Alright. Like I said before, I'm sorry about the last chapter being confusing. Frost switched from 5 to 4, so I fixed that. Sorry.

This chapter... doesn't make much sense. Here's how it works: My characters are at a School. But, they're at one of the... not so bad Schools. Like... I guess the white coats have consciences.

This chapter is an example of that.

So, this is maybe... three years from when the actual story will take place.

And once more, sorry for being confusing.

Frost's POV

Apparently, the white coats were in a good mood today. I'd heard them talking about testing our levels of creativity, or something along those lines.

Basically, they'd locked us in a huge white room. Like, white walls, floor, ceiling, everything. It was all made of this plaster stuff. There was a bunch of paper, too.

And to top it all off? So, so many art supplies. They had, like, anything you could imagine.

Thorn had picked up some paint, and was now using her fingers to draw complicated designs on the blank walls. Flight had found some very... happy-looking pastels, and was doodling on the floor. Duke was fiddling with some charcoal, getting his hands covered with the stuff. Flame was painting, like Thorn, but he seemed to be focusing on putting his handprints in bright blue, on every surface possible. Ex was drawing on a piece of paper, with pencil crayons. Zoë and Zak were together- as always- and drawing on a wall with markers. I'd found some crayons, and was now colouring all over the floor.

Say what you will. Yes, most of us were teenagers. Yes, we were acting like five-year-olds. Is that a problem?

When you've been locked in a cage for the majority of your life, you don't tend to care how old you act.

Plus, we'd never been exposed to this stuff before.

Zoë, who'd been talking in hushed tones with her brother, now looked up, her eyes landing on Ex.

"Hey, Ex," she said. "Come here for a minute, would you?"

X-Ray complied, walking over to her. He sat down. "What's up?" He asked.

Zoë picked up a bucket of paint. It was dark, dark blue- almost black. "Okay, Ex." She spoke calmly. "I'm getting really, really creative here. Don't try and move, kay? Zak's gonna help me if you do." She smiled evilly at him.

Ex still looked confused. But when Zoë dipped her hands into the paint, he seemed to brace himself.

She started rubbing her hands through his hair, spreading the paint.

I never would have seen that coming.

"What," Ex said slowly, "are you doing to my hair?" He did, however, comply with Zoë's demands, not moving.

"I'm dying your hair," she replied. "I mean, seriously. Other than Zak, all you guys have black hair. You're all so the same." Zoë shook her head. "I've decided to change that."

"But why blue?" Ex asked. "And why me? Why couldn't you have gotten, like, Duke?" Duke glared at him when Ex said that.

"It's blue," Zoë said, "because your tail is blue." She grinned. "It'll match."

Ex sighed again.

"And don't worry," Zoë continued. "I'm doing everyone's hair, not just yours. Fear not, Ex. There, done!" She nodded, satisfied at Ex's hair, now thoroughly blue. "Hey, hey, let it dry!" She snapped when Ex reached his hand up to touch it. "Now... who's next?"

"No," I said. "Uh-uh. No. Freaking. Way."

"Oh, come on Frost!" Zoë whined. "Everyone else has been a good sport, now it's your turn!"

I was the only one without dyed hair now. All of Ex's hair was now dark blue, the same shade as his tail. Flight had whitish-yellow and red streaks that matched her wings. Flame had orange and blue streaks, which matched his own wings. Zak had black streaks, the same colour as his ears. Zoë's were lavender, like her ears, Thorn's were the same green as her tail, and Duke's were blue, like his ears.

Zoë was all about coordinating her colours.

"Don't make me make you," Flame growled playfully. He started creeping towards me.

I started moving backwards. "You wouldn't."

Ex started moving in, at a gesture from Flame. I kept backing up, until I ran into the wall.

"You wouldn't," I repeated.

Flame lunged forward and grabbed me around the waist, my arms pinned to my sides. He turned me around so I was facing away from him. Ex came and picked up my feet from under me. The two of them carried me over to Zoë.

Ex let go of my feet. I tried to escape, but Flame was stronger than I was. He wrestled me down so I was laying on my back, arms still stuck on either side of me, with Flame sitting on my chest.

Well, all his weight was on his knees- which were keeping my arms where they were- but still. It was irritating.

"I hate you," I hissed, glaring at him.

He smirked at me. "Everyone here knows you don't mean that, Fray." He was the only one who ever called me that. "Now, we can do this the easy way..." his smile grew, "...or the hard way. I'm afraid the hard way involves you not being conscious... but I'll do what's necessary."

I couldn't help but giggle at his expression. He was trying so hard to look serious. It was just so silly.

He scowled at my apparent lack of fear.

I felt Zoë spread my hair out behind me. It was pure black. "I'm thinking some light blues," she murmured, to herself, it seemed. "It'll match her ears..."

I lay, still and patient, as she worked the paint through my hair. It took a little while, because my hair was long, but eventually she spoke again. "Done," she announced.

I looked at Flame. I'd pretty much been staring up at the distant white ceiling the whole time. Our eyes met. "Do you plan on getting up at some point?" I asked.

He pretended to think about it. "Oh, I dunno." He smirked. "I'm liking this arrangement."

I groaned. "Ex? Help?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, Frost."

"Zak?" I tried. Zoë's brother just smiled at me.

"Duke? Please?"

Duke, smiling, walked over.

"Now, Flame," he said. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I'm afraid the hard way involves you being unconscious, but I'll do what has to be done."

Flame, laughing, stood up and offered me a hand. He hauled me to my feet, just as the white coats appeared, telling us it was time to head back to our cages.

We were back in our cages now, talking to our cage-mates. Flame and I were talking about what the School had us wear all the time.

"I mean, the white coats seem to get a kick out of it," Flame was saying. "There must be something about them!"

All they guys wore black pants. Those were paired with a long-sleeved white shirt- like, a shirt-shirt, with the collar and whatnot- and a darkish jacket. The girls had black, knee-length pleated skirts, with black stockings. We wore white blouses. Everyone had black shoes.

"Oh, I dunno." I shrugged. "Maybe-" I was cut off when the door opened. It revealed two white coats, one holding a clipboard.

"Yes?" Flame asked politely. Over the years, he'd pretty much become our leader. He spoke for everyone. Duke was a year older than Flame, but he hadn't wanted to lead our group.

"We were very impressed with your performance today," said the first white coat. He wasn't holding the clipboard. "We never thought you would get so creative." He looked at Zoë, who smiled sweetly. "But, we were wondering if you would like to dye your hair, for real."

Zoë's eyes lit up with anger. I smiled, it was fun watching her when she got like this- unless, of course, she was angry at you. "They are real!" she hissed.

The second white coat flinched, while the first seemed to try and cover foe himself. "We mean with real dyes. Not paint."

I reached up self-consciously and touched on of the streaks. The dry paint had hardened. My hair, wherever it was coloured, was now stiff. Would this 'real' dye fix that? I liked my hair to be silky.

"Can we talk about it for a minute?" Flame spoke for all of us again. The white coats nodded enthusiastically, and left the room.

Zoë spoke first. "It's fine guys!" she insisted. Again, I touched my stiff hair.

"We might as well," Duke pointed out gently. He, unlike the silly white coats, knew how to deal with an angry Zoë. "I mean, it would even better than it does now." He smiled. "Plus, what's the worst that could happen?"

The white coats had arranged for all of us to have our hair done 'professionally,' apparently. They'd managed to keep the same colours Zoë had used, but now my hair was silky as ever.

Sometimes, being a lab rat had it's benifits.

Yay! Long chapter!

Did anyone understand the thing with the uniforms? Like, they're at the SCHOOL, and they're wearing like, prep school uniforms. That's why the white coarts would find it funny, but the kids didn't get it.

Ahahaha. Anyways. Good? Bad? Downright fail? Please, tell me! I want your comments! Review, review, review!

Thanks!

~Ally