Mask

Description: When Warren Peace meets Gwyneth, a timid ice girl with a warm heart, as a freshman, neither of their lives will ever be the same.

Rated _. Friendship, Courage, School, Underdog, Some Hurt/Comfort.

I own nothing but my characters, Gwyneth, Kat, Becky, and Emily. I did NOT come up with the original concept of Gwyneth, as anyone who has seen Sky High knows.

I know this fandom is particularly small, probably nonexistent by now, as Sky High came out in like 2005, but I literally saw it just a couple weeks ago for the first time. I was intrigued by the relationship between Warren Peace and the unnamed Freeze Girl, so I began developing their backstory and Gwyneth's character, and this story and its sequel-yes, there WILL be one-were the result.

I also looked for other fanfics for this pairing, out of curiosity, to see what other people have done with this nameless character who comes in…and found almost zip. Well, there were two stories, but both seemed super cliché and I didn't fall in love with them. And in other stories, it always seems like the Freeze Girl is made into a super bitch

I felt this was unfair, and didn't necessarily have to be true. Just because her power was ice doesn't mean she has to be ice on the INSIDE too. It would be more interesting to make her heart unlike her power…even to make her uncomfortable with the abilities she has. (Hint.)

I like to think I didn't really change her—although she isn't a Barbie like in the movie, though she stays blonde. But she never got a personality, so I thought I should make her unique and likable, and my brain started turning out a potential back story for her and a history that her and Warren that would make him want to take her hand and walk off to dance with her. Her character is actually based off a good friend of mine—if you graduated a couple years ago and your initials are EQ. (Hint, hint.) So, here goes

Plus, any opportunity to write or think about Warren Peace was welcome ;) So please read, comment if you wish. I am a budding writer with ambitions to be published, and this is excellent practice as well as good fun, so constructive criticism is always appreciated! I'm 17, though, and utterly new to this, so just remember to cut me some slack.

Read and review! Just remember to be nice. If you're being negative, I want criticism on my writing, my characterization, NOT somebody just whining about how my story is stupid. I would LOVE any reviews. Reviews are love…even if I only get reviews from the few friends who I told about this (wink, wink, hint…)

To all bookworms(or storyworms), bon apetit!

Oh...and the DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Alas.

Chapter One First Day

This first chapter is a little slow, because it develops the main character, and delves into her memories and her anxiety on the first day of school. Just hang in there. It'll get more exciting, trust me.

Oh...and note for previous readers...I added a slight note about Gwyneth's white streak here and in the next chapter.

Memories are ghosts inside us.

That's the first thing in my head when I wake up, though the thought isn't nearly that articulate. I'm a zombie until I fully wake up, and my brain doesn't fully wake up until about 9 a.m. It's more of a feeling than anything, but the concept is there. Even if I could forget, the memories come into my dreams, like they have for the past week. Some are like Casper, friendly. Others, like a lot…yeah, they're more like Marley's ghost, the one that scared the life out of Ebenezer Scrooge.

I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them. Though I am awake, the dream I just left still echoes in my brain. I can hear the harsh voices of the men, my gasps of terror. I hear TJ's voice,

"Don't move, Gwyneth!"

"TJ! Help!"

"I got him!"

I press my face into the pillow. I can't run from the recollections. How can I run from something in my head? Memories are like ghosts, to me, and I cannot escape the haunting. This is the third nightmare in a row this week. They started last Monday. How many more am I going to have?

I see the face of the man standing in front of me, his gun aimed at my head. I freeze with terror. Then TJ jumps in front of the gun as the man's finger starts to curl on the trigger, and I hear myself scream in rage and horror as I lose control, my hands glowing bluish white…

"Gwyneth!"

I raise my face out of the pillow. My mom's pleasant voice calls from the kitchen. "Gwyneth, honey, it's time to get up!" She sounds so cheerful and gentle as always, that I begin to calm down. "It's a big day, first day of school!"

Big day. I shut my eyes. This is the day I've dreamed about for most of the summer, the day I would finally get to attend the one high school suited for kids like me, the school my mom attended; Sky High. I remember thinking that this would be the best day of my life. High school should be great, I tell myself. Should be.

I groan and slowly raise myself out of the pillows. Don't mope, I think. That's the past. Your first day awaits. This is The Day, the one I've been waiting for since I was a little kid. And even if I'm not as thrilled as I should be, I can't lie in bed forever.

I slowly sit up and swing my legs out of bed, feeling the smooth wood floor beneath my feet. Its familiar surface gives me a feeling of control.

Slowly, feeling early-morning stiffness, I stand. I feel my hair and see it's almost dry. Rinsing out my mouth and splashing my face with water does something to bring me back to life, and makes me feel slightly alert. I gaze into the mirror, my face dripping water, and take a deep breath. Time to face the world.

Mom's voice calls out to me again as I head down the hallway, "Honey, come on! It's time to get up-," she stops short as I trudge into the living room. "Oh, there you are."

My mother is the famous retired superheroine Shadow. She can turn invisible and walk through walls, and she's also known as Samantha Patrick, part time interior designer and full time mom.

"Hi, Mom." I hug her as she nearly squeezes the breath out of me. I breathe in cinnamon perfume and hug her warm and solid body, twice as large as her skinnier daughter.

I love Mom so much. She's the sort of person who can make anyone feel better just by walking into the room. Her cheerful smile and perpetual optimism would defy the frowns of the greatest pessimist on Earth. Lucy van Pelt would be hard-pressed to find anything grouchy to say around my mother because she's so nice.

"Your breakfast's ready, hon." Mom leads me into the dining room where Grayson is absorbed in the back of his Cocoa Puffs box. "I made your favorite—French toast and frosted flakes!"

"Thank you." I sit down at the table across from Grayson. He looks more like Mom than I do—his features straight straight and regular, unlike my rather pointed, angular face and bird nose (thanks a lot, Mother). Mom calls it aquiline, the kids at school used to call it a beak. But then, everyone has a different opinion.

"Your big day, honey bun." Dad comes in. He's dressed, ready to go to work, but he wouldn't miss seeing me off on my first day of high school for the world. He reminds a lot of people of Santa Claus; probably partly because he's a big man with a red face, partly because he's so kind and good-natured. I suppose I could see it, if he had a beard to match his prematurely white hair.

"Yeah," I say. I don't want to voice my reluctance; besides, I don't have much choice. The law says you have to go to school, and I'd rather go to this school than any other. "Sky High."

"I remember how nervous I was my first day." Mom sets a plate of French toast in front of me on top of the cereal bowl. I just poured milk into it; a bad idea, since now I have to choose between soggy cereal and lukewarm toast.

I opt for the cereal and start digging in. French toast tastes good at any temperature.

"My father thought for sure I had his superpower, and I hadn't the heart to tell him I didn't. I remember how nervous I felt walking up to the bus and asking the driver if it was the bus to Sky High."

"Yeah, and then a giant robot came and picked up the bus to eat it!" Grayson chimes in.

"The bus driver should have clapped his hand over my mouth," Mom says. "I remember him, John Barber. They gave him the job just because he was a technopath. They really didn't understand technopathy even then, you know."

"What's technopathy?" I ask.

"It's the ability to manipulate technology with your mind," Mom explains. "Some superheroes have this instinctive, innate…connection with all things mechanical or techno-," she pauses, "Technological. Sorry."

She chuckles at herself. "No one has ever understood technopaths until very recently. There are plenty of instances of people in history who had this gift. They were far ahead of their time technologically, which unfortunately also mean they were often looked down on. Some gained fame, like Archimedes, but most simply feel through the cracks—that was true even when I was in school. Why, there was this girl, Sue Tenny-,"

"Honey," Dad reminds her, "Grayson has to be at school in twenty minutes."

"Oh, right." Samantha shook her head and looked misty-eyed. "I can't believe my baby is in high school. It seems like just yesterday you were drawing on the walls and using floaties in the pool."

I roll my eyes a little, but then Mom gives me a hug. She pecks my cheek and whispers, "I shouldn't expect you to never grow up. You're going to save the world someday, and I couldn't be more proud."

I try to smile a little, ignoring the thoughts that bubble up automatically, against my will. How can I save the world? Doesn't she remember what happened just last week? How can I help others when I can't even help-

No. I push the thought firmly to the back of my head. Now is not the time for dark thoughts. Today is my day.

"Thanks, Mom," I manage.

Mom touches Grayson's shoulder. "Come on, honey bunny," she said, "Are you done with breakfast?"

"Almost," Grayson responds, though with cereal in his mouth it's more like "Mm-uhms."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, sweetheart." Mom starts going through her large black purse which sits on the "marble" countertop.

Dad comes in and kisses my cheek. "Have a good day at school, honey."

"I will, Dad. Love you."

"I love you, too." Dad hugs Mom and ruffles Grayson's hair. "I'll see y'all tonight."

"See you, tonight. Love you, honey," Mom hugs Dad back and I smile. Grayson rolls his eyes a little and mutters, "Mushy. Gross."

"It is not gross." Mom says with dignity as Dad lets go. "It's called love."

"Cooties." Grayson wrinkles his nose. "Yuck."

"Have a good day, kiddo." Dad smiles and leaves by the glass door on the side of the house. He locks it and then heads for the truck.

Grayson slurps down the last of his Cocoa Puffs and drinks the chocolate sludge out of the bowl. "I'm done."

"Good." Mom bustles around, getting last minute things. "Now go brush your teeth and get your school stuff together, all right?"

"Okay," Grayson agrees, and hops off his chair. A few minutes later he and Mom are ready to leave.

"Have a good day at school, Grayson." I smile at my little brother. He's going into first grade. He's still (temporarily) powerless, still a normal kid. He can just enjoy his life. I can never help but wonder if he'll get lucky and inherit Mom's powers. I'm not sure I'll like it if what happened to me will happen to him.

"I'll see you tonight." I hug Grayson. "Have a good day."

"You too, hon." Mom squeezes me tight and whispers, "It's your first day of school. New school, new start."

I try to respond but the words I want to say stick in my throat.

New start? Should I really be the one to have a life? Can I? No one will want to talk to me if they find out what really happened two weeks ago.

When I manage to speak I mumble, "I don't…I don't know how to demonstrate my powers without…how do I do it?"

"Oh." Mom looks a little taken aback. "Oh. I guess we never thought of that…," she hurries off, looking vaguely around. She heads into the game room, then all at once I hear her exclaim, "Oh!"

"What?"

"Here!" Mom comes back with a Ping-Pong ball. How that got there I don't know, but heck—it's the game/music/miscellaneous room. Everything is in there. "Freeze this. And drop it on the ground, too, to show that it's really frozen."

"Oh!" I hesitantly accept the Ping-Pong ball. "Thanks, Mom."

"Here you go, honey." Mom smiles at me a little wistfully, then she kisses my cheek. "Have fun at school, Gwyneth. Make friends!"

A minute later my mother and brother are gone, and I am alone in the house.

I clear the dishes, rinse them, and put them in the sink. Then I head to my room and change into the clothes I picked out yesterday; a sky blue polo shirt, clean jeans, and my favorite musical note sneakers. I brush my teeth and my blonde, straight hair and clean my glasses.

Well...blonde, all except for that stupid white streak I acquired last week. It's small and extremely thin, almost unnoticeable, but it just stands out. Hopefully nobody will ask about it, or they'll assume I bleached it.

I take my house key, pick up my iPod and headphones and put them in my pockets. I turn off all the lights and make sure the doors are locked, and leave the house.

Everything looks so bright and cheerful in the warm sunshine that I feel a sense of hope. My nightmare and my worries seem far away. Maybe this will be a good year after all. I mean, this is high school. It's Sky High. What could go wrong?

I turn on my iPod and flip through my playlists. Every single time before I go off to an important event or before I'm about to start something big, I always like to start off with a good theme song. I know it's totally a cheesy urge and most people would call it childish, but I think everyone would benefit from starting the day with music that amps them up. And right now I have my favorite pump-up underdog song of all time. I plug my earbuds into my iPod nano, clip it to my jeans and stick in my earphones.

The bursting guitar chords cut into my brain like karate chops. Almost without realizing it, I start striding along more confidently, almost aggressively. My steps fall into rhythm with the music.

Then the guitars go to full rocking mode. Nobody's watching, so I throw a few fake punches in front of me and sing along.

"Risin' up, back on the street, did my time, took my chances.

Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet, just a man"(I always say girl)

"And her will to survive.

So many times, it happens too fast;

You trade your passion for glory.

Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past,

You must fight just to keep them alive..."

I break into full voice for the refrain. I love this song so much. It always gets me so pumped up that I could willingly fight a hundred ninjas like a badass if I had this song blasting away in my ears. I don't care if it's from the 80s, I don't care if my parents think it's kind of cheesy and it's from a movie I've never seen. This song is my jam.

"It's the eye of the tiger

It's the thrill of the fight,

Rising up to the challenge of our rival

And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night

And he's watching us all in the eye…of the tiger."

Someone taps my shoulder and I jump, one of my earbuds tumbling out. A slender blonde girl a little taller than me has fallen into step with me.

"Kat! Jeez!" I hastily pause the music and stuff the earphones into my pocket. "You didn't have to scare me like that."

"Yes, I did." Kat grins at me. She always looks somewhat like a princess or a mermaid, with her long, flowing hair which is a mix between blonde and light brown—dirty blonde, Kat calls it, and her figure which is slim and yet enviably curvy, for a fourteen year old. She could probably be a mermaid, since she has an absolutely gorgeous singing voice. "It's the first day of school! I had to get in a prank. Besides, you'll never guess how I snuck up on you."

"I bet I won't. You live that way." I point ahead. "There's your house, right after this one."

"I flew out my bedroom window, then hid in that tree," Kat points over our shoulders to a sumptuous sycamore just behind us. "Then I waited until I saw you pass underneath me and I dove and landed right behind you, and fell into step with you. You didn't even notice."

Katherine Elizabeth Hawke can fly. Her mother has the ability to rocket through the air faster than the speed of sound, and almost of light, so Kat should be able to go supersonic once she's a little older and has more training, though she always worries that she'll never fly as fast as her mom, Nightingale, since her dad's a normal human like mine. She's a pretty strong flier already.

Kat points to my iPod. "You should be more careful. If I'd been a villain, I could have mugged you and stolen your iPod before you knew I was there."

I try to think of a snappy comeback, and fail. She's right; I should be more self-aware. Though it isn't likely that any villain will ever peg me as a future superhero. I'm just an ordinary kid, living in a regular suburb. I don't do anything unusual, and though she's officially retired, my mom's cover is still airtight.

"Well, you shouldn't fly in public," I finally reply. "What if someone saw you?"

"Oh, they wouldn't know it was me." Kat sounds completely sincere and then starts almost whispering . "Lower your-,"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't they know it was you?"

Kat grinned and patted the bag swinging at her side. "I closed up the blinds and curtains, then I put on a black hoodie, a red wig, a beanie, and a mask. I'll show you when we get to school. The mask is CREEPY. Then I climbed out my window. I actually hid behind a tree and made sure no one could possibly see before I quickly snapped off my disguises and shoved them in my bag. If anyone saw me in the tree or leaving my window, which no one could, they probably thought I was some stalker who murdered the real Katherine Hawke."

I cover my mouth so I don't guffaw. "You didn't!"

"I did." Kat looks fairly proud of herself. "You'd be amazed at how quickly I changed. Snapped off the mask, wig, and hat in less than five seconds, got the hoodie off in less than ten. Superman couldn't do a better job."

"Probably not." I shake my head, and add in a fake Russian accent. "You, Miss Katherine, are a mistress of disguise."

"Yes, I am." Kat imitates me, then laughs, a bubbly laugh. "I'm so excited. Today's the day we'll find out if we're Heroes or Sidekicks, and I know we'll make Heroes. Sure thing."

"Well, I know you will. You've got the coolest power ever."

"No, you do." Kat grins and winks. "Your power is literally the coolest power ever."

I smiled, tried to summon some excitement. "Yeah." Kat's excitement makes me wistful; it hadn't been so long ago that I felt the same way about my powers—awestruck, excited, eager to show them off. But not now.

We round the corner and I see the bus stop—and a short girl standing at it.

"Becky!" I almost break into a run. She turns and then runs up and hugs each of us.

"Hey, Kat. Hey, Gwyneth!" She smiles her gentle smile. Becky is probably the shortest, and the sweetest, person I know. She's four foot eight and seven eighths of an inch, has soft, feather-light brown hair and a face which is mainly pretty because you can see her nine-foot heart written all over it. She's like me—quiet, and what most would consider shy, but the best person ever. (Well, like me—except for the last bit.)

"Becky!" Kat starts bubbling along, "I scared the mess out of Gwyneth earlier. I'll show you the mask I used." The excitement suddenly melts off her face and she stomps her foot. "Oh my God, I'm stupid! I should have worn the whole disguise!"

"Yeah, but then anyone could have seen you take it off," I say. "You can't be too careful."

Kat sighs. "Yeah, I guess so. But still…,"

We all start chatting, catching up like every trio of best friends/spiritual blood siblings does when they haven't seen each other for a while. We all live practically next door to each other, so we always see a lot of each other during the summer, but we've taken vacations at various times, so it's been three weeks since all three of us were together at the same time. So we're enjoying it and almost don't notice when a yellow, ordinary-looking school bus pulls up right next to us.

We turn as the doors whoosh open. The driver, a heavy, middle-aged guy in an orange and white baseball cap nods to us in a brisk, friendly way.

"Morning!" he says. "Hop on."

I glance at the side of the bus and see nothing but SCHOOL BUS written on the side, a major tip-off. Mom told me about this. She said that The Bus, the one to Sky High, has no name on it, and she described the guy I'm seeing perfectly. All I need now is his name to be sure.

Kat reads my mind, and steps up. "Um, are you Ron Wilson?"

"Yes, indeed." The man then narrows his eyes suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"We're freshmen," Kat stutters, "We…we're going to-,"

"No!" I say, and "Ssshh!" Ron Wilson hisses at the same time. He glares at Kat. "Who are you? Who's your parent?"

"N—Janice Hawke," Kat stumbles, not sure whether to take a risk.

I sense it's time to step up. Hesitantly, I speak. "Um, my mom's Samantha Patrick. She usually goes by Sam."

Ron Wilson's eyes go wide. "Sam Patrick? You're Sam Patrick's daughter?" He beckons me closer, and I hesitantly mount the first two steps. He whispers, "Shadow's daughter?"

"Yeah. She—she told me about you."

A smile breaks out over the man's face. "Why didn't you say so? I knew your mother when we were both freshmen ourselves!" He turns toward the other occupants of the bus, pointing to me like I'm a pop star or something. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Gwyneth Patrick, daughter of…well, a certain invisible retired…lady, we know!" He beckons to Kat and Becky, and they mount the steps with more confidence. Ron Wilson immediately slams the doors shut behind them.

"Shadow's daughter!" He pats my shoulder. "Your mom saved my life once, you know. She saved the lives of an entire busload of kids—well, not unlike this one. Of course, you probably know the story."

I do. Naturally, I should, since I grew up on the tale of how my mom, a first-day freshman with no powers yet suddenly found she could turn invisible. Not only that, when she turned invisible, she could go through solid surfaces, which enabled her to disarm a robot monster which was about to tear apart her school bus. She became an instant hero, and everyone was so grateful few even remembered that she'd probably summoned the robot by asking if this was the bus to Sky High, and being answered in the affirmative.

Glancing forward, I see the bus about half full. Curious, puzzled, interested, critical, or just blank expressions face me. None looks openly hostile except for this one shadowy figure in the back. I can't see very much of them, since they're slouched in the very last row. The only detail I make out is the shoulder-length dark hair, which leads me to think it's a girl, and the glower that I can feel from rows away.

Instantly, my stomach sinks. Great. My first day and I've already caught the attention of the loner girl who hates everyone. I have nothing against loners, being extremely socially awkward by nature, but I don't like being glared at.

This person is a masterful glarer, I must admit. I'd be hard-pressed to find a better hostile, burning stare from the most sinister character in any movie. It's so intimidating it almost impresses me. Seriously, it takes talent to glare like that.

"Why don't you and your friends sit down?" Ron Wilson smiles in a friendly way, and points towards an empty row.

Kat, Becky and I sink into the seat and Ron starts the bus up again. He drives around for almost half an hour, picking up kids until all the seats are full. His driving…okay, isn't the best. He seems to drive safely and doesn't really speed, but he starts jerkily and slams on the brakes every time he stops. I know he's nice, but it makes me wonder why they choose him to be the bus driver.

"I wonder what he's going to do," Becky says. "My mom told me my dad said every bus driver has…well, a little surprise. He takes, quote, "a unique detour" to get to school. She wouldn't tell me about it."

"Oh, great. I hope he doesn't go to train tracks and then stop when a train comes," I say. "My cousin did that ALL the time. He scared everyone to death."

As if her words were a cue, Ron Wilson does a U-turn and swerves hard. We all grab the edge of the seat.

Kat, sitting by the window, turns to us. "Hey, what the heck? He just passed the orange cones and went into a closed lane. He's driving in a lane where there's construction."

"I knew it," I mutter.

Suddenly, seat belts spring out of nowhere. Belts cross each of our chests in X shapes, then fasten to unseen buckles that emerge from the seats, like the restraints on a roller coaster.

"What the…," I try to see out the window, but Kat's head is blocking the way. "Kat—move! What's going on? Can you see anything? Where are we going?"

"We're driving up some bridge," Kat says.

Becky lets out a gasp. "Tell me it isn't that new overpass they're building."

"Hold on, kids!" Ron Wilson yells from the front of the bus. "Is everyone safely strapped down? If you aren't, tell me now!"

"Yes, sir!" Everyone choruses.

"Good!"

Someone cries out from the front of the bus. "Look out, Mr. Wilson! You're driving straight toward a sign that says, 'Road Ends'!"

"WHAT?!" Kat tries to sit up, but the safety straps keep her from moving an inch. She stares out the window.

"Ohhh my Goood!" I breathe through my clenched teeth. I clutch the edge of the seat, and find myself touching both Kat's and Becky's hands. They're holding on, too.

"Heeere we go!" Ron Wilson shouts. "GERONIMO!"

The whole bus drops like a rock. My hair stands straight up, and I would have rocketed to the roof and remained plastered there if the straps hadn't held me down. All ninety-eight point eight pounds of me seem to vanish. I hear Kat and Becky screaming their heads off next to me, and I realize I'm screaming, too. All I can do is shut my eyes and clench my hands and pray I won't throw up. Logically, that should be the least of my worries, but I'm too terrified to think rationally.

Then, all at once, the bus' fall slows down. In approximately three seconds, it goes from free-falling to a slow sinking. I slowly relax and find every muscle in my body is tight as a drum. But just as I begin breathing again, the bus roars beneath us and it speeds forward.

I shriek again and grab the seat in front of me. We just fell off a bridge, but now we're driving, roaring forward like we're on a solid road. I can't see where we are, and Kat's just screaming.

I'm dreaming. This is a dream. I shut my eyes and clench my teeth. We're going an insane speed, roller coaster of death speed.

"We're flying!" Kat shrieks in my ear.

"You think?!" I yell back.

"Iwouldn'tbesofreakingscared, ifIcouldopenawindow!" Kat looks absolutely terrified. I don't blame her. She can fly, so normally she wouldn't be scared, but she's strapped down and the windows are shut. She can't escape, so if the bus falls and we're all crushed, her powers won't help her.

"At least we're not falling!" I manage to shout back over everyone's screams.

Then, incredibly, the bus slows down. We enter a cloud bank, and Ron slows down until we're coasting, like we're driving through a neighborhood. But I can see nothing but blue, and then blank whiteness out the window.

I relax, very slowly, and we all try to peer out the window. Everything is gray, blank slate with no detail or life. "Where…?" I say. "How did we-,"

Suddenly, we break out of the cloud, and I hear a massive gasp.

Finally, I find a space above Kat's head that I can see. I look out, and I can't believe my eyes.

A school building, complete with long concrete steps leading up to it and a large, grassy area crisscrossed with paths hovers, suspended amid the white clouds and blue sky. It has vast front widows, and looks exactly like every other high school building…except it's floating.

"Hoooly cow!" Becky breaths.

"Sky High," Kat murmurs, then I hear her laugh softly. "No way. THAT'S why they call it Sky High."

"Sky High!" Ron Wilson repeats. "Kept aloft by the latest in anti-gravity devices…,"

I don't hear the rest, because I'm too busy gawking. This is amazing. Mom never told me the great secret of Sky High's location, and now I see why. I never imagined anything as incredible and crazy as this.

Ron circles over a concrete road, then descends towards the curb in a smooth glide.

"Smooth and easy…," he calls out.

BUMP! Everyone jolts up and down in their seats as Ron touches down.

"Sorry!" he calls as we glide to a stop, an ordinary school bus once more. The seat belts retract into their seats. It could be any other bus, going to any other school. But we're at Sky High.