“Not necessary.”

  Imorean's jaw dropped as he saw Michael rest one hand on Bethany's shoulder, then lightly push her through the door into the wind tunnel. He stepped in behind her and helped to balance her in the rush of air.

  “Surely, he's not going to do that to every student,” said Imorean to Toddy.

  “I hope not,” replied Toddy.

  Imorean watched as Bethany hovered about six feet off the ground, supported by the artificial wind within the tunnel. When he was assured that she was balanced, Michael stepped back into the threshold of the entry door and faced the remaining students.

  “Allow your core to stay rigid, while the rest of your body remains relaxed,” he said. “See how she is holding her hands, just out in front of her? For now, that is how I want you to hold yourselves.”

  He turned back to Bethany and rested one hand on her back, guiding her back to the door to exit, and helping her to stand upright.

  “Very good.”

  Imorean couldn’t help but notice that Michael displayed no emotion when he spoke. The words were empty.

  “Thank you,” said Bethany, running a hand through her short, blond hair.

  “When each of you has finished your dive, please exit the gymnasium. I will let you know by tomorrow if you are qualified enough to join the team or not.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Bethany, passing the goggles back to Michael and walking quickly away.

  Imorean smiled at her as she passed him. She returned his smile with a broad, bright grin of her own. Imorean hoped that Michael would think she was good enough to join the team. He wanted as many of his friends on the team as he could get.

  “You, latecomer,” said Michael, pointing to Imorean. “I hope your friend has briefed you successfully, because you are up next in the tunnel.”

  “Me?” asked Imorean, moving hesitantly forward through the other students.

  “You were the only one who came late,” smirked Michael.

  “Yes, sir.” Imorean swallowed hard as he ascended the few steps and stopped next to Michael.

  “Goggles,” said Michael, passing Imorean a clean pair.

  “Thank you,” said Imorean, slipping them over his head and blinking a few times, adjusting to the strange feeling of having to look through plastic lenses.

  “Go for it,” said Michael, shoving Imorean forward through the entrance door.

  Imorean stifled a cry as he stumbled forward into the wind tunnel. Immediately, his legs were swept out from underneath him and he felt his body caught up by the wind from the fans. Imorean froze, not knowing quite what to do. His body hovered in the center of the tunnel, spinning quite quickly around in circles. He couldn't make a single move to control himself. His limbs felt as though they were not his own. Imorean didn't dare move an inch for fear of what might happen. He looked up at Michael in the doorway of the tunnel, searching for any sign of help. Instead, the man simply leaned on the doorway and watched, his pale eyes narrow and disdainful.

  Imorean clenched his teeth and tried not to whimper. He didn't like this. He wanted more than anything to put his feet back on the ground. This was awful. Why had he decided to do this? Then he remembered. The vacation that was threatening to be taken from them. The locked gates. The odd behavior of the staff at the school. As Imorean studied the skydiving coach, he felt certain that it all linked back to him. Imorean steadied his breathing and allowed his body to be buoyed up by the rushing air. A moment later, he relaxed. Maybe this really wasn't too bad, provided this was as high as he was going to go. As though he had heard Imorean's thoughts, Michael stepped forward and placed one hand on Imorean's back and the other on his shoulder, guiding him back to the door and out.

  Imorean couldn't help but feel immensely relieved when he could touch his feet to the floor once again. He felt that he could breathe again.

  “Well done,” said Michael quietly.

  “Thank you, sir,” replied Imorean, sweeping the goggles off his head and looking at the coach. He noticed that there was a slight wrinkle between the man's eyes. Michael's pale gaze was more piercing than normal and Imorean felt for one ridiculous second that the man was seeing not just his body, face, and physical appearance, but also his heart and soul. There was a strange, ethereal push at the back of his neck, and Imorean shook his head. When he looked back at Michael, the intense look in the coach’s eyes had vanished.

  “You should go. Your class schedule will surely be ready for pickup.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Imorean, shaking his head and passing the goggles back to Michael. The white-haired teenager walked away, looking back only when he heard the coach call for Toddy. Imorean gave his friend a confident thumbs up as he passed.

  When Imorean finally reached the entrance doors to the gym he paused. The idea of Michael being able to see his soul was ridiculous, so why had he felt like an insect under a microscope when the man had looked at him? Perhaps it was just the expression in Michael's eyes. Imorean rubbed his arms, clearing the gooseflesh that had gathered on them. There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach, but perhaps that was just from having been in a skydiving simulator. He shuddered and shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. He wanted to talk to Roxy, Toddy, and Colton together and see what they thought about all of this. He would go and collect his schedule now, and worry about everything else later.

  “Imorean!” cried Roxy.

  Imorean looked up at the sound of her voice and saw her almost instantly. She was sitting on the steps of the auditorium, holding a slip of paper in her hand.

  “Roxy.” Imorean broke into a jog to close the gap between them.

  “Take a look at this,” said Roxy, jumping up and waving the piece of paper under his nose.

  “I will if you stop waving it around,” replied Imorean, snatching at the paper unsuccessfully.

  “Here.” Roxy thrust it into his hand. She certainly seemed to be either excited or upset about something.

  “What is this?” asked Imorean, looking at the paper in his hand.

  “Honestly, for someone with as high of a GPA as you had, you can be so stupid sometimes, Imorean. It's my class schedule.”

  “What about it?” asked Imorean, scanning the words on the paper.

  “Since when does studying mythology fall under getting an art degree?” asked Roxy, narrowing her eyes.

  “Studying mythology?” Imorean passed Roxy’s schedule back to her.

  “Didn't you read it?” asked Roxy, in exasperation.

  “Not really,” replied Imorean, dodging her punch and as he made his way up the steps to the auditorium.

  “Whose group are you in?” asked one of the staff members at the door.

  “Gabriel Archer's. North Carolina,” said Imorean, looking around. He noticed three tables, each with four large folders on them.

  “Right over there,” replied the staff member, pointing to the furthest table.

  “Thank you,” nodded Imorean.

  “You wouldn't happen to be Imorean Frayneson, would you?” asked the young, female staff member behind the table.

  “I am,” replied Imorean, smiling slightly. “Why?”

  “A young lady was in here earlier asking if she could take your schedule, as well as her own.”

  “I know her.” Imorean resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  “Biology major, huh?” asked the staff member as she passed his schedule to him.

  “I am. Thank you.”

  “You're very welcome.”

  As Imorean made his way out of the auditorium, schedule in hand, he frowned. He had mythology on his schedule as well. What on earth did that have to do with a biology degree? The two were hardly related. Imorean shook his head and shrugged. It must just be a foundations class.

  “Do you have it as well?” asked Roxy sharply, as Imorean descended the steps toward her.

  “Yes,” replied Imorean, looking up at her. “I suppose that since Gracepointe is based in a country other than the United States they want us to know as much about other countries as we can, you know, get a little culture. I guess they think that by studying myths and legends is a good way to do this.”

  “Well, I certainly don't want to take it,” said Roxy, folding her arms as she waited for him at the bottom of the steps.

  “Do you think we can drop the class?” asked Imorean.

  “I'm not sure. Maybe you should go and ask Gabriel.”

  “Why me?” asked Imorean.

  “He seems to like you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I think he acts that way with all his students,” replied Imorean, rolling his eyes slightly. “Besides, it might even be too late. After all, classes start next week. I guess the rest of the students will be here over the next few days.”

  “They do!” cried Roxy, her hands landing in her hair. “Oh, that means we'll have to wear the putrid uniforms they gave us.”

  “Putrid?” asked Imorean in amusement.

  “Imorean,” said Roxy, grabbing the front of his shirt tightly. “I have to wear a skirt. A skirt!”

  “I'm sorry,” replied Imorean, trying to hide his smile.

  “I can't wear a skirt, Imorean. I've never worn a skirt in my life.” Roxy wailed and ran a hand through her dyed hair.

  “You haven't seen the male uniforms yet. You'll get a good laugh out of seeing me in a sweater vest, I'm sure.”

  “I hope I will. I could do with a good joke.”

  “You weren't supposed to say that,” said Imorean, ruffling her black hair. The green highlights in it were starting to fade away.

  “I can't leave my hair loose either,” cried Roxy, sighing in defeat. “I have to either braid it, bun it, or ponytail it.”

  “Wow, you get three choices,” said Imorean, raising his eyebrows.

  “I never tie up my hair, Imorean,” said Roxy. “Name once in all the time you've known me that my hair has been up.”

  Imorean frowned for a moment, thinking. In all honesty, Roxy was right. She always wore her hair loose, down around her shoulders.

  “This stinks,” said Roxy, folding her arms and shaking her head.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?”

  “I need to go and get ready for track tryouts. I’ll want to see you and all the gang soon though. I think I'll be busy with sports things for the rest of the day.”

  “Oh...” said Roxy, sounding disappointed. “I'll see you later then.”

  Imorean looked after her as she quickly walked away. He wondered what he had said to upset her, then shook his head. She was probably annoyed that he was leaving her alone with Mandy and Bethany. He had pressing things of his own to do. He would have to worry about Roxy later.

  Imorean changed into the running gear he had brought with him and made his way from the dormitory to the track on the sports field. He adjusted his small gym bag on his shoulder and approached the growing crowd of students on the tarmac of the track.

  “Is this the track and field tryout group?” he asked, looking at a boy he thought had been in the skydiving tryout. He was a tall boy, with shiny brown hair and brown eyes. He had a bright face, and one that Imorean immediately felt himself warming to. For a split second, Imorean wondered if he would look like this student if his own hair hadn’t gone white.

  “Yes,” nodded the boy. “You're in the right place. I'm Dustin. You?”

  “Imorean,” he replied, extending his hand.

  “Good to meet you,” said Dustin, smiling and shaking Imorean's hand. “Where are you from?”

  “North Carolina. You?”

  “Eastern Virginia,” grinned Dustin.

  “Were you on the track team during high school?” asked Imorean.

  “I was a sprinter. You?”

  “Distance runner,” replied Imorean. “I did cross country and track.”

  “Nice.”

  “Do you know who the coach is for this?”

  “I think they said it was someone called.... Coach Miller. I think that was the name.”

  “Thanks,” said Imorean, nodding.

  “No problem,” replied Dustin. “I think that's him coming now.”

  Imorean followed Dustin's gaze and spotted a short figure making its way quickly toward them from the direction of the main campus.

  “Good luck,” said Imorean.

  “And you,” replied Dustin.

  Imorean began to stretch out the muscles in his legs as the figure closed the distance between itself and the rest of the track team. He was looking forward to running again. Running was something he had always been good at, and it was something that he enjoyed.

  Imorean found himself sitting between Roxy and Toddy later that evening during dinner, glad he had decided not to attend the fencing tryouts. According to Mandy though, not very many students had shown up for them. Imorean’s entire body was sore after the workout that Coach Miller had given them for track. Every muscle in his body hurt, and he felt slightly nauseous. He had forgotten just how much energy track took out of him. Skipping breakfast didn’t help him feel less tired either.

  “Imorean,” said Roxy, jerking him out of his daze.

  “Hmm?” he grunted, looking up.

  “Are you going to eat your food, or use it as a pillow?”

  “I don't think I'm that hungry,” replied Imorean, pushing the plate a few inches further away.

  “Are you feeling okay?” asked Bethany from across the table.

  “Yeah. I had to get a shot this morning, and I think that's messing with me a little.”

  “You're pretty pale,” said Toddy, inclining his head.

  “No,” disagreed Roxy. “I think he's a nice shade of green actually.”

  “Well, when you agree on a color let me know,” sighed Imorean, resting his elbows on the table. He wanted to tell them about the gates, but for some reason, he didn’t want to mention them until he had some more information.

  “Do you want to go back to the dorm room?” asked Colton. “I'll walk with you if you do.”

  “...Actually, yeah. That would be really good of you,” said Imorean, standing up.

  “Something is really wrong with him,” said Roxy as Colton tucked his book into his bag.

  “I'm standing right next to you, Roxy. So, don't talk about me like I'm not here.”

  “Imorean never skips dinner. He's a healthy, young individual.”

  Imorean shook his head as Roxy brushed aside his reprimand.

  “Are you ready?” Imorean asked as Colton closed his book bag and stood up. The younger boy nodded as Imorean led the way to the door.

  Imorean breathed a sigh of relief as he and Colton stepped out into the cool, evening air. Being outside was soothing his nausea slightly.

  “Do you want to go back to the student health center?” asked Colton.

  “No,” said Imorean, almost immediately. “I'll just sleep this off. I'm sure it's just something I ate, or all the chaos catching up to me, it could also be the shot.”

  “Are you sure you don't want to go to the health center? You might be experiencing a negative side effect.”

  “If I still feel awful in the morning I'll pay the doctors a visit, but tonight I'd really rather not.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You're making your way to the dorms awfully early yourself.”

  “I need to get into the room before Baxter does,” said Colton, his voice becoming quieter.

  “Why is that? I mean, you've told me he snores, but surely he can't snore so loudly that it wakes you up.”

  “No, it's not that. He plays music and online games very loudly until all hours of the night. He’s not exactly quiet about it either. It’s worse when Ryan’s there.”

  “Do you think you should go and see the counseling department? They might arrange for you to switch roommates.”

  “It'll be fine. I don't want to cause a stir,” murmured Colton.

  Imorean frowned and gave Colton a concerned glance, but didn't press the subject any further. He was determined he would keep a closer eye on both Baxter and Colton, and if anything, odd happened he would drag Colton to the counseling department.

  Imorean laid awake in bed that night, his clothes for the next day were folded neatly on his trunk at the end of the bed. The teenager's eyes were riveted to the ceiling. He felt almost too nauseous to sleep, and all the unusual events of the day were doing nothing to put his mind at ease.

  He was a biology student. How on Earth was studying mythology relevant to his degree? It wasn't a class he had signed up for. There were so many questions racing around his head. Michael and Gabriel's conversation. The gates. The injection he had been almost forced to accept. Michael's unusual behavior earlier that day during the skydiving tryouts. None of it made any sense. He wished he could ask someone what was happening, but there was no one he really could ask. The only one he could think of was Gabriel, but he already knew what the man would say. Imorean rolled onto his side, facing the wall. He hoped that the new position would help to settle his stomach a bit more. Finally feeling more tired and more comfortable, the teenager yawned, closing his brown eyes. He would talk with his friends in the morning and maybe, just maybe, after some time and a team effort, they would be able to get to the bottom of what was going on.

  Imorean closed his eyes and began to drift into sleep, then his heart skipped a beat and his eyes shot open. In the darkness of his and Toddy's room, he heard a deep, dark, feral snarl. He had heard that sound before. All of a sudden, there was hot breath on the back of his neck. Imorean rolled over quickly, his chest heaving and his stomach churning, just in time to see a pair of red eyes vanish into thin air. The teenager swallowed hard. He had been fully awake. He had not imagined that. There was no possible way this had been a trick of his imagination. Imorean ran one hand through his hair. Had the demon dog of Valle Crucis followed him here? Did it actually exist? Imorean was starting to believe that it did. He laid his head back on his pillow, but kept his eyes wide open.

  “Fetch,” whispered a quiet voice.

  Imorean looked over at Toddy, wondering if his roommate was talking in his sleep again. Toddy lay dormant, his mouth closed. Imorean rolled onto his back and stared fearfully at the ceiling. There was no way that he would get to sleep now.

 

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