Chapter 1: The Freshwater Freshman

Kaitlyn's POV

When my letter finally, finally, comes to say that I've been accepted into Sky High, I have to sprint right outside into the Maxville "woods" so that I can cheer and somersault without getting caught. The others are used to me randomly walking – even running – out on my own with no explanation. I wouldn't get told off for that, as opposed to making too much noise. Then would come the questions about why I was making so much noise, et cetera, et cetera. So, as you can see, running out to release the verbal joy/ecstasy/euphoria is one of my better options.

Since the children's home I've grown up in is run and occupied by unsuspecting non-powered people, it takes a while for me to convince the conceited and cruel staff manager, Mrs Miller, and the other less-than-approachable kids that I haven't been rejected by their usual high school, I've just been accepted at a different high school. One which I coincidentally can't and don't talk about. This sets off a new gossip and teasing subject that I'd been admitted into a school for psychos, for dumbasses. I don't deny it, as I have no alternative explanation to offer, and anyway for once I don't care what they say about me; I'm going to Sky High! The rumours about me going to a "special needs" school – more accurate than they realise – are actually what convince Mrs Miller to let me go. She's always had it in for me, and so she probably thinks it'll do me good. The irony isn't lost on me.

I barely get to sleep on the night before my first day, so by the time it's about a normal time to get up, I've already had my first cup of coffee – and I'm just about to make my second – and sorted out my outfit which I'm now dressed in. There's not a lot of choice – or quality – in my wardrobe, but I want to make a good impression, so I pick out my black jeans, my favourite item of clothing, and a nice strappy bright-teal-coloured top, with my similarly-coloured converse – which are not proper All-Stars – to top it off. I decide to keep the stereotype alive; you know, with the whole being a hydro-kinetic, one which can control the state/temperature of the water too, blue-ish colours are kind of the theme. Plus, it helps highlight my eyes. My eyes are kind of weird; they're a blue-grey colour, but they switch between the two in different lights. Although if I start using my powers, they begin to shift to a bright ocean blue, so then the colour is hard to miss. But anyway, my outfit helps to show that my eyes are blue – not a lifeless, dull and boring colour – and goes really well with my mid-brown hair. Usually, I have my hair in smooth waves, but naturally, it's actually curly. Really curly. I'm talking, like, Emma Watson in the first Harry Potter film but more defined, curly. A lot of the time it doesn't do as it's told, and goes all frizzy, hence why I tame it in the aforementioned style.

Luckily when I leave I manage to convince the other kids that it really wouldn't be worth following me to the school-bus stop just to laugh and mock me for a few extra minutes. Good thing our textbooks are given to us at school, or they would have asked a lot of questions about my subject titles when they rifled through my backpack when I was at dinner last night.

My heartbeat picks up double-time as the bus pulls up to the stop to pick the lone passenger up; yeah, I apparently have no other supers sharing my stop. Guess I won't be able to use "I'm late because I was talking with the other kids at the bus-stop" as a regular excuse to delay getting back to Miller the Mulcher and the infestation at Daisy Bank Care Home.

The driver pushes a lever inside the bus to open the door. I find it so weird that the bus to a school for supers has a manual lever to open the door. But then I guess we have to blend. I smile and say hi to the driver after he cheers "Morning!" There's nothing on the bus or about the bus that suggests that it's picking up supers, so I decide to play it safe.

"Uh, is this…?" I don't know how to finish that sentence; I don't want to say anything that might give us away to any villain or non-super who may or may not be eavesdropping.

Lucky for me, the driver seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. He nods and smiles. "Trust me, you're in the right place."

I laugh in relief. "Thank you."

I take one of the empty double benches towards the back, not really feeling confident enough to mingle just yet. Taking my lifeline – my 8GB iPod – out of my backpack, I plug in the noise-isolating earphones, smiling as music blocks out all other noise. Music is one of my passions – it's a miracle that a) Miller let me get this thing, and b) it hasn't been stolen or broken yet. But, because of the horrible life I've had so far, I love dreaming about me in a better future, and music is often my muse for these dreams, creating a sort of soundtrack to the scenes. One of my favourite topics is dreaming about me and a guy who I would love and who would love me. Because of this, my favourite song – when I'm in that mood – is A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.

For the next few minutes, I just stare out of the window, miming along to anything that comes on. But I look up just as some other kids get on the bus. The guy has brown floppy hair, and his short stature is covered with jeans and a red, white and blue top. The girl next to him is gorgeous, with strawberry blonde hair in pig-tails, and a really shy but bright smile. She's got on a light green top with a floral skirt and jeans underneath. The whole look really suits her, and green is definitely her colour. But the guy says something that sets the bus driver off, snapping at him and closing the door quickly behind them. Pausing my music, I take my earphones out to listen. The guy tries to walk off, but the bus driver puts a hand in front of him.

"What's your name, freshman?"

"Uh, Will Stronghold."

I raise my eyebrows; it doesn't matter if I've been raised in a non-super environment, even I know who the Strongholds really are. The greatest superheroes on the planet now have a son attending Sky High, and not only that, but he's a freshman, too. Wow, didn't expect that.

The bus driver is obviously thinking similar things as he swallows. "The son of the Commander and Jetstream?"

Will just smiles, but looks like he wants to be anywhere but there.

The driver stands up, puts his hands on Will's shoulders and pulls him in front of the aisle.

"Everyone," he calls. "It's Will Stronghold, the son of the Commander and Jetstream!"

Will's tortured look gets worse, and I empathise with him completely. I've always pitied celebrities, both super and non-super, because of the publicity and lack of privacy they get, and you certainly don't need something like that when you're fourteen.

But the driver doesn't seem to notice as he sticks his hand out to shake Will's. "My name is Ron Wilson, Sky High bus driver. If there's anything I can do to make your journey more comfortable just let me know." He turns to the two kids sat behind him. "You two, up; the seat behind Ron Wilson belongs to Will Stronghold."

I think that's a bit harsh, but the geek in orange actually starts to get up.

"It would be an honour."

Will tries to walk off again. "No, it's okay, you don't have to."

"No, no, I want to," the kid insists. "You're third generation, man. Magenta, get up."

The girl in purple high-lights looks at him. "Why? He only needs one seat."

"So he can sit with his girlfriend."

Will raises his eyebrows. "Layla? No, she's just my friend."

The look that Layla has on her face is clear enough, and I suppress a smile. Oh, Layla, I think. Falling for your clueless and probably slightly idiotic best friend. I don't know how that must feel, but I do share your pain. He'll come to his senses in the end.

She recovers quickly though. "Yeah, totally. He's like my brother."

Another kid with an afro and glasses stands up. "Oh, in that case, hi." He takes off his glasses in a way that is probably meant to be seductive. "I'm Larry."

Run, Layla, run. Declare your undying love for Will now and run.

Luckily the bus starts moving again, so they have to move on from Layla's new stalker. As it happens, a really tall guy with strangely white-blond hair in the double bench next to mine stands up and calls to them both, slapping hands with Will while Layla takes a seat next to me.

"So how was your summer?" Will asks the guy.

He sighs, shaking his head. "To be honest, it was tough, man. T-U-P-H." Really? "I mean, I was seriously sweating it, with my dad saying, 'Zach, I powered up before I started shaving.' And here was me, dude, halfway through August…and zip."

Will asks his friend something too quietly for me to hear, and he responds instantly.

"Dude, do you think I'd even show up today if that happened? No. No, no. Woke up a few days ago…and bam!" He smacks his hand through the air quickly, his sudden volume making all three of us jump even if I had joined the conversation unknowingly to the others.

Will smiles. "That's great. So, what is it?"

The guy shakes his head. "You got to wait and see like everybody else. But it's awesome, man. It's awesome. Come on, it's not like you've ever powered up in front of us."

Before Will can respond, although he certainly looked like he didn't want to, we're all launched forward in our seats, the sudden movement accompanied by an apology from the bus driver – Ron Wilson apparently. Ron says good morning to another student as they get on, then starts tearing patches of the sleeves off his shirt and changing his cap. He turns around to face us, showing a new logo on his cap that wasn't there before.

"Next stop: Sky High!"

Grinning in excitement, I have to calm myself down before I turn back to the others.

"I'm Kaitlyn, by the way," I say. "Kaitlyn Rivers, but you can call me Kait if you want."

They turn to look at me, and Layla beams. "Nice to meet you. I'm Layla Williams."

"I guess I don't need an introduction," Will mumbles, rubbing the back of his head.

I put my hands up in a calming manner. "Don't worry; I don't mean any offense, but you're just a normal kid to me."

Will grins before thanking me.

"I'm Zach," the blonde guy says, giving me a cross between a salute and a wave, which I return with a grin.

Layla smiles at me once more, then frowns as her eyes focus on something behind me. She looks out of other windows, too. "Where are we?"

Following her gaze, I support her question; there's nothing here apart from a few cones and a high bridge that we're going across. The worst part is that we can't see anything on the other side of it.

Suddenly, a bar seals our legs into the booth, and double belts clip themselves over our shoulders. This isn't a good sign.

"Hang on, back there," Ron warns us, so not helping my anxiety. "We're going off-road."

Huh? We're what? Right, where's the emergency break?

Too late. Ron flips a few more levers over, and gives an excited "Here we go!" before the bus plummets off some kind of edge.

The sensation of falling from the height that I can now see we've reached – by looking out the window at our destination (Maxville, Ground Floor) unless some miracle happens – sickens me with fear. My stomach contents freezes then cycles around somehow, and though I would love to join the rest of the bus population in screaming for my life, I hold a hand over my mouth, screaming with my lips closed in case my breakfast – however small it was – decides it's had enough of my digestive system. Ron cries out some kind of rodeo-style noise of enjoyment.

Suddenly, the bus seems to halt in its descent slightly, hovering in the air, and I hear some mechanical system kicking in below us as the bus probably gains a few new accessories. A couple of seconds, and then I'm blasted back in my seat by the thrust of what must be the new engines underneath.

My fellow freshmen and I cry out in surprise at the change of momentum, then continue our screams as our senses of vision and gravity inform us of Ron's death-defying flying. The crazy flying and screaming continues for another few minutes before Ron smoothes to a coast.

Oh, that couldn't have stopped soon enough.

"There she is; Sky High!" Ron says proudly.

We all strain to see out of the window as we circle the school; a fairly large student campus, with the school building all as one block, and the rest of the land as lush, welcoming green. I can picture myself spending a fair bit of time outside, just relaxing on the grass when the weather permits. And the whole campus is hovering in the sky on a floating platform, the metal of which can be seen from beneath.

"Kept aloft by the latest in anti-gravitational propulsion," Ron continues to play tour-guide. "She is in constant motion as a precaution against those who otherwise might have nefarious plans. Her location is supplied only to a group of highly-qualified individuals such as myself, Ron Wilson, bus driver."

Smirking sidelong at our bus-driver, I suddenly get why he needs to both cover and expose his inferiority complex so completely; he's driving the school bus of a group of supers, the next generation of world famous world-savers. He feels nothing next to them – I mean, he drives the bus and I haven't seen any powers from him so far – but he also feels responsible, and rightly so; he's the one behind the wheel. It's his job to get us to school on time or at all, and if we don't have that, they'll be no replacement supers when the current ones retire.

While I was busy with my musings, we flew closer to the school, and now Ron's pulling a few more levers to help with the landing.

"Smooth and easy," he sighs.

The bus crashes and jostles as we touchdown, shaking all thoughts from my head momentarily. I can imagine the sheepish look on Ron's face as he calls out, "Sorry!"

We all stand up and gather our things, waiting for Ron to open the doors for us to file off.

"Word of advice," he calls, "don't miss the bus, 'cus the bus waits for no one. 'Cept for you, Will Stronghold."

I grimace for Will behind me before we all turn back to the bus driver.

"You ever runnin' late, or you runnin' early, or you just wanna talk," Ron impressively whips out a business card from somewhere, "gimme a call."

"Thanks, Ron," Will says, holding up the card in a sort of salute of thanks.

Ron says something after that, but I'm too busy gazing around in wonder at the school campus to pay attention.

The grounds are huge in comparison to the actual building. There's the runway for buses that I've just left, then the rest is green, with a couple of footpaths leading to the main entrance of the school. It expands into a semi-circular paved area before meeting some stairs. At the top of those stairs the school sits on a whole raised platform, with passage-ways underneath, leading to the back of the school campus. And all around, there's just plenty of open space and grass and trees, and it looks amazing. Yeah, I'm going to have a great time at school now.

The whole group of us freshmen look up as two older girls fly over our heads, then land gracefully and continue walking and talking as if it's just another day. I guess it is for them, but from someone who hasn't exactly had that much exposure to other supers and casual use of powers, it's heart-warming to see.

In another direction, two guys stare after at good-looking girl. A red laser suddenly zaps out of the eyes of one of the guys, striking the girl on her rear, and the pair snigger as she cries out and turns around. I sigh; I guess boys will be boys wherever you go. Only now they have powers. Great. But as the guys laugh at their act, their smiles literally freeze on their faces; the girl turns around, spies the culprits and sticks her hands out to shoot ice straight at them, encaging them in a solid block of ice. I grin. The guys may have super powers, but so do the girls.

A rhythmic chant redirects my attention, and I spy a group of cheerleaders doing some kind of welcome, although I'm far too distracted by the fact that they're all identical to listen to what they're saying. After doing a few stunts, the girls on the outside of the group suddenly shrink into sort of gold butterfly-things that retract into the middle girl. Oh, I get it; her power is to copy herself. That makes more sense than…I don't know septuplets or something.

Anyway, all of us continue walking towards the entrance. Before we've got a few more steps, however, a wind rushes past and our heads turn to try and find the source. But the wind continues to blow around us, circling us in a blur or movement. We all huddle closer together to avoid getting hit by whatever is zooming around us.

Uh oh.

Finally, after completely messing up my hair, the wind stops, and a chubby guy in a fairly athletic get-up with a baseball cap worn backwards appears in front of the group.

"Hey, freshmen! Your attention please," he says obnoxiously, folding his arms as another guy stretches himself from the top of the stairs to by his friend's side. This skinnier guy in jeans, an orange T-shirt and a hoodie with black-and-white striped sleeves twists to stretch his muscles.

Oh, great. I forgot they were going to be here.

I shrink a little further down, shuffle a little further towards the back and shake my head a little so my hair falls in front of my face.

Luckily, neither of them notice, and the skinnier one talks to the group in general.

"I'm Lash," he pats his friend on the shoulder. "This is Speed, and as representatives of the Sky High Welcoming Committee…" He stretches his arm toward the kid in orange who wanted to give up his seat for Will as Speed finishes his sentence.

"…We'd be happy to collect that fifteen-dollar new-student fee."

Oh, yeah, I think sarcastically. Because your initial introduction and the skull on your T-shirt is real welcoming.

The kid looks confused. "Um, there was nothing about a new-student fee in the handbook."

Yikes; he just totally made himself an even bigger target for these douches.

"Okay, guys," a mature and saving voice gives a long-suffering sigh, and Lash retracts his arm. "Very funny. I'll take it from here."

Speed and Lash give us one last disgusted look before retreating. In their place now stands a beautiful woman who's favourite colour is quite obviously and distinctly pink. She has a really bright smile, which is refreshing after the contempt we received from Speed and Lash before.

"Hey, everybody, I'm Gwen Grayson, your student body president. I know you're all going to love it here at Sky High."

Her voice is cheerful and welcoming, and she's showing nothing but friendliness to us all. So, with all that – which would cause me to like someone immediately, like it's done with Layla – why do I feel like there's something off about her? Why do I not trust her? Why do I feel like she's the last person I want to be welcomed by?

To distract myself from this weird unease, I gaze around the school grounds a bit more, and I'm once again struck by the beauty. This would be the perfect place to relax and do work, experimenting with my powers where doing something like I can do is normal. To have found a place like this and been accepted here is a genuine dream come true.

"If you could just remember those few simple rules," Gwen's voice fades back into my senses, "I promise you will not fall off the edge of the school."

The rest of the group laughs as I smother my faint anxiety.

Whoops, maybe I should have been listening. I'm sure they're not beyond common sense though, so I should be fine. I'll ask the guys if I still feel nervous later.

"Now if you could all just follow me inside for orientation."

Gwen leads us through the school building, and I try not to look and act like a kid in a toy-store, gazing and gasping at the corridors and classrooms that we pass. It all looks so bright and open; just my kind of environment. We collect our name badges before being taken to our first "class".

Gwen directs us to a large gym, and she leaves us there probably to go and start her classes. The floor is polished wood with the Sky High logo printed in large. On either side there's a set of bleachers, with an umpire's chair on the right. At the far end is a large window with a dais and lectern in front of it. We all stare in wonder at the place, but also in a little bit of fear; we'd soon be having PE lessons, and it looks like they took them seriously here.

A rustling and sparkling sound makes us turn to look back towards the doors, and we all gasp in amazement and duck down as a cross between a comet and a star meanders its way to the dais. It hovers there for a few seconds before fading as a friendly but strict-looking woman descends from it, spinning. She smiles at us as she lands by the lectern, and we all gawk at her.

"Good morning," she greets us, her voice echoing around the gym. "I am Principal Powers, and on behalf of all the faculty and staff, welcome to Sky High."

A thrill runs through me once again; I'm really here!

It's then ruined by Zach cheering inappropriately, clearly demonstrated by the look the principal gives him.

"In a few moments," she continues, "you will go through Power Placement, and your own heroic journey will begin."

Principal Powers carries on talking while Will mutters, confused. "Power Placement?"

"Sounds fascist," Layla comments.

"Power Placement," the orange guy – Ethan, according to his name-tag – describes. "It's how they decide where you go."

His friend with the purple highlights, Magenta, flips her eyebrows. "The hero track or the loser track."

"Th-th-there's a loser track?" Will stutters nervously. What's up with him?

"I believe the preferred term is 'Hero Support'," Ethan murmurs.

I tune back into the principal's pep talk.

"For now, good deeds and good luck. Let the adventure begin. Comets, away!"

From the side of the lectern, she now spins back up into her awesome mode of personal transport and shimmers out of the doors again. As our heads turn to follow her, we see a stern-looking gym teacher appearing on a platform rising out of the floor. I try to keep my eyes on his face so that I don't cringe at how much leg is being shown by his horrific shorts.

"Alright, listen up," he demands. "My name is Coach Boomer. You may know me as Sonic Boom."

I raise my eyebrow. Um, sorry, but…no.

"You may not," he allows. "Here's how Power Placement is gonna work. You will step up here and show me your power. Yes, you will do so in front of the entire class."

I can see some of the people here shift uncomfortably, Layla and Will among them. Don't get me wrong; I'm pretty nervous, too. Yeah, my power may be impressive, but I'm quite scared of judgement generally. Seeing as that's the main aim of this exercise – being judged – that's just a little out of my comfort zone. Also, I know I've been talking about how cool it will be to be able to show my powers openly here, and that I've been wanting that for a while, and those are all true. But I've got so used to having to hide my powers that participating in such an open and individual display is a little unnerving, even though I know such abilities are normal to these guys.

Coach Boomer goes on regardless of the reactions he can clearly see. "I will then determine where you will be assigned; hero or sidekick."

Ah; the aforementioned loser track, given by the way the coach bit the word out. I'm not one of these arrogant people who think sidekicks are weaklings and losers et cetera. But I'm empathetic and realistic enough to be able to see how some people would think that, and how much of a target they would be for said arrogant people.

"Now," the coach continues, beginning to pace with his foreboding clipboard held behind his back. "Every year there are a few students – or, as I like to call them, whiner-babies – who see fit to question and to complain about their placement." He faces us again. "So let's get one thing straight; my word is law. My judgement is final. So there will be no 'whiner-babies'. Are we clear?"

The whole group mutters a begrudging acceptance.

"I said, are we clear?!"

We all bend backwards and squint against the sonic pulses bursting our eardrums and inducing a wind directly into our faces.

"Yes, Coach Boomer!" we all chant obediently.

The coach blows his whistle.

"Go time!" he says enthusiastically.

Whirring and tapping announces the presence of some metal stairs appearing from the side of the platform. Boomer whips off glasses dramatically, and narrows his now-exposed eyes at the geek who tried to flirt with Layla.

"You; what's your name?"

The poor kid looks terrified, and I can completely empathise. "L-larry."

"Little Larry," Boomer mocks, to which he only nods. "Get up here."

After looking around briefly for support – and finding only faces staring at him – he makes his way towards then up the stairs onto the platform.

"What's humiliating him in front of everyone going to prove?" Layla snaps quietly. "This is so unfair."

"If life were suddenly to get fair, I doubt it would happen in high school."

You got a point there, Will.

The kid on the platform takes off his glasses and places them carefully in his pocket. He seems to take a deep breath before starting a sort of growling noise, confusing us all. Suddenly he stretches his arms out in time with the roar he releases, and first his body then his head suddenly morph into a huge rock creature with defined muscles and jagged teeth. It flexes in front of our stunned faces and growls again, the voice deeper now. Boomer hardly looks fazed at all before he glances at a remote somehow in his hand.

"Car," he calls nonchalantly.

A wrecked car with a ceiling attachment drops down onto Rock Larry, who catches it and supports it with ease, lifting it triumphantly as he roars at us, ruffling my hair with his breath.

Wait, my dazed mind says, he's a rock. How does he have breath?

Seriously, I internally retort. Not the point.

Boomer is finally smiling – who knew?

"Big Larry," he grins, clicking his pen and scratching it against whatever's on the other side of the clipboard. "Hero."

Zach is fidgeting next to Will, his movements and oozing confidence almost making it seem as if he's flexing.

"So he's good," he shrugs off the huge-ass rock monster as Larry starts to power down. "But I'm better."

And with that, he's off, patting Will on the shoulder once and ignoring the hand his friend uses to try to grab him. He marches straight up the steps toward Coach Boomer, who looks at him almost in disgust.

"Did I say you were next?" he asks dangerously.

But Zach is either stupid or oblivious. "The name's Zach, Coach Boomer. Try not to drop your clipboard."

As he stretches his neck and shoulders, Coach Boomer looks around dubiously but lets him get on with it. After his big warm-up, Zach claps his hands, activating something, before spreading them out to his side. I tense for his power…but nothing happens. Coach Boomer, along with everyone else in the gym, looks him up and down.

"Any day now, superstar," he encourages, waving his hand and sounding bored.

Zach, arms still spread, looks momentarily confused before he looks at the coach as if he's missing something obvious. "I'm doin' it."

"Doin' what?"

"I'm glowin'."

"I don't think so," the coach frowns and walks around him.

Zach follows his movements, dropping his hands to use them to shrug and gesture instead. "Well, it's easier to see in a darker room. Maybe we can turn off these lights, you can cup your hands around your eyes, and look real –."

"Sidekick," Coach Boomer says to his face with a smug grin on his own.

Zach winces and tries to approach Boomer, talking quietly. "Uh, are you sure you –?"

"Sidekick!" Zach goes flying back off the platform as he's blasted back by Boomer's power.

The poor guy, I think. He's going to be so disappointed.

"You!"

Coach Boomer's voice jerks my attention and head back to him, the ambiguous word making my heart pound. But I realise he's talking to Ethan instead as his gaze is focussed on him as he jerks his head.

"Front and centre!"

Ethan makes his way eagerly up onto the platform, talking before he's even stopped.

"Let me start off by saying what an honour it is to meet you –."

"Is that your power?" Boomer asks. "Butt-kiss-ery?"

I'm rolling my own eyes; seriously, Ethan actually thinks this guy is a decent idol? He's massively arrogant and cruel. Trust me, Ethan, stop now. You've already made yourself even more of a target for the assholes of the hero class, and you're also really not impressing the guy you hope to be.

But Ethan chuckles, unaware of any hidden or silent messages. "Very funny, sir. You know I've heard you've got a wicked sense of –."

"Shut up and power up!"

Ethan stands to attention, facing the front. "Right away, sir."

And he liquefies in front of our eyes, falling to the ground with a gurgle and a plop!

Oooooo-kaaayyyyy.

While I blink in bemusement along with many other freshmen, Boomer simply bends over the mess at his feet, a sarcastic expression on his face.

"Say, that's pretty impressive. For a popsicle! Sidekick!"

I won't bore you with a complete commentary of the rest of them. Among others, there was a guy who grew an extra two pairs of arms (hero), a girl who could turn into a giant colourful ball (sidekick), a guy who could spit really far (first a sidekick before he pointed out that the pillar had corroded) and a guy who turned himself into a Boomer lookalike (a hero who Boomer practically flirted with).

The girl with the awesome hair who Ethan talked to on the bus – Magenta – is called up with a careless, "Purple kid, let's go." She steps up onto the platform, looking as cool and as bored as Boomer. When she stops in front of him, she puts one hand on her popped hip, and the two have a few seconds of silent stare-off, both similar in character to be totally kick-ass at it.

"What's your shtick?" Boomer asks eventually.

Magenta shrugs very slightly. "I'm a Shape-Shifter."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise at her power and her 'so what?' attitude to it; even I know Shape-Shifters are really rare and impressive. I certainly didn't expect one to be joining Sky High at the same time as I was.

But Boomer is, of course, unimpressed. "Okay; shift it."

She looks a little irritated, but promptly bends down and sort of curls into a ball, shrinking as she does so. Within three seconds, she's on the floor…as a guinea pig. Most amusing of all is that while her fur is black, I can just about detect green and purple highlights over it in places.

Boomer is now most definitely not impressed, as he crouches down. "A guinea pig?"

"Yep," a squeaky but somehow still snarky voice answers.

"Not even a swarm of guinea pigs?"

"Uh, no."

Boomer brings up two fingers and changes his voice to imitate hers. "Sidekick." He flicks at her with his hand. "Shoo."

"Bite me," comes the response as the guinea pig retreats.

Finally Coach Boomer points to me and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Get up here, aquamarine."

Rolling my eyes at his name for me, I climb the metal steps up to the platform, waiting with my arms folded and using my fingers to rub the material of my top together – both bad habits that I do when I'm feeling insecure or nervous – for him to finish writing on his clipboard.

"Name," he calls out, obviously bored.

"Kaitlyn Rivers," I respond.

I see his eyes flick up briefly to me, and I frown; obviously the school staff have been notified about me and the situation about my "background" and "upbringing". It's not that that rubs me the wrong way; it's the immediate judgement and sympathy I know I'll get from them. Yeah, it's pretty bad and it's great to now have support, but I wish they wouldn't link any future potential failure on environmental factors. My disposition is far from perfect.

"Power?" he asks.

"Hydro-kinetic, but I have influence over the temperature and state of the water I control."

He starts fiddling with the remote control he has, and I know some kind of danger is suddenly going to spring out at me. I frown again.

"There's no water in here for me to defend myself with," I complain.

The coach glances at me expressionlessly. "You'd better find some then, and fast: flame-thrower."

As soon as he presses the button, everything starts moving in slow motion. My brain frantically tries to figure out what to do as a few boards in the platform slide backwards, revealing a piece of metal that starts to rise. Seeing as it's a natural part of my body, an instinctual self-defence source, I can sense any nearby water, and I quickly launch my perception out to its maximum potential, a twenty-to-thirty foot radius. Further, if I focus it in one direction only. There's a water fountain out in the hall, but I'd have to destroy it to get enough water to defend myself, and I don't really want to get told off for destruction of school property if it's not in self-defence, nor do I really want to be told to help clean it up. There are no other large sources of water. Unless….

Everybody knows that a small percentage of the air around us is water vapour. I've influenced the state of water I've controlled before, and even that of ice. I've never connected straight to water vapour in the air, but why shouldn't I be able to do that?

With this new revelation and hope for surviving my first day of high school – literally – I concentrate on all of the air in this large gym. It's hard to explain how I'm able to pinpoint every water molecule available in the atmosphere, but that's what I do, and I drop the temperature of each, sweeping my hands to the side to collect every droplet made into one floating river.

Just as the flame-thrower finishes forming and starts to charge up, I chop my right hand through the air while holding my left one palm up, making the water a thin circular stream whose edge is narrow enough and pressure is high enough that it acts as something more powerful than a chainsaw. Give water enough force and it can cut through steel, even without it being solid ice. And that's exactly what it does; as I duck backwards under a stream of fire hurled in my direction, I push the water-saw forward, and it smashes right through the top of the flame-thrower. As the head goes flying through the air, I seal the deal by freezing the water on top of the pole where the gun had been. In the sudden silence after the roaring fire and explosive destruction, the gun head clattering to the floor is pretty comical.

Instead of yelling at me for destroying his equipment, the coach looks impressed. "Alright. The Freshwater Freshman is a hero."

Barely resisting the urge to hang my head, I despair at the condescending nickname that is now bound to make the rounds in the school cafeteria.

Once I've descended, Boomer points at Layla.

"You, flower child, let's go."

Layla doesn't move though, and calls out. "I believe in only using my powers when the situation demands it."

Boomer doesn't even try to follow. "Well, you're in luck; this is the situation, and I'm demanding it."

"But," Layla continues, "to participate in this test would be to support a flawed system. I think the whole hero-sidekick dichotomy only serves to –."

She stops as Boomer holds up a hand, his face incredulous. "Let me get this straight; are you refusing to show me your power?"

Layla grimaces. "Well, it's more complicated than that, I mean –."

"Sidekick!"

We all lean back as his power hits us in the face again.

I stare at Layla in amazement; she stood up against a high school system, and yet she knew where it was going to get her. No one else is going to care about the fact that she has to be one of the strongest principled people in this whole school; they'll just see a sidekick. Though I would never put myself into the firing range so readily, easily or completely, I have a new respect for her.

The bell rings, breaking me out of my musings.

"Alright," Boomer calls out, "we'll pick up right after lunch. Starting with you."

He points menacingly at Will, who looks absolutely terrified. I would offer him sympathy, but the gravity of what just happened hits me, and I want to punch the air in victory. I'm a hero. I don't fully believe the whole system or the consequences of it – egotistical jerks etc. – but other people do, and this system is in place for a reason; to separate those whose powers give them greater advantages and potential than others whose powers do not. This is evidence that not everything I do is stupid. I'm not stupid, I'm not dumb, I'm not a freak, I'm not pathetic, I'm not useless. Here, at Sky High, at my home, I'm one of the best.

Isn't it a shame the ones actually need to know this never will?

I know, I know; another fanfic up? But I love this film, and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I've already written part of the next chapter, so hopefully it won't take too long to update. No promises though.

Anyway, please, please let me know what you think; as I've said in my other fanfics, I prioritise fanfic writing through how many updates I get, so if you don't update, you won't get more quickly.

Fly on,

NitnatRide