He has short brown hairwith bangs that almost hanginhiseyes.Hewearsapairofsilverwire-rimmed glasses. Ican’tseethecolorofhiseyes.

“Oh,good!Sinceyouare the president for the firstyears, it will be your job toshow her the rest of theschoolalongwithhowwegetaround with ease. First,however, why don’t youshow her a seat, so she canorderherselfsomebreakfast?Mr. Lennox, you can join

them and also be her tourguide since you two alreadyknoweachother.”

“Sir, I rather not,”Tritonsays.Herunshishandthrough his hair as he looksupat theboynamedHorace.The tension between themrunsthick.Ishiftmyselffromfoot to foot. I don’t want to

be stuck with two guys whohaveissueswitheachother.

Perlow glances backat Triton. “Iwasn’t asking ifyouwantedtodoit.”

Triton watches hisfeet shimmy back and forth.“Of course, sir. I’d be morethanhappytohelpKingshowheraround.”

“Good.” Perlow turnson his heel and faces theentrance to the dining hall.“RosemanandIhaveworktoattendto,sothisiswherewewill leave you, MissClementine. Have a niceday.”

“Wait, Mr. Perlow.You said you’d set up a

meeting with me, so we cantalk.”

He walks away as heanswersme,“I’llhaveJessicasend you an email about itlater.”

Ihavea feeling that’scode for it will be awhilebefore I get my answers.Perhapstheboysaroundhere

havetheanswers.

I look around as thedouble doors shut behindPerlow and his lap dog.Silence hangs, still heavy inthe room. All their eyes areon me. Am I supposed tomakeaspeechorsomething?“I’magirl, not a zooanimalforyoutogawkat.”

They all come out oftheir stupor and go back towhattheyweredoingbeforeIentered the room. The noiselevel rises until it’s at anormallevel.

Someone taps me ontheshoulder.IturntoseetheboycalledHorace,hiseyesasgreen as emeralds. “It’s nice

to meet you, MissClementine.”

“Avalon, or Avvi,either is fine. Miss is tooformalforme.”

He smiles. “All right,Avvi. Come with me up tothe second level. There’sroom for you up there.” Hemotionsformetogoaheadof

him. I start up the stairs.“Coming,Lennox?” I stop tolookatTriton.HestillstandswhereIlefthim,hisjawtenseand his hands shoved in hispockets.

“Yeah,yeah.”

The second level hasfewer tables than the bottomhalf, but it all still the same.

Only some of the boys stopeating to glance up at me. Ican’twaituntilI’moldnews.Alltheseguysgawkingatmemakes me feel both like aside show freak and a pieceof meat. I really should’vehad more of a social lifebefore I came here. I’dprobably be able to handle it

betternowifIhad.

Horace leads me to atablethatstandsinthecornernear the iron railing. Twoother guys already sit there;both have a thick book intheir hands. I take a seat.Horaceclearshisthroatashetakes his seat next to me.Tritoncompletesthecircleas

hesitsdownacrossfromme.The two boys look up fromtheirbooks.

“Avvi, this,” Horacegesturestotheboydirectlyonmy left. Short, golden curlssitontopofhishead.Ican’thelp but sense a twinge offamiliarity when I look intohis hazel eyes. They remind

me of my owneyes . . . strange. “Is AmrRadcliff, and the guynext tohimisDanteMathis.”

Ebonylocksfalldownto the tops of Dante’sshoulders,andpoolsofliquidamber pierce me with theirstare.Mycheeksheatup,andI have an urge to hide my

face, but I don’t want to actlike some kid. He’s reallycute. “Hello,” they both sayinunison.

“Hello,”Isay.

I almost jump out ofmychairwhenashadowfallsoverme. Ididn’tevennoticethemwalkup.Anotheroneofthemaleservantshandsmea

menu. “Please, choose whatyou wish, Miss. I will comebackinafewminutestotakeyour order.” French ridesheavyinthetoneofhisvoice.Is everyone at this schoolunbelievablyhot,oramIjustthat undersocialized? Myfingers tighten their grip ontheedgeof theleatherbound

menu, and I give him a nod.He walks away. I crack itopen slowly as if the actualfoodwillcomejumpingoutitat any moment. All of thedishes have some sort ofbreakfast element to them.MostofthemI’veneverevenheardof.EdgarandIusuallyhaveanormalbreakfastofan

egg and some toast, and onthe weekend’s bacon orsausage—for him—withpancakes. I see neither ofthosethingsonthemenu.

Salmon fillet with apoached egg and roastedtomatoes.

Berry crepes inorangesauce.

Apple cinnamonricottapancakes.

Chilled blueberrysoup.

That’s not even aquarter of what they offer. Ilookforthemostbasicthing:toastwithabowloffruit.Thedrinks listgoeson foreveraswell, but I manage to find

regular orange juice on it. Iput the menu down, just torealize the boys at the tablehave been staring at me insilence.

“Um, is theresomething on yourminds, ordo I have something on myface?”

They all clear their

throats at the same time andlookawayfromme.

“Sorry. We’re stilltrying to get used to the factthat a girl is here and sittingat our table,” says the boynamedAmr. He looks atmewith a frown. “Havewemetbefore?”

He feels the weird

connection, too? “I don’tthinkso,” I say. Idon’twanttorevealIfeelthesameway.I’d rather not seem extraweird on the first day.“Perlow was telling me thatfemales are rare in dragon‘families’, I think that’s howhe put it.” I look at each ofthem to see their reaction.

They all keep their eyesdown.

“That’s right! Yougrew up away from us. Soyou don’t know who yourparents are?” Dante asks.Theyallleaninclosertowardme as if I have a piece ofjuicy gossip they’ve beendyingtohear.

I swallow hard. “Idon’t know who mybiological parents are. Myfather is Edgar though; he’sthemanwho raisedme eventhoughhe didn’t have to.Hefoundmenearhisbarn.”

“Wow. That must’vebeenrough,”Horacesays.

Triton scoffs, and

Horace glares at him alongwith the other two. Thetension at the table rises ten-fold.

I let out a nervousgiggle. “It’s my life. Iwouldn’tchangeit.”

“Doyouwanttomeetyourrealparents?Sincethereis a chance you could meet

themnow?”Danteasks.

Ihadn’tthoughtaboutthat.ThereisagoodchanceIcould meet my biologicalparents now. How weirdwouldthatbe?“Idon’tknow.IguessifIfindoutwhotheyare and the chance to meetthem comes up, I will. If ithappens, it happens. If it

doesn’t, oh well. I’ve gonethis long and have been finewithnotknowing.”Ijusttolda lie. I’ve always wanted toknow who my mother was,but Iwould never admit thattoanyone.

The servant comesback to grab my menu andtakemyorder.

“I’llhavethefruitanda sideofwheat toastwithanorangejuice.Thankyou.”

Heseemstakenabackby the fact I thanked him.He’s hesitant as he answersme, “You’re welcome, Miss.Iwillgetyourfoodandyoursaswell,sirs.”Hewalksaway.

I look back at the

guys. “Did I say somethingwrong?”

“We don’t normallythank them for anything.Their job is to be ourservants,”Tritonsays.

I frown. “Regardlessof if it is their job, theyshouldstillbethankedforthework they do. That only

seemsfair.”

“It’s not done,though,”Horacesays.

“Is it against therules?”

“No,”Amranswers.

“Then I will thankthem when they help me. Idon’t care if itmakesme anoutsider. People should be

thanked for the hard worktheydo.”

“You have a fieryspirit.Ilikethat,”Dantesayswith another one of thoseheart-thumping smiles, morelikeasmirk.

Amr elbows Dante inthe shoulder. “Ignore him.He’s like this every summer

whenwegotothebeachandalltheprettygirlsarearound.He doesn’t know he lookslike a moron smiling likethat.”

Dante shoves himback. “Shut up. The ladiesloveme!”

Horacelaughs.“Yeah,youkeeptellingyourselfthat.

Theriverofdenialrunsdeep,myfriend.”

Dante huffs and foldshis arms. “Some friends youare.At least sheasmyback.Right, Miss Fire?” Hegesturestome.

Ihavenoideahowtorespondtothat.Thankfully,Idon’t have to, the food has

arrived.

Five servants circlethe table, each carrying asilver platter covered with adome. Dowe really need allof these theatrics? Theservant with the differentcolored eyes places my foodanddrink downon the table.He smiles at me as I thank

him. It’s almost painful forme to look away from hiseyes. He bows to me as hesteps away from the table. IwishIknewhisname.Likeabig piece of food, my voicestays inmy throat, unwillingtodislodgeforthelifeofme.He walks away, and I can’teven utter a word to make

himstop.

“Everything okay?”Horaceasks.

Ilookatmyfood.Thefruit,ripewithcolor,remindsme of mini jewels:strawberries, honeydew, redand black grapes, andblueberries. They all lookdelicious. I take my

silverware out of theintricately folded, cream-colorednapkinandplaceitonmylap.

I glance at theothers.Theyalleatwithsuchrefinedetiquette, not a morsel fallsoff their forks, nor do theyslurp their chilled soups orsmack their lips. Their

movements are graceful likeballet, not at all like how Ithought a school full ofboyswould eat. I imagined a freefor all of stuffing their facesandbelching.

I almost feel self-conscious about my owntable manners. Should I cutmy fruit and toast into bite-

sizepieces?Ishakemyhead.I’m not a slob. I’ll eat as Ialwayshave,andiftheyhavean issue with it, they canmovetables.

First things firstthough,Ineedtocutmytoastinhalf.Thereisnootherwaytoeatit.

“After breakfast, I’ll

show you around. What doyou want to see first: thestables or the track?”Horaceasks.

“Stables as in horsestables? Perlow . . . Mr.Perlow already showed mewherethetrackis.It’soffthegym,right?”

“Yes and no, that’s

not the track I’m talkingabout.You’llsee.”Hesmilesasdotheothers,evenTriton.I wonder what in the worldhe’s talking about? I’ll justhavetowaitandsee.

THEGRAND

TOURWITHTHE

HANDSOME

FOUR

A fter breakfast,

my tour guides leadme to adooratthebackofthedininghall. “This is the back of theschool,” Horace says as weexit into a grand courtyard

andavastfield.It’sherethatthe school appears granderthan it did when we firststepped into it. Two morebuildings stand off fromSpearwood,bothhalfthesizeoftheschool.

Large but thin archesline the red-cobblestonepathways of the courtyard

every few feet with old-fashioned street lamps hungfrom their centers. Huge,blooming rosebushes in allcolors and breeds line thecobblestone edges like somemajestic fairytale garden. Asif I’m standing in Nature’sbakery, the air surroundsmewith the sweet aroma of

roses.Dark,wooden benchesstandthroughouttheyard,butmany of the boys choose tosit on the ground wherevibrantgreengrasslays.

”Horace points to thebuilding on the right. “Thatbuilding holds the Arts. Ifyou want to paint, sculpt,dance, whatever, you can go

there. The art courses oftentakeplacethereinsteadoftheactualschool.And,thatoneisthemusic hall. You can findany instrument you’ve everdreamed of playing in there.C’mon, we’ll show you thestables now and then thetrack.” Horace smiles aboutthetrack.Iwonderwhatitis.

The boys obviously like it.He begins to lead the way.Triton trails behind us like alostdog.

“You like that, don’tyou?”

Someone groans asthey hit the cobblestonewithathud.Ilookovertowhereaboyhasfallenontheground.

Agroupofboysstandaroundhim and throw some type ofpastryathishead.

“What’s going onoverthere?”Iask.Igravitateinthedirectionofthescene.Iwanttohelphim.

An arm goes aroundmy shoulders and steers meback toward the path. “You

don’t want to do that, Fire.That older boy over there isLuskMirren.He is a secondyear, and you don’t want toget on his bad side. He hasone hell of a temper. Mostfire users do. C’mon, thestablesawait.”

I guess ‘Fire’ is mynickname with him. “But

whatthey’redoingismean.Ithought this schoolwouldbeaboveallthat.”

The four of themlaugh. “Avalon, people aredicks no matter what socialclass they are, and I thinkours is the worst.Nevertheless, listen toDante.You don’twant to get in the

middleof that.Regardless ofif you’re a girl, he won’thesitate to put youonhis hitlist,”Tritonsays.

Theotherslookathimas if he’s grown as secondhead. I guess he doesn’tspeak in their favor veryoften.

“But it feels wrong

leaving him alone to defendhimself.”

“He’ll survive, theyalwaysdo,”Horacesays.

Iwalkwiththemforawhile until the schooldisappears behind us. Theweather continues to staynice; the sun shines, andfluffy clouds drift above. I

still don’t fully understandhow thisworks, but it has tobe due to the magic thatPerlow was talking about. Igot my Hogwarts letter,finally. The owl just got lostforfouryears.

Lush green hills rollout in front of us. A largebarn with stables extending

like longarmsoffeither sideof it standsnot too far off inthe distance; there must betwo hundred horse stables ormore.

“Look.”Amrpointstosomething.Ilookatwherehepoints. Several groups ofmareswith coltsgraze in thepasture.

“Awe!”Isaybefore Ihaveachancetostopmyself.The boys snicker under theirbreaths.They justdon’twantto admit they think it’sadorabletoo.

We walk past themares and up to the barn.Horace claps his hands, andthe double doors open. A

lavish sitting area with a baroff to the sidegreetsus.Thesofas and chairs upholsteredinforest-greenvelvetstandinaclose intimatesetting.Darklike chocolate woods of thearmsandlegscomplimentthematerial well. Small antlerchandeliers hang above us,and a fire roars in a white

cobblestonefireplace.

“Through that door isa restaurant,and through thatoneisabilliardsroom.Thereare even a few guest rooms.This area is for the guestswhocome to the school, likethe Governors. We normallyjust wait here while theysaddlethehorsesforus.Have

you ever done any riding?”Horace asks as he looks atme. His glasses glint of thesunlight coming though thehighwindows.

“Um, sort of. I’venever had any training, but Ihave ridden a horse a fewtimes.”

“Excellent. We’ll

have to go riding sometime.We can show you thesurrounding area; it’sbeautiful.”

“Yeah, there’s thisplace we go to with awaterfall and this really cool—”Dantegetscutoffbytheother three’s coughing. Heclears his throat. “A really

cooltree.”

I laugh before I canstop it. The awkwardness athim trying to cover his slipstirs the nervousness in mygut.Theyobviouslycan’ttellme something, but it’s myfirstday.Ican’texpectallthesecrets to beuncoverednow.“It must be one impressive

treethen.”Isaywithasmile.

It’stheirturntolaughnow.

“Allright,nowwegetto show you the track. It’swhat most of us first yearsusetogetaround.”

IfollowHoraceoutofthe building. A part of mewants to go see the horses

before the track, but I’ll behere awhile, I have plenty oftimetoseethehorses.

Horace pulls out oneof the black cards—like theone Enid turned into—froman inner pocket of his blueblazer. It turns into an oldgrandpa wearing one of thebutler uniforms like the ones

theservantswearhere.“Whatdo you require, MasterKing?”Master?Iforcedownanotherlaugh.

“Callmycar.”

The old man bows.Within seconds, the soundofa car coming at us fills thepasture.Themaresdon’teventwitch. Sleek, rounded edges

make up the car. The landaround us reflects off itseverysurface.“Iwant itbluetoday.”

The old man bowsagain. The car’s surfaceripplesbeforeitturnsadeep,royal blue. “Is that all youwill be needing, MasterKing?”

“Yes.” He holds outhis hand, and the old manturns back into a card. Asmidgeof irerollswithinmystomach. He didn’t even saythank you. Even Perlowthanked his assistant whenshe brought Ed and me tohim.

Horace walks over to

the passenger side door andopens it. He motions for metogetin.

“Hey,what about us?Thatcaronlyhastwoseats!”Dante says, folding his armsinfrontofhischest, just likea child who hasn’t gottentheirway.

Horace shrugs. “You

all have your own cars.Followbehindus.”

“Well, I never!”DantesaysinwhatIcanonlyassume is his version of aposhEnglishaccent.

“Come on, Avvi. Getin.”

I get into the car.“Luckysonofabitch.”Dante

says before the door closesandmutesallsoundfromtheoutside. A heated warmthwarms my butt. Anexpensive, glossed woodmakes up the dashboard andsteeringwheel.

Horace gets into thedriver seat and puts on hisseatbelt, remindingme toput

onmine.

“Watch this.” Hepresses the Start Enginebutton. The car purrs to lifeand a screen appears beforeus on the windshield. Itdoesn’tblockourview.Linesof different neon colorsspread out on the groundbeforeus.

“It looks likesomething out of Tron,” Imutter.

He laughs. “Yeah, Iguess it does. This is thetrack.Thecarworkswithoneofthenavigationspellscastedon it.With it, it showsusallthe paths we can take.They’re color-coded. When

you get your vehicle, you’llget the list. Right now,however, we’re taking thepurple one. It’ll lead us backtothecourtyard.”

He puts the car intodrive and presses on the gasuntil we’re going at leastninety.Iholdontothedoor.

“Aren’twegoingabit

fast?”Iask.

“Relax. Enjoy theride.Wecan’thurtanyoneorourselvesinthiscar.”

I swallowhardout ofnervousness, but oddlyenough, I believe him. Myheart plummets into mystomachashepicksupmorespeed and the engine shifts

gears. “Will I get a car likethis?”Edgarhadmedrivehistruck sometimes in theOrchard. That’s about theextent of my drivingexperience.However, I don’tthink I have to worry aboutgetting on the highway orbreakingtrafficlawshere.”

“I don’t know. My

parents bought me this car.Depends on what youradoptivedadbuysyou.”

“Oh, he’s not buyingmeanything.Perlowtoldhimhe would take care ofeverythingforme.”

Horace slams on thebreaks. One of the guy’s carhits us in the back. I look

through the rearview mirror,my hand on my seatbelt’srelease, ready to jumpout ofthecarandmakesurethey’reokay. Almost like water, thecars absorbs the impactbeforereturningtoitsoriginalshape.

“Areyouserious?I’veneverheardofhimdoingthat

for anyone.Don’t let anyoneelse know you’re a charitycase.”

I frown. “Why? Itshouldn’tmatter.”

“Trust me. In ourworld, it does. We’ve hadOutcasted family memberstry to come here onscholarships from the

Governors; let’s justsaytheydidn’t last a week. Youmaybethefirstgirl tocomehere,but I don’t think that’ll keepyou from the wrath of theRoyals. I’ll keep your secret.It’llbecoolifyoustayherealong time. Just don’t tellanyoneelse.”

Outcasts? Royals?

Thesewordsonlybringmorequestions. I can sense hedoesn’t want me to take thislightly. From his tone, it’sless a matter of whether ornotIfitinandmoreamatterofmyownlife.

The car behind ushonks.“Okay,”Isay.

He presses down on

thegasagain.“Good.”

THEWELCOMEBRIGADE

T he courtyard

comes into view, and the

purple road fades.Aswegetclosertotheyard,Icantellalarge group has formed andsurrounds something that’sgoingonatitscenter.

“Oh great, and Mr.Perlow told us to be on ourbest behavior for your firstday. It appears somemoronscan’tfollowbasicorders.”

“What’s going on?” Iask. Horace puts the car inparkandgetsout.WhenIgetoutandclosethedoor,thecarsurprises me by backing upanddrivingawayonitsown.My amazement dies quickly.Yelling coming from thecenter of the group pulls mebacktothepresent.

“Mirren has gone andstarted another fight. Eggedon the wrong underling, Isuppose.” Car doors closefrombehindus.

“Mirren?” Amr asksas he comes to stand next tome. Dante appears on myother side. I glance behindme.Tritonstandsatmyback,

hishandsshovedintohisdarkblueslacks.

Horace foldshis armsoverhischest.“Yeah.”

“Let’s get a betterview. I hope this one kickshis ass.” Dante walks awayfrom us and pushes his waythrough the first layer of thegroup.

Horace sighs. “I’msurrounded by morons. Ibetter go save him before hedoessomethingstupid.”

AmrfollowsHorace.Ijumptofollowthem,butstopjust as fast. Triton hasn’tbudged. I look back at himagain. He frowns. I want tosee what’s going on though,

so I move on forward,making my way through thepaththeotherboystook.

IstandwithDanteandHorace.Mirren fights with aboy who he has beat in theheightdepartment.

Lusk Mirren hasthick, muscled arms and isnearlysixfoot.Underalayer

of gel, lays his semi-short,dark brown hair. Moltensilver swirls in his eyes.Exactly how I imagine thesprog of Draco Malfoy andVictor Krum. I’ve readenough fanfiction to have awell-prepared image in mymind.

The other boy is

skinny and has semi-roundfeaturesanddarkbrownhair.Hischestheavesforabreath.Redblooddripsfromhisnoseand onto the ground. Like achipmunk, his cheek puffsout.Onthegroundathisfeetlayapairofglasses, the lenson one side cracked.Nevertheless, he’s stands his

ground.

They have a silentstaringcontest.

The group holds acollective breath, waiting tosee who will make the firstmove.Thesilenceoftheyardbreaks when the smaller boylets out an angry cry. Whitescales rise to the top of the

skin on his arms; mother ofpearl talons complete them.He runs atMirren.Thewindhowls and picks up aroundus.

With his shifted fistinches from making contactwith Mirren’s face, Mirrenpulls back his right arm, andit changes rapidly, his scales

likefireandrubiesfortalons.His fist goes into the boy’sstomach.Hefliesthroughtheair likea ragdoll.Thegroupclears the area, and he landsontheground.Iwince.

My heart picks upwhen the boy groans andmanages to get up. Whycouldn’thejuststaydown?It

could’veended.

“You just don’t knowwhen to quit, do you?”Mirren says as he starts fortheboy.

If that boy gets hitagainbythisguy,he’llbeleftcomatoseorworse,dead.

“Stop it!” I scream. Itechoes throughout theyard. I

cover my mouth. I didn’tmean to do that. I meant tothinkit.

“What are youdoing?”Tritonwhispersfrombehindme. “Man, you reallyarestupid.”

Mirrenstopsbeforehegets to the boy. He turns tome.Asmirkinchesacrosshis

face. A chill runs down myspine. “Well, if it isn’t theprincess.” He mock bows tome.“Didyousaysomething,Princess? What is it youdesirefromme?”

My lip curls up athim.Whatavileexcuseforahumanbeing.Ipushawaymyinstinct to run and hide

behind one of the boys I’vejust met. Instead, I stepforward. My hands shake. Iforce them to make fists atmy sides. This is not how Ipictured my first day. I’msupposedtobeawallflower.

“I said stop it.”Somehow, I manage not tosoundlikeamouse.

Heholdshishandsup.“I’m not doing anything butdefending myself. He startedit.”

I glance at the otherboy. His chest still heaveswith each breath, but hewatchesthetwoofusthroughhis broken glasses. A shortlaugh escapes me. Why are

my mouth and brain notcommunicatingtoday?

“That’s a lie. Youmade him mad enough toattackyou.Isawyouearlier.”

In a flash, he circlesme. The hair on the back ofmyneckstandsonend.Iwaitfor him to do something.Quicker than I can react, he

reaches out and snatches theglass locketaroundmyneck.Hepulls,andthechainsnaps.

Heholdsmylocketuptothesunlight.Itglintsintherays. “Is this from yourboyfriend, Princess? It lookshandmade.”

Heopens itand looksatthepictureIplacedinit,of

EdandmewhenIwasseven.“Yeesh, I had no idea youwere into old geezers. Youhavesomeissues,Princess.”

My stomach twists asmybloodboils.“Giveitback,now!” I growl. The skin ofmy fingers heats up like itdoesbeforeIchange.

“I don’t feel like it.

Instead,let’sseehowitlookson the ground.” My heartdropsintomystomachasthelocket leave his fingers. I’veheard about people havingmoments in their life wheretime slows down. I neverbelieved them until now. Ireachoutforit,butitbouncesoffmyfingertips.

It smashes onto thecold stone ground, explodinginto millions of tiny glasspieces. The delicate, tinyapple blossoms fall apart. Icollapse to my knees. Thiscannotbehappening.

MARKSOFTHE

FIRSTDAY

I kneel on the

ground. The broken glass

locket Edgar gave me noteven three days ago laysshattered on the redcobblestone before me.Gently,Itrytopickuponeofthe apple blossoms with myfingers.It turnstodustinthepalm of my hand. My chesttightens,butIpushdownthetears that want to spill. How

couldMirrendo this? Idon’teven know him. I just stoodupforaboywholookedlikehewas going to be seriouslyinjuredorkilledifIdidn’t.

Can magic fix it? Isthereaspellorsomethingthatcould meld all thesethousands of pieces backtogether and make it seem

like this never happened?Edgar stated it was minebecause I was his daughter,and I let this happen to it.What kind of daughter am Iwhen I let the only preciousthingIhavewithmeheregetdestroyed?

“Oh no! I guess yourold geezer of a lover will

havetobuyyouanotherone,”Mirrentaunts.

The final wire snapswithin me. My skin burns,and I bite my inner cheek.Heat travels tomyfingertips,making them tingle. Mygolden talons have pushedthroughthenailbed.

I look up at him. He

takes a few steps back. “Myfathergavethatlockettome,you asshole!” I yell. I jumpupandrunathim.

I ram into his chestwith all of my body weightandknockhimtotheground.He gasps as the wind getsknockedoutofhim.Ismileathisdiscomfort.

Isitonhislegssothathecan’tmove them.He triesto recover from the blow tothe ribs he took when Ilandedontopofhim.Idon’twasteanytime.Iwanthimtofeel the same pain I’mfeeling.Hetookawaytheonething that represented homefor me. I raise my arm, my

golden talons flash in thesunlight. In one swiftmovement, I strike at him.The sharp tips of my talonsrip through his skin as ifit’ssoftened butter, leavingbehind four deep gashesacross the side of his cheekandpartofhislips.

Blood runs down his

cheekasheletsoutascream.Itbringsmeoutofseeingred.I stand and back off him,stumbling into the studentsbehindme.I thetalonsmoveback undermy nails. I bringmyhandup,andholdit.Ibitemy lip, drawing my ownblood.

I glance at my nails.

Blood covers them. Is itmine? No, blood neverappears when I transformdespite thepainor the fact itwould only make sense.Therefore, thebloodmust beMirren’s. I wipe my handagainstmyjeans,tryingtogetitoffmyskin.Nauseatiesmystomachinknots.Bilerisesin

mythroat.WhathaveIdone?Thisisn’tme.I’mnotviolent.Howdidhemanage tomakeme go into such a rage sofast?

On the ground, theglass of the shattered locketglimmers in the sun. Eventhough it’s special tobothofus,Edgarwouldn’t’vewanted

me todo that toMirrenevenif he might have deservedpartofit.

“I’m sa-sorry,” Istutter. I look up from myhand.Mirrengets tohis feet.Hishandpressedtohisface.

Guilt grips at mychest.Iwanttotakeawaythegaping wounds on his face

butleavebehindthemarksasareminder.

A breeze movesthrough the courtyard. Heglaresbuthedoesn’tmovetoretaliate. In my mind, thewounds on his face close,leaving behind scars. Awarm, peaceful energywashes over me. The wind

rushes at Mirren. As the airhits him, his wounds closeandleavebehindangry,thickredscars.

Silence encompassesthe courtyard. Everyone,including me, waits to seewhat he’ll do. He takes hishandaway fromhis faceandlooks at it. The blood no

longer stains his fingers. Hefeels his face again, runninghisfingersoverthethickscartissue. His eyes narrow toslits,andheletsoutagrowl.

Again, he movesacross the space between us.His arm rapidly changes intothe fiery-scaled form. I closemy eyes, waiting for the

retribution.Secondspass,andmy heart hammers in mychest.Nothinghashappened.I open my eyes. His fisthovers in the air, poised tostrike me; it shakes as if aninvisible force holds himback.

“What the Hell?” hemumbles.Hetrieswithallhis

might to continue propellinghisfistintomyface.Heloseswitha sigh,andhedropshishand to his side. The orangescales sink back into hismuscled arm as if they wereneverthereinthefirstplace.

He takes a step backfrommeandputsaflatpalmagainst his right fist. In one

great breath, he gathersenough air to fill his lungsandpuffouthischest.Beforehe can expel the air andcomplete whatever it is he’sabout to do, Dante steps infrontofme.

“Don’t even thinkaboutit,Mirren.”

He letshishands fall,

andairescapeshimasheletsoutatauntinglaugh.“WhatisaFreshmeatlikeyougoingtodotostopme?She’llpayforwhatshedidtomyface!”

“Bymyself, I doubt Icould takeyouon rightnow.Withmyfriendsbackingme,Ibetwecouldputyouintheinfirmaryforafewweeks.”

The other three guysstep up to stand next toDante.Mirrenlooksatusall,weighing the circumstancesinhishead.

He turns his back onus and walks away, partingthe group of people like theRedSea.Thetalkingamongstall the boys becomes almost

deafening.Tritonturnstome.“Areyouokay?”heasks.Hepicks up my right hand andlooks at the smearsofblood,whichstainmyfingernails.

I pullmyhandoutofhis grasp. “I’m fine. That’snot my blood.” I go over towhere the remains of thelocket lay. I pick up the

pieces. I’ll find a way to fixit.Therehastobeaway.I’minaworldofmagicafterall.The last two apple blossomshave stems attached to eachother. Using my fingernails,careful not to touch the drypetals. I place them in myopen palm with the glass; asmall sigh comes out when

they both stay in one piece.Next,comes thesmallphoto.ItonlyshowsEdgar’sandmyface, but on that day, he hadme on his shoulders. I washelpingtopickapples.Itwasoneofthefewtimesasakidthat he’d tried to do mygolden curls in lopsidedponytails.

The guy taking thepicture caught us in themiddleoftellingajoke.Bothofushavewidesmilesonourfaces. One of the onlypictures I own where Edgarhas a true smile. A shadowfallsoverme,andIglanceupto see the servant withemerald and sapphire eyes.

He kneels down in front ofme. “Let me pick this up,Miss. I’ll be careful andreturnitalltoyou.”

“It’sfine.Icandothismyself.” I keep my eyes ontheground.IfIlookathim,Iwon’tbeabletospeak.

He places a white,gloved hand on top ofmine,

stoppingme frompickingupanymoreofthesmallpieces.“Please, Miss. You’ve cutyourself.”

I stare at my fingers.Droplets of blood form onsmall cuts. I didn’t even feelthe sting of them until hepointedthemout.

“Come on, Avvi.

We’ll show you where theinfirmary is. Let the servantdohisjob,”Horacesaysashepullsmeupoffthegroundbymyarms.

Once I stand, I pullaway from his grasp. I can’tstand when people touch meand I don’t know them. Theservant stands aswell. I pick

up the blossoms by theirsharedstembeforeIplacetheglass in his gloved hand.“Pleasebecareful,they’rethelasttwo.Thankyou.”

“Of course, Miss.”Mycheeksheatup.HisvoicehasarichEnglishaccent,myinsidenearlymelt.

Horace reaches out

and pulls on my arm, takingmy attention away from theservant.I takemyarmoutofhisgraspagain.Can’thetakea hint? I don’t like to bepulledaround.Ifollowhimtoanother door that leads intotheschool.Beforeweenter,Ilook back to see the servantpickingupthepiecesofglass

andplacingthemintoasmallwooden box. Where did itcomefrom?

THEFABULOUSDR.QUINN

“ I really don’t

need to go to the infirmary,

They’rejustsmallcuts.”

Horace glances overhisshoulderatme.“Well,wecan’t have you getting aninfection. I was going toshow you where it wasanyway.”

I sigh. I guess I can’thave anycontroloverwhat Iwant todo rightnow. Iwant

to go intomy room and callEdgar; I miss him so muchalready.

“I’m sorry, but am Ithe only one who wants totalk about how Fire herepawed Mirren? That wasepic!” Dante says whileputting a casual arm aroundmy shoulders. I duck out

fromunderneathhisarm.Fora moment, he frowns, butquickly covers it with asmirk. He folds his armsbehindhishead.

“It was amazing.Where did you learn to shiftjust your nails like that?Wewon’t be taught specificchanges like that until our

fourthyear,”Amrsays.

Ishrug.“Idon’tknowhow I did it. I wasangry...no,beyondangry;Iwasenraged.Thosethingshesaid about my father wererepulsive,andallIwantedtodo was hurt him. It justhappened.I’veneverchangedlikethatduringtheday.”

They all go silent.Triton speaks first. “Did ithurt?”

HeseemstobeoverlycuriousaboutwhetherornotIexperience pain duringtransformation. “I didn’t feelthepainuntilIrealizedwhatIhad done. Why do you caresomuchaboutwhetherIfeel

painornot?Youaskedmeasimilarquestiononthejet.”

He clears his throat.“Noreason.I’mjustcurious.”

“Butwhy?”

Beforehecananswer,the group stops in front of adoor. ‘Infirmary’ is above itingoldlettering.Horaceclapshishands,andthedooropens

for us. I can’t help but towonder if they don’t realizethey have two arms andhands.Itmustbeaboringjobtobeondoorduty.

We walk into a largeroom, but it’s not as big asthe fitness center. Whitecontains us from everycorner. Cots stand in long

lines on either side of theroom.Thewhitealmosthurtsmyeyes, but I havenowhereelsetoturnmygaze.

“Mr. Mathis? Whathave you done now!” says aman’s voice. I turn myattention to an office in theback of the room and aman—at least I think they are a

man.Hislightbrownhairsitspasthisshouldersinfemininewaves.Hewearsaroyalblue,silk button up and blackslacks, all paired with blackpumpswith red soles.A fiveo’clockshadowlineshisjaw.Is he a cross dresser orandrogynous?

Danteholdshishands

up in front of him. “Whoa,DoctorQuinn,noneedtogettesty. I haven’t doneanything,thistime.”

“Keywords, this time.So why have you and yourlittle followers come here?”Hiseyes fallonme.“Ohmygoodness!”Herushesatme.Iwish I knew how to run in

heelsthatwell.Icouldbarelywalk straight when I had towear dress shoes that didn’thaveanyheighttothem.

“You’re the newarrival! Oh, look at you!You’re adorable! Spin forme.”

He wants me to spinfor him? I hesitate for a

second before turning in asmall circle. I feel like I’mKatnissandhe’sCinna.

“I love your hair! Icoulddosomuchwithit!”

Ipushastrandbehindmyear.“Um,thankyou.”

He flips his hair overhis shoulder and puts a handonhiship. “I’m the fabulous

Doctor Taylor Quinn. It isnice to meet you, MissClementine.”

“Sheneedsherfingerslooked at. She cut them onsomeglass,”Amrsays.

I roll my eyes. “I’mfine, really. I’ve had worsescrapeswhileworking in thefamily orchard, and I

survivedjustfine.”

Dr. Quinn takes myhands in his. Light blue nailpolishcoversbothofhisshortringfingernails.Hetutsashelooks at the cuts. “How didthishappen?”heasks.

“Lusk Mirren. Hetook her necklace from herand broke it on the ground.

You should’ve seen the wayshe put him in his placethough. He’ll never forgetthat. The reminder is on hisface. It was amazing towatch!”Dantesays.

“So you’re the onewho did that to Mr. Mirren.He left a fewminutes beforeyou got here. Wanted me to

fixhis face. I tried,but therewas no getting around themagic put in those scars. Hewas not happy when I toldhimtheonlywaytheywouldbe healed is if the one whogave the scars to him healedthe skin themselves. He’scursedwiththosemarksuntilthe end of time unless you

decidetofixthemforhim.”

“Fat chance of thathappening,” Dante says withalaugh.

I frown. “I cursedhim?”

“Yes. None of myhealing tactics worked torepair the scar tissue. Whenthat happens, I can only

assume it was put there bymagic. Healers often see theissuewith patientswhowereturned into werewolvesduringthefullmoon.”

My eyes widen.“Werewolves? You meanthey’rereal?”

“Of course, sweetie.Youdidn’tthinkwewerethe

onlymagicalshapeshifterstoroamthisEarth,didyou?”Heleads me over to a chair.“Sit.”

Itakeaseat.Ihavesomany questions now. Whatother creatures from mybooks are real? I have somuch to learn about. I don’tthink one lifetime will be

longenoughtofitallthefactsin. Only one question comestumbling out of my mouthwhile he grabs somethingfromamedicinecheston thewall.“HowdidIcursehim?Idon’t know anything aboutmagic, yet. I’ve never doneanything supernatural in mylife.”

He turns to me andrips open a small paperpackage and pulls out whatlookslikeanalcoholswaborwetwipe.“Funnythingabouthow our form of magicworks,it’snotobviousunlesswe know about it. Youcould’ve been using yourmagic and never realized it.

In the case of performing acurse without having theknowledge to perform itconsciously, it usuallyhappens when great emotionisinflicted.”

He kneels down infront of me and takes myhand in his. “This will stingfor a second.” He runs the

wipeovereachofmyfingers.Iwince at first, but soon getusedtoit.

“With the curse onMirren’s face, I saw you feltremorse for what you did.Most would’ve left it as apermanentgapingwoundthatwould be infected and killhim slowly. You healed the

wounds and left the scars,meaningyouweren’tentirelyforgiving.”

He tosses the wipeinto the trash bin, and I lookdownatmyfingers.Thecutsand stinging havedisappeared. Even the driedblood from Mirren has beenwipedaway.“Thankyou.”

“No problem,sweetie.”

“What will mypunishment be for cursingMirren?” I ask. Will I getexpelled before I’ve evenstarted?

Dr. Quinn and theboys laugh. “You won’treceive punishment for that.

Youhealedhisfacealready.”

So they don’t havepunishments for violence inthis school? What the Hell?No wonder those two werefightinginthecourtyard.

“Dr.Quinn!”someoneyells through the door to theinfirmary. The servant opensthe door. Two boys with a

third draped between themcomeintotheroom.Theboyin the middle of them is theone who had been fightingwith Mirren before Iintervened. Looks like hisinjuriesfinallycaughtupwithhimaftertheadrenalineworeoff.

“Put him over here.

What happened?” Dr. Quinnasks, rushing to the boy’sside.

“Mirren. He got in afight with him earlier. Thenthe new girl stepped in. Hethought he was fine, but hecollapsedafewmomentsago.Mirren did hit him in thechest pretty hard,” says one

of the boys who had helpedcarryhim.

“Stupid boy. Heshould’ve come here as soonas it was over. He may nothave felt it then, but he isfeeling it now.” I can’t helpbut to watch as Dr. Quinnwaves his hand over thefallen boy. “He has four

broken ribs, bruising of theliver,afracturedpelvis,andabroken cheek bone. He’sgoing tobe inhere fora fewdays.”

A pull within mewants to stick around and beherewhenhewakesup,butIbet we’ll just be in the way.“Can you show me how to

getbacktothedorms?IthinkIneedto liedownfora littlebit.” In truth, I just want tocallEdgar. Ineed tohearhisvoice and remind myselfwhat I am doing here is theright decision. I may’vestepped into a new, mysticalworld,butIalsosteppedintoone where violence goes

unpunished. Will I survivehere?

CALLINGHOME

T he boys showed

me how to get back to mydormfromtheinfirmary,andthey told me one of them

wouldcomegetmefordinnerlater.

“Thank you,” I say. Ialmost want to invite theminside. It would be the nicethingtodo,butIwanttocallEdgar. For that, I needprivacy.

I putmy hand on theknob, and the beep sounds

from the other side.Walkingintotheroomandclosingthedoor behind me, I let out abreath. It’s not even noonhere, and I’m alreadyemotionallydrained.

Iwalk over to one ofthe white loveseats, take theblack card out of my backpocket,andholditoutonmy

hand. It flies through the air,takinghershape.“HowmayIassist you, MissClementine?”sheasksbeforebowing.

I takeaseatandstareat her. She looks so human,and,yet,shecanfoldupintoa business-sized card in amatter of seconds. It doesn’t

seem possible . . . manythings that have happenedtoday shouldn’t seempossible, but they stillhappened.

“No need to be soformal. You can call meAvalon, and there is no needtobow.”

She seems surprised

by my request and almostbows but catches herself. “Iunderstand.”

“Do you know whattime it is in Bellingham,Washington?”Iask.

She goes silent for amoment, and her eyes moveback and forth. “It is six inthemorning.”

“Edgar shouldn’t beout on the Orchard yet. Canyou please call my homephone?Iwouldliketotalktomyfather.”

“Ofcourse.”

She goes silent againbefore a dial tone ringsthroughout theroom.I’mnotsurewhereitcomesfrom:her

ortheroom.

“’Ello?”

“I made it to theschoolinonepiece.”

“Avvi! Do yau likeit?”

“It’s big.” I’m notgoing to tell him about thefight or the fact that thelocketisbroken.

“Yeah? Do yau haveyaurowndorm?”

“Yes, Ibasicallyhavean apartment to myself. Noone can come in unless I letthem,andIcan’thaveanyoneinmyroom.”

“Good. Yau doin’ allright?”

I try to smile. I know

he’ll be able to hear myunhappiness otherwise.“Yeah,I’mfine,Ed.It’ll justtake time togetused to theirway of life here. It’s worldsapartfromtheOrchard.”

“Isee.Well,Ineedtoget out to the Orchard andstart work with the Hands.Callmiifyauneedanything.

Iloveyau.”

“Iloveyoutoo.”

The line goes dead.Edgarisamanoffewwords.I’m lucky I got that long ofconversation with him overthe phone. Even though itwas short, just being able totalk to him was enough torelax my racing heart and

give me courage to continuelearning about this strange,violentplace.

THEFIRSTNIGHT

I pickatmypennein garlic sauce with roasted

cherry tomatoes. I had beenhungry before the food gothere. The guys at the tablenexttoustalk,notcaringthatI’mrighthere.

“Did you see whatthat girl did today in thecourtyard?”

“No.”

“I was there. It was

epic. She practically toreMirrenapart.”

“I guess we have towatchourbackswithher?”

“Yeah, she might killsomeonenext.”

I stab a noodle withmy fork. The table flinchesand glances over at me.Shouldn’t they have better

manners?

“Don’t pay anyattention to them, Fire.They’re just a couple ofdouche bags, which have nobusiness being around alady!” Dante yells, causingthe table to stand andmove.Now,we’re theonlyonesupintheloft.

I peer over the ironfencedownatMirren.Hesitsalone, attacking his bloodysteak with verve. I wincewhen his eyes meet mine.He’s not glaring though. Noanger shows in his eyes. Idon’tunderstand.Igazebackatmy plate. I can’t believe Icurse a guy onmy first day.

Thatshouldn’tbepossible.

Thunder cracksoutside.Ijump.“Ithoughttheweatherwasalwaysbeautifularoundhere?”

The guys all shrug.“Notalways.Sometimestheylet in the natural storms andstuff. Sometimes it’s nice tohave a thunderstorm,” Triton

says.

The tension that hadplagued all of them thismorning has gone. I don’tknow what was with all ofthem, but I guess theyreached an agreement overwhatevertheydidn’tlike.

The moon’s pullinchesovermebythesecond.

I don’t have very long. Iglance around the table.They’re almost done eating;perhaps I can excuse myselfnowwithoutappearingrude.

“Ilovethunderstorms.It’s nice that they do thateveryonce in awhile.” Iputdownmyforkandstretchmyarms above my head with a

groan. “Well, it’s been aneventful firstday,guys,but Ishould get back tomy room.I’mbeat.”

Theyallstandatonce.“We’ll walk you there,”Dantesays.

“Youdon’thavetodothat. I can find my wayback.”

“Nonsense,we’llwalkyou,”Horacesays.

“Yeah,”Amragrees.

I sigh. I hope I don’tchange in front of thembeforewegetthere.“Okay.”

I stand, leading thewaytothedorms.

“How do you like itheresofar,Avvi?”Amrasks.

I shrug. “It seemsinteresting enough. I like thehorses.ThoughIhavenoideahow I’ll find my way to allmy classes in the morning.I’llneedacarjust tomakeittoallofthemontime.”

“Don’t worry aboutthat. We’ll help you getaround, and you also have

your P.A., right?” Horaceasks.

Triton clears histhroat.Iglanceathim,buthedoesn’t say anything.Maybehe justhadsomethingcaughtinhis throat.“Yeah,”Isay.Ipickupthepace.Idon’thavemuchlonger.

“Then you have

nothing to worry about,”Dantesays.Hethrowsanarmaround me again, but I stillsidestep out of it. If I wascloser to the shift, his armwouldhaven’tbroughtme tomyknees.

My heart hammers inmychest.Thethunderoutsiderumbles the school as we

makeittothedorms.Iallbutrun to my door. I have toregainmyselfasIturntolookatthem.“Thanksforwalkingme tomydorm.Goodnight.”I give them a smile beforeslipping inside and closingthe door. At least none ofthem tried to invitethemselvesin.

~*~*~*~

I lay on the marblefloor of my room in mydragonform.Isighastherainpeltsmywindow.At least atthebarn I could lookout thehayloft at the stars. Here, Ican’t even see the skythrough my window. I havenothingtolookatandnoone

to keepme company. Like abird in a golden cage, I’mstuck.IthoughtatleasthereIwouldgettofeeltheairundermywings again. Is that whytheywantedmehere?Sotheycouldkeepmetrappedinmyroomatnight?

MR.MAGICTUTOR

I think I prefer

sleeping on the cold dirt

ground to hard, cold marble.Theymay’vegivenmeabed,but I would bust it in mydragon form. I guess theygave it tome so I could takenaps. Otherwise, that bigfluffy thing will never beused.

Withcrackingelbows,Ipushmyselfontomyhands

and knees and stand. Goingover to thecloset, Igraboneof the awful uniforms I willnow have to wear daily. Ithink I would be okay withwearingawhitepoloshirtifIdidn’t have towear itwith askirt.

Once dressed, I digmy hairbrush out of my

suitcase. Normally, Iwouldn’t care what my hairlooks like, but now I’ll begoingtoschoolwithboysmyage, and some of them arecute even if I wouldn’t tellthem that. I don’t want toappearasifIdon’tcareatallaboutmyappearance.

Istartthetedioustask

ofworkingthebrushthroughmycurlswhenaslightknockat the door echoes into myroom. I glance at the clock.It’s not even six thirty.Horace said he would walkme to breakfast at seven.Whocoulditbe?

Iopenthedoor,andtomy surprise, the blue and

green-eyed servant stands ontheothersideholdingtheboxI saw him placing the piecesofmy broken locket into; hebowsandholdsitouttome.

Itakeitandopenit.Itall looks to be there. “I’msorry, Miss. I wasn’t able tofind the entire locket. Thesilver screw is missing. I

searchedtheentirecourtyard,butIwasunabletofindit.”

The screw is the partof the locket that allows metoopenitandplaceapictureinside.“It’sfine.Don’tworryabout it. It’ll showup,or I’llbe able to get a new one.Thank you for working sohardtofinditallandreturnit

tome.”

Heblinksforasecondbefore bowing. “Of course,Miss.Iwillalwaysbeatyourserviceifyouneedme.”

Ican’thelpbuttofeela blush overtake me at hiswords. The only thing thatwould’ve made it betterwould’vebeenifhehadsaid,

‘Asyouwish.’

He turns to leave.“Wait,”Isay.

Heturnsbackaround.“Yes,Miss?”

“Whatisyourname?”

“Myname,Miss?”

It’s as if no one hasever asked him that before.I’munabletolookathimasI

say,“Yes,incaseIneedyourservices.”

Iglanceuptoseehimsmile.“MynameisKearn.”

“Kearn,thankyou.”

He turns again, andthistimeheleaves.Iclosethedoor and put a hand to mychest.Ihopemyheartdoesn’tcome out of it. He is so

attractive with his Englishaccentandhiseyes.

Ilookdownattheboxinmyhand.The glass insideit glints in the light of theroom.I’llputthepiecesbacktogether somehow before IseeEdgaragain.

Goingintomyroom,Iplace the box on one of the

white,cubedshelveswithmybooks. It’ll be safe here.Leaving my room, I go intothe bathroom. The massivesizeofitstilloverwhelmsme.I don’t think I’ll ever need abathroom this large. The tubis wide and deep enough togo swimming in, and theshower doubles as a sauna.

Thesinkappearsmore likeafountain, and the mirrorstretchesacrossthewall.Likethe rest of my place, it’sdecorated in whites and palegold.

Istareatmyselfinthemirrorandpullatmyshirt,soplain compared to theextravagance of the school.

Well, I look as good as I’mgoingtoget.

Putting on my old,blackhigh-tops,IsitandwaitforHorace towalkmedownto the dining hall. I pullEnid’scardoutof thepocketofmyshirtandwaitforhertoassembleintheair.

“HowmayIhelpyou,

Avalon?”sheasks.

“Please tell me aboutthe other things you’recapableofdoing.”

“Icanshapeshiftintoa laptop for you, access theinternet, act as a GPS andnavigate you around theschool here. I can alsomanage your schedule. If

thereissomethingyoudesire,I can have it ordered andshipped here, or I have aservantretrieveitforyou.Mylooks and personality can becustomized; do you wish tocustomizemenow?”

“You’re fine as youare.” I reach out and touchher. She feels like a human:

her skin soft and warm.“Whatareyoumadeof?”

Shecocksherheadtotheside.Adeepvoicecomesthrough her. “Thatinformationisclassified.”

I frown. Well, that’snot suspicious. Anotherknock atmydoor.Has to beHorace this time. I hold out

myhand,andEnidfoldsup.Iplace her back into the frontpocketofmyshirt.Iopenthedoor. “Ready to start yourfirst day of school, Fire?”Dante asks. He leans againstthe frame of my door. Theotherboysstandbehindhim.

“As ready as I’ll everbe.” I close the door behind

me.

“That’s as ready asanyone can ever be when itcomes to school,” Tritonsays.

We start walking.“Did you sleep well?” Amrasks.“IknowIhadproblemsgetting used to a new roomwhenIfirstgothere.”

Ishrug.“Isleptokay.Itwaswakingupthatwasthehard part.” I rub my neckwhereaknothasformedfromsleeping on themarble floor.IneedtotrytowakeupafterIchangeback,soIcansleepanhourortwointhatbed.

“I hear you. I wishschoolstartedatnoon.Ineed

at least ten hours of beautysleep, and here I only geteight. They’re cruel, I tellyou, cruel. How am Isupposed be beautiful if Idon’t get my beauty sleep?”Dante asks.He flipshisdarkhairoverhisshoulder.

“You’d need morethantenhoursofbeautysleep

to repair your ugly face,”Amrsays.

Dante pouts andplaces a hand over his heart.“Your words cut me deep,Radcliffe.”

“You’ll get over it,”Horace says, playing withsomethinginhishands.

“DoyouseehowI’m

treated,Fire?It’sunjust.”

I can’t help but tosnicker at his antics. TheHandsontheOrchardusedtobe the only ones who couldmake me laugh. At least, InowknowI’lllaughheretoo.It’llhelp stopme frombeingmiserable.

“Here, Avvi. This is

your schedule for your firstquarter here.” Horace handsme a small computer chip. Ilook at him, waiting for himto tell me how it works.“PushitintotheP.A.card.”

I pull itout of mypocket and put the chipagainst it. Gently, I start topush. To my amazement, it

sinksintothematerialasifitwasnevertheretobeginwith.“Wow.” A few seconds passbefore a green grid formsacross the card. The nextthreehoursareatthetop,andbelow it, lists a class for thehour. Classes start at eight.MyfirstclassisMagictutor,,anditlastsuntilten.

“Ithinktheonlyclassnone of us sharewith you isthe magic tutor. Your P.A.canshowyouwhereitis.”

“Couldn’t she do thatwith showingme how to gettothedininghalltoo?”Iask,watching them. They don’thavetowalkmetothedininghall for every meal; they

chooseto.

Horace clears histhroat. “Well, yes she could.Don’tyou like thecompany?What if Mirren tries toretaliate for what you did tohisfacewhileyou’rewalkingthehallsinthemorning?”

“I do like thecompany, but I’m not afraid

of Mirren. He’s just anotherbruteofabully.I’vehandledworse than him before Iwashomeschooled.”

We’ve finallymade itto the dining hall. Horacenodstothedoorkeepers;theybow and open the doors.Seriously,Ifeelbadforthesepoor doorkeepers. How the

Helldotheystayawake?

Dante leads us up tothe balcony seating, and wetake the table we sat atyesterday. The others watchme in silence again. Howmany days will I have to behere before they get used tothefactthatagirlisnowhereto stay? I can still hear them

whisper to each other aboutwhat I did to Mirren in thecourtyard.

Themenuscome,andtomy surprise, it is differentfrom the one I first sawyesterday.Thisonehasmorebreakfast meals that Irecognize, like pancakes. Idecide to try blueberry

pancakes. I’ve never hadthem before.With that, I getsome vanilla soymilk. Likemost people over the age oftwelve, lactose and I aren’tfriends.

“So how do you likeyour rooms?” Triton asks.He’s the only onewho’s hasactuallyseenthem.

I shrug. “It’s all a bitmuch for my tastes, but Igrew up in a small littlecountry home on an appleorchard,somostofthisplaceis on the extreme side forme.”

“It is for most of ustoo,”Amrsays.

“With every new

headmaster this place getsgutted and redesigned. Theonly place Roseman andPerlow didn’t touchwhen hebecame Headmaster was theclassroom area. NoHeadmaster has touched thatareainatleastsixtyyears.Noone knows why,” Horacesays.

Now the sporadicinteriordesignmakessense.

“I liked thebackhanded comment yougaveRosemanwhenheaskedyouifyoulikedyourrooms.Idon’t thinkheorMichknewhowtotakeit.”Tritonlaughs.

Ilookathim.HeusesthefirstnameofPerlow,and

hewastheonePerlowcalledon towatchmewhile on thejet, yet he is a freshmen. Iwonder what theirrelationshipis.

Breakfastpassesbyinaflash.andsoonitistimeformytwohour tutoringsessionto learn magic. I take Enidout,andsheleadsmethrough

the halls of classrooms.Eventually, no one walksaroundusatall. Imustbe inthe Backwaters of theclassrooms.Shestopsinfrontofasmallclassroomthatisn’tmuch bigger than my closetand folds back into her cardstate.

I inch the door open

and peer inside. A dimlightbulb hangs from thecenteroftheceilingoffathinstring.My eyes strain to seepast the dark shadows of theroom.Asinglesmalldesksitsoppositetheteacher’sdesk.Aboy, who doesn’t lookmucholderthanme,sitsbehindtheteacher’s desk, his entire

bodyhunchedoverabook;ahandrestsinhishair.

“Hello,”IsayasIstepintotheroom.

The boy jumps—Ithink I almost gave him aheartattack—andlooksupatme. It’s the boywhoMirrenhadbeenfightingwithbeforeI intervened. “I thought you

were going to be in theinfirmary for a few days?” Isay.

He stands from thedesk, his brown eyes almosthidden behind thick blackHipster glasses. “Mr. Perlowrequested I have my healingspedup.Hewantedmetobeyourmagictutor.Considering

I have the highest grade formagic use in the school, thatis understandable.” Is hearrogantorstatingafact?Hewalks over to me and holdsout his hand. “I’m DerrenBullock,MissClementine.”

“Avalon,please.”

He motions to thesingle desk. “Miss

Clementine, please take aseat.”

I bite my tongue. Itaketheseat,andheclearshisthroat. “I have been taskedwiththejoboftutoringyouinthe type of magic theFamilies use. You willaddressmeasMr.Bullock.”

Is he for real? He

needs to take it down a stepor two. We’re on the samepeerlevel.Thisisridiculous.

“Getthefancifulideasof magic out of your head.We don’t use wands, andcolored energy doesn’t flowfrom our fingers. Our magicisintentandintentalone.”

He lifts his hand and

focuses on a red apple thatsits on the teacher’s desk. Iwatchcutsform,andawedgelifts away from the apple,floatsintotheair,andintohishand. He takes a bite andlooks to me. “Many thingscan be done this way, butfirst, we need to figure outwhich element you have the

mostcontrolover.”

“Which element Ihavethemostcontrolover?”

He rolls his eyes.“Yes. Everyone has anelement towhich they are intunedwith.Mineisair.Thus,when I came intomydragonpowers, I became an airdragon.”

I nod as if I’msupposed to know all of thisalready. “So how do I figureoutwhatelementIhave?”

“Likethis.”Hewaveshis arm across his desk.Before my eyes, five smallglassbowls appear as if theymaterialized then and thereoutofnothing.Insideeachis

a different element: a flame,water, a feather, dirt, andsomethingsilver.

“What is that one?” Ipointtothebowl.

“Melted silver metal.Comehere.”

Istandandgoovertothedesk.I lookathimtotellme what to do next. “Place

yourhandovereachofthem,and the one that reacts themostisyourelement.”

I start with fire,putting my hand above theflame. It flickers but doesn’tdomuchmore than that.Thewater ripples. The featherbounces but never leaves thebowl. The dirt doesn’t do a

thing, and the silver swirlsslowly. I look at Derren. Hefrowns. “None of themreactedastheyshouldhave.”

“So what does thatmean?”

“Go wait outside theclassroom;Ihavetospeaktosomeone.”

I liftmy eyebrow but

leavetheclassroom.I’mgladtobeawayfromhim.

After a while, withboredom easing into mymind, a bell rings. The firsthour must be up. I sigh andsit down with my backagainst the wall. He’sprobably just reading hisbook.

Some guys start topass me as they go to theirnext class. At least I’m notthe only one with a class intheBackwaters.

“Hey, Princess!” Iglance up from the floor.Mirren strides toward me.Great. I stand, and he slamshisfistsintothewallonboth

sides of my head. I have tolook up to stare him in theeyes.Hisscarslooknastyandredgoingacrosshisface.

“Fix it. That quackdoctor says that you’re theonlyonewhocan.”

“Idon’tknowhowto.I don’t even know how Icursed you in the first place.

EvenifIdid,Iwouldn’thelpyou.”

Hegrowls,andoneofhis arms changes into itsdragon form. “Go ahead,” Isay. There my mouth goesagain,nolongertalkingtomybrain.

HowamIgoingtogetoutofthisone?Idon’tthinkI

can do a repeat of last time,and this time there are nowitnesses around either. Hecould kill me, and no onewouldknowwhodidit.

I close my eyes andwaitfortheblow.

Thedoorcreeksopen.Opening my eyes, a manstandsthere,lookingserene,a

small emerald embedded inthecenterofhisforehead.Hewears a tailored royal bluesuit. Something about himmakes stomach roll withnausea. “Oh, have Iinterrupted something?Please, do continue.” Hisvoice like helium. A chillruns down my spine. He

sounds happy that my bloodisabouttospill.

I look back aMirren.He looks at the man with amixture of both shaking fearandeyesquintingdistrust.Hetakesakneeandbows to theman; his right arm goesacross his chest. “Do notmindus,mylord.Ourquarrel

canberesolvedanotherday.Ibeg your forgiveness forcausinghavoc.”Soformal.Itsounds weird coming fromhismouth.

The man makes atutting sound. “Stand, boy,and finish what you wereabouttodo.”

Ibracemyself.Mirren

stands and leans down intome, his face uncomfortablyclose to mine. He better notbe doing what I think he’sdoing.I leanawayfromhim,but the wall stops me frommoving any further. With arough hand, he pushes myface to the side and places aquickkissonmycheek.What

in the Hell? “This is notover,”hewhispersinmyear.

He turns to the man.“My next class has started. Iapologize, but I must takeleave.” This time he bowslow at the waist and walksawaylikehisfeethavecaughtfire.Iwatchhimgo.Irubthefeeling of his kiss off my

cheek.

The man lets out awhine. I turn to look at him.Hepouts.“Pity.Iwashopinghewould tearyou limb fromlimb.It’sbeentoolongsinceI have seen a fight. Comealong, girl.He iswaiting foryou.”

Is he talking about

Bullock?

ANICENTONE

I walk into the

room. Perlow stands next tothe desk.He fidgetswith hishands. Someone in a brown

monk robe, their face hiddenbyahood,standsnexttohim.I can justmakeout a hint ofhishand.

“Bow,”Perlowsays.

Bow?The toneofhisvoice tells me he’s notmessing around. I start tobow but stop when thehooded figure holds up his

hand. His hand is shifted inthedragonform,buthisdarkbrown scales are old, dull,and chipped, his emeraldtalonsnothingbutnubs.

The man with theemerald embedded in thecenterofhisforeheadspeaks.“Leave her; she does notknow our customs yet. A

child should not bow unlessthey know who they areshowingrespectto.”

Perlow bows at thewaist as does Bullock. “Yes,Ancientone,”Perlowsays.

Emerald man speaksagain. “Tell me child, whichelement do you feel most intunedwith?”

“I don’t know. I havenever preferred any of themovertheother.”

The hooded figureholdsouthishand.“Givemea strand of your hair.” IwonderwhytheEmeraldmantalksforthehoodedfigure.Itis like the hooded figure isspeakingthroughhim,butthe

hooded figure also has adifferent personality than theEmerald man. He doesn'tseem evil like the Emeraldman does. I don't think hewould drool over the notionthat there might be a fightwherehewouldseeblood.

Bullock hands me apairof scissors. Icuta small

strand of my golden curls. Iwalkovertothehoodedmanandplacethecurlinhishand.Hismangledfingersfoldoverit and a yellow light shinesoutfrombetweenhisfingers.

“You will teach herthe art of magic withoutfocusingononeelement.Thisishowitwillbe.”

Both Bullock andPerlow kneel before thehooded man and put theirarmsacrosstheirchest.“Yes,Ancientone.”

The hooded manwalks forward and places ahand on my shoulder. Awarmth moves through mybody. ‘Stay strong, Avalon.

Do not fall victim to theircorrupt ways. One day, youwillhaveall theanswersyouseek.Remaintruetoyourself.We will meet again,’ says avoiceinsidemyhead.

Inod,andheremoveshishand.Hewalksaway,andtheEmeraldmanfollows.Assoon as the door closes

behind them, Perlow andBullock breathe a sigh ofrelief. Perlow turns toBullock. “You heard theAncient one, teach her in allforms of our magic. Youknow your reward if yousucceedatthis.”

“Yes,sir.”

Perlow goes to leave.

“Mr.Perlow,wait,”Isay.Hestops and looks atme. “Thatmeeting, I haven’t got anemail yet. I have a lot ofquestions.”

“I’llhaveJessicasendyou an email soon. Bewatchingforit.”

I can tell he is lying.Hegetstwitchywhenhelies.

IfIwantanswers,I’llhavetoget themonmyown. I can’twait for him to set a datethat’llneverhappen.

OncePerlowleaves, Iturn to Bullock. “Who werethosemen?”Iask.

“One was an Ancientandtheotherwashisspeaker.TheAncientisoneofthelast

shifters who was alive whenthe SunGod blessed uswiththe power to shape shift. Tolive that long, he hasremained in his dragon formfor a thousands of years.Because of that, when he isneededtoturnintohishumanform, he still has a dragon-like appearance and has lost

his ability to physicallyspeak.HeusestheSpeakertocommunicate.

“Thejewelyousawinthe middle of his foreheadamplifies his ability to hearthe Ancient one without theneed to be touching him.From now on, youwill needtobowtothemwhenyousee

them. They are the mosthonored members of theFamilies.”

A bell rings again,signaling the end of thesecond hour. Bullock sighs.“We’ll continue your lessonstomorrow. Here is a list ofbooks you can get from thelibrary;theyareallaboutour

magic and the history. Readthem in your own time, andask me any questions youmay have.” He hands over achip.ItakeitandpushitintoEnid’scard.

“Allright,thanks.”

He gives me adismissive gesture with hishead,andIleavetheroom.A

realpieceofwork,thatone.

“Fire!Howwasmagicclass?” I jump and turn.Dante stands across the hallfrom the door as I come outofthesmallclassroom.

“Itwasinteresting.AnAncientwasthere.”

Dante stands upstraighter.“Ishestillhere?”

“No,heleft.”

Herelaxes.“Whywashe here? He isn’t normallybroughtinforsmallaffairs.”

“Bullock brought himin after my element test wasinconclusive. The Ancienttold him to teach me in allformsofmagic.Hedidn’ttelluswhatelementIamintune

with. I still don’t fullyunderstand what that means,but I have a list of books Ican get from the library thatwillhelpmeunderstand.”

“Isn’t that the job ofyour tutor? Who is heanyway?”

“Me,”Bullocksaysashe comes out of the

classroom.

Dante stares at himforasecondbeforehepointsat him. “Aren’t you the guywhose butt Fire savedyesterday? Mirren would’vekilledyouotherwise.Howareyou up and walking aroundanyway?”

“Perlow had my

recoveryspedup.Ididn’taskher tostepin.”Hewalksoff.Helimps.Iwonder ifhe’s inpain and trying to hide it.What exactly did Perlowpromise him in exchange forhimtotutorme?

“Well,heseemslikeaballof sunshine.C’mon,youand I have the thrilling class

ofEnglishIII.”

It turnsout therestofmy classes are normal. Theonly one that wouldn’t befoundinanormalhighschoolarethemagiclessons.

***

Before I can blink, aweek has passed andtomorrow will be Saturday.

I’ve talked to Edgar everyafternoon,justbeforehegoesout on the Orchard for theday. I guess he’s been doinggood without me there. I’mgetting more used toBullock’squirkseventhoughhe gives me the coldshoulder.I’vealsolearnedtheperfect time for me to leave

dinner so that Idon’t start tochangeinfrontoftheguys.ItseemsI’mpartoftheirgroupnow. They escort mepractically everywhere. TheonlytimeIget tobealoneiswhenI’minmydorm,butit’snice to have friends whoaren’tontheinternet.

“You’ve made it a

week,”Amrsaysaswesitatdinner. I’m having somedelicious tomato bisque.“Yeah, itwasn’t as hard as Ithought it would be thoughyouguyssuredohaveahardexerciseregimen.”

Suddenly, the volumein the dining hall drops towhispers. We look around.

“What’sgoingon?”Iask.

Dantestandsandgoesover to the railing. “Shit, it’sa Royal.” He comes back tothetable.

“ARoyal?”Iask.

“A direct descendentof one of theAncients.Theynormally stay out of thenormalareaoftheschool.”

“Normal area? Youmean there is more to thisschoolthatIdidn’tsee?”

“You barely saw thetipoftheiceberg.Hush,heiscoming up here,” Horacesays.

Atleastseventeen,theRoyalstepsontotheplatform.Long, blond hair tied in a

ponytail. Piercing sapphireeyes gaze at me, and hesmiles.Hisschooluniform,adeepforestgreenandtailoredto have a perfect fit; nicerthanthedarkblueblazersandslackstheboyswear.

He walks over to meand picks up my hand; hepullsmetomyfeet.Hekisses

thebackofmyhand,muchtomy disgust. “Hello,my love,you’renowmyfiancée.”

Ipullmyhandoutofhis grasp and wipe it onmyskirt. “Excuse me?” Did hejustsaywhatIthinkhesaid?

ENGAGMENT?

“ Excuseme?”

“You are now myfiancée.” He says it again asif I should understand him,butIdon’t.Idon’tknowthisguy, and there is no way I

would ever agree to marryanyonethatIdon’tknow.

“I don’t think so. I’mfifteen,I’mnotgoingtoagreetomarryanyone,I’msorry.”

He takes a step backasifIhavescorchedhimwiththesun.“DoyouknowwhoIam?”

I shrug. “I know

you’re a Royal, but I don’tcare if you are the mostimportant person to evergrace the Earth. I’m notmarryingyouandIthinkitisvery presumptuous of you tothink that you can waltz inhere, announce that I’myourfiancée, and expect me toacceptitoutright.”

Anotherstepbackanda hand to his chest, oh boy,I’m dealing with a dramakinghere.Apregnantsilencefalls over the dining hall,worsethanitwaswithMirreninthecourtyard.

“The audacity!” Hestraightens and smiles atme.I swear my heartbeat echoes

throughout the room. “I’veneverhadanyonespeaktomelikethatinmylife!Ilikeit.”

“What?” A fly couldbuzz into my mouth rightnow and I wouldn’t evennotice. He walks over to meand closes my jaw with hisfinger. “Je vais vous fairem'aimer, mon amour.”

French, great. Only word Iunderstand in there was loveandthat’snotgood,what theHelldidhejustsay?Withhisfinger still on my chin, heleansforward,hiseyesclosedandhislipspuckered.Ohno!Notgoingtohappentwiceinone week. Seconds awayfromhimconnectingwithmy

face,Isidestep.Hestumblesforward and catches himselfontherailing.

Yes! That had todissuade him. I smile. Heturns to stare at me and mysmilefalls,he’snotdissuadedin the least. Seriously? If Ihad ever done that to a boyback home, he would have

stormed off. This guy ishappy?Ican’twrapmyheadaround these Spearwoodboys, most of them need anadjustment.

“One day, you willagreetobemybride.Iknowthis to be true.” He bows tome and I take a step back,how do I react to that? He

stands straight again andsmiles atme. “Iwill seeyoulater,mylove.”

He walks awaywithoutanotherword,leavingthe dining hall in the silencehe helped create. I let out asigh; can’t I catch some sortof break in the dramadepartment? A week here,

and I already have madeenough scenes to fill ayearbook’sblowoutsection.

I take my seat at thetablemysouphasgonecold.Iclosemyeyes.Pleaseletthevolume go back to normal.Slowly people begin talkingagainaboveawhisper.Iopenmyeyes.Thankyou.

Dante smiles andleansonthetable.“Well,youdefinitely have a pair, Fire. Ithink you’re the only one inhistorytotalktoaRoyallikethat.”

Isitbackinmychair,no longer hungry. “Yeah?Well, I don’t want to be abrideatfifteen.”

“Hewasn’tdeterredinthe least by your behavior,”Horacesays.

I look at them. “Doanyofyouknowwhathesaidin French? I only understoodone of the words. I knowsome Korean and Japanesethat’sit.”

Amr clears his throat.

“He basically said he willmakeyoulovehim.”

“Yeah? Not going tohappen.Notmytypeatall.”

Dantepusheshisplateaway; a trademark smirkcrosseshis lips.“Andwho isyourtype?”

Alltheirheadsturntogaze atme.My cheeks flush

with heat. The sexy eyedservant for one, but I don’tsaythis.“Nooneyouknow.”The truth. I doubt he wouldtake a second glance atKearn.

“You mean I’m notthe object of your affections,Fire?” I can tell he is onlykiddingaround.Amrhitshim

intheshoulder.

I laugh and shakemyhead. “Stop being agoofball.”

The pull of themoongetsstronger,nolongeradullache that I can ignore.“Anyway, boys. It’s been aninterestingevening,again,butI think I need to turn in for

the night. Still have an essayto finish for tomorrow’shistoryclass.”Aflatoutlie.Imake sure to finish all myhomeworkassoonasIcan.Idon’tgettheluxuryofhavingthe night to do it. I wish Ididn’thavetoliesomuch.Apart of me senses that theyhave an idea about what

happens to me at night.EveryonehereseemstoknowmoreaboutmethanIdo,butIcan’tseemtocomeoutandsay that I have no controlover my transformation, likethey do. I feel weakcompared to the rest of themand I don’twant to admit tothat,atleast,notyet.Perhaps

when I get to know thembetter, I will want to sharemore of my inner thoughtswith them, like I do withEdgar.

They all stand,prepared towalkme back tomydorm.Iholdupmyhand.“Finish your food. I knowhowtogettherebynow.I’m

abiggirl.”

“Nonsense, we’rewalkingyou,Fire.”

“But—”

“Nope, not up fordiscussion.”

Idon’tknowhow,butDantealwaysmanagestoputhis foot down in somefashion, and I haven’t been

able to persuade himotherwise. I roll my eyes.“Fine, Mr. Leader, lead theway.”Istepasideandgesturewithmy arm for him to takethelead.

He walks around thetable and pulls at his darkblue blazer and tightens hisonce loose tie. Holding his

chinup,heleadsthewaylikesome proud mother duck. Isnigger at the thought. I canpicture him as an orangefooted,white feathered duck,with a mane of long blackhair.

Amrleansovertome.“What’ssofunny?”

Iwhisperbacktohim,

“I was picturing Dante as amother duck. Can youimaginehimas awhiteduckwith a wig of black hair onhishead?”

Amr looks at Dante’sbackside for a long second,before he cracks up laughingasweexitthedininghall.

“What’s so funny

back there?” Dante asks. Heturns around and walksbackwardstolookatus.

“Nothing,” we say inunison, as we try to hold inthelaughter.

I like Amr. Not as inlike, like. He ‘s cool, funny,andtheonlyoneofthegroupthatdoesn’tseemtenseallthe

time. The others always feeltome like they have ametalrod stuck up their butts,which includes Dante, evenforthegoofballthatheis.

“Don’tmakemecomeback there!” he practicallyyells,hisvoiceechoesoffthewhite marble walls. Joking,of course, but he prompts

more laughter fromAmr andme with Horace and Tritonjoiningin.

Dante shakes hishead.“Youlotarenuts.”

Soon, we make it tothe door of my apartment.Just in time.The ache throbsnow. That damn Royal cutthe time I have to get to the

dorminhalf. I’mluckyIgothere in time. I put my handon the door andwait to hearthe beep of it unlocking,beforeIopenit.Iglancebackat the guys, I have yet toallow them in my livingroom. I know that theywanttoseemyplace,buttonightisnot the night for them to see

what it looks like. “Well,good night. I guess I’ll seeyouinthemorningthen.”

“Of course,” they sayin unison. As if I have myown Knights of theRoundtable, and they weighinonmyeveryword.Atleastone is always with me andwalksmenearlyeverywhere.

I guess it’s a good thing thatI’m not a complete anti-social, or I would go insanewiththemalwaysaround.

“Good night,” Tritonsays.

The others follow hisexample and I nodmy head.“Night.”

Once inside the

confine of my bedroom, Ibreatheasighofrelief.Ihaveonceagainescapedhavingtoturn in front of them;somethingIneverwant themto see. My skin falling off,and my bones cracking . . .not at all elegant, comparedto how they transform witheaseandgrace.

THEGRINCHTUTOR

I sigh as I walk

into theBackwaters; timefor

my magic tutoring sessionwithMr. Bullock. I just callhim the Grinch. If he hadbeenaliveduring the timeofDr. Seuss, I think he wouldhave based the Grinch onhim.Hishearthastobethreesizestoosmall.HemakestheDalekfromDoctorWhoseemwarmandcuddly.

I open the door andpeek inside, hoping that Imighthavebeathimhere forthefirsttime.I’mnotinluck,this time.Grinch stands nextto thedesk,hishandsbehindhis straight back. I think hisinjurieshavefinallystartedtolessenwiththeirpain;doesn’tmakehimanylessofagrump

though.

“Let’s get this overwithIwouldliketoenjoymyweekend.”

“Yeah?SowouldI.”

He gives me a sneerandturnstofacethedesk.Hewaveshishandandasimple,white feather materializes onthe desk. It may appear

innocent, but that damnedlittlethingisthecurrentbaneofmyexistence.

“You know what todo.”

“Yeah,yeah,makethedarnthingfloataboveafoot.”

I move to stand infrontof thedeskand stare atthe feather. I put my hand

out,pointingmypalmat it. Ithink about the fact that Iwant it to move under mycontrol. It wiggles, butdoesn’t even get a half aninchintotheair.

I hold my breath andtryharder, imaginingitmoveinto the air, again, just awiggle. This goes on for at

leasttenminutesbeforeIletaheavy breath out, walk overtothestudentdesk,andtakeaseat.“Thatisimpossible.”

He lets out a sigh.“No, it’snot.You’re justnotdoingitright.”

“Whose fault is that?You’remytutor,tutorme.”

His cheeks flushwith

pinkandIrollmyeyes.Boys,their minds always in thegutter, I swear. “I can’t getbetteruntilIknowwhatIamdoingwrong.”

Hepinches thebridgeofhisnose.“Fine,fine.Comehere.” I stand again, withsluggish feet I walk over tohim. I put my hand out. He

sighs and walks over to me.Grabbingmyarm,herubsthemuscle on the underside ofmy wrist with two of hisfingers. Idesperatelywant topullmyarmoutofhisgrasp,butIknowheisdoingitforareason,atleastIhopeheis.

“Relax your musclesin your wrist and hand, you

have them too tight. The airelement is meant to be calmwith things like this. If youaretryingtocausea tornado,then you can be as tense asyouwant.”

Iletthemusclesinmybody relax. “Now, don’t justpicture the feather floatingthroughtheair.Picturetheair

currents moving under it.Afterall,itistheelementweareworkingwithrightnow.”

“How am I supposedtopictureaircurrents?”

“However you wantto,thereisnorule.Ifairwasvisible, how do you think itwouldlook?”

I guess clouds. With

myeyesopen,Itrytopicturefluffy, white clouds actinglike a pillow and lifting upthefeatherhighintotheair.Itmoves,untilit’satleastthreefeet in the air. I smile, I’vedone it! With my happinessdistracting me, I lose thevisual and the feather floatsdowntothefloor.

I look to Bullock.Nothing, Not even a goodjob. I wonder what crawledup his butt and killed hishappiness.“Now,trytomoveitaroundtheroom.”

“Don’t go getting tooexcited now,” Imumble as Istaredownatthefeather.

“I’llbeexcitedwhenI

don’t have to spend my freetimeteachingyoukidstuff.”

“Then quit. My heartwon’tbleedifyoucan’tteachmeanymore.”

“I can’t do that, sowe’ll just have to stand eachotheruntil youcandomagiconyourown.”

“What is Perlow

offering you anyway? Can’tbemoney,orobjects,canit?”

He’s eyes narrow atme. “We aren’t all as cookiecutterasyouseemtobelieveweare.”Hegoes silent for amoment; his lips push outwith frustration. “You knowwhat; I’mendingour sessionearly today. You can keep

practicing this on your ownuntil Monday.” Withoutwaiting for me to sayanything,hegoestothedoorandslamsitopen.Hisschooldress shoes click louder thannormal as he stomps downthehall.

“Well, I guess I hit asorespot,”Imumbleandfold

myarmsovermychest.

“Hey, what crawledup your tutor’s butt?” Amrasksfromthehall.

I walk to the door.Theguyssitinacircleonthefloor,theirblackP.A.laptopsin their laps. “What are youguys doing out here? Youshouldbehavingfun,it’sthe

weekend.”

“We plan too; wewere just waiting for you togetoutofyoursession.”

“So youwerewaitingto hang out with me?” I’mstill trying to get used to thefact that a group of boys,around my age for thatmatter,wanttohangoutwith

mewithnoulteriormotive.

Dante stands andwalksover tome.He throwsa lazy arm around myshoulder; over the week, Ihave stopped trying evadehim. Me side stepping himeach time does nothing todeter him in the least. “Ofcourse, Fire. You’re one of

thegangnow.”

“We should getmoving, if we want to beback before dinner,” Horacesays.

“Wait,we’regoing tobegoneallday?ButIneedtomake a call; I callmy fathereverydayatnoon.”

“Well, can’t you call

himlatertoday?”Amrasks.

I shrug. “I guess Icould, later.” I know Iwon’tbeableto.IfIdon’tgetbackbefore dinner, then I won’thave timebefore I change tocall him. I can’t talk in mychangedformed.Idon’thavethevocalcords.I’msurehe’llunderstandwhenItalktohim

tomorrow.Thecallsaremorefor my benefit than hisanyway.

“Great, first we needtomakeastoptothelibrary,”Horacesays.Therestofthemstand and hold out theirhands, the laptops fly andfoldintotheircardstate.

“Thelibrary?”

“You’ll see, Fire.You’reinforanadventure.”

“I’veneverbeenonarealadventurebefore.”

“Well, then, this willbe your first and I bet you’llloveit,”Tritonsaysashepatsmeontheshoulder.

I follow them to theroom with the six doors,

leading to the recreationalareas and the dorms. So farthis week, I have only seenthe non-fiction area of thelibrary. Between thehomeworktheygiveouthereandkeepingupwiththeguysand theirworkouts, I haven’thadmuchtimetoexplore.

Ifollowthemintothe

library door and into anothercircularroomwithtwodoors,one leads to fiction and theother to non-fiction. Dantegoes through the non-fictiondoor. He holds his finger tohis mouth, shushing us. Wemove through the expansivelibrary, walking by otherstudentswithfistsfullofhair,

as they read a book for anessay they need to write;Their P.A. laptops sit on theword processor, the tinycursorblinkingatthem.

They lead me to theback of the library to a farcorner table that looks like ithasn’tbeenusedinawhile.Afine layer of dust, scratches

and dents make up thesurface. What are we doinghere? I can’t figure out theirplan. Dante looks around usforasecond,beforehekneelsdown and reaches forsomething under the top ofthedesk.Hepulls somethingoutfromthewood.Hecomesupwithasmall,squarewood

box.

“Get out your P.A.card and put it in here,” hesays. The others take theircards out and don’t questionit at all. I hesitate, buteventually put Enid into thebox.Ifiguretheywilltellmewhat we are up to in asecond.

Dante puts the boxbackunderthetable’stopandinto the place where it hadbeen before.We move backtoward the entrance. Onceoutside of the room, I can’thold it in any longer, I needtoknow.“Whydidwejustdothat?”Iask.

Danteholdshisfinger

tohislipsagain.“I’lltellyou,onceweareonhorseback.”

THEWHOCABIN

W e walk all the

way out to the horses. It’s agood thing their workoutshaveputmeinshape,orelse

my legswould be killingmeatthispoint.

The mares and theirbabiesonceagaingrazeinthefield out in front of thestables. I can't help but feelall warm and fuzzy. Mostbaby animals are adorable tome,butImanagetokeepmyooo'sandawe'stomyselfthis

time. I don't need any morecomments from the peanutgallery when it comes tomeactuallyactinglikeagirlandnot one of the guys. Isometimes wonder if theydon'tthinkIamaguy.

We go inside and sitdown on the plush, forestgreen loveseats.Wewait for

one of the servants to saddleup the horses. I want to gowatch and perhaps even helpand do my own, but I knowthat idea will get shot downrightaway.IcanhearHoracesay, 'that is work for theservants to do, let them dotheirjobs.'Itdoesn'tmatterifIhatebeingwaitedonnearly

every hour of every day.Tryingtogetawayfromtheseguys to do my own thing islike a fly trying to get offstickytape;it'sjustnotgoingto happen, at least, not anytime soon. Once I get morecomfortablewiththem,Iwilltellthemtobackoffalittle.Iwould actually like them to

staymy friends. I don'twanttobealoneragainlikeIwasback inBellingham.Here, intheir eyes, I'm not a freak ofnatureforbeingsmart,orforturningintoadragonatnight.Here, I am able to get alongwithmypeersandIlikeit.

"Your horses areready,sirsandmiss."

I know that voice. Ilook up, Kearn. I haven'tspoken,or seenhim sincehereturned the locket's piecesback to me. My heart beatsfaster. A smile pulls at mylips as I make eye contactwith him. He returns thesmileandbowstome.IwishIcouldsitdownandtalkwith

him. I want to get to knowhim better, Iwant to be ableto look at his eyes and notfeel like my world isspinning.Idoubtheevenhasa sliver of a clue that I likehim and to request him, justfor talking, sounds weird,eveninmyhead.

"Are you coming,

Avvi?"Amrasks.

He brings me out ofmystupor.Kearnnowstandsatoneof thedoors that leadsout to the stables and theothers wait for me, so that Ican follow them out to startriding.Mycheekshaveneverfeltmoreonfirethantheydoright now. I hurryup andgo

over to them. God, that wasembarrassing.

Outside in theexpansive flat area of thefield, stand five beautifulhorses. All saddled up andready for us to ride them.Kearn walks over to thesmallest one of the group.Adeep ebony mare with

speckles of whites sprinkledover her face and rear. Sobeautiful.

"This is your horse,miss.Mr.Perlowspecificallyaskedthatshebegiventoyouforyoursoleuseonly.Sheisone of the offspring of hissteed, Luther. Her name isMaryanne."

I don't look at KearnasIstepupto thehorse.Hereyes calm and curious. Ireachmy hand out to slowlytouch her snout and shepushes her head into mytouchandgivesasnort. "Doyouneedhelpgettingintothesaddle,Miss?Icanretrieveastepforyou."

Please let the earthopen up and swallow mewhole. I can't help butimagine him helping me upon the horse, with his owntwohands.Just liftingmeupandplacingmeonMaryanneasifitisnoproblematall.

"Yes, I think I willneed a step," I say. I've only

been on a horse twice andeach time I had been smallenough forEd topickmeupand put me on the horsehimself. I have no idea howtogetonthehorsethecorrectway,withoutanyhelp.

"Don't bother withgettingthat,"Tritonsays.

I turn to look at him.

"Howelsedoyouexpectmetogetonher? Idon't exactlyknow how to shift just mywingsandfly.”

"Like this," he says.Withoutwarning,hewalksupbehindmeandliftsmeup,asif I’mnoheavier thana sackofpotatoes,andplacesmeonthehorse.

I blink. I don't knowwhat to think,or say.Oneofthe shorterguys in thegroupand yet he just accomplishedthatboldmove.

"Howdoes the saddlefeel?"heasks.

I move a bit and getmyfeetandlegscomfortable."Fine," I say. Hewalks over

to his own horse, a simplebluishgreyallover.

Dante looks over atKearn from his all whitehorse. "You may leave now;we are fine to leave on ourown."

Is it just me, or doesKearngivemeonelastglancebeforehebowsand leaves?I

frown at watching him go. Iwish he could comewith us.Butwhereeverwearegoing,itseemsasiftheboyswanttobeasecretfromeveryonebutus.

It takes me a secondto get use to Maryanne’sweight shifting under mybodyandherholdingmeup.

"C'mon,webettergetmovingif we want get there at adecent time. Fire, will needtime to explore before wehave to come back fordinner."

"Where are wegoing?"

"To see an amazingtree,"Dantesays.Ican'thelp

but wonder what’s up withthe cryptic tone. I hope hetellsme soonwhywehad toleave our P.A.s behind andride to this 'amazing tree' hewantsmetoseesobadly.

"Doyouknowhowtoride?"Horace asks, ashehisbrownandwhitehorsemovesback and forth, waiting for

the go ahead to moveforward.

"I know the verybasics.Yousqueezeyourlegsa bit if you want to moveforward,nudgeonelegortheothertoturn.”

"That's the jist of it. Ithink you will be fine. Ifanythinghappens,you’vegot

trained riders here to helpyou," Amr says. His horseremindsmeofacalicocat.

I smile, and Dantegives his horse the nudge tomove forward.Webeginourtrip.Ican'thelpbutfeelabitexcited to find out what wearetravellingto.

After about fifteen

minutesofriding,Icanmakeout a line of trees off in thedistance.

I squeeze my legs alittle harder and urgeMaryanne to pick up thepace.IwanttoridealongsideDante, he has the answers towherewearegoingandwhywe had to leave our P.A.s

behind. Soon, she meets thepace of his horse. "Why didwe have to leave our P.A.sbehindinthelibrary?"

"So that theWatchersthinkwearestudying.Weareheadingtoaplacejustoutsideoftheschoolsgrounds,anditis forbidden to go that far.The P.A.s have GPS inside

them, the Watchers knowwhere we are at all timeswhen they arewith us. Theylog our movements for theGovernors."

"Watchers?"

Dante looksatmeforalongsecond,Ileanmyheadforward, to tell him to saywhatever it is that he is

thinking."Ialwaysforgetthatyou are new to all of this.Your knowledge of theFamilies and our innerworkingsiszilch,isn'tit?"

"Well, I'm learningasI go along. Perlow has yetagreed tomeetwithmeforameeting to answer myquestions. I have a feeling it

may never happen. Thelibrary doesn't have anyhistory books pertaining totheFamilies, andwhenever Itry to get something out ofone of you, you shut yourmouthstighterthanaclam."

"Yeah, where we’regoing,youwon'thavetodealwith that there. There are no

ears listening in on what wearetalkingabout."

"So you guys havebeen staying quiet when itcomes to my questionsbecausesomeoneislistening,andyouaren'tallowed to tellme?"

"TheWatchersaretheeyes and ears of Spearwood.

They monitor everything,record it all and report it tothe Governors," Dante says,his tone grim. It is the firsttime Ihaveever seenhimsoserious.

"They see you whenyou’re sleeping, they knowwhen you’re awake, theyknowifyouhavebeenbador

good," they all sing. Like adarkparodyof theChristmassong. An ominous chill rundown my spine. To knowsomeone watches me at allhours while I’m within thegroundsofSpearwood,isjustplaincreepy.

"Thenwhydotheylettheviolencegounchecked?If

they have rules to follow,whyisn'tthatoneofthem?"

"Survival of thefittest, Avalon. The Familiessee Spearwood as a way toweedoutthenothings.Ifyoucan'tsurviveSpearwood,thenwhat right do you have insharing the bloodline? If youdon't die at Spearwood, but

are still seen as a weakling,you will be stripped of yourpowers and magic. If thatprocess doesn't kill you,you’resentoutintotheworldwith nothing, not even yourname,"Tritonsays.

"Are you serious?"They have to be trying toscareme.

"Do you rememberwhen I mentioned theOutcasts the other day?"Horaceasks.

"Yeah," I say. Myheart speeds up withanticipation, I'm finallygetting answers to myquestions, but I'm starting towonder if I even want to

know them anymore. Withevery passing second, thedark cloud that hangs overthis world gets bigger,heavier.

"Let's not have thispartof theconversationhere,let'swaituntilweareinasafeplace,"Dante says.He urgeshis horse into a gallop. The

forests encompass us withinseconds; this area of landbarelytouchedbyman.Icanhowever, make out a fainttrailonthegroundinfrontofus.Itfeelslikewehavebeenriding for forever,mybutt issoreandIhopemylegsdon'tstay in this position when Iget off Maryanne. The

sunlight doesn’t comethrough the trees anymore.But somehow, I can seeperfectly fine in the dark. IguessIhaveneverbeeninthedark before while stilllookinghuman.

Soon, the rushing ofwater perks my interest. Ithen remember back on my

first day here, how Dantetalked about a great tree thatwasnexttoawaterfall.

A few more hundredfeet and light shines upahead. It shines into aclearing. As we enter it, asmall waterfall, stands aloneofftothesideoftheclearing.Itsbackdrop thejaggedgrey

stonesof themountainwe’reon.Thewaterfalldoesn'tholdmy attention long. In thecenterofitall,standsasmallcabin.Itcan'tbemuchbiggerthan my bedroom here atSpearwood.

The boys dismount,and once again Triton helpsme get down. They lead the

horses over to several smalltrees, they tie their leads tothem.

"Sometree,"Isay.

"Yup, grewovernight,"Amrsays.

“Let’s get inside. Wedon’t have a lot of time tostayoutherebeforewehaveto leave to get back to

Spearwood, before dinner isserved,”Horacesays.

I follow them insideandhavetostopinmytracksat thedoors.Thecabin, fromtheoutside,lookslikeitcouldbarely house five people justfor lounging around, theinside, another story. It’sexpansive,morethanjustone

room. Twisting iron stairsleaduptoasecondlevel.

“It’s like DoctorWho’sTardis,”Imumble.

Amr laughs. “Yeah,our dads were fans of thatshow. They mimicked it offofthat.”

“Your dad’s areawesomethen.”

“Let’s show her thelibraryupstairs,”Dantesays.

Up the winding stairswego.Thelibrary,evenmoreexpansive than the one backat the school. Row after rowof tall mahogany shelvesstand before us. Each onepackedwithbooks.

“Wow.” My fingers

itch to run along the spinesand find something to read.Theyalllooksoinviting.

“These are all thebooks that are prohibited atSpearwood. Some carry thehistoryoftheFamilies,othersareaboutthethingstheyhavedone.MostareaboutthelorethattheFamilieshavecreated

over theyears,”Horacesays.He walks over to a longcircularcouch,bigenough tofitusallcomfortably.

Once seated on thecouch.Idecidetospeakfirst,“Tell me who the Outcastsare.”

“Theyarethechildrenborn to the peoplewhowere

ostracized from theFamilies.Whenthepersonwasstrippedoftheirpowers,itissupposedtomake them unable to passthe gift on to their children,sothebloodlinedoesn’tmoveon. On occasion, however,somepeoplestillhaveasliverofmagic left in them, and itgets passed on to their

children.”

“So then, thosechildrencomehere?”

Horace shakes hishead. “Not always. Theirparentstrytohidethemfromthe eyes of Spearwood, notwanting to subject theirchildren to this place.Sometimes, they get through

the cracks, other times theydon’t. Spearwood’sGovernors bring them hereand offer to pay foreverything.Whatthepoorkiddoesn’t know is that theyhave been essentially senthere so that they can bemurdered. They weren’tsupposed tobebornwith the

gift.Someof them,however,fightbackand live.Theyarethen welcomed into theFamilies, but in doing so,must cut all ties with theirparents.”

“That’shorrible.”

“We know,” Tritonsays.

Wait a second; does

this make me one of theOutcasts? “Am I one of theOutcasts?”Iask,hesitantly.

Dante shakes hishead. “No, Fire, you’resomethingelse.”

“Well, what am Ithen?”

Heopenshismouthtoanswer, but an alarm

interrupts him. “Someoneimportant is looking for us.We need to get back to theschool, now!” Horace says,whostands.

SURVIVAL

T he next twenty

minutes blur together, werush out of the Cabin to thehorses.Werideasfastasthehorsescantakeusthroughtheforest.Iholdonfordearlife,

hopingtoGodIwon’tfalloffMaryanne and break myneck.

We make it back tothe fields of the stables inrecord time, but instead ofstopping to return thehorses,theguyscontinueriding.Ourhorses’ hooves heavy on theground.Finally,wemakeitto

the edge of the redcobblestone trail. They slowtheir horses and dismount.Dante helps me down. Twoservants walk out to us andtake the reins of the horses.“We’ll return the horses tothe stables for you, sir andmiss,”theysayinunison.

The boys don’t even

acknowledge them as theypullmealong intoa run.Mylegs shakewith tension fromthe ride, but Imanage not tofallover.

Before I have time toprocessmuchofanything,westand in frontof thedoor forthenon-fiction library.Danteopens it and we walk in,

calmly . I try to calm myheavy breathing as best as Ican without making itobvious.

Along the way, theboys grab several randombooks off the shelves. Ifollowtheirexample.

They stop in front ofme when we get to the far

back table, where our P.A.sarehidden.Ican’tseewhoorwhat they stare at. I movearound Dante to get a betterlook. Perlow sits at table,withhislapdogbehindhim.

“Ah, there you are.Getting some studying in?”Perlowasks.

All except for Triton

have tense shoulders whilelookingatthem.“Yes,sir,wewanttokeepournearperfectGPAgoing,”Tritonsays.

“Good, good. I camehere to seeMissClementine.I see that she is with you,still?”

I step forward. “Yes,Mr.Perlow.”

“I just wanted topersonally give yousomething. Now, this staysbetween us until tomorrow.Tomorrow,wewill be doingoursecondsurvivalchallengeof the year. Iwanted to giveyou the names of the peoplewhowillbeinyourgroup.”

Survivalist challenge?

“Okay.” He takes a slip ofpaper out of his suit jacketandhandsittome.

Fear grips at me as Iopen it. Threenames layonthe page and I recognize allofthem.

1.LuskMirren

2.HoraceKing

3.DerrenBullock

Dante,whoreadsovermy shoulder, says, “Youcan’tpairherwithMirrenandBullock,areyounuts?”

“Hush, Mr. Mathis,we are in a library. I don’tmake the pairings, theGovernors do and if theythink that is a good fit forMiss Clementine, then so be

it.”

The two of themstand. “Good day.” Theywalk off, leavingme look atthe piece of paper in myhand.

“Don’t worry, Fire.We’llgetyouthroughthis.”

I can’t help butwonder if I will survive

tomorrow, half of my grouphatesme.

RUNNINGFORLIFE

T he red numbers

on the screen go up anothernotch with a beep, anotherquarter of amile down.Two

hours until dinner, I wish itwasnow.Mylegswanttofalloff at any moment, is thatpossible?Becauseitfeelslikeit is. Dante has beenrelentless since we got thenews of the survivalistchallenge.Hehaduscometothegymrightaway.We’reona circuit, but I have been

running for a half-hour,before that I was on wallclimbing and the weightstation.

Before I came here Iwasmaybea littlechubby. Itmay be only a week since Igot here, but between thefood they serve and Dante’sworkouts,Ihavegaineda lot

more lean muscle anddroppedmost of the fat. Theguys are certainly cut, eachone with a different bodytype, but none of them closeto being overweight, it’scrazy. I'm starting to thinktheir genetically engineered.They do stuffwithweights Idoubtafull-grownmancould

doonhisown.

“Can I stop now?” Iask,ithurtstotalkasItrytokeepmy breathing even.Mymuscles burn and sweat rollsdownmyface.IdoubtIlook,orsmellappealingrightnow.

“You only have fivemore minutes, push yourselfpast the pain, or you won’t

survive tomorrow,” Dantesays, as he does triceps curlswith fifty-pound weights ineachhand.

His words ringominously in my ears. Fromeverything they’ve told meearlierintheday,Iknowtheyaren’tkiddingaround.Icoulddie tomorrowand thatwould

betheendofthisjourneyforme.WhatwouldEdgardo,orthink?

Ishutmyeyes.Ican’tthinklikethat,IneedtohavethemindsetthatIcandothis.I continue to run, pushingmyself past the pain and theburn.Iknowmylegswillfeellike noodles when I get off,

butinnowaywillIletmyselfdie tomorrow. No way inHell.OnceIpushmyselfpastthe point of wanting to quitandcurlupinaball,thetimefliesby.

“Time!” calls Dante,instead of ‘switch’. Thatmeanswe’redone.Ipushthestopbuttonandmoveoff the

tilted treadmill. I fall to thewoodfloorandgroaninpain.

I move to lie on myback, trying to steady myheartbeat. “You guys aregoingtobethedeathofme.”

“Better us thansomeone else then. Get up,Avalon. We still have swimtraining,”Dantesays,holding

his hand out to me. He onlyusesmy namewhen he isn’tmessingaround. I can tellbythe look in his amber eyes,thatthere’snoroomtoargue.He has a second stick stuckuphisbutttoday.

Igroanandtakeit,hepullsmeoffthefloorlikeI’mnothingbutair. “Icanbarely

stand, and you want me toswim?”

“You will need thetraining tomorrow, trust me.You don’t have a waterelement on your team.Well,wedon’tknowwhatyouare,but you haven’t been trainedin water, yet. Meaning,someone on your team will

have to swim tomorrow.Whatifyou’rechosen?”

“I won’t let thathappen,”Horace says. I lookathimandforthefirsttime,Inotice how muscular he is.Usually, he hides underneaththeschooluniform:navyblueblazer,samecolorslacks,anda white button-down shirt.

Now, he wears the gymuniform. White sweat shortsand a simple white t-shirtwithanSAembroideredonit.His arms thick with muscle,the same as his calves andthighs.Thestockybuildtype,likeTriton.

Dante speaks, briningme back to the conversation

athand.“Youcan’tbecertainyouwillbeabletocontrolthesituation.You’llhaveMirrenand what’s the other kid’sname?”Helookstome.

“DerrenBullock.”

“Right,andBullocktocontendwith. Plus, we don’tknow how this challenge isset up. Who knows if they

willallowus tohavechoiceswithwhodoeswhat?”

“Come on,” I say.“Let’s get this over with. Iwant a shower and food. Ihave no plans to die, or losetomorrow.IjustgothereandIdon’thavemyanswersyet.”

I move past them tothe door that leads to the

pool. The pool, bigger thananyIhaveeverseen.IthastobedeeperthanthelakeIusedto swim in next to theOrchard. A darkness makesup the bottom. Scuba divingcanbedoneinhere.

We’re going to havetoswimthis?I’veneverbeenin water this deep. It’s

intimidating. “Where can Ichange intoa suit?” Iask,astheotherscomeinbehindme.

“We won’t bechangingtoday.Wewon’tgettheconvenienceofswimweartomorrow. You’ll swim withthe clothes they choose togive you,” Dante says. Hestares in the water, his jaw

clenched. This situation getsdarker themoreI learnaboutit, but knowing the fearlessleader isnervousalso,makesitallthatmuchworse.

Dante steps forwardand takes a necklace off. Ididn’t even know he had.With a simple toss of hishand, the necklace flies

through the air, and landssomewhere in the middle ofthe pool. “Triton, change thetemperature of the water,makeitascoldastheicylakethey had us swim in lasttime.”

They’re going tomake the water freezing? Itake a breath in and hold it,

now I’m scared. How will Ilivethroughthis?Doesn’tthebodygointoshockatextremetemperatures?

Triton steps up to theedge of the pool. He placeshis fisted right hand againstthe flat palm of his left andtakes in a deep breath. Itreminds me of the pose

Mirren did the first day Icame here and put the scarsonhisface.

He looks down at thewaterandletsthelongbreathout. My eyes widen as Iwatchithappen,frostlikeairtumblesoutofhismouthinacrystalizedhaze.Itrollsdownon to the water and spreads

out.Foot,afterfoot,Iwatchittravel, turning the top layerinto a thin, fragile piece ofice.

“Our objective is toget my necklace out in thequickest time possible.Triton, you’ll be the fastestone out of all of us, you gofirst.”

Triton sighs and rollshis eyes. “This isn’t even achallenge.”

Stillattheedgeofthepool, he crouches down andplaces his hand in thewater,the water ripples and tinyfracturesmoveacrosstheice,but for the most part itremains intact. Within

seconds,hepullshishandoutof thewater; it isn't even redfrom the iced temperatures,he holds the necklace. Helooksandsmilesatmebeforegivingmeawink.Iblink,notsureofhowtoreact,hetossesthe necklace back into thepool, creating a hole in theice.

“I'll go next,” Dantesays. He pulls off his shirt,revealing his musclesunderneath. A blush creepsup my neck. I don't think Ihaveeverbeenaroundaguy,my own age, with his shirtoff. Dante steps up to theedge, and I notice the smallmark on his shoulder. No

bigger than a silver dollar,branded into his skin, but Ican'tmakeoutthedetails.Hetakes several deep breaths inand out, before diving intothewater.

After a few seconds,the water goes still. Is heokay?Ifidgetwithmyhands.Willhebeabletosurvivethe

coldtemperatures?Inunderaminute,he’sbreakingthroughthesurface,neartheedge.Heclimbsout.Hisbreathingnoteven labored.What are theseboys?X-Men?

Nexttogo,Amr.LikeDante, he has one of thebrands on his shoulder, andhe’s in and out of the water

beforeIhaveachancetogritmyteethwithworry.Nosignof stress from him at all. Awalk in the park for all ofthem,Iswear.

Horace doesn't evenget in the pool. Like Triton,he goes to the edge and putsouthishand.Thecloudsoverthe sky light go dark. A

vortex begins to formwithinthe water, but instead ofpulling things in, it pushesthemout. Soon, the necklaceswirlsaroundthesurface.Hisother hand reaches out, thenecklace lifts from the waterandfliesintohishand.

“Show off,” muttersTriton. Once Horace tosses

thenecklacebackin.Hegrinsat him. Triton repeats theprocess of freezing over thetoplayer.

I swallow hard.Now,it's my turn. I've never beenso scared to do something inmy life. Why can't I befearlesslikethem?

At this point, I don't

know how to calm myself,but I need to figure it out.Dante puts a hand on myshoulder. “You'll be fine,Fire, we won't let you die. Ipromise. Just focus on thetask, andnothing else.That'sthe only way to get throughit.”

I frown at his words,

but it'sgood toknowIwon'tdie tonight. I nod and moveaway from him. Pulling myshirtovermyhead,myblacksportsbrahidesmybreasts.Idon't want the bagginess ofmyshirttoslowmedown.

Itrynottothinkabouthowmuch skin I'm exposingrightnowitwillonlybefora

fewseconds.WhenIgetout,I’ll put my shirt back on. Istep up to the edge of thepool. If this were a pier, Iwould jumping to my death.Taking several slow, deepbreaths, I expand my lungsanddeflatethem.Hoping,thesmall action will somehowhelp me be victorious. With

nothing left to do, I take theplunge, divinghead first intotheicydepths.

The sharpness of thetemperature hitsmeheadon,andIhavetocovermymouthto keepmyself from gaspingand taking in water. Thedense darkness hides anyhope of finding the necklace

withjusteyesight.Iclosemyeyes, trying to focus on thejobandnotthepainthewatercausesme.Athrobentersmyeyes. I open them, and likewhen we were in the forestearlier in the day, thenecklace glints with a greenhueatthebottom,Ismirk.

With my objective in

sight, the pain of the waternumbing me to the bonedisappears. I push with mylegsandpullwithmyarmstomake myself go down.Somewhere,fromdeepinsideme,powermovesthroughmyveins, giving me the energyto move even faster. Is thiswhat happened to the guys

whentheywentunder?

My fingers grasparound the necklace’s chainand I pull it close, beforerighting myself and pushingoff the floor with my feet. Ipropel upward and kick ashardasIcan.Ibreakthroughthe ice and take a gasp forfreshair.Iopenmyeyesand

closethemjustasquick;Iputa hand over them.A rush ofblood moves through myears, like a headache, but itsgone as soon as it appeared.Withhesitation,Iremovemyhandandglancearound.Inolonger feel as if I’m staringintothesun.

I move to the edge

andpullmyselfout.Arushofcoolairhitsmyskin.I’mnoteven feel chilled and mybreatheven.WhattheHell?Istand. I wipe the water frommyeyeswith thebackofmyhandandtossthenecklacetoDante. He catches it withease.

Even with a dark

sportsbraon,Istillfeelmoreexposed than what I’mcomfortablewith. Icovermybreasts with one arm andreach down to pick up myblack t-shirtwith the other. Ipullitovermyheadandrightawayfeelhumanagain.

Iringtheexcesswateroutofmyhairandlookback

at the pool. Pride warmsmychest; I can’t believe I didthat.Shouldn’tIhavedied,oralmostdied?Whydon’tIfeelcoldrightnow?Hypothermiashould have set in minutesago.

This day just keepsgetting longer and moreconfusing by the second. It

started out with making theGrinchangryatme,andthenthe guys take me off to aDoctor Who inspired cabin,only to rush back here andfindout I’ll have to fight formyrighttolivetomorrow.

“Youdid it,your firsttime,” Dante says, soundingsurprised.

“Wasn’tthatthepointof the exercise, to completeit?”Iask,turningbacktothegroup. I let go of my hair.Theyallstareatmewithbugeyes.

“Yes, but none of usdid it the first time,” Tritonsays.

“Weren’t you all in a

survivalist challenge the firsttime?” I ask. If they didn’tmake it, how are theystandingbeforeme,alive?

“Thatwasn’t our firsttime doing something likethis,bythen,weweretrainedon how to do it,” Horacesays.

“Right, because that

answersmyquestion!”Isnap.They all recoil, not used tobeingonthereceivingendofmytemper.

I sigh and cover myfacewithmy hands. I didn’tmean to lose grasp on mytemperwiththem.“I’msorry.Mynervesarejustabitfried.Alothashappenedtodayand

even more will happentomorrow, and all I want todoiseatsomethingandgotosleep for the next thousandyears.”

COLD

“ Avvi, Avvi! Get

up.”

What?Whoiswakingmeup?Noone isallowed inmy room.Wait, why is it socold?Themarbleisneverthis

bad. My eyes open in amillisecond. It doesn’t feellike the marble, because I’mnolongerinmyroom.

I sit up and glancedown at my body, my armsinstantly go overmy chest. Ilook around, whiteeverywhere, and Spearwoodnowhere in sight. My teeth

chatterasmybraincatchesupwith the environment. I lookaround to see Horacekneeling beside me andBullock andMirren standingover me. Well, this issomewhere beyondembarrassing. Please, let theEarthopennowandswallowmewhole. I’d rather be in a

roomfullofWeepingAngels,thanhavetodealwiththetwoboysaboveme—whilenakedas theday Iwasborn—Iputmy arms around me eventighter.

“It’s good to knowhow you dress for bed,Princess.” Mirren smirks atme.

“Want me to makeboth sides of your facematch?”Igrowl.

His smirk turns to asnarl, but he doesn’t make amove.

I wish I would havetransformed in the schooluniform. I just hate the clothagainst my skin when it

burnsfromtheinsideout.

“Dantesaidthismighthappen, here.” Horace pullsoffhisshirt,revealinganotherone underneath. He does thesame thing with his sleeperpants.“Isnucktheseout,justincase.”

Once again, I get thefeelingtheyknowmoreabout

me than I do. How couldDante know I would needclothes? I take the shirt andputitonfasterthanIthoughtpossible,happytofindthatitreaches the middle of mythighs.

“Well, aren’t youPrinceCharming?Perfect fora princess,”Mirren says as I

retrieve the pants and putthem on. Horace glares athim.

“Whathappensnow?”I ask. I cross my arms overmy chest and keep my eyeson the ground. Even thoughI’m dressed, I more exposedthan ever. Not even Ed hasseen me naked in over a

decade. Now, three teenageboys have, isn’t that a littlebackwards? I haven’t evenreceivedmyfirstkissyet.

“We wait for themessage to tell us what theobjective is. Then wecomplete it and findourwayback to Spearwood,” Horacesays. He stands close to my

personalspace.“Whatsortofmessage?”

Bullock stares up atthe sky and points. “Thatkind.”

I look up, somethinggoldfloatsdowntous.Itfallsinto my hands. Like thescrolls I’ve seen on martialarts movies and anime, this

one made of gold. Why iseverythingsorichandelegantwiththisplace?Asifitneedsto be made with gold, toappease their tastes. I breakthewaxseal—ofanSandAintertwined—andunrollit.

The writing is anelegantcursivescrawl. I readit aloud for the others.

“TravelEastuntilyoureachacave. Your objective willbecome clear there.May theSun god shine for yoursouls.”

Sun god? Didn’tBullock mention somethinglike that at one point? Thescroll shakes in my handsuntilit turnstogolddustand

covers the snow. I lookup, Iwant to ask about the Sungod,butIknowthis isn’t theplaceforthat.

“Any of you knowwhichwayEast is?”Bullockasks.

Horace reaches intothepocketofhissleeperpantsand frowns. “They took my

P.A.thistime.”

Bullock and Mirrencheck themselves also. IalreadyknowEnidsitsonmynightstand.

“Bastards,” mumblesBullock. I’m a little shockedtohearhimcurse.Healwayscomes off as too proper forhisowngood.

“You don’t need aP.A. We’re still in theNorthern hemisphere, right?Look at the sun.” I point tothesun.It’sstillrising.Ithasto be around five in themorning. “The sun rises intheEastandsetsintheWest.Wefollowthesun.”

Allthreeofthemlook

atmelikeI’vegrownanotherhead. “Imay not know a lotaboutthisplace,magic,ortheFamilies, but I’m not anidiot.” I walk off toward thesun. It’s only now that Iremember I’m also barefoot.The cold doesn’t bother me,not like itwouldhavebeforeyesterday.

Beinginthedepthsofthat icy cold water haschangedmeandIdon’tknowwhy. It only brings morequestions. Am I human, orsome kind of monster? Liketherestofthem.

Like Spearwood,filled to the brim withbloodshed and greed, and no

onebatsaneyeatthefactthattheyaren’tthingstobeproudof. It’s like one big chessgame. Only the students arethe pawns, the first to besacrificed, and ifwemanageto allude capture, we can bepromoted to a better role ontheboard.It’ssick.

I glance over my

shoulder, they haven’tmoved. Probably have issuesfollowing a girl. My iregrows, I don’t like what’shappening here, and I justwanttogetbacktomyroom,tocallEdgar.“Wecaneitherwork as a group and get outof this alive, orwork on ourown. Logically speaking,

working togetherwillhelp inthefavorofstayingalive.I’mgoing to go to that cave,which is in this direction.Now, you can all comewithme,oryoucanbepigheadedand stay here to find yourfate.What’llitbe?”

Horace steps forward.Bullock follows and Mirren

takes a second beforedragging his feet through thesnow. I let out a sigh. I’mgladtheychosetocomewithme, Iwasactingbrave,but Idon’t want to do this onmyown.

“Okay, let’s keepwalking then. If this is assavage as Dante made it

sound,bereadyforanything,or anyone,” I say.Awarmthcourses through my veins. Idon’t know when ithappened,butI’veturnedintoaleaderandsomethinginmelikes it, a lot, almost toomuch.

“I’ll follow yourlead,”Horacesays.

Another surge ofwarmth, addictive. What isgoing on? Neither Bullocknor Mirren follow hisexample, but I know they’reinitforthelonghaul.

THEVOICE

W e’ve walked

for a while now. Overmanysnowyhills, some filledwithjagged rocks, some without.

Myeyes dart around. I don’tknowwhatI’mexpecting.It’snot like ninjas coming fromblack smoke will suddenlyappear. Well, I guess hereanything is possible, but Idoubt that scenario. Nothinghas happened. When theysaidsurvivalistchallenge,thiswasn’t what I was

anticipating. Following thesun might get physicallytiring after a while, but it’sjustacoldwalkinthepark.

Not too far off in thedistance something about theplain looks off. I frown. Aswe get closer, I think it is. Iput out my hand to stop theothers. a cliff’s edge

separating us from movingforward.

“It’stoowideevenfora running jump,” the wordstumble out of my mouthbefore I know what I’msaying.HowdidIevenknowthat?

I close my eyes andpinch the bridge ofmynose.

Blood rushes around in myheadandsomeone’splaysthecongadrumswithinmyskull.

Horace puts his handon my shoulder; I nearlyjumpoutofmyskin.Ilookathim. “Are you okay?” heasks.

“Honestly, I’ve feltbetter.” I turn to the other

two. “There’s two ways ofgetting across. One isbacktracking and goingaround,whichwilltakehoursor fly. Can any of you shiftintoyourfulldragonforms?”

“Areyoukidding?Wewon’tbe taught thatuntilwestartcollege,”Bullocksays.

Mirren fidgets. I turn

my eyes on him. “What?” Iask. He glares at me andcrosses his arms. I mimichim. “If you have somethingthat can help us, then say it,or we’ll die out hereeventually.”

“Well, aren’t you asavage princess. Who diedandmadeyouleader?”

I step aside and holdmy arm out toward the cliff.“No one, have an idea? Bemyguest.”

He gives me a longstare before taking off hisshirt.Itrynottostare,butit’shard not to.Are all the boyshere built in some way orform like Adonis? How is

thatpossible?Whycan’tIbean Aphrodite? I shake myhead. That’s not like me. Idon’t hold beauty up in thathighofaregard.

“Like what you see,Princess?”Anotheroneofhissmirks.

“Maybe if I wereblind. Are you taking your

shirt off for a reason, or justtopullaJerseyShoremove?”

He gives me a sneer;I’msurprisedheknowswhatI’m talking about. Perhapsthey all aren’t under a rockafter all. Kneeling down, hecloses his eyes. I watch hisback. He has a brand on hisshoulder, like Dante and

Amr’s.HoracemakesanoiseI can’t quite make out. Iglance over at him, only tofind him staring at the brandtoo. What does it mean? Iwatchas theskinofhisbackripples and a pair of leatherwingscometothesurface.Apainful reminder grips at myheart, not once does his skin

break to let them through.They just come like it’snothing but a trick on theeyes.

“I can’t fullytransform, but I can fly usacross.” Mirren stands, theredofhiswingsglowsinthesunlight. He stretches themout.Theyhave tobeaswide

astwoofhisarmslengths.Hecracks his neck beforeflapping the wings and risesupintotheair.

“What do you say,Princess? Fancy a lift?”Sarcasm drips off him, itgratesonmylastnerve.

“Horace first, don’ttryanythingnasty.”

“I wouldn’t dream ofit.Comehere,Charming.”

Horace gives me alook like I’m crazy fortrusting Mirren. I don’t trusthim,buthe’souronlyoptionfor getting across fast. I givea jerk with my head and hegoes,morewarmth surges inmychest, but thepain inmy

headgrowsstronger.Blipsofneoncolorsmovethroughmyvision.

Mirren picks Horaceup by the shirt and in twoflapsofhiswings isover thegap. He drops Horace,making him have to catchhimself on his hands andknees.

“Next?”

“Bullock,”Isay.

Bullock’sstandsstoic.Mirren goes over him andpickshimup.Hestopsabovethegapandhovers.Myheartpicksupspeed.

“You’re worth moretroublethangood,foureyes,”he says. “I could drop you

here and we both know noone would care. Survival ofthefittest,astheysay.”

He pretends to nearlydrop him. Bullock growls.“Mirren, you so much as lethim fall an inch and I willsnip your wings,permanently.” My voiceechoesoff themountain.The

hairsonthebackofmyneckstand on end. It soundsdifferent from my normalvoice. “Now, put him downon the other side and comeget me.” Mirren goes stiff,buthedoesasIsay.

As he comes to getme, thunder cracksmaking achill run down my spine. I

turn just in time, a cloud ofwhitecrashesdownfromoneofthesmallerclifftopsaboveus. There’s no way I canmoveoutofthewaytododgeit.

IgaspasMirrenpicksme up. He flies us over thegap and lands on the otherside.All threehuddlearound

me as the snow covers us.Mirren’sbodyshieldsme,myface and hands pressedagainst his warm chest. Aneternity passes before thesnowfinallystops.

Mirren moves hiswings, slowly but surelybreakingthesnowup.Itfallsoff us and the others stand.

Mirren pulls me to my feet.We have to stop thesecompromisingpositions fromhappening, their getting tofrequentformyliking.Ican’tevenlookathim.

“Don’teverdothattomeagain!”hegrowls.

“Do what? Cause anavalanche?” I take a step

back. Sure, my shoutingprobably caused it, but hedoesn’thavetogethispantiesinatwist.

He scoffs. “Don’t actlike you don’t know, youusedtheVoiceonme.”

Ifrown.“Ididwhat?”

“The Voice,” Bullocksays. “It’s something only

master Metal users can do.They tend to be leader typesand control large groups.They use the Voice to keeppeople in line.”All thatdoesis make me think of AdolfHitler,itdoesn’tsoundlikeagoodthing.

IlookatHoracetoseeif any of this rings a bell for

him.The rushing inmyheadmagnifies tenfold. Before Ican ask, I fall to my kneesandgraspmyhead.Thisisn’ta headache, it’s somethingelse.

~*~*~*~

I’m lying onsomething warm and hard.I’m moving?Where am I? I

open my eyes, we’re stillmoving toward the sun,toward the cave. Someone’scarriesmeontheirback.BothMirren and Bullock walkbesideme,soHoracehasme.I pat on his shoulder and hestops.HeletsmedownandIlook around. “Whathappened?”Iask.

“You fainted,clutchingyourhead,”Horacesays.

I remember now, thepain inmyheadhadbecometoointense.Itwasworsethanany of the transformations Ihave gone through. “I don’tknow what happened. I’vebeen getting a pain in my

headsincethismorning.”

“Iwantedtoleaveyouback there, but Charminghere,wouldn’tletus,”Mirrensays.

“Thanks for notleavingme behind,” I say toHorace.Ismile.

He clears his throatand looksaway.“Youwould

havedonethesameforme.”Idon’t know if I would’vebeenabletocarryhimonmyown, but he’s right, Iwouldn’t have left himbehind.

“Let’s keep going,I’m sure it’s not muchfarther,” I say.Thedull achereturns. Okay, perhaps, I

shouldn’t be leading rightnow. My head certainlydoesn’tliketheidea.

I takeastepbackandlet Horace lead the group.The pain eases. I found thetrigger,butIcan’tunderstandwhyitishappening.

THECAVE

“ Do you think

that’sthecave?”Horaceasks,he points to a hole in themountain side, maybe fifty-

feet above us, but no rocksleaduptoclimb.

“Well,wecan’tmoveEast anymore, so it has tobe,”Isay.

This all seems tooeasy. The worst of our trialhas been crossing a gap andbeing hit with a smallavalanche. Shouldn’t it be

harder than this? The guysmade it seem like we wouldfight for our lives while theCapitalwatched.

The only apparentway into the cave is to fly. Iwant to turn to Mirren andtellhimtohelpus,butIknowwhatwillhappenifIdothat.I rather not have another

splitting headache. Here’s tohoping he will do it on hisown.

“Nothing to say,Princess?”

“Nope, sorry todisappoint.Iknowhowmuchyoulikehearingmyvoice.”

“Youwish.”

“Anyway,” Horace

says. “Theonlywayup is tofly,sowhatwillitbeMirren.Helpallofus,oryourself?”

Ihavetoputmyhandovermymouth.IknowIwillsay something if I don’t. Ican’thavemymouthrunningoff and causing me enoughpaintofaintagain.

Mirrenlooksatme.“I

suppose, I’ll have to help allof you. Princess, here, saidshewouldsnipmywingsifIhurt that one.” He nods toBullock. “And, regardless ofhowmuchjoyitwouldbringme to see him suffer; I amratherfondofmywings.”

“Doesthisseemlikeithas been too easy to you

guys?”Ifinallyask.

“Comparedtothefewtimes they have put methrough these damnchallenges? Yes, it’s beenway too easy. By this point,there should have beenbloodshed of some sort,”Mirren says, while he takesoffhisshirt,again.

“Somethinginmygutsays we shouldn’t go upthere,”Isay.

“Wedon’thavemuchchoice in the matter, we’rerequired to finish theobjective and bringsomething back from thechallenge as proof. If wedon’t,weriskdetention.”

I have a feeling theirdetention isn’t sitting in aroom,beingboredoutoftheirskulls.Mirren takes theothertwoupfirst,beforeretrievingme. He sets me down. Asmallfire,atthecenterofthecave,castsshadowsalongthewalls, like crouchingmonsters, waiting to pounce.

The hairs on the back ofmyneck stand on end again. Istep further into the largespace;about thesamesizeasmyapartment. “Doyouguysseeanythingthattellsuswhatto do next?” A Thud makesme turn around. Where theentrance used to be, aboulder, large enough to

cover theentiretyof theholeandwhoknowshowbig it isontheoutside.

“What the?” Mirrengoes to push on it, HoraceandBullockjoinhim.Idon’tthink it moves a millimeterunder their strengthscombined.

I knew it was a bad

idea to come inhere.What’sgoing to happen next? Arepeople going to come out ofdoorsinthewallandambushus?

“Come help us,Avvi.”

I doubt I will be ofanyhelpmoving themassiverock,butIgotothemandput

myhands against it.As soonas my skin meets the coolrock, symbols light up allover it. I have no idea whattheymean.Itakeastepback,theothersdothesame.

“Shit,”Horacesays.

“What?What do theymean?”

“It’s in an ancient

languagetheFamiliesusedtosecretly communicate witheachother.InaroughEnglishtranslation, it says, ‘Only adragon’s strength can movethisearth.’”

Myheartfallsintomystomach, as the meaning ofwhat he says hits me. Theother three have already

stated they can’t shift intotheir full dragon forms yet.So, that leaves me. I willchange as soon as the moonrises.Iwillchangeinfrontofthem. Change In Front OfThem.Theywillseeitall;thegrotesquenessthatisme.

Thewallsofmychestconstrict, I can’t get a full

breath. I can’t breathe! Istumble backward; my backhits the jagged wall of thecave. My knees buckle.There’s no stopping thisassaultofemotion,itscomingwhetherIcareornot.

AsobescapesmeandIcovermymouth.The tears,hot, heavy, run down my

cheeks. This is all just a baddream; a horrible, twisted,dream. Why would this bepart of the challenge? Whatcould be gained from this?Aretheywatchingallofthis,seeing exactly what theirexperimentisdoing?

“Avvi? Avvi, it willbe okay,” Horace says as he

comestositdownnexttome.He puts his hand on myshoulder, I flinch away fromit.

“It is so far fromokay,” I whisper. My lipquivers as I look at thebolder. The symbols stillshinebrightinthefirelight—tauntingme.

Icrawlontomyhandsand knees, before standingand stumbling over to therock.“Letusout!”Iscream.Ipoundmy fists into the rock.“I know you can hear me!You assholes!” More tears.“I’ve gone along witheverything. Taking me awayfrommyhome, theover-the-

top riches, the greed,violence. What could youpossibly gain from this?” Ifallsilent, sobbing tomyself.As if they will answer me.I’mjustapawnintheirgame,and they’ve moved meforward two places for mycapture.

“Avalon, it will be

okay,”Horacemovesover tomeagain.

“Stop saying that!”The fire’s flames spikeup totouchtheceiling.

“I’llbehereforyou.”

A sorrowful laughcomesoutofme.“Oh,you’llbe here for me? Thankgoodness, that makes

everything rainbows andteddybearsnow,doesn’tit?”

“I think it’s becausewe’reherethatshe’sfreakingout,”Bullocksays.

Another laugh, I facethem and clap. “A hundredpoints toRavenclaw!For thespotonobservation.”

Inside, shrink away

from my behavior, but theangerinmedoesn’tcare.

“Someone tell me,since everyone seems toknow more about me than Ido, why I am freaking outoverthatfact?”

“Because you’ll havetotransformnakedinfrontofus, when the moon comes

out,” Mirren says. He’sleaningagainstthecavewall,relaxed.

“Oh sorry, wronganswer.Cute though, comingfrom you. Being naked infront of you all, again, is theleastofmyworries.”

“FromwhatI’veseen,your transformations are, for

lack of a betterword, pretty.No pain, your skin staysintact.You’reallAdonis likefigures with superhumanpowerstoboot.”

“We...I,won’tcarewhat it looks like,” Horacesays.Onceagaintryingtobethevoiceofcomfort,heonlymakesitworseforme.

I look to him. “Don’tmake promises you can’tkeep, Horace.” I turn awayfromhim.Theangerfades,asthe panic did. Now, I’m justnumb.

“I’ve only everchangedinfrontofmyfatherandnotevenhecould take itonce I turned six, and the

other elements of it came into play. He’d always leaveme alone and wait for it tofinish before coming to sitwith me. Eventually, he gottoooldtodothat.Hecouldn’tstayupduring thenightsandthenworkontheOrchardthenextmorning.”

My hand reaches up

to my chest for the phantomnecklaceIcant’ touch.“Igotused to being by myself.Now, I’m being forced tochange in front of one boyI’vejustmet,atutorwhohasa proverbial stick up his ass,and a jerk who I accidentlycursedwith scars for the restof his life. Yes, as you can

see,I’mthrilledabouthavingyou as an audience. I onlyhope you get your money’sworth.”

THEFINALWALL

CRUMBLES

A ftermyepisode,

we all go into our respectivecorners and our own littleworlds.Iknowwheneveninghits. I sigh, giving into thefact that I will have totransform.It’snotlikeIhaveachoiceinthematter.

“Only a little whilelonger,” I saywhenmy skin

tingles, It won’t be muchlonger.“Thenwecangetoutofhere.”

“Good,”Mirrensays.

Itcan’tevenbeahalfan hour later, when theburning starts to riseunderneath my skin, likecharcoals reddening. I closemy eyes and try to ignore it

for as long as possible. Iswallow hard. It’s as if thepain knows I’m trying toignore it. It heightens evenmore, piercing mymind andnotallowingmetohide.

I’m near the entranceof the cave, but I try to inchcloser to the shadows,wherethe flame’s light can’t quite

reach. Doesn’t do me muchgood, the light touches everycorner.Justlikethemooncanreachmewithoutneedingmeto be in its rays. The heattravels through my skin,itchingalltheway.

The clothes rub likeburlap against my flesh. Mymind goes into that corner

where modesty no longermatters. I turn my back tothem.

I take off the pantsand then the shirt and tossthem in the direction ofHorace. I bite my lip; thetalons push at my nail bed,pushing my nails out of thewayuntiltheypopoff.

Their stares, likeweights on my back. I can’tholdbackanylonger,theitchwill drivememad if I don’ttearatit.

Tears fall down mycheeks, justbeforemyvisiongoes colorblind. With bothhands,Iripattheskinonmychest. I let out a scream as I

rip myself apart. My utterhumiliation goes into thescream. Removing the skintakes care of the itch, butdoesnothing to stop thepainofthegoldenscalesrisinguptotakeitsplace.

My jaw and faceelongate as my bones crackand move, and my muscles

expand. My hands becomeclaws,andmylegsandpelvismovesothatI’mnowabletowalkonallfoursandnothingelse. A roar breaks from meas my jaw unlocks, and mynew three-spiked tail swings,crackingthewallofthecave.

My transformation iscomplete, but there’s no rest

for thewicked.I turnto lookat them, readying myself tosee thehorroranddisgustontheir faces. Shock andnothingelse.

There’s one thing Iused todowithEdbeforehestopped staying with me, Ilearned I could communicatewithhimthroughthought.

‘Well, that’s it. Oncewe get out of here, I think itwould be easier travellingbacktoSpearwood,ifyouallgetonmyback.I’llbeabletospotitonceI’minthesky.’Isendouttothem.

“I agree,” Horacesays, he puts the extrasleepersbackon.Heactsasif

he has experienced someonespeakinginhisheadbefore.

The other two alsostandandIhearnoobjectionfrom them. I wish I couldknow what they werethinking. Turning around, Ipress my head against theboulder and push it, likemoving a feather. It’s out of

thewayinseconds.

FLYING

T he guys climb

onto my back, while I standon the ledge outside of thecave. I stretchmywingsout,this feels so good. ‘Hold ontight. It’s been a really long

timesinceI’vegottentofly.’

I dive off the ledgeand billow my wings to liftme into the air. I flap themtwice to rise higher. I closemy eyes savoring thesensation.WhoknowswhenIwillgettobeoutsidelikethisagain;tomorrowI’llbeinthegildedcage.‘Holdontighter!

Iwanttospinbeforeweheadback.’ Their feet lock withmyscales.Igainmoreheight,beforegoing intoa spinwithmyheaddown.IwishIcouldlaugh in this form. Mirrengives a shout of excitementandmyinnerhumansmiles.

Just before I’m aboutto collide with the ground, I

bend and fly into the airagain, this timesearching forthe lights of Spearwood. Ispotthemofftothefarright.On foot, from the cave, itwouldbeaday’shike,maybelonger. Good thing we’reflying.

Iflapmywingsfasterand faster until I’m gliding

welloverahundredmilesperhour. We reach the schoolwithinminutes. I’m about totouch down when somethingelse in the sky catches myattention, another dragon, abrownone.Itlooksatmeandbreathes a long lineof fire; Idart to the side, nearly beingsingedbytheflames.Whois

this?They’resmallerthanmebyafewthousandpounds.

It comes after me,chasingme.Imakeabeelinefortheschoolanddroptotheground in the garden. ‘Getoff! Now!’ Just as Bullockgetsoffmyback, and Ibackup to take off again, thebrown dragon tackles me,

forcingallof itsbodyweightinto me. I slide across theground—dirt and grass goflying—hitting one of the artbuildings,crushingit.

I struggle to get upand get back into the air. Istareatit,acoldbuildsinmychest, and I have an urge tolet it out. I exhale a long

stream of frost. I’ve neverdonethat.

I hit the side if itsface,itroarsatme.Morefirecomes atme and I fly off. Itchases me down. Its teethclampdownonthetipofmytail.Iletoutaroarandthrash,trying to turn my body andget the advantage again. It

throws me through the air,butImanagetocatchmyself.

I turn around andcomeatitthistime.Isnapatits head and it snaps back. Igrab hold of its front clawswithmyown.Raisinghigherintotheair,Ipullitwithme,beforeplungingustowardtheground. I get the upper hand

and push their body in frontof mine. It hits the groundfirst,creatingachasm.Beforeitcangetup, Ipinandplacemyteethonitsneck.

AssoonasI’mgettingready to bite down the neckgets smaller, to the pointmymouth is too big for it.“Pleasedon’tkillme!”

I look at the humanunderneathme.‘You!’

Tobecontinued…

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