We took our places in the corridor outside the classroom in which, at the moment, Sarah was sitting. When passing the door, I glanced in; Sarah was sat across the room, leant back once more in her chair, her face placid, her world nice and sane for possibly the last time in her life. I envied her.

There was a windowledge at the end of the coridor. We sat on it and waited. You did a lot of sitting and waiting in this job.

The American school was a lot different than any English ones I'd ever seen. For a start, it was filled with American kids so the corridors had to be much wider to acomodate the extra stone of fat each child carried around with them. Add on the space needed for the lockers and it was like walking down a motorway. The floor was perfectly clean of litter and downtrodden chewing-gum and actually gleamed. I mentally noted that anyone coming within 100 metres would be instantly caught out by the squeeking of their shoes. And there was huge windows high up in the walls, letting in the grey light.

Jubilee beat her feet against the loose wood beneath the windowsill. I was starting to learn to learn that she fidgited when she was worried. And she was messing with her hair.

She followed my gaze and her hand paused halfway to her hair. "What?" she asked, as she began to tap mindlessly with the other hand.

"You worried about them?"

She glared. "No", she snapped. And she sat on her hands.

"Really? You're whistling."

"I am no-...So? That doesnt mean anything!"

I smirked, though i risked a smack in the face, at the knowledge that, in a small way, I understood her better than she did herself. Once again I was amazed at how blind people were to themselves. Still, I let it drop; when you're living with someone around the clock it helps to be on their good side. Tried to atleast-

"Plus they'll probably not turn up anyway-"

"I am not worried!"

"They havent shown up in weeks and-"

"Shut-"

"You can hold my hand if you like" I grinned.

"-up."

Then the bell rang. Sod's law dictated that it should be exactly above our heads.

All down the corridor doors opened and floods of kids gushed out. Podgy faces and grotesqly huge bellies formed a huge black tidal wave that spept, with alarming speed for such well fed youngsters, in the direction of the canteen.

Claire's classroom door was open too. Stubby fingers of fat and wobbly arms were clawing around the door frame. Black red maws hung open in red faces in anticipation, practically dripping with spit.

"Now what do we do?"I shouted over the animal roar of the crowd.

Jubilee shrughed. "We'll go check on her. Nothing big. Just investigate those readings."

She stepped into the rush, looking as vulnerable as a hedgehog on a motorway. But it seemed the Americans had respect for such a thin person (or was it pity?)- and a natural hatred for English. People parted for the young Chinese girl and then swarmed quickly back in on me. I was almost bludgeoned to death by brightly-coloured packed lunch boxes.

Was that a scream? Jubilee half-turned to me, eyebrows raised questionably, but then a particullarly large mound of animated fat caught me a glancing blow with a bag. As I stumbled back, the crowd that reformed after Jubilee had passed caught me in its sweaty embraced. I was carried halfway down the corridor before I could reestablish my footing and force my way forward again.

The flow changed. People began to run, one or two at first and then the others caught on and joined in. People began to charge up and down the corridor. Some looking scared, some looking excited. All of the later where running one way-towards the classroom which Jubilee had just entered, the one in which Sarah sat. I pushed harder, only to find the throbing mass push back.

"Screw this," I hissed to myself. And I let myself go.

The effect was instantanious, the relief incredible. In the blink of an eye, the colour ran from my skin and lips. My hair shed itself and fell down in clumps about my shoulders, only to be replaced by short white-blonde hair which sprouted suddenly and painfully out of my head like a play-do squeezing machine that someone had just jumped on. I think I grew about a foot.

As til then, a rocus of shouts and screams had filled the corridor. But as I grew a ring off absolute silence sread out around me. People stared at me, and it was a wonderfull feeling to watch their eyes, wide as plates, fill with fear. Mouths gibbered and a few people pointed, as if to draw other peoples attention to something everyone was already looking at.

The skin all down my spine split, like a giant eye opening. I felt the compacted mass, which had clung to my back all morning like rocks under my skin, turn liquid.

Black wings exploded out of my shoulders. Then the fear in their eyes turned to fear in their feet and they ran. Like pigs they clawed and squeled and faught each other to get away. I looked like an angel of death to them as I stood there, tar-black feathers still damp with fluids, billowing about me. This was the real me. For some reason, I wanted to shout that after them.

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Y the hell am i writing this? This isnt me- I write sick, erotic novels. Sadly the thought of my family finding them has the same effect of pointing a gun at my head and saying, " If u write just one sentance that is interesting then my finger might just slip in excitement and I dont think you'd want that, kappeach?" If any1 has any methods 4 writing stuff which cant b found by other people then please email me. Otherwise just send a review.