A/N: Hello world! This is uncharted territory for me. I've been writing for a while, but have never delved into fanfiction before. Please be kind! But really I appreciate any feedback, both positive and constructive criticism. There are quite a few places these characters will travel, but I'm hoping they'll consider this home. Enjoy Chapter 1!


"The American Civil War started with the Battle of Fort Sumter in 1861. Seven southern states—"

Stifling a groan I let my head fall onto my folded arms, wishing I was anywhere but n Ms. Burnett's boring history class. Ms. Olivia Burnett – despite teaching such an old subject – was actually pretty young. She had thwarted all attempts to trick her real age out of her, giving the same clue every time anyone tried. She'd graduated from Wellesley College sometime in the beginning years of the Obama administration. That meant little to me since I would have barely been five at the time. Now, twelve years later, in the final months of Trump's presidency, my only hope was that the next leader of the free world would dismantle the neo-nationalistic bent of our government and the twelve-foot-high wall he'd managed to have built all around Mexico. Mom said he'd had trouble getting it funded at the start, but with a promise he could participate in the next U.S. election as a presidential candidate, Putin was all too happy to foot the bill.

I looked out the window. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees and I shivered. The sun was high in the sky but burning at only half its original potential. Between global warming and our quest to conquer the stars, the earth's atmosphere wasn't the only one we'd been successful at destroying. And having yet to find another planet to inhabit once this one inevitably failed…But that wouldn't happen for at least another hundred years or so – barring any major catastrophes – and I'd be long gone by then.

I jumped as the final bell clamored overhead, knocking my notebook to the floor. Before I could swoop down to retrieve it, a stampede of converse and crocs surged towards the door. As the only two shoe brands still in production, gone were the days of individuality – at least where our footwear was concerned. The upside being that in a punch you could boil down your crocs and eat them without dying. Sometimes. I picked up my notebook, smoothing down the edges. I wiped off the loose dirt and shoved it into my backpack.

I hated hallways. Actually, I hated any place that involved large groups of people I didn't want to be around. But the hallways of Gates Preparatory High School were among the worst. You know how movies about teenagers always include those stereotypes? The jocks are loud, obnoxious bro-types, cheerleaders are blonde and perky and bitchy, and then you have the emo kids and the nerds? And other kids from other countries make fun of us because at the end of the day we're all just a bunch of organs in a cage of bones covered in skin? Well, GPHS takes it to the extreme.

I pushed through the mass of bodies in the direction of the exit. I kept my head down, avoiding making eye contact with any of them. I could feel their gazes like daggers in my back and I pressed harder. Blood rushed in my ears, drowning out the sound of their incessant chatter. Up ahead, the neon green of the exit sign blazoned like a beacon of hope.

I stumbled through the front entrance nearly losing my balance on the steps. My heavy feet thudded against the gravel as I pounded across the courtyard. I winced as my thighs began to chafe under my regulation length skirt, cursing the "no undershorts" rule for girls. When I wasn't wearing my school uniform, if I decided to wear a skirt, I always put shorts underneath. My thighs were strong but they took up space, and there's nothing worse than the slow burn of abraded skin. But – for some depraved reason no one could understand – our school had banned the use of fitted shorts as protective garments. And they'd been known to randomly check for compliance.

I burst through the gates and skittered to a stop across the street, narrowly escaping my calling as a human pancake when a taxi careened by. I took a steady, soul-sucking breath as I fought to get my heart rate under control. It raced as much from the unprecedented exercise as from the flirt with danger that was my daily life.

Being Black in America had gone from bad to worse. In fact, being a person of any non-white color was a dangerous situation to be in. Unless you were Asian. White people loved them. But everyone else…It was like we had a giant sign on our forehead that said 'other' or 'alien'. And it wasn't like there was anything we could do about it – I mean, we were born the way we were born – had we even wanted to. But as long as you kept your head down and minded your own business, you'd be fine. Mostly. As a senior in high school, it had been three years since I'd had a really close friend. There were very few non-White students at GPHS, and many of my friends had opted for safety over scholastic achievement. They were attending low quality, makeshift schools in the boondocks, but they were safe. Sometimes I wished I had that same inclination towards self-preservation.

I straightened up, normal breathing restored. It was somewhat easier to be about my business once outside the suffocating walls of the school. Even though I couldn't leave my blackness behind, at least in the larger world I could mostly slip through ignored.

Moisture clung to my hand as I swatted at my forehead. My curls began to frizz up and I cursed that even with the lack of humidity I still couldn't hold a hairstyle for more than a few hours. I started in the direction of home, taking my time. I disliked being at home almost as much as I disliked being at school. I mean, home was fine: a single mom who worked hard to put food on the table for me and my baby sis. But I really just disliked being around other people. I guess if someone were to describe me they might call me boring. I was okay with that. Not everyone was or needed to be the risk-taking, adventurous type. I was a creature of habit, partial to my routines, and had no desire for that to change.

I had just rounded the corner when the world split. Crashing waves filled my head, knocking me into the nearest building. I shut my eyes as the world quaked around me, praying it would still. With a piercing whine, the shaking stopped. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and watched as people began to congregate in the streets. Curious, it wasn't until I approached a group of them that I noticed the cracks spider-webbing the pavement. In the center, a metal canister roughly the size of a thermos had embedded itself in the ground. One brave – stupid? – man tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge. All down the street more pockets of people were gathered around identical devices.

The canister hissed. I scrambled backward, putting some distance between it and me. The domed top peeled back, like the petals of a flower. From the opening crawled a creature, unlike anything I'd ever seen. It looked like a spider, it even moved like a spider, but it was completely made of metal. It was small, barely the size of a golf ball, but it seemed able to track shifts in people's movements despite not having eyes. The man reached out and the little creature hopped into his outstretched palm. My head whipped side to side as it crawled up his arm. I stepped back, searching for anyone else who appeared as skeptical as I was, but most seemed hesitantly curious more than anything else.

The man laughed as the creature tickled two wiry antennae below his ear. Encouraged, the metalloid spider circled around towards his back. Pointed silver glinted in the sunlight as a long retractable cone protruded from what I assumed was its backside. A laugh bubbled up as I imagined the creature wielding one of those light up, retractable toy lightsabers. I stifled it with the back of my hand.

A wet crunch, like fallen leaves after an autumn rain, filled the space as the stinger sunk deep into the base of his skull. The man screamed as its appendages flattened across his neck, taking root. A cacophony of terror echoed all down the block as more tiny creatures launched from the canisters. Once willing friends were turned hapless victim and I wasn't there for it. I needed to get away.

A warm, unfamiliar hand slipped into mine. A gentle caress of breath against my ear.

"Run."

I didn't hesitate; instead letting myself be pulled through the streets by a stranger who I had just noticed was a boy. At least I hoped he was a boy and not some crazy man dragging me through the streets of the city. He was half a foot taller than me, and I tripped as I fought to keep up with his grueling place. Pinpricks needled my side and I ground to a halt, doubled over, chest heaving. Never before had I wanted so badly to be a good thirty pounds lighter.

"Do you want to live?" he said, jamming thin, tapered fingers through a mess of chestnut waves. And he was definitely a boy. Complete with full lips, electric green eyes, and a distractingly cute accent I couldn't place.

"What?" I said, brilliantly.

"DO YOU WANT TO LIVE?"

"Yes—"

And we were off again. It was like being on a rollercoaster ride after the first baby loop. You think everything's okay, that you survived the worst of it, only to see a monster loop looming in the distance. My lungs screamed and my legs felt like they had cinderblocks attached. I wanted nothing more than to collapse in an asphyxiated heap on the ground, but in the corners of my eyes I could see people all around me thrashing, fallen prey to those metal things, and I was determined not to be one.

Clickity clackity clickity clackity.

On the ground, mere feet away was a metal spider. It matched our pace easily like it was in no hurry to catch us because it knew we would give up eventually.

"When I say 'now' turn left, ninety degrees!" said the stranger, annoyingly not-winded. He pointed at the spider like he expected a lightning bolt to shoot from his finger and blast the thing apart.

"What?" I said. Again. Wishing I'd put myself in the hands of someone more reliable. Like, anyone who didn't believe in fairytales.

I glanced back just as the creature bunched its back legs and launched –

"NOW!"

I screamed as it crashed into the wall a grateful inch from my head. We veered down a narrow side street as it shook itself and gave chase. It wasn't until we were halfway down the street that I noticed it was a dead end.

"Now what?" I cried, seized with panic.

"Through there," he said, pointing to a door I could've sworn hadn't been there a moment ago.

I shook my head. "It's too—!"

His eyes locked onto mine and he smiled, like an unexpected ray of sunshine on an overcast day.

"Trust me."

He burst through the door and I followed. Two steps in and I could feel the synapses in my brain firing but nothing would compute. My eyes searched blindly, overloaded with foreign colors and shapes. Sounds unknown to the human ear pounded against my temples. My heart raced and I fought to fill my lungs. I stumbled back outside to try and make sense of my surroundings, long enough for the spider to lock onto me again. Strong hands pulled me back just in time, metal hitting wood as the door slammed shut. I collapsed to the floor on numb, shaky legs and tried to keep what little I'd eaten that day from coming back around to say hi.

"Are you okay?" he said, a soft hand on my shoulder.

My surroundings moved to and fro. I couldn't tell if I was shaking my head or if the world was spinning.

"It's bigger on the inside."