Chapter 2: Grease

I groaned, scowling and rolling over in my bed. Why the hell is my alarm going off? I thought, rather hostilely. I raeched out to smack the clock, thus turning the alarm off, but my knuckles cracked into the corner of the night table instead.

That woke me up enough to remember where I was and the fact that it was Monday morning. Crap. School. A glance at the buzzing clock on the desk told me that the alarm I'd set the night before had been going off for nearly nine minutes. I groaned again, pulling one of the pillows over my head. I could always pretend to be sick.

No, I told myself firmly, forcing my body out of the bed and across the small room. Why should I chicken out? It's just school. I've been the new girl plenty of times; it's not like I care.

I pushed the button to turn the alarm off, then looked around the room proudly. I'd been in the house two days, and already the room was starting to resemble the mess I knew so well. It was not yet my usual impregnable labyrinth of destruction, of course, because the rest of my stuff had not yet come in the mail. But soon.

After my brief, almost maternal pride, I picked up my towel and went into the bathroom; teach, hair, and body thoroughly cleaned, I returned and moved on to the next dilemma. What was I going to wear? It's not like I had hundreds of choices, but the ones I had were kind of varied. Did I want to scream 'stick it to the man'? Or maybe 'I hate my life'. 'I'm so glad I'm not like you'? I think that, for whatever reason, I even had a 'look how cute and dateable I am'.

At last I decided on clothes and moved on to hair and makeup. I wanted to look as boring as possible. I know that, in a little town like this, I was bound to get some attention; but I was determined to hold their attention as little as possible. Finally I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail, smudging a little black eyeliner around my eyes. I then pulled on my dark jeans and a black button-down shirt, quickly knotting my white tie. I debated about wearing a hat, but decided against it.

"Hey," I greeted Kent and Laura as I walked into the kitchen, dropping my bag and putting a foot up on one of the chairs to tie my shoe.

"Morning," Kent replied, pushing a plate of waffles my way. He then tossed an envelope in front of me. "This came for you earlier."

It did, indeed, have my name on it, which I thought was strange- the return address was from within Averton. "I'll read it when I get back," I told him, tying my other shoe.

"It's from the school," Kent argued, as if I should have known that. "You should read it now."

I sighed as I sat down, tearing the envelope open and pulling out the neatly typed letter.

"Dear Ms. Rhice," it read.
"We are pleased to inform you that, after much deliberation, it has been decided that you are to be accepted into the ranks of The Averton Elite School for Young Adult Education. We look forward to your starting here, but as a human, you can understand that we have a few concerns that must be addressed.

"First, we understand that all of your education to to this point has been in wholly human establishments. You will find us very similar to them in structure, organization, and dedication. In curriculum, however, we differ greatly.

"Second, our workload may be greater than you are used to. We cover topics you have yet to encounter, and our students work very hard. You need to be prepared to struggle, if you intend to catch up.

Third, we are sure you are not blind to the obvious dangers of accepting an altered human into our establishment. We have been assured by your family members, however, that you are a peaceful girl, willing to learn and without bias. You will be put on probation until we have fully deemed you to be so. If you keep out of trouble, you will have a very pleasant year here.

"Enclosed are copies of your schedule, a code of conduct, and dress code. You will need to report to the bus stop at the corner of Oak Way and Birch Street at 7:35 this morning. We look forward to seeing you in class.

"Sincerely,
The administration of AESYAE
Signed: Belinda Carter, Vice Principal."

I blinked. How was it that this woman had managed to insult me every way from Sunday, and I vaguely felt like thanking her for it?

"You've been accepted?" Laura asked excitedly, apparently reading over my shoulder. "Aren't you excited?"

" 'After much deliberation'?" I asked dully. "They challenged my intelligence, my ancestry, my education, and told me that they weren't sure if they wanted me or not. I'm supposed to be excited?"

"They challenged your ancestry?" Kent inquired.

"They called 'a human' several times, in a very patronizing tone," I replied.

"You can't derive tone from a letter," Laura told me.

"It sounded patronizing in my head," I retorted. "And they practically accused me of inciting riots! What is it, anyway? Why can't I just go to the normal school?"

"Most of your classmates are going to be immortal, either way," Kent said. "You're in an immortal city, Eira. The elite school is for those who go above and beyond."

"Above and beyond what?" I demanded. I'd never gone above or beyond anything in my life. "Aren't super powers enough?"

Laura laughed. "Beyond racial capabilities," she explained. "Werewolves are extremely strong, naturally. But if one of them can read minds, too, then they go to the elite school."

"Great," I mumbled. "So I've got to blend into a school full of freaky overachievers." I stood, picking up my bag.

"You haven't eaten," Laura said.

I shrugged. "I don't really like breakfast," I told her. "I'll see you later." I stuffed the papers from the envelope into my bag and headed out the door.

Once on the walk, I paused, then turned and stuck my head back into the house. "Hey! Which way's Birch Street?"

"Left," they called as one.

I exited the house again, walking down the driveway, past the truck, and veered left onto the sidewalk. Kent had offered, the night before, to give me a ride to school. I had told him that I would rather shoot myself. If you didn't want to attract attention, you did not have a community-friendly family member drop you off at high school.

Two blocks later I checked the street sign. Cedar Crossing. Another block, and I checked again. Pine Grove. Geeze, how many trees are there? I wondered bitterly. Maple Drive. God.

Finally, after five blocks, I reached what- judging by the cluster of three teenagers- I guessed was the bus stop. I stopped, standing away from the other three and counting how many shades of beige I could see on the fronts of nearby houses. The one on the corner across the street, though, was a bright cobalt blue. In the driveway were a little silver Honda and a nice black Transam. As I admired the latter, a guy walked out of the house, and my admiration changed focus. He was tall and built, lean but chiseled, as was shown off by his jeans and wife-beater. His black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and he was shrugging on a leather jacket, reminding me that I'd left my own jacket in my room. Great. School's probably going to be freezing today.

The guy saw me staring and paused halfway down the drive, smirking a little. He gave a little wave and I blushed, looking away. I heard a car door shut and looked back, to see him driving away in the Transam; a thin blue-violet thread followed, leading from me. Aw, I'm attached to the car already, I thought, trying to joke away the weird feeling in my gut. Why so many threads lately?

Squeaking breaks waned me that the bus had arrived, and I shook my thoughts away. Nothing drew attention like a dark, intense loner.

As I walked to the bus, a guy appeared who I swore hadn't been there before. Our eyes met, and I swallowed; something like fear flashed in eyes that were a startling silver, rimmed in a gray so dark it was almost black. I blinked, confused, and he scowled- I hurriedly climbed onto the bus and sat in one of the few open seats. He walked on a moment later, sending a glare my way as he sat as far away as the leftover seats would allow.

I studied him as the bus lurched forward, taking advantage of the fact that he was in front of me and therefore couldn't glare. Or, at least, I couldn't see it. He put headphones into his ears, his pinstriped shoes tapping to the beat. He had long, curly brown hair that fell over the shoulders of his gray hoodie. His head turned, as if to glance at me, but I quickly looked out the window. Was that a streak of gray I'd seen in his hair? He seemed a little young for that.

I watched out the window, trying to memorize the route to the school; eventually I was bound to miss the bus, and knowing how to get there would come in handy. The bus dropped us off (conveniently) in front of the administration building. Flanking it were two larger, two-story buildings, labeled "A" and "B". I took a deep breath and separated from the group leaving the bus, heading into the administration office.

There I found a woman with a plump figure and dyed red hair, sitting behind a cluttered desk that sported more than one doilie and candy wrapper. Her nameplate read "Mrs. Hart".

"Hi," I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I'm Eira Rhice, a new-"

"Good for you," Mrs. Hart said, glancing up. "Why are you here?"

I blinked. Wow. Feel the warmth.

"I am not here to warm you up," Mrs. Hart informed me before I could speak. "If you want warmth, get a boyfriend. Why are you here?"

"I'm new," I said, bewildered, not even bothering to ask how she knew what I was thinking. "I need to find out where to go."

"Didn't you get your letter?"

"Yeah," I said slowly. "But the schedule doesn't tell me where the classes are."

"Oh," Mrs. Hart brightened quite suddenly, a smile lighting her face. "You've been assigned a student guide. He should be out front. You have a great day, honey."

I stared for a moment, then turned to walk out. Schizzophrenic, anyone?

"I heard that," Mrs. Hart called after me.

"Maybe you were meant to," I said, though quietly. She cackled as I closed the door behind me.

By now there were only a few stragglers outside, so I waited by the door. I would much rather have had a map than a "guide", but I didn't exactly want to talk that out with Mrs. Hart, and so I waited.

After a moment a tall, smirking blond boy saw me and strolled over, hands in his pockets. Great, I thought, preparing to be unpleasant.

"You Eira Rhice?" The guy asked, stopping about a foot from me. Then he shook his head. "Never mind. Of course you're the new girl. I'm Cif."

I just crossed my arms over my chest, not saying a word. Yeah, now you know why I was never real popular in school.

The guy arched an eyebrow. "Fine. I'm guessing your schedule matches mine, since they assigned you to me. History's this way."

I followed him into building B, down the main hall, then one to the right, my arms still crossed. I caugh stares from a few people, but met them defiantly. People wouldn't like me, but they wouldn't think I was a shy newby, either.

When we stepped into the classroom, I saw that it was set up just like a normal one, with rows of dseks facing a largeer one and a dry erase board. There was a world globe on a shelf by one wall, which also held rows of books. Posters of some people I knew, and some I didn't, covered the walls. "You must me Ms. Rhice."

I jumped at the close, quiet voice, turning to see a man who looked to be in his early thirties. He wore tan slacks and a flannel shirt, wire-framed glasses perched on his beaky nose. "Uh, yeah," I replied.

"You can take that open desk to the right, there," he told me, smiling.

I nodded and moved to where he'd indicated, in the second-to-last row toward the back, right by the wall with the globe and the books. I frowned at some of the titles. "A Complete History of the Father's War". "A Legacy of Angels". "The Bloody Path: An inside glimpse of vampirism's most dangerous fundamentalist order".

An arm snaked in front of my eyes, taking hold of the first book and pulling it from the shelf. I glanced up, and the culprit was already walking away; but I recognized the hair, and the shoes. It was the hostile guy from the bus.

Before I could glare at him too long, though, the teacher stood. The tablet on his dsek said "Mr. Gregory Byrd". "Alright, who was the president during the American Civil War?" He asked clearly, in a much louder voice than he'd spoken to me in a minute before.

Hands shot up all over the place; I knew the answer, of course, but kept my hand down anyway. He called on a small girl with a cap of coppery red hair. "Joseph Harson," she said.

"Right," Mr. Byrd said, and I frowned. "Now, who can tell me what immortal war coincided with the Civil War?"

More hand shot up. "The Father's War," replied Cif, my guide, when called upon.

"Correct," Mr. byrd was obviously getting into the lesson already. "And why was it named 'The Father's War'?"

Silence reigned and glances were traded; it was obvious that they should have known the answer, but couldn't think of it. And me? Words cannot describe the depth of my confusion. Wasn't Lincoln president? There were immortal wars? How the heck did humans not find out about those?

Finally a hand went up across the room from me, and Mr. Byrd nodded. "Edom?"

Bus-guy leaned back in his seat, clearing his throat. "It was called that because of the argument Harson used against the racial conflict," he said smoothly.

"And what was that?" Byrd inquired.

"That everyone, no matter their race, ability, or degree of normalcy, has the same Father," bus-guy replied. "And are therefore bound as brothers to the same rights and responsibilities."

"Very good," Mr. Byrd confirmed, then turned to the whiteboard. "Now, the principal battles in this war were..."

By the time the bell rang nad I wandered out of class, I was in a daze. Who'd ever heard of the assassination of Counsiler Kreck? Or the great England magical blackout? Or the 1908 Act of Vampiric Peace?

Someone grabbed my arm, and I jerked away, bumping into someone lse, who I could have sworn literally growled at me. Cif held his hands up, snickering. "Jumpy?" He asked. "I just figured you might like to know where you're going."

I scowled, pushing a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "Whatever."

"Oh, she speaks," Cif said mockingly. "Come on, it's this way."

We had English next. It was pretty basic, straighforward. They were discussing "A Brave New World", which I'd already read, so I could keep up. I got a reading list, some of which I'd covered, some I hadn't. I got more stares from more people in that class, and Cif's smirk seemed to broaden when he noticed the attention I was getting.

Next he led me to the cafeteria in building A, where we joined the line for lunch. When I pulled my wallet out to pay the lady at the end of the line just smiled. "First day's free, dear," she informed me.

I blinked; this was a really small town.

"How about you come sit with me," Cif offered, putting a hand on my shoulder. Only his "offer" sounded more like an order.

"I don't think so,' I said, mostly to irritate him. I mean, I'd be sitting with someone I didn't know no matter where I sat; but Cif kind of weirded me out.

"Come on." His grip on my hsoulder tightened.

"No," I said firmly, turning and scanning the tables for empty spots.

He grabbed my elbow, pulling at me, causing me to drop my tray when I yanked away from him. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment and anger as I shoved him away and bent to clean up the ruined food.

Another pair of hands helped me, and I looked up to see a red-haired girl. We cleaned up silently, then stood, and I dumped the mess into the trashcan nearby. "Everything okay here?"

That question came in a voice I knew wasn't the red-head's. I glanced up to see another guy, the one I'd seen across from the bus-stop, with the nice car; Cif was also still there, his glare shifting from me to the red-head to car-boy. "Fine," I mumbled, immensely irritated.

Car-boy turned his gaze to Cif. "Lucifer."

"Leviathan," Cif replied, just as coldly. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

"You can have this one," car-boy said after a moment, handing me a tray of food. "I really shouldn't eat two, anyway." He winked and carried his other tray to a table with the bus-guy and a few others.

I stood there for a moment, then recovered myself and moved to an empty half of a table; as I sat, though, the red-head sat in front of me. "Can I help you?" I asked rudely.

"You can talk to me," she replied easily, opening her carton of milk. "Things have died down a little lately; a new face was just the ticket. I'm not saying you're weird or anything- that would take a lot, by our standards- but being new is instant mystery, and possible popularity. I'm Hayden."

I pursed my lips, bemused. "Eira."

"Cool name. So what brings you to Averton?" She took a bite of her meatloaf.

I followed suit, hungry. "My parents couldn't handle me anymore," I replied.

She nodded understandingly. "We get that a lot. What are you?"

I blinked, not understanding. "A junior?"

Hayden laughed, running a hand through her short, already messy hair. "I meant what race."

"Oh," I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I'm just a human."

"A human?" Hayden gaped. "That's so awesome! There was a human guy two years ahead last year, but he really didn't talk much- I've never actually met an altered human before."

"It's not all that exciting," I told her. "How about you? What do you do?"

"Me? I'm a shifter." Suddenly her nose and mouth turned into a beak, then returned to normal. "It's not all that exciting, either. Do you have the same classes as Cif?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Good," Hayden nodded. "That means I cn take you from here. Cif's not the worst of the lot, but he thinks he has more rights than he does. We're lucky Levi didn't fight him right there."

"They don't get along." It wasn't a question; it had been fairly obvious, judging by the open hostility in the glares, the surge of testosterone you could practically feel, and the fact that both of them had subtly flexed various muscles while the exchange had been going on. Oh, boys.

Hayden snorted. "Put an angel and a demon in the same room..."

I swallowed. Terms like that were still unnerving, even though Laura had explained their inaccuracy.

"Not real angels and demons," Hayden assured me quickly. "That's just the easiest term that anyone's come up with. Levi's great, though- you'd probably like him."

Great. Ten minutes in and she was trying set me up? I glanced over to see Levi talking and laughing with bus-guy. Well, Levi was laughing. "Hard to believe they're friends," I commented absently.

"Who?" Hayden inquired, looking around. "Oh. Why? Have you met Edom?"

"Not really," I answered, taking a bite of my brownie. "He just doesn't seem very friendly."

"He's not." Hayden seemed amused. "But he's a good guy. He and Levi get along pretty well. You should hang out with us sometime."

"That's okay," I said. I really wasn't looking to "hang out" with anyone. "Besides, I don't get the impression that Edom would appreciate that too much."

"Was he that bad?" Hayden asked, then sent a look his way. Surprisingly, he was looking back at her, and gave an innocent shrug, as if he'd heard what she said. "That's unusual. Ready to go?"

I blinked, glancing at my watch. "Don't we have like twenty minutes left?"

"Technically, yes," Hayden told me. "But it takes a few minutes to get to the field, and with Coach Donovan, if you're not at least ten minutes early, you're late. Come on."

Gym was, frankly, fairly typical. I ws given a choice between sweats and shorts when we got to the gym- which confused me, since Hayden's reference to a field; I chose sweats. The only thing worse than seeing a fluffy white girl running in shorts was being a fluffy white girl running in shorts.

Once we had changed, though, Hayden led me back out of the gymnasium and the building altogether, heading beyond the buildings in the opposite direction from the administration, and into an open field, where a net was already set up. Several people were already there, including a huge, frightening man with a bag of volleyballs. More students were walking behind us.

"Line up!" The bulky man- who I assumed was Coach Donovan- bellowed, and everyone was in a straight line faster than I would have thought possible. Who says teenagers are stupid?

"That's Coach Donovan," Hayden whispered. "Used to be a general in the werewolf army. He isn't as mean as he-"

"Okay, ladies!" Coach Donovan barked, interrupting her. "Volleyball."

"Powers, sir?" One guy asked.

"Not today," Donovan replied. "Team one, go to the far side of the net. One, two, one, two, one..."

As he numbered us off, Hayden looked around, as if searching for someone, then traded places with the girl on her other side. As the two of us were numbered "one", we walked to the other side of the net. "See that guy over there?" She pointed to a muscular blonde guy who looked like something out of a Viking movie. "I love going head-to-head with him."

I eyed her doubtfully; she couldn't have been more than five feet tall, and slender. She looked like a good wind would blow her over. And she thought she had a chance against that guy? Did she have a death wish?

Not that I really had room to talk. I was an artist; coordinated enough, but not, by any stretch of the imagination, physically superior. Working with kids had giben me some upper body strength, and walking everywhere had lent me some tone, but- honestly- I had no idea how to use it. An old friend used to say that I was like the lion from the Wizard of Oz. I had the ability- I was just unwilling to use it. Flattering comparison, eh?

Suddenly the whistle blew, and the next thing I knew a ball was flying in our direction. Hayden leapt in front of me, smacking the ball over the net with far more force than I would have thought possible. It soared over the heads of most of the other players; Viking-dude swatted it back our way. So the game was on.

A few things became undeniably clear through the course of the game. First, volleyball was not my game. Edom didn't seem to care for it, either; while he looked undeniably hot in his sweats and T-shirt, he just stood there, arms folded, watching the ball fly back and forth. At least I was trying.

Second, it was very obvious that Viking-dude was trying to kill Hayden with the volleyball. Grunts of effort were heard from both sides as the ball was batted back and forth. Viking-dude viciously slammed the ball, nine-five percent of the time in Hayden's direction. Unfortunately, I somehow kept ending up in the way.

"Careful!" Donovan barked, pointing at Viking dude as I fell... again. "Watch yourself, Harper."

The Viking smiled sheepishly as I picked myself up off the ground. How had the ball hit me in the side? It had knocked me right off my feet. I wondered, as I hobbled back into position, if I had any internal bleeding.

I felt something like a tug in my gut and looked up. Edom, whose streak of gray hair was hanging in his face, was looking at me, a funny smile on his face. Yet another of my white-violet cords stretched between us. I scowled, sending him a glare as I shook my head, causing the sight of the string to disappear and him to look quickly away from me.

"Sorry about that," Hayden told me, referring to my last fall as another girl prepared to serve. "Just try to stay out of the way."

I sent a glare her way, too. After several collsions with the ball, my body hurt,and I wasn't in the mood for anything. I dind't really have time to sulk, though, as the ball went back into play. I did, however, try to stay out of the way.

"Watch out!"

I half-turned- I had been looking off at Donovan, who had warned me to stay in-bounds. I wasn't even facing forward again when the ball slammed into my jaw. I dropped, then rolled over onto my back with a sigh. I hate school.

Several faces appeared above me, including Coach Donovan's and the Viking's. "Sorry about that." It was funny to me, that such an aggressive guy would have such a nice, sincere voice.

"You alright, Rhice?" Donovan inquired.

"Yep," I said dully. "Just let me lay here a second."

"Not unless you want to get stepped on," Donovan said gruffly. "Come on, you can sit on the sidelines."

The nurse, Ms. Curry, showed up with an ice pack and fussed over me for the next ten minutes. Finally the coach blew the whistle to dismiss us and I made my way to the gym to change, thoroughly embarrassed. I avoided both Hayden and the Viking-dude, who seemed to want to talk to me. When I emerged from the locker room, I looked around until I spotted Cif, then followed him- at a distance- to our next class.

Science. Oh, I was so not in the right frame of mind for this. I sat in the only open seat at a table with another girl; on our table was a microscope that appeared to have a slide in it already.

One of the things I wondered while we waited for the teacher was why this class was called science. Were we back in fourth grade? Not chemistry or biology- just "science". I pulled my schedule out of my bag, and found a block with a brief description beside the class name. "A study of immortals". That's it?

The door opened and a sleek, gorgeous woman walked into the room. Her gray slacks and white blouse accentuated feminine curves, and straight, sleek black hair fell to her waist. She had bronze skin and round black eyes, which swept the room. "Eira Rhice?" She asked in a light British accent. I raised my hand, and she looked at me. "Good to have you. You'll be behind, so you'll need to find a tutor before next class, and try to keep up."

I blinked, but she'd already begun to write on the blackboard. I glanced at my schedule again. Mrs. Donovan, I frowned. As in a relation of Coach Donovan? They didn't look anything alike.

"Over the next several weeks we're going to be reviewing cellular anomalies," Mrs. Donovan said, putting the chalk down and turning back to us. "Identifying different races and genetic markers, as well as indications of specific powers."

The girl beside me raised her hand. "I thought we were going to get into the behavioral sciences and cultures," she said, sounding disappointed.

"We'll get there," Mrs. Donovan replied. "But this comes first. Who can tell me the race of the immortal whose cells are in your scopes? Mr. Drapp?"

Cif glanced up from the scope, then back. "Umm... a shifter, in general."

"Yes," Mrs. Donovan nodded. "Specifically?"

He peered into the scope for a few more moments. "Werewolf?"

"Close." Mrs. Donovan's body seemed to ripple, and a noise almost like grinding was heard; a moment later a sleek black panther stood in her place, gazing at us. Another ripple and grinding noise, and her human self stood before us. "Those are my cells. As we study the alterations and characteristics of the races, I will be taking these cells from each of you for identification and breakdown. Now, what are the differences between the cells of a werewolf versus those of a werecat?"

If I thought I was confused after history, I was in a daze after science. Not only did other immortals exist, they had their own society, had studied themselves, made medical and scientific advances. Who in their right mind would have guessed such a thing? It was just so... ludicrous!

"Are you okay?" Hayden jogged up behind me in the hall.

"What do you think?" I snapped, putting the science textbook into my bag. "I'm fine." I sped up, weaving through the crowd of teenagers leaving the school. As I sat on the bus, I put my bag in the seat next to me so no one could sit there, then stared determinedly out the window. I could feel people looking at me, but I refused to look around.

Finally I walked up the sidewalk to Kent's home. Kent himself was in the driveway, half under the hood of his truck. He was in the stained and grimy jeans he always wore to work, and an old blue shirt- he looked up at my approach. "Hey- you look happy," he commented. "What happened to your face?"

I ignored him, knowing I probably had a bruise from volleyball. I didn't get very far, though, before his voice stopped me.

"Eira," he said clearly. "Come back here."

I rolled my eyes, turning around and walking back to within a couple feet of the truck. "Yeah?"

He straightened out, pulling a handkercheif from his pocket and wiping at the grime on his hands and arms. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I lied grouchily, adjusting the strap of my bag.

"Liar," Kent grinned. "Come on, you have to be able to talk to somebody."

I folded my arms over my chest. "My parents left a serious gap in my education."

"Well, we knew that," Kent said. "So what's the problem? Meet a cute guy?"

For some reason, that set me off. He wanted me to talk? Well, I'd talk. "Oh, yeah, plenty of cute guys," I growled. "One was an ass, another pitied me, one glared at me all day. I'm sure they all thought I was a moron, because most of the day I had no idea what was going on. Oh, and then there was the riotous laughter when one of the cute guys tried to kill me with a volleyball!"

Kent arched an eyebrow. "I think that's the most emotion I've ever seen you let out," he said. "That's a major breakthrough, huh?"

"That's not the point," I huffed. "I didn't want any attention at all, and then I ended up stared at and humiliated. These people won't stop mocking me for weeks, let alone stop laughing long enough to respect me. So now I'm stuck here because this is the only place I might be able to get what I need, and I have no chance of fitting in, making friends, or catching up!"

Kent folded his own arms, looking at me. "We can help you catch up," he informed me. "And fitting in's overrated."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

Kent gave me another look. "Okay, think about it. It's like..." He looked around. "It's like fixing a car. You can't fix the problem without getting your hands dirty. But once you've gotten covered in grime, maybe scraped your hands a couple times,"- he held up his own arms as a demonstration- "you find the problem. Then bam! The car's purring like a kitten and running like a dream., and then you can worry about washing the grease off."

I pursed my lips, my shoulders relaxing a little. "When did you become the master of metaphors?" I asked dryly. "I thought that was Grandpa Fin's job."

Kent smiled again. "Usually. But I have many various, deep aspects of my personality that few people know exist."

"Just don't tell me you wear women's underwear," I told him, turning back toward the house. "I'll be in my room, doing my homework. Or maybe hanging myself."