Michael shook his head as he left the Orderly's hall. The two who kept fighting—Phillip and Peter—were going to give him a migraine and he didn't want to have to use their already limited supply of ibuprofen.

Fake.

He brushed the thought away as he walked past the posted guard. Michael nodded to her—Savannah?— and breezed through the double doors leading into the rest of the dormitories. It was mostly empty, as the crews were out doing chores. He heard the laughter of some of the females and reminded himself that it was a co-ed dorm now, and he was, after all, the Headmaster of the school.

You don't even know what you're doing. Why would they have voted for you?

He shook his head, trying to shake the doubts that had plagued him since the beginning of "his reign," as Gabriel liked to call it. That kid. He might be my brother, but he's a pain in the ass is what he is. He has his uses, though…

A student population that had once taken up two buildings—one for each sex—was now reduced to a size that could fit the entire second floor of the boy's dormitory. They hadn't bothered using the girl's dormitory since the attack.

The dead. Alive. Like something out of a bad horror movie, but much more realistic.

He couldn't believe that he was still alive. He felt like he was an empty shell.

You are.

"Shut up," he muttered under his breath. "You can do this. Why else would they have voted for you?"

A pretty face. That's all you are. Even mother said it.

"Shut up!" he shouted. He thanked God he was alone after he realized he'd spoken aloud.

With windswept, golden-blonde hair, sea-green eyes and well-placed and proportioned features—not to mention some molded musculature-, Michael was well aware of his appeal to the female faction of the group. Sometimes he used that to his advantage. Sometimes he didn't.

Like most things, his desire to be manipulative was largely dependent on his moods, which swung wildly in either direction.

Keep it in. You're the boss of yourself and of the school. They need you.

He'd walked down the stairs and out onto the gravel paths outside the buildings. The foliage hadn't quite grown back from being trampled and he could still occasionally catch a whiff of something rotting—possibly an extra limb they'd forgotten about in the clean-up. Not now, though. Right now, it was a clear day, with a clear sky in which the sun shone brightly. Just a tad chilly, but not bitterly cold.

He thanked God that they didn't have to worry about having air conditioning at this point. Heating might be a different story, but… he tried to take things a week at a time. The group might not even last the day.

Speaking of which, I need to get the fence report from Georgia as soon as she gets back.

Michael yanked at the glass double doors that led into the main building, housing the dining hall, the library, most of the classrooms and the main office.

Veering to the right, he walked back into the office and almost knocked Maxy over. Her mid-length light blonde hair swished through the air as she recoiled in surprise.

"Oh, Michael. Sorry about that."

"No. It's my fault. Should've looked where I was going."

She shrugged. "Okay, then. I finished up the responses and left them on your desk. You can pin them up if you decide I wasn't too abrasive."

He chuckled. "I'm sure they're fine. But, just to be sure, I'll take a look before posting."

"All right. I'm off to Orderly Hall. See you at dinner."

She let the door swing shut behind her as she headed off. Michael couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Girls like her made him nervous. He couldn't spout bull to get himself out of trouble, meaning he walked on eggshells. All the time. He always (well… more recently…) felt a little sick to his stomach and jumpy—probably the cause of the ulcer he was certain had decided to move into his stomach lining—but dealing with people he couldn't guarantee his way with just made things worse.

He sat down at his desk and glanced through the papers left there. Maxine had been blunt but not abrasive, in his "professional" opinion. Some things just required people to, in her terms, suck it up.

SIU.

Grabbing the pieces of paper and a couple push-pins, he stepped out of his office and headed to the notice board in the main hall. Next to the various manila folders they had pinned up (Comments, Complaints, Requests, Schedules by Last Name…), he posted the original notes and their responses so that they overlapped.

Just as he finished, the front doors cracked open and Georgia slipped through.

He smiled as his skin prickled. He could practically feel the tides of hormones changing from calm to storming as he glanced at her tiny waist—tucked between a pair of curved, swaying hips and a chest that drew anyone's eyes.

Like she'd want you, bozo. She's got the hots for that hick.

"Shut up," he murmured under his breath.

"What's that?" Georgia asked, a confused frown taking hold of her placid features.

"Nothing." Michael ran his fingers through his hair, wishing it was her hair instead. "Never mind. What's the scoop on the fence?"