Dust slowly fell from the stone ceiling as the wind outside gusted, slamming into the wall of the damp, cold room. The wind hit with the force of a freight train, causing the small room to howl as the wind gusted in through the crude window cut in the stone. Rain fell in thick sheets, illuminated by the lightning that lit up the sky, followed by angry claps of thunder. With each gust of wind, a deluge of rain would pour in through the window, soaking the floor around it. A particularly strong gust of wind sent rain through the window onto the face of the boy who lay on a stone bed, covered by a thin blanket. The boy stirred.

Where am I? He thought as he surveyed the stone cell he lay in. Who am I?

The boy stood up and felt an ache in his legs, the kind of ache that comes from days of inactivity, or decades of age. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were not the hands of a boy at all, but the hands of a very, very, old man. This did not surprise him though, in fact he accepted quickly, with a feeling like he knew this was how he was supposed to look.

For reasons beyond his understanding, the old man looked out the window with a feeling of expectation, and was not surprised to see a dark cloaked figure hovering outside the window. No fear came over him, only relief. A laugh came from the old man's throat as he eyed the figure. There was a flash of green light, and then nothingness.

Calvin awoke with a gasp, the blackness of the dream fading from his mind. There was no green light, only morning sunshine pouring through the dusty windowsill and onto Calvin's pale white face. Anyone would be wise to guess that he was pale because of the dream, but no, much to Calvin's dismay his skin had always been pale.

He stood up, wanting to escape the bright morning light that caused his eyes to ache. Calvin looked over at his clock, it read 7:25am. The alarm was set to go off in ten minutes, but on clear summer mornings like this one the sun usually beat the alarm to waking him up. With smooth movements that could only come from a decade of repetition, Calvin went to turn the alarm off.

Despite what he thought were clear and precise movements, Calvin managed to knock over a glass water that sat close to his alarm. The cup tipped and water spilled over the edge of the table that Calvin had by his bed. It splashed onto the carpet, soaking in and wetting Calvin's bare feet. He swore to himself, and threw a towel from the night before onto the spill, hardly caring if it would actually clean the water up or not. He could have sworn he had not touched the glass, but brushed the thought away. Calvin had recently come to accept his reputation as a clutz, and overall source of bad luck. Wherever he went things seemed to break, fall apart, or end up in pieces. He had hoped that as he got older these things would stop, but at the age of fourteen they seemed to be going on as strong as ever, and on his first day of high school no less.

As per his normal morning routine, Calvin pulled some clothes for the day out of the closet, taking extra care to make sure they were nice and went well together. Fashion had never been his strong point, but a nice shirt and some a pair khaki shorts would do. He would've liked to wear a pair of blue jeans, but it was still far too hot out for that. After picking out his clothes, he left his room and walked along the thin walkway that overlooked the entryway to the bathroom. He could hear his parents talking in the kitchen, but couldn't smell any food cooking. It was unusual that his mother hadn't made breakfast yet, but Calvin shrugged it off, concluding that she had just not been in the mood to cook this morning.

Ten minutes later, Calvin left the bathroom, ready for the day. He was wearing his nicest shirt, and a pair of tan khaki shorts that hung just below his knees. Joining his parents in the kitchen, Calvin was surprised to see a plate of toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs waiting for him on the table. The curtains in the room had been pulled back, and sunlight poured in from the outside. Through the open windows the smells of summer wafted in, calling back memories of a childhood spent entirely outdoors. Sitting to the left of Calvin's plate was his father, and standing to the right was his mother, a tall woman with olive colored skin, dark black hair, and striking blue eyes that seemed afire with life. Calvin had his mother's eyes, although they didn't seem to have the same fire in them. She walked around the kitchen with the commanding air of authority that intimidated those who were not familiar with her gentle, caring nature. Before they moved to this sleepy farm town in Nebraska, his mother had worked with law enforcement in the United Kingdom, which explained the slight accent his parents still had. While his parents did not go into detail about their past, Calvin found this more than easy to believe, drawing from the few times he had experienced his mother's wrath.

"Good morning sweety," she said, wrapping Calvin in an embrace before he could sit, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Calvin lied, struggling against her embrace. Like most boys his age, Calvin did all he could to show his embarrassment at his parents' affection.

She embraced him for one more second, and then released him so that he could sit down to eat. Class would be starting in about fifteen minutes at the school, and he wanted to be able to eat without being pressed for time. Thankfully, Calvin and his family lived just across the road from the school, so leaving on time wasn't usually an issue.

Calvin dug into his food, and had to exercise full restraint to stop from groaning in pleasure. The eggs were moist and cheesy, the bacon crispy, and the toast buttered just the right amount. He had no idea how his mother did it, but she always made meals in a way that no one else could replicate.

"How did you cook all of this so fast?" Calvin asked between mouthfuls of food, "When I left my room this morning I couldn't smell or hear anything cooking."

This simple question seemed to catch his mother off guard. His father, a short, bulky man with pale skin and platinum blonde hair, looked over the top of the laptop his was working from and stared at his wife with an "I told you so" look. His father had worked in government before the move, and with his methodical, no non-sense attitude, he fit the part well. Calvin had inherited his father's skin tone, but luckily that was about it. He was already the same height as his father, and was still growing. He also managed to escape the fate of his father's odd hair color, instead getting a sandy blonde color that was a sort of middle ground between his mother's dark hair and his father's light hair.

"Yes dear," His father said with a smile, "I'm curious too, I look down for a few minutes and when I look back up, everything is ready to eat."

She pursed her lips, and then smiled, "Hugh, Just because it takes you hours to prepare a simple meal, doesn't mean the rest of us are so challenged in the culinary arts."

The smile on his father's face faded, and he retreated back to his work on the laptop. Calvin opened his mouth to press the question further, but his mom glanced at the clock on the wall, and spoke over him.

"No more time for questions, get going or you'll be late," She pulled Calvin out of his seat, and ushered him out of the kitchen and into the entryway. He opened his mouth to protest, but she seemed to already know what he was going to say and cut him off, "I already packed your schoolbag with all of your supplies, and your class schedule is taped to the door. Make sure you grab it on the way out."

With his mother still pushing him forward, Calvin flung the schoolbag over his shoulder, and ripped the schedule off the door. His mom pulled the door open, and ushered him out into the already uncomfortably warm summer morning. Across the road, students of all ages were walking across the campus towards the main entrance of the school. A few looked over when Calvin left his house.

"Have a good day sweety," She said embracing him one more time, and trying to plant a kiss on his cheek. He quickly dodged the kiss, but she persisted.

"Mom," Calvin said with a mixture of panic and surprise in his voice, "People are looking!"

"Stop making such a commotion then," Calvin managed to break free of the embrace, but she had already grabbed a hold of his wrist and was pulling him back in, "Nice try bud, you've got a few more years before you sneak away like that."

Calvin realized his attempts were futile, and resigned himself to his fate. His mother pulled him in, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek in plain view of anyone who could be bothered to look. Calvin tried his best to look resentful as she released him.

"Oh stop it with the sour look," she said with a smile, "If it makes you feel better, your father can't get away from me either."

The thought of his short and bulky father struggling with all his life to escape an impending smooch from her brought a smile to Calvin's face.

"There he is," His mom said with a huge grin, "Now get going and have a great first day. I won't accept anything less."

"Yes Ma'am," Calvin said as he turned to walk to school.

Crossing the street with only a quick glance in either direction, Calvin avoided the eyes of those who had seen the interaction between him and his mother, and dashed through the main entrance. Looking down at his class schedule, he saw that while his locker was on the third floor, so was his first class, General Science, 8:05-9:00am in Room 305 with Mr. Goddart.

As Calvin reached his locker on the third floor, the eight o clock bell rang, indicating all students had five minutes to make it to class. His locker was in the middle of a group of three that were next to the boy's restroom. But this inconvenience was quickly offset when Calvin realized that the other two lockers were occupied by his best friends David and Devon.

David was a boy a bit taller and bigger than Calvin with skin that seemed to always be tan. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a face with a few freckles on it. He turned and saw Calvin walking towards them, grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you this one?" He asked Calvin, gesturing to the middle locker.

"Sure am," Calvin replied as he reached the locker, and turned the lock to match the combination on the sheet. The locker opened with a satisfying clink, and Calvin began emptying out unnecessary notebooks and pencils into it.

"Quite a stroke of luck, isn't it?" His other friend Devon asked from the right of him. Devon was a short kid, with blonde hair so light it was, for all practical purposes, white. Calvin was considered small for their age, which he blamed on his father, but Devon was even smaller than him. He had pale white skin like Calvin, and his eyes where a light blue that sometimes resembled gray.

"What class do you guys have first?" David asked before Calvin could answer. Calvin began to answer David, but Devon cut him off.

"I have English with Mrs. Willder," He said, not even trying to hide the distaste in his voice.

"My brother said she's a real pain in the you-know-where," David said, "I have General Science with Mr. Goddart."

Calvin perked up at this, relieved he would have someone to sit by for his first class. Nothing separates you from the crowd more than literally being separated from the crowd.

"That's my first period class too," Calvin told David, who nodded approvingly. Devon's mood turned sour upon hearing none of his friends would be in class with him. David seemed to notice this.

"Don't worry Devon," He said, "I talked with Nick on the bus, and he has English too."

This news made Devon's mood better, but he still seemed down about having to take English in the first place. "It's a waste of time," He had once told Calvin, "I already speak the language good, why should I have to take a whole class dedicated to it?"

"You already speak the language well," Calvin corrected him. The irony in this didn't fly well with Devon, and he had stalked off muttering something about Calvin being a "smart-ass".

Calvin was pulled from his thoughts by David elbowing him in the side, "Here comes Robert." A boy that was the same height as David, with short black hair that was cut in a preppy fashion was walking proudly down the hall, just now passing the three of them. It was well known that Robert thought of himself better than everyone simply because of his family, even though no one had ever seen him family in public or knew who they were.

Devon let out a sigh, "Just leave him alone, there isn't any point in starting trouble with him. It's more trouble than it's worth."

"Leave him alone?" David asked, genuine confusion on his face as if this concept was a foreign one, "You might as well ask me to stop breathing."

Devon shook his head, watching as David rolled up a ball of paper that he no doubt intended to throw at Robert. "I don't want anything to do with this. If I don't have class with either of you, I'll see you at lunch. Bye."

"Bye," Calvin said as Devon walked off to his class. David didn't answer, focusing intently on aiming the wad of paper so that it would hit Robert square in the back of the head. Calvin didn't agree with David's methods, but also didn't disagree with anything that knocked Robert off his high horse.

Devon made his final adjustments, and was about to throw the wad of paper when the tardy bell rang, startling Devon long enough for Robert to round a corner out of sight. He muttered a curse to himself.

"Let's go, the classroom is around that corner Robert just rounded," He muttered. Calvin realized that not only was he mad about missing his chance, but mad about having a class with Robert.

They quickly shut their lockers, and walked off toward the classroom. Inside they saw three rows of large wooden tables that were painted black, every row consisting of four tables each. A single table could fit two students, and ran parallel to the whiteboard and the teacher's desk. The wall was painted white, and the floor was made up of blue tiles. At the desk sat a large bald man, with fair skin and brown eyes. Calvin sized him up to be about six foot tall standing, and despite looking to be about forty, his huge arms and chest hinted that he used to be very athletic. Calvin guessed he probably played some sport in college, football perhaps.

"Tardy on the first day?" The teacher asked raising an eyebrow, looking straight at them. Calvin forgot the teacher's name for a moment and looked at the desk. On it sat a nameplate made out of fake wood with golden letters imprinted on it, reading Mr. Goddart.

"Sorry Mr. Goddart," Calvin said in a tone more nervous than he intended, "We were just catching up with some friends."

"I understand it is the first day back, and you're all excited to see your friends after a whole summer…" He said with a smile, "So I'll let it go this time."

David sighed with relief, and tried walking to an open seat.

"However…" Mr. Goddart continued, now addressing the class, "Anyone who is tardy for class from here on out without a written note will have points deducted. Is this understood?"

The class nodded, but this didn't satisfy him. "I said, is this understood?"

"Yes," The class said in unison.

"Yes, sir," Mr. Goddart corrected.

"Yes, sir," The class repeated.

Mr. Goddart gestured toward two open seat in the front row, "Why don't you take a seat now."

"Yes, sir," David said glumly, mumbling under his breath about having to sit in the front. Calvin followed and sat by him.

Calvin leaned over and whispered, "Don't worry, it's only for today. We can sit in the back tomorrow."

David shook his head, "No, he's one of those teachers, like Mr. Drogue last year. We're stuck here for the rest of the year."

Before Calvin could try to argue though, Mr. Goddart spoke up. "Everyone please remember where you are sitting, this will be your seating chart through the semester. However, if you all behave yourself, I will allow you to switch seats come the spring semester."

"Told you so," David said in a tone that hinted he was terribly disappointed in being right.

"Time to take attendance," Mr. Goddart said, silencing the quiet whispering that had been going on, "Remember, come to class even if you are late. Being late will lose you some points, but being absent without an excuse will give you a zero for the day."

He began reading off the list, slowly ticking away the names. Goddart read of the name Chloe Foster, and David snapped to attention. She had shoulder length, light brown hair, and blue eyes that were as deep as the ocean, and as airy as the sky. David had a massive crush on her.

"Here," She replied. She was only a few chairs to the left of them, which made it easy for David to sneak glances at her.

"I'm glad to have you in class Chloe, how are your parents?" Goddart asked her.

"They're fine, dad is still very busy with work but he manages," She answered with a smile.

Goddart simply nodded his head as if he was approving the answer, and then continued.

"Brayden Herr?"

"Here."

"Logan Hortiz?"

"Here."

"David Hunziski?"

"Here, sir." David said sarcastically.

Mr. Goddart stopped, and Calvin held his breath. A smile played across Mr. Goddart's face, "I believe we are going to get along swimmingly Mr. Hunziski," he said with a hint of sarcasm. Then he continued with attendance without saying a word.

"Robert…Husk?" Goddart asked with a hint of shock in his voice.

"Here," The boy David had been planning to pelt with a paper wad said.

"That's a…interesting last name. I haven't heard it in a while," Goddart replied.

The class turned and locked at Robert with wide eyes, surprised to hear that someone other than Robert seemed to think his surname meant something. Robert even seemed caught off guard by it, and simply said a smug, "Thank you."

Mr. Goddart gathered himself, and continued on with the attendance. Eventually he came close to Calvin's name.

"Elizabeth Parkinson?"

"Here."

"Roger Peeves?"

"Here."

"Calvin…Polaris?" Goddart said, with the same surprise in his voice that he had when reading Robert's name.

"Here," Calvin answered, praying that Goddart wouldn't say anything about his last name. His prayers went unanswered however.

"That is an..." Goddart seemed to be racking his head for the correct word, "Unusual name."

He heard snickers behind him, and Calvin tried to resist hiding his face in his hands, "Yes, sir, it is," Calvin said in the most toxic voice he could muster without being disrespectful.

Goddart did not take the hint though, "Your father's name wouldn't happen to be Hugh? Hugh Polaris?"

This took Calvin by surprise, and even David turned his attention away from sneaking looks at Chloe. He had never met Goddart before this day, how did he know his father? "Uh, yeah, it is."

Mr. Goddart did not even bother to chastise him for not ending his reply with sir. "And your mother…" He stammered, fear noticeable in his voice.

"Catherine Polaris…" Calvin finished, not understanding what was wrong.

"Yes," Goddart muttered, "Of course."

Goddart suddenly turned away from the class, took a moment to gather himself, and then finished the attendance, pretending the whole exchange had never taken place.

"What the hell was that about?" David asked suspiciously.

"I have no idea," Calvin said, but David shot him a look that said he didn't believe it.

"Okay class," Goddart said loudly, stopping David's retort, "This class is General Science," Goddart wrote the words on the whiteboard in quick, sloppy handwriting, "The point of this class is to give you a basic understanding of lab procedures, and other aspects of the main fields of the sciences, namely Biology, Physics, Geology, and Chemistry."

He stopped for a second, waiting for questions. When no one asked any, he continued, "Now, most teachers today will do ice breakers, or other fun activities so you will get to know each other. However this school has a total population of one hundred and thirty, and your class has about thirty three, so I think it is safe to say you all already know each other. And I have learned your names from attendance, and undoubtedly will learn enough about your personalities the rest of this period," Goddart shot a look at David, then spoke again, "So instead we will be doing some work."

The class moaned in frustration, but Goddart silenced them, "It only gets harder from here, so you might as well accept that, and get to work." No one said anything, but the resentment the class felt toward Goddart seemed to warm the room.

"Now, the first unit in this class will be on Chemistry," Goddart started off, "So today we are going to familiarize ourselves with basic safety procedures for the average high school Chemistry lab, and the basic equipment used in said lab." He reached under his desk, and pulled up a box that he gingerly placed on the top of his desk.

"First, the equipment," He said. Goddart reached into the box and pulled out three glass containers. "This," He said, picking up one of the containers that was tall and thin, "Is a graduated cylinder." Goddart took the graduated cylinder, and handed it to Madeline Yates, a girl with short blonde hair sitting in the front row. "Please pass this around," He told her.

"It is important that you know the names of these items, in our assignments they will be referred to by their proper names, and not by their physical descriptions," Goddart looked at the class, "Sorry to treat you like children, but everything I do, I do it because someone before you messed it up. Well, and quite frankly, you are still children."

He turned around, and handed the second glass container to Madeline Yates, and asked her to pass it around again. Goddart began describing it, but Calvin blocked out Goddart's voice as the graduated cylinder approached him, and from the back Robert spoke up.

"Sir, I know you don't know us too well yet," Robert started. Calvin looked over at David and saw that while he was still ogling Chloe, his fist had unconsciously clenched itself. Calvin sat, expectantly waiting for Robert to either talk himself up, or take a jab at David.

"But," Robert continued, "Calvin is a bit of clutz, and I don't think he should be trusted with fragile instruments such as these…"

The words hits Calvin just as his fingers closed around the glass object. He actually felt betrayed, why was Robert attacking him? Calvin had never done anything to Robert, sure he was friends with David, but that shouldn't justify it. Calvin had even stopped David from picking on Robert dozens of times.

David, a little bit too loudly, gave Robert specific details about where he could place the graduated cylinder, and Calvin turned around to look at Robert. The quiet laughter of the students reached Calvin just as the he saw the smug, unapologetic look on Robert's face.

Anger surged up from Calvin's chest, and while he was staring straight into Robert's eyes, there was a sharp crack like a gunshot. Lost in his anger, Calvin felt the graduated cylinder disappear from his hand, and a vague sense of pain. The look on Robert's face changed to surprise immediately, and then the color drained from his face and it changed to a look of horror.

A girl in the room shrieked, and Calvin heard David say "Dude...," in a shocked whisper. Distracted from his anger by this, Calvin became aware of a severe stinging pain in his left hand, and the feeling of a warm liquid flowing over his fingers and into the palm of his hand.

Calvin looked at his hand and gasped, his hand was still held in the position it had been when he was holding the graduated cylinder, but it was no longer there. Instead dozens of shards of glass in all shapes and sizes stuck out at odd angles from his hand, and crimson red blood poured steadily out of deep wounds, dripping onto the table where a small pool of his blood had formed. Around the pool, on the table, and all over the floor was what looked like small pieces of glitter. Calvin quickly realized that it was what remained of the glass. The parts that had not stuck in Calvin's hand had been vaporized into a very fine dust.

I didn't even squeeze it, Calvin thought.

The pain started becoming more severe in Calvin's hand, and a few of the people who could see his hand looked like they were on the verge of a panic attack. In the silence Calvin looked at Mr. Goddart, but he stood dumbfounded, staring at Calvin with a look that seemed to say Goddart's worst fears had just been confirmed.

Finally, Chloe stood up and took charge. She rushed over to Calvin, took her white hoodie off, and wrapped it around his hand like a bandage. Then she grabbed his other hand, and made him apply pressure.

Calvin winced and began to protest, but Chloe spoke over him, "It isn't going to feel good with those shards of glass in your hand, but keeping pressure on it will slow the bleeding."

While he wasn't keen on the idea, Calvin decided to listen to Chloe and kept the pressure on after she took her hand off his.

"Now, I think you should go to the nurse," Chloe said in a tone that made Calvin think she should've just commanded him to go to the nurse, instead of saying it like it was a suggestion. Calvin stood up, did his best to avoid the puddle of blood that was now dripping off the table and forming on the floor, and walked towards the door.

"And I think Mr. Goddart should go with you," Chloe said pointedly. Mr. Goddart didn't answer though, instead he stood there frozen, his eyes following Calvin's progress across the room. The fear in his eyes had been replaced by a look of disbelief, and amusement.

"Never mind," Chloe said with a wave of her hand, "I'll go with him."

"But," She said even louder than before as she walked toward the door with Calvin, "I think it would be wise if someone called a janitor to clean that mess up," The rest of the class looked at the blood on the floor and table. "And I think it would look bad if that someone wasn't the teacher," She said, looking directly into Goddart's eyes.

This seemed to get his attention. He nodded absent mindedly, and then reached for the phone on his desk to make the call. Chloe shook her head, gave one last look of frustration at Goddart, and then started to pull Calvin out of the room. Just before Calvin left, Goddart spoke up, "Calvin, I'll want to see you after school."

Calvin tried to answer, but Chloe gave one last frustrated tug, and pulled him out of the room.

"The nurse's office is at the end of the hall on the second floor," Chloe told him, "Not too far of a walk."

"Oh," Calvin replied.

She turned to face him, "Are you okay? You didn't lose that much blood. Please tell me you aren't one of those people who faint at the sight of blood."

"Oh, no," Calvin said airily, "Just a bit shocked, I didn't squeeze that thing at all. I don't know how it broke."

Chloe thought this over for a moment as they travelled down a flight of stairs, looking around to make sure no one was near. "Yeah, I saw. It was weird, that's for sure. Thing must've been faulty."

Calvin looked at her with disbelief, but she continued, "Not to be mean or anything, but I guess it was better that it happened now than when it was full of some chemical." Calvin looked down at her to see if she actually meant that, and saw that she was staring back at him with accusing eyes.

He ignored this, and hoping to take his mind off the pain in his hand, asked Chloe a question, "How do you know Mr. Goddart?"

"What makes you think I—," Chloe began.

"He knew your first name, asked about your parents, said he was glad to have you in class," Calvin cut her off, "And just before we left you talked to him like he was a child."

"He was about as useful as one," She mumbled.

"That doesn't answer my question," Calvin said, surprising himself with his insistence.

Chloe thought for a moment, "He's been tutoring me in Chemistry after school for a while now."

Calvin didn't buy this, but decided not to press. "That's…odd." He said. Calvin expected her to snap at him for calling her odd, but instead she just sighed.

"Yeah," She said with a weak smile, "He's been tutoring me since I've been eleven, but my parents want me to get ahead of everyone else, and they won't take no for an answer."

We reached the nurse's office as she finished her sentence, and I expected her to leave. Instead she walked in with me, and told the nurse what had happened.

The nurse looked the injury over, which began bleeding again when the hoodie was removed. She smiled, "Oh, very serious," the nurse said in a thick Russian accent, "Nothing I can't fix up though."

Chloe looked at the nurse in disbelief, "Ma'am, I think he'll need stitches."

"Oh for sure," the nurse answered, "But I can do the stitches myself, we'll save him a pesky trip to the hospital, and a couple hundred in emergency room bills."

Chloe did not looked convinced, but did not protest. She looked around, found an empty chair, and took a seat.

"You can go back to class now," the nurse told her.

"No thanks," Chloe said, "I want to make sure my friends alright. Also I want my hoodie back."

Calvin didn't say anything, instead quietly wondering when he and Chloe had become friends. The nurse shrugged her shoulders, and did not question any further. She grabbed Chloe's hoodie and handed it to her.

"Yuk," Chloe said, grabbing a part not stained by blood, "You don't have any diseases do you?"

Calvin looked at her with mild indignation, "Totally, I have every single one. You should be wearing containment suit right now."

Chloe smiled, and then deciding Calvin was not infectious, shoved the hoodie into a bag that the nurse had handed her.

The rest of the period passed very slowly, and painfully. The few seconds of relief Calvin experienced when she had finished digging out the shards of glass went away when the nurse held his hand over a sink, and poured some rubbing alcohol over the wounds. Calvin felt light headed and nearly fainted, but the nurse stopped before he could.

It can't get worse than that, Calvin thought.

He was wrong. The wounds were now extra sensitive from the disinfecting when she started stitching.

"Shouldn't a professional be doing this?" Calvin had asked between a set of particularly painful stitches.

"I am a professional," the nurse replied immediately.

"This really hurts," Calvin continued protesting.

"Here," the nurse said, handing him a red stress ball, "Bite down on this."

Calvin looked over to Chloe for help, but she simply gave him a week smile. He was surprised to find that biting down on the ball did help, but only a little.

Finally, she finished the stitching, and bandaged his hand. "There! It'll be good as new in a few weeks. Come back every Monday and when it is ready, I'll take the stitches out."

Calvin was panting like he had just finished running a marathon, a thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead, and his hand felt like it was about ready to fall off rather than cause him more pain.

"You don't get much excitement around here, do you?" Calvin asked the nurse.

She gave a wicked smile, "No, not really. How could you tell?"

"Just a feeling," Calvin answered, unconsciously toying with the bandages on his injured hand.

Calvin and Chloe thanked the nurse, and left the room. "Is it still first period? I didn't hear the bell," Calvin asked, feeling like ages had passed.

"It'll be ringing here in about a minute, she works fast," Chloe said, the look on her face was one of someone who had been impressed, "You think she did a good job?"

Calvin looked back to make sure they were out of earshot of the nurse's office. Chloe looked back too.

"Yeah, if she had done a bad job it probably wouldn't have hurt so m—,"

Calvin had not been able to finish his sentence, Chloe suddenly turned on him, grabbed both of his shoulders, and shoved him roughly into a wall.

"What the hell?" Calvin exclaimed, his hand had slammed into the wall and a new wave of pain shot from it. Calvin looked down at her face and saw that it had transformed from calm to anger in half a second. She was holding what Calvin had decided was a stick with a handle on it at Calvin's throat.

"I know what you are," she growled, "What the hell are you playing at, doing something like that in front of those No-Maj's?"

"What are you talking ab—," Calvin spat, "I don't get…What are No-Ma—,"

Chloe slammed him against the wall again, pushing the stick even harder into his throat, and hissed into his ear, "Were you trying to scare that moron Robert? Was he really worth that?" She gestured towards Calvin's hand.

"I don't know what I did!" Calvin said in an anguished whisper, taking the cue from Chloe to not be loud.

"Bull," She said, "Play stupid all you want, but if you ever pull something like that again I'll curse your entire family to the dark ages regardless of who your mother is. I won't have fools like you ruining it for the rest of us and force me to go to that prison they call a school on the East Coast."

Calvin stared at her in shock, confusion, and disbelief. She disregarded this and continued, the her stick still pointed at his throat, "If it weren't for the fact that Mr. Goddart is going to rip you a new one after school, and that there are a bunch of kids about to come into the halls, I'd punish you myself."

Then, as if on cue, the bell rang. Chloe dropped Calvin to his feet, and put on a friendly smile. But there was still venom in her voice when she spoke, "Hope you get better, see you around."

And then she walked off, leaving Calvin sitting there dumbfounded, staring at her like she wasn't a girl, but a three headed dog with a taste for fine music.