To say Sky wasn't a happy camper would be an understatement. According to their teacher, they would be getting a new recruit today. Already, the idea was unorthodox. Sky was in the sixteen to seventeen age group; he'd had years and years of training in the Academy, just to get him to this point. They just didn't bring new recruits in this late in the game. It just didn't happen.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. His class wasn't a particularly large one as standard Academy years went. He and a couple of the other boys had their own quarters. Well, not anymore. The commander had informed him very succinctly that he would be sharing his quarters with the newcomer from this day forth.

Of course, he'd argued that as the top of the class, he'd earned his right to his own quarters. It wasn't necessarily written in the rules, but it might as well have been. Top students got top rooming picks.

Doctor Manx had been there, though, and she'd been all too quick to rebut the point. Apparently, it was because he was the top boy that he would be getting the new roommate. She said a lot of the other boys in his class were a little too volatile – her words, not his – for the new boy to be around for such an extended period of time.

The assertion had only served to confirm Sky's belief that this new guy simply wasn't suited to Academy life. If he was too wet behind the ears to handle a guy his age, then he didn't need to be there training to be part of S.P.D.

Not that he got a chance to point that out. No, Doctor Manx and his teacher had made it clear that "that was that" and he was just going to have to go along with it.

That didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Still, he couldn't deny that he was curious as he started back to his quarters after dinner. There had to be a reason that the Academy would make such an unorthodox exception to the rules. He guessed he would see what all the hype was about when he got to his quarters. Apparently, the kid was already getting settled in, so he would be in there when he got there.

Sliding his badge over the reader by the door, he waited for the wall of metal to give way and let him into his room.

The change was obvious the moment he stepped inside. There had always been two beds in his room – they were standard for cadet quarters – but now, there were actually signs of life on the other side of the room. The shelves weren't exactly teeming or anything, but there was the odd trinket here and there, now. Most of it looked like junk salvaged from a yard, and Sky didn't want to think about just what exactly it all was.

Even with the trinkets, compared to his side of the room, it was practically bare. And come to think of it, there was no new kid in sight.

Shrugging, Sky got his sleep clothes together and started for the bathroom. Just as he reached the door, though, it opened, and he hit something solid and a hell of a lot smaller than the door was.

Whatever – or, more accurately, whomever – he hit, he and they both ended up on the ground. The other was quicker to get up than he was, practically hopping back to his feet whereas Sky gracefully pushed himself back up.

He found himself face to flushed face with another boy, and frankly, there was no way in hell this kid was sixteen. He was about a head shorter than Sky was, with a long, narrow face. His wild brown hair stuck out in too many different directions to count atop his head, and he seemed to be made up of long, coltish limbs. He was wearing the standard issue, gray S.P.D. Academy pajamas and white t-shirt, and they didn't do anything to build up his posture.

They had to be kidding him.

Almost immediately, the surprise faded from the new kid's face, and it was replaced with a broad smile that showed off straight white teeth and impossible dimples. He thrust out his hand towards Sky. "Hi. I'm Bridge Carson. I'm thirteen years old, and I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. Well, I mean, I know what I'm doing here. I'm sleeping here, or at least, I'm supposed to be, but I don't really sleep that much anyway. Don't worry, though; I won't make any noise while you're trying to sleep if I've tried to sleep but didn't do as well as you did."

As Bridge continued, Sky felt the vein on the side of his head popping more and more. This kid…God, it was like he didn't have an off button. He was practically thrumming with constant energy. Sky wondered if maybe he could cut the introduction short just by taking his hand, but the moment he reached for his hand, Bridge suddenly pulled it back.

"Sorry, I forgot," he said quickly, and slipped past Sky to run to his side of the room. Sitting on his bed was a pair of black leather gloves that he quickly pulled on, before turning back to Sky. He offered his hand again, and then cringed. "Oh, right, sorry. That probably looked really rude. I'm not putting the gloves on because I don't want to shake your hand or anything. That would be kind of weird, wouldn't it? I just don't touch things. It's better if I don't touch things, and especially if I don't touch people. It's okay with the gloves, though."

He nodded his head towards his outstretched, gloved hand, and hesitantly, Sky reached out and took it. The moment his hand settled in the other boy's, he felt something weird, like a tingle in his fingers. It felt a lot like he felt when he summoned his shields, only muted. He shrugged it off, though.

"Sky Tate," he said, giving Bridge's small, slender hand a quick shake before letting it go and returning to his bed.

Bridge was still standing where he'd left him by the time Sky sat down on his bed. "Sky," Bridge repeated, a smile pulling at his youthful face. Those dimples made another appearance, and Sky couldn't help marveling at the damn things. He'd never seen anyone over the age of ten with dimples and a smile like that; it was the sort of smile that had women cooing and girls swooning all at the same time. In all his seventeen years of life, Sky was pretty sure he'd never had a smile like that. His was always more on the cool, charming side rather than that bright beam stretched across the younger boy's face. "That's a cool name. I wish I had a cool name. You get the clouds and the birds and the sun. I don't get jack. I get water under me and lots of people burning me. Why can't "bridge" ever be used in happy idioms?"

"Bridge?"

"Yeah, Sky?"

"You talk entirely too much."

For some reason, instead of blushing or frowning, or any other reasonable reaction, Bridge just smiled that smile of his and backed up until he was sitting on his bed. "Yeah, Sky, I get that a lot," he said. "I don't like the quiet, so I tend to think out loud. One thing leads to another – one thing always leads to another. Bees lead to queens, which makes me think of Ancient England, which makes me want tea, which makes me think of how people stick their pinkies out when they're trying to look important, which reminds me of the time my dad—"

And suddenly, Bridge stopped. Of course, Sky had been just about to tell him to cut it out, so he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

All the same, he couldn't help wondering why the boy had suddenly shut up. As he laid down and shut off the lights, his thoughts continued to run rampant. What was a thirteen-year-old doing in his age group? And a new thirteen-year-old, at that. And what was the deal with those gloves of his, anyway?

It would be another few months before things started to make sense, but that was the day Sky first met Bridge Carson.