Author's note: To give credit where credit is due, much of this chapter was
inspired by a particular elements of the short novel "The Unpleasant
Profession of Jonathan Hoag", written by an absolutely amazing author,
Robert A. Heinlein. The story was introduced to me by an absolutely amazing
person, my dad.
The usual disclaimers continue to apply. I own nothing that you can recognize from any other source.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I didn't ask Spirit anything further. My main focus was to run with my friend to Professor Xavier's room. Spirit warned me if I was about to crash into something, since all the lights were off. When we reached the correct room I carefully knocked on the door. No answer, so I took a deep breath and concentrated on the other side. He wasn't there.
~He's gone,~ I told Spirit. She was sobbing uncontrollably. ~Calm down! It'll be okay!~
~You don't know that. And if it's not okay, it'll be all my fault!~
~Look, if you promise to try to stop being hysterical, I'll find him.~
Silent Spirit wiped her nose with her sleeve and made an effort to stop crying. ~Could you try to find the teachers as well?~
After a moment of effort I replied, ~They're all together, in the conference room.~
~Where is it?~
In answer I grabbed her good arm and hurtled towards the room the teachers were gathered in. The door was unlocked, and I could see lights shining out from under the door.
~Do you have your sunglasses, Spirit?~ I asked.
~Yes, let me get them on.~
I called out, "Can you turn off the light until Silent Spirit puts her glasses on properly?" The light went off, and I felt the distinctive telepathic voice of the Professor enter our minds.
~Why are you here, girls?~
I answered aloud, "Spirit knows what happened and she wants to explain it to you. I don't know what it is myself, but she's really panicking about you. Are you okay in there?"
The voice of Storm said, "We're in one piece. You can come in." My favorite teacher sounded ragged and worried. The room was generally off limits to students, which was why I asked for permission.
Of course it was dark, because the lights were off. There was an eerie tension around the table, and I could vaguely see the outlines of all the staff. Spirit sank into a chair. A few scattered tears were still sliding down her face. Professor Xavier wheeled over to the wall and turned on the light.
"Oh my goodness..." I said weakly at the sight that the illumination revealed. Every single teacher was badly injured in some way. And it wasn't from the day before, because those injuries had been bandaged or disinfected. These were new. Each X-Man had different wounds. Wolverine was nearly covered in dried blood. Nightcrawler's blue skin had scorch marks and burns, along with white rope marks on his wrists. Storm had angry purple and yellow bruises all over, several cuts, and a black eye. Cyclops was pale, wet, and had blue marks on his neck. Seeing the Professor was what made me cry, though. Most of head and half of his face was covered in bandages, and his eyes had a haunted look. I wondered if his face had been smashed in or something. Every student in that school loved him like a father, and to see him hurt broke me down. Spirit started off in tears again, though she couldn't make a sound.
"Oh, don't cry, Spirit," implored Kurt. "You make it vorse zhan it is."
"It's no worse that we usually get," said Wolverine.
Cyclops made a strange gasping sound before he spoke. "We'll get better."
"It's okay," reassured Storm.
~It isn't you're fault,~ the Professor told her after I let her know what the others had said.
A flood of fear and guilt, pain and compassion spilled out in Spirit's mind. Both the Professor and I picked it up. ~But it is my fault! I could see it all happening, but I couldn't stop it at first because HE took my glasses. Then I tried to, but then I couldn't save you. I only managed to wake you up before the worst happened.~ She was crying even harder.
~Spirit, go get a box of tissues, then come back,~ Professor Xavier told her. She left weeping.
"What the heck was it?" asked Wolverine. "Those dreams..."
"I don't know either," I said, choking on the lump in my throat. "I don't know anything about this at all."
Very calmly as always, the Professor answered, "I learned from Silent Spirit that she already knows about the dreams that we all had. Hopefully by the time that she returns she will be calm enough to explain the reason that this happened. However, not all of us know what has happened to the others, so it might be a good idea to tell what happened in your dream."
Storm shuddered. "Those were no dreams. They were not even nightmares. They HAPPENED." I was thoroughly confused by this point. She continued in a toneless voice. "I dreamed I was walking down an ordinary street, on a field trip with the children. We were crossing the road. Then the sky turned dark, and a man's voice on the street shouted, 'Mutants! Mutants! Get them!' And everyone echoed him and turned on us. None of our powers worked, and I was trying to defend the students with only my physical fighting skills. But there were too many. Some began stoning us. It seemed like it was raining stones." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "Just when I was about to be knocked unconscious, I heard a voice crying out from very far away. Then it came closer and was louder. It was a girl's voice, one I had never heard before. She screamed 'Stop! Stop! The rocks began to slow, and eventually they ended. And I woke then, but all the wounds I had in the nightmare are still here."
My eyes went huge. This was not real life, I thought. I've stumbled into one of my horror stories, but the characters are people I love and respect. They weren't just teachers, they were like parents to replace the ones who died or rejected us.
Cyclops spoke next. "Mine wasn't as dramatic, but it wasn't pleasant either. In my dream I went back to...back to Alkali Lake." His voice trembled. "A huge wave came up and swept me in. The water was churning like a storm at sea, and I was having a difficult time keeping my head above water. It got worse and worse, until I literally was drowning. When I tried to swim back up I felt two hands on my neck. Pulling me down, down..." His voice trailed off. "I fought the person behind me, but the hands only tightened. Running out of air, I was about to give up. I couldn't think clearly any more. Then, like you, Storm, I heard a girl's voice calling me. 'Mr. Summers! Mr. Summers! SWIM UP!' The hands on my throat loosened, and I woke up. First I was relieved that it was a dream, but then I noticed that my clothes were drenched with water, and you can see the bruises." Mr. Summers shook his head in confusion. "It isn't possible," he murmured.
Spirit came back with a box of tissues, blowing her nose. The tears had left black streaks on her gray fur. I filled her in on what they had said. She only nodded.
After a long silence Nightcrawler spoke up. "Strange things happen every day. All of you can see I was burnt." He closed his eyes. "At zhe stake. Zhey said I vas evil. Like you, I first heard the voice of a man, zhe one who lit the fire. I did not see his face. I tried to pray as the fire grew around me, but zhere vas too much shouting for me to hear my own voice. Zhen I heard, as you did, a voice of a girl. She shrieked, 'Wait! I'm coming! Somebody put it out! I can't do it all at once...' Zhen zhe crowd parted, and zhe fire began to die down. And I avoke to find that I had truly been burnt."
Wolverine said, "I see a pattern."
"What happened to you?" I whispered only loud enough for him to hear.
"Stabbed a few million times." Short and to the point as usual. "Ruined another mattress with the blood, I'm afraid. Sorry, Charlie."
A massive yawn nearly split my head open. "Do you want to go back to bed?" Professor Xavier asked me.
"No!" I said, "I want to know why all this happened. And what happened to you..." I began to cry. "Sorry. I won't do that again. But it's awful for both of us, seeing you hurt!"
The Professor didn't tell me to stop. He let me cry for about five minutes, only handing me the tissue box. I think he was searching the now calm Spirit's mind. Eventually he said, "Spirit would rather that you stayed, Spy. It's upsetting, what has happened tonight. But I believe that I could have been much worse. Thanks to Silent Spirit, no permanent damage has occurred."
"What did she do?" I asked, though I was already proud of my friend, who was now perking up a little. He told her first, of course.
"Spirit has told me," the Professor sounded as if he was giving a very ordinary lesson on an ordinary day, without a smashed face, "that she also had a very upsetting dream tonight. Yesterday she felt restless and anxious, though she didn't know why. She wanted me to tell you that something might happen. She believes that what has happened tonight is supernatural." He paused to let that sink in, then continued, "Spirit says that she dreamed that she was in a bare, white room, with bright, white lights. The room had no doors or windows, but it had what appeared to be five television screens, all blank." Professor Xavier's narrative continued, but I didn't hear the rest of it.
~Could you show me your dream?~ I telepathically asked Spirit.
She was surprised. ~Why? Why do you want to be in a nightmare?~
~I want to know what it was like for you.~ The answer surprised me too, but I felt as if that if I went through what she had gone through, it would help lift some of the burden off her.
~Okay.~ She understood my meaning. I scooted my chair closer to hers, and I put each hand a short distance away from each side of her head. The Professor had taught me how to read memories a few weeks ago.
The room was even whiter that words can convey, but it wasn't white in the way that feels like purity and virtue. It was the white of bleakness, the white of interrogation rooms. The screens that Professor Xavier had spoken of were all on one wall. They were the size of doors. All the other walls were completely blank. A voice came from behind.
"What do you think of this place?"
Spirit had turned, answering; "I don't like it very much. Can you show me the way out?" There was a pause. "How can I hear you?" she had wondered aloud. The man she now faced was about average height, solidly built. He had army clothing on, and looked the part, even though he seemed like he was on the wrong side of middle age. His face was the stoniest face that I ever saw.
"Ah yes, Silent Spirit," he said, "the latest monster. Why, you're nearly as much a monstrosity as that Nightcrawler. He was very useful in some ways. You, however, are in my way." He smiled. "Am I scaring you? Me knowing who you are, but you having not the slightest idea who I am?"
She had started to become frightened, but maintained a steady tone. "You must be dead, or else I couldn't hear you. You say you used Nightcrawler, and you obviously hate mutants. Therefore you are the ghost of William Stryker."
"What is Xavier teaching you? Entirely too perceptive for my taste." He began to pace around the room with the air of an invincible man. If he really was dead, then he most likely was one. "And you are the only one who noticed that I was up to something."
Her voice beginning to shake, Spirit had repeated, "Can you show me the way out?"
"Not to a freak of nature." A very quiet statement, just enough to be either infuriating or terrifying.
"Then why bring me here? What are you planning, you attempted mass murderer?" I privately cheered for her.
"To tell you to not bother trying to stop me. I can do it to you too, you know. It took me three months of death to learn how to do to mutants what my so-called son did to my wife." His anger and hatred was seeping through.
"You mean drive them insane?"
"Much more that that. You see," The (ugh) ghost broke off and walked up to her. "Have a seat," he ordered.
"But there's no..." she stopped when she saw that a (white) chair had materialized behind her. She sat down.
He continued, "I'm sure that you know by now that a man can become a ghost if he is absolutely determined to not die."
"Prefers revenge over peace, you mean."
"Mince words if you like. A ghost is in the 'world' of the dead, yet aware of what is happening in the 'world' of the living. You, however, because of your particular disease..."
"IT ISN'T A DISEASE!"
"Stay in the chair. You're not ever going to go back by screaming at me, you know."
Spirit stayed in the chair, fuming.
"As I was saying, you are the opposite. You are in the 'world' of the living, but are aware of the 'world' of the dead. So we are essentially on the same plane of existence. Half in, half out. Which is what makes it possible for me to speak to you face-to-face like this."
"I hate you," she muttered. He didn't hear her.
"An interesting thing that I learned after I died was that dreams are also half in, half out. Between the waking and sleeping, between illusion and reality, and also between life and death. So it is possible, when you are in the ghost limbo, so to speak, to...manipulate...the dreams of others. Do things to them in the dream world. Frighten them, hurt them. Maybe even kill them."
My friend had gasped. "You aren't going to do that."
"I can and I will. Starting with those oh-so-wonderful teachers of yours, of course. Tonight will just be a practice. The dreams will get steadily worse. When I've either managed to kill them in their sleep, or get them to do it for me, I'll move on to your classmates. Then to the rest of all mutantkind."
"No!"
"I have all the time in the universe."
"And what was the point of telling me all this?"
Stryker was now in front of her, hands pinning her unbroken arm to the chair, leaning forward. His voice had shrunk to a whisper. "Your defenses are stronger than the rest. I can still break them down, though. If you don't try to interfere, I'll deal with you last. Which means that you could sleep soundly for several more years. If you decide to make a futile attempt to stop me, the nightmares will begin for you too. Understand?"
"Then let them begin," she snapped.
"It's your funeral," he said. "Oh, and I think I'll take these." Stryker's ghost pulled off her sunglasses, then disappeared with them.
"Augh!" She tried to find a light switch with closed eyes. There was no switch. "Oh no!" Opening them for a brief moment, she had seen the screens, which were now showing the dreams of each teacher. They all were just as they had described them, except for the Professor's, which he hadn't said anything about. I only saw what she saw then, which was something involving blunt objects. It was horrible. I could feel that I was distressing Spirit again, so I exited the memory.
~What happened next?~ I asked her.
~I went through what I thought had been the screens. They were doorways. The voice the teachers heard was mine.~
~You are amazing!~
~Anyone would have done it.~
~I probably wouldn't have had the guts to. You are absolutely amazing. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you yesterday. I promise I'll be there next time. If there is a next time.~
~I'm afraid that there might be many next times, Spy.~
The usual disclaimers continue to apply. I own nothing that you can recognize from any other source.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I didn't ask Spirit anything further. My main focus was to run with my friend to Professor Xavier's room. Spirit warned me if I was about to crash into something, since all the lights were off. When we reached the correct room I carefully knocked on the door. No answer, so I took a deep breath and concentrated on the other side. He wasn't there.
~He's gone,~ I told Spirit. She was sobbing uncontrollably. ~Calm down! It'll be okay!~
~You don't know that. And if it's not okay, it'll be all my fault!~
~Look, if you promise to try to stop being hysterical, I'll find him.~
Silent Spirit wiped her nose with her sleeve and made an effort to stop crying. ~Could you try to find the teachers as well?~
After a moment of effort I replied, ~They're all together, in the conference room.~
~Where is it?~
In answer I grabbed her good arm and hurtled towards the room the teachers were gathered in. The door was unlocked, and I could see lights shining out from under the door.
~Do you have your sunglasses, Spirit?~ I asked.
~Yes, let me get them on.~
I called out, "Can you turn off the light until Silent Spirit puts her glasses on properly?" The light went off, and I felt the distinctive telepathic voice of the Professor enter our minds.
~Why are you here, girls?~
I answered aloud, "Spirit knows what happened and she wants to explain it to you. I don't know what it is myself, but she's really panicking about you. Are you okay in there?"
The voice of Storm said, "We're in one piece. You can come in." My favorite teacher sounded ragged and worried. The room was generally off limits to students, which was why I asked for permission.
Of course it was dark, because the lights were off. There was an eerie tension around the table, and I could vaguely see the outlines of all the staff. Spirit sank into a chair. A few scattered tears were still sliding down her face. Professor Xavier wheeled over to the wall and turned on the light.
"Oh my goodness..." I said weakly at the sight that the illumination revealed. Every single teacher was badly injured in some way. And it wasn't from the day before, because those injuries had been bandaged or disinfected. These were new. Each X-Man had different wounds. Wolverine was nearly covered in dried blood. Nightcrawler's blue skin had scorch marks and burns, along with white rope marks on his wrists. Storm had angry purple and yellow bruises all over, several cuts, and a black eye. Cyclops was pale, wet, and had blue marks on his neck. Seeing the Professor was what made me cry, though. Most of head and half of his face was covered in bandages, and his eyes had a haunted look. I wondered if his face had been smashed in or something. Every student in that school loved him like a father, and to see him hurt broke me down. Spirit started off in tears again, though she couldn't make a sound.
"Oh, don't cry, Spirit," implored Kurt. "You make it vorse zhan it is."
"It's no worse that we usually get," said Wolverine.
Cyclops made a strange gasping sound before he spoke. "We'll get better."
"It's okay," reassured Storm.
~It isn't you're fault,~ the Professor told her after I let her know what the others had said.
A flood of fear and guilt, pain and compassion spilled out in Spirit's mind. Both the Professor and I picked it up. ~But it is my fault! I could see it all happening, but I couldn't stop it at first because HE took my glasses. Then I tried to, but then I couldn't save you. I only managed to wake you up before the worst happened.~ She was crying even harder.
~Spirit, go get a box of tissues, then come back,~ Professor Xavier told her. She left weeping.
"What the heck was it?" asked Wolverine. "Those dreams..."
"I don't know either," I said, choking on the lump in my throat. "I don't know anything about this at all."
Very calmly as always, the Professor answered, "I learned from Silent Spirit that she already knows about the dreams that we all had. Hopefully by the time that she returns she will be calm enough to explain the reason that this happened. However, not all of us know what has happened to the others, so it might be a good idea to tell what happened in your dream."
Storm shuddered. "Those were no dreams. They were not even nightmares. They HAPPENED." I was thoroughly confused by this point. She continued in a toneless voice. "I dreamed I was walking down an ordinary street, on a field trip with the children. We were crossing the road. Then the sky turned dark, and a man's voice on the street shouted, 'Mutants! Mutants! Get them!' And everyone echoed him and turned on us. None of our powers worked, and I was trying to defend the students with only my physical fighting skills. But there were too many. Some began stoning us. It seemed like it was raining stones." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "Just when I was about to be knocked unconscious, I heard a voice crying out from very far away. Then it came closer and was louder. It was a girl's voice, one I had never heard before. She screamed 'Stop! Stop! The rocks began to slow, and eventually they ended. And I woke then, but all the wounds I had in the nightmare are still here."
My eyes went huge. This was not real life, I thought. I've stumbled into one of my horror stories, but the characters are people I love and respect. They weren't just teachers, they were like parents to replace the ones who died or rejected us.
Cyclops spoke next. "Mine wasn't as dramatic, but it wasn't pleasant either. In my dream I went back to...back to Alkali Lake." His voice trembled. "A huge wave came up and swept me in. The water was churning like a storm at sea, and I was having a difficult time keeping my head above water. It got worse and worse, until I literally was drowning. When I tried to swim back up I felt two hands on my neck. Pulling me down, down..." His voice trailed off. "I fought the person behind me, but the hands only tightened. Running out of air, I was about to give up. I couldn't think clearly any more. Then, like you, Storm, I heard a girl's voice calling me. 'Mr. Summers! Mr. Summers! SWIM UP!' The hands on my throat loosened, and I woke up. First I was relieved that it was a dream, but then I noticed that my clothes were drenched with water, and you can see the bruises." Mr. Summers shook his head in confusion. "It isn't possible," he murmured.
Spirit came back with a box of tissues, blowing her nose. The tears had left black streaks on her gray fur. I filled her in on what they had said. She only nodded.
After a long silence Nightcrawler spoke up. "Strange things happen every day. All of you can see I was burnt." He closed his eyes. "At zhe stake. Zhey said I vas evil. Like you, I first heard the voice of a man, zhe one who lit the fire. I did not see his face. I tried to pray as the fire grew around me, but zhere vas too much shouting for me to hear my own voice. Zhen I heard, as you did, a voice of a girl. She shrieked, 'Wait! I'm coming! Somebody put it out! I can't do it all at once...' Zhen zhe crowd parted, and zhe fire began to die down. And I avoke to find that I had truly been burnt."
Wolverine said, "I see a pattern."
"What happened to you?" I whispered only loud enough for him to hear.
"Stabbed a few million times." Short and to the point as usual. "Ruined another mattress with the blood, I'm afraid. Sorry, Charlie."
A massive yawn nearly split my head open. "Do you want to go back to bed?" Professor Xavier asked me.
"No!" I said, "I want to know why all this happened. And what happened to you..." I began to cry. "Sorry. I won't do that again. But it's awful for both of us, seeing you hurt!"
The Professor didn't tell me to stop. He let me cry for about five minutes, only handing me the tissue box. I think he was searching the now calm Spirit's mind. Eventually he said, "Spirit would rather that you stayed, Spy. It's upsetting, what has happened tonight. But I believe that I could have been much worse. Thanks to Silent Spirit, no permanent damage has occurred."
"What did she do?" I asked, though I was already proud of my friend, who was now perking up a little. He told her first, of course.
"Spirit has told me," the Professor sounded as if he was giving a very ordinary lesson on an ordinary day, without a smashed face, "that she also had a very upsetting dream tonight. Yesterday she felt restless and anxious, though she didn't know why. She wanted me to tell you that something might happen. She believes that what has happened tonight is supernatural." He paused to let that sink in, then continued, "Spirit says that she dreamed that she was in a bare, white room, with bright, white lights. The room had no doors or windows, but it had what appeared to be five television screens, all blank." Professor Xavier's narrative continued, but I didn't hear the rest of it.
~Could you show me your dream?~ I telepathically asked Spirit.
She was surprised. ~Why? Why do you want to be in a nightmare?~
~I want to know what it was like for you.~ The answer surprised me too, but I felt as if that if I went through what she had gone through, it would help lift some of the burden off her.
~Okay.~ She understood my meaning. I scooted my chair closer to hers, and I put each hand a short distance away from each side of her head. The Professor had taught me how to read memories a few weeks ago.
The room was even whiter that words can convey, but it wasn't white in the way that feels like purity and virtue. It was the white of bleakness, the white of interrogation rooms. The screens that Professor Xavier had spoken of were all on one wall. They were the size of doors. All the other walls were completely blank. A voice came from behind.
"What do you think of this place?"
Spirit had turned, answering; "I don't like it very much. Can you show me the way out?" There was a pause. "How can I hear you?" she had wondered aloud. The man she now faced was about average height, solidly built. He had army clothing on, and looked the part, even though he seemed like he was on the wrong side of middle age. His face was the stoniest face that I ever saw.
"Ah yes, Silent Spirit," he said, "the latest monster. Why, you're nearly as much a monstrosity as that Nightcrawler. He was very useful in some ways. You, however, are in my way." He smiled. "Am I scaring you? Me knowing who you are, but you having not the slightest idea who I am?"
She had started to become frightened, but maintained a steady tone. "You must be dead, or else I couldn't hear you. You say you used Nightcrawler, and you obviously hate mutants. Therefore you are the ghost of William Stryker."
"What is Xavier teaching you? Entirely too perceptive for my taste." He began to pace around the room with the air of an invincible man. If he really was dead, then he most likely was one. "And you are the only one who noticed that I was up to something."
Her voice beginning to shake, Spirit had repeated, "Can you show me the way out?"
"Not to a freak of nature." A very quiet statement, just enough to be either infuriating or terrifying.
"Then why bring me here? What are you planning, you attempted mass murderer?" I privately cheered for her.
"To tell you to not bother trying to stop me. I can do it to you too, you know. It took me three months of death to learn how to do to mutants what my so-called son did to my wife." His anger and hatred was seeping through.
"You mean drive them insane?"
"Much more that that. You see," The (ugh) ghost broke off and walked up to her. "Have a seat," he ordered.
"But there's no..." she stopped when she saw that a (white) chair had materialized behind her. She sat down.
He continued, "I'm sure that you know by now that a man can become a ghost if he is absolutely determined to not die."
"Prefers revenge over peace, you mean."
"Mince words if you like. A ghost is in the 'world' of the dead, yet aware of what is happening in the 'world' of the living. You, however, because of your particular disease..."
"IT ISN'T A DISEASE!"
"Stay in the chair. You're not ever going to go back by screaming at me, you know."
Spirit stayed in the chair, fuming.
"As I was saying, you are the opposite. You are in the 'world' of the living, but are aware of the 'world' of the dead. So we are essentially on the same plane of existence. Half in, half out. Which is what makes it possible for me to speak to you face-to-face like this."
"I hate you," she muttered. He didn't hear her.
"An interesting thing that I learned after I died was that dreams are also half in, half out. Between the waking and sleeping, between illusion and reality, and also between life and death. So it is possible, when you are in the ghost limbo, so to speak, to...manipulate...the dreams of others. Do things to them in the dream world. Frighten them, hurt them. Maybe even kill them."
My friend had gasped. "You aren't going to do that."
"I can and I will. Starting with those oh-so-wonderful teachers of yours, of course. Tonight will just be a practice. The dreams will get steadily worse. When I've either managed to kill them in their sleep, or get them to do it for me, I'll move on to your classmates. Then to the rest of all mutantkind."
"No!"
"I have all the time in the universe."
"And what was the point of telling me all this?"
Stryker was now in front of her, hands pinning her unbroken arm to the chair, leaning forward. His voice had shrunk to a whisper. "Your defenses are stronger than the rest. I can still break them down, though. If you don't try to interfere, I'll deal with you last. Which means that you could sleep soundly for several more years. If you decide to make a futile attempt to stop me, the nightmares will begin for you too. Understand?"
"Then let them begin," she snapped.
"It's your funeral," he said. "Oh, and I think I'll take these." Stryker's ghost pulled off her sunglasses, then disappeared with them.
"Augh!" She tried to find a light switch with closed eyes. There was no switch. "Oh no!" Opening them for a brief moment, she had seen the screens, which were now showing the dreams of each teacher. They all were just as they had described them, except for the Professor's, which he hadn't said anything about. I only saw what she saw then, which was something involving blunt objects. It was horrible. I could feel that I was distressing Spirit again, so I exited the memory.
~What happened next?~ I asked her.
~I went through what I thought had been the screens. They were doorways. The voice the teachers heard was mine.~
~You are amazing!~
~Anyone would have done it.~
~I probably wouldn't have had the guts to. You are absolutely amazing. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you yesterday. I promise I'll be there next time. If there is a next time.~
~I'm afraid that there might be many next times, Spy.~