WARNING: IN THIS CHAPTER, CHAOTIC DREAMER WILL CREATE SOME SEMBLANCE OF A PLOT, AND A BIT OF 'HORROR..' BE VERY AFRAID!!!

Me: Okay, I discovered last week that using other people's muses can have bad effects. Hence the end of chapter seven. But Jet does not want me to write this story, and I need her to inspire me. (sighs) That's the trouble with having a rabbit for a muse. So, I really had no choice.

Jet: (muffled) Get me out of here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: I got Jet a fireproof cage and locked her in it.

Jet: You'll pay for this!!!!

Me: Must I?

Jet: You have to let me out eventually!!

Me: Yes, but I'm the one who feeds you, and you can't open the bags I keep your food it.

Jet: Actually, I'm considering changing my diet to barbecued human.

Me: (hurriedly) Well, I'm also the one who cleans your litter box.

Jet: I don't have to kill you to make you pay...

Me: (gulps)

SHOUT OUTS:

Snowfire the Kitsune: I'm so sorry! I don't know how I missed your review in the shout-outs last chapter! Anyway, you're exactly correct about Jen and Roberto.

triquetraperson: Okay, thanks. Maybe I'll have Soki-Yoki come back and visit some time.

Agent-G: Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, this chapter should be a bit better.

Electric Fire/Elf: Thanks for the offer. Maybe I'll borrow Beefy next chapter. Thanks for the compliments!

Evil-Bunny-Leader/pyrosgal: Glad you like the story. And I'm sure it comforts Jet to know she has a fan. (over shoulder) Right?

Jet: Just let me out already!!!

Me shouting out again: Really? I never knew that about plug-in fans. I'll have to try that just to freak my mom out... (evil grin)

DISCLAIMER: Has anything I have done made the slightest illusion that I could possibly own X-Evo? I didn't think so.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Bryan:

It's a little strange when no one can see or hear you. For one thing, you can get to know people really well, better then they know themselves sometimes, without them even knowing you exist. You can do things that you couldn't do otherwise, and wouldn't do otherwise, and all your perceptions change.

I'm not sure I like these changes.

But as I've traveled, I've found people that I care about as much as I would if I could talk to them. People who might be able to help me.

First, though, I need to help them. They are in incredible danger, and I have to find a way to tell them this.

Problem is, there's no way for me to say anything.

0000000000000000000000000
Jennifer:

I was on my bike, like I was every morning. I grinned as I reached 'the hill.' It was the steepest downhill in Salt Lake City, and well worth the trip up it to ride back down. I stopped for a few seconds, to make sure there weren't any cars. Then I picked my feet up, and coasted almost strait down.

Suddenly a boy appeared on the road in front of me. I tried to move the bike, but the handle bars weren't working. I jumped off the bike, and it fell to the ground, and slid down the road, hitting my head on a metal pole. The boy ran towards me, his face pale and full of concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but all I heard was a sucking noise coming from above me.

I looked up, and saw that the pole I'd hit was a stop sign, one with a shadowy hole in the middle of the 'O.' The stop sign was slowly growing bigger and bigger, and I could feel myself being pulled through the hole at an alarming rate. Soon I was surrounded by darkness. And then I stopped moving, and in front of me I could see an old, run down building. Someone inside was screaming...

And then I opened my eyes, and took a deep breath. I was in New York, not Utah, and there were no stop signs trying to eat me. I was however, an inch away from the ceiling again.

"Ahhhhh!" Wumph!

Well, it took less time to get down today.

I sighed and got out of bed, rubbing my head. I had a headache, though the only possible cause for it that I could think of was sliding into a stop sign, and I hadn't done that for three months.

Once I had gotten dressed, I picked up my pencil and paper, and decided that I might as well make my map on the way to breakfast, since I had four or five hours with nothing better to do. I drew a rectangle on the edge of the paper, labeled it "My room" then stepped out the door.

One hour later, I was completely and totally lost. Again. I tried to use the map to get back to where I had started, but apparently I'd made some really bad mistakes. Finally I simply gave up, got outside as quickly as possible (another 20 minutes), and found my bedroom window. Now, was it at all conceivable that I could climb up?

Nope.

Well... wasn't I flying this morning? Or was that just some strange occurrence in New York that no one had bothered to mention[1]? Somehow I doubted the latter. So... I can fly?

I blinked. That made no sense whatsoever. But hey, it was worth a try.

I closed my eyes, and willed myself to leave the ground. Nothing happened.

I jumped up and down, flapping my arms like wings. That didn't work either.

After a while, I gave up. Maybe it was just some New York phenomenon. Besides, how would I have opened my window?

So, I walked around the house to find the kitchen and eat an early breakfast. Eventually I did get in there, but there were still no froot loops, in the fridge, silverware drawer, freezer, oven, under the sink, or anywhere else. So I had to content myself with Lucky Charms.

I still had nothing to do. At all. So I went to my room (which took some time to find) and spent the rest of my morning before school attaching candy wrappers to my wall. (Less expensive then wall paper, and your room smells like chocolate.)

0000000000000000000000000000000
Later at school, I met Sydney again in guitar. I didn't recognize her for a second though. You see, she had died her hair black, put on really heavy dark makeup, a dark purple shirt and mini skirt, a black trench coat, fang-like earings, and really high black boots. It was... just a little bit weird. But can I really talk? I mean, I make balls of light come out of my hands, wallpaper my room with candy wrappers, and wake up floating near the ceiling. If I have the right to be that strange, she has the right to go from preppy to goth in one night.

"Hi, Sydney." I said once I recognized her, then sat down and opened my guitar case.

Sydney looked at me for a second as if she was expecting me to say something else, then nodded.

"So... what's up?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

"The ceiling." She said impassively.

"Really?" I asked, looking up. "It seems to me that it might fall down any minute." I wasn't being sarcastic: I meant it. The ceiling in this classroom was looking fairly shabby, and... burnt?

"Um–" I tried to think of something to say. Awkward silences aren't very fun. "A lot of people are wearing socks these days. How do you feel about that?"

Sydney blinked, then laughed. "Socks? I don't.[2]"

"Don't wear socks, or don't feel about them?"

"Depends on the day for both."

"Okay."

And then we had to shut up because class started, and the teacher was glaring at us.

After class, Sydney walked up to me.

"So, where are you from?"

"Utah."

"Are you at that Xavier place?"

"Yes, actually."

"There are some really weird people around there, and I heard there's a werewolf."

"A werewolf?"

"Yeah. What do you do there anyway?"

"Um, art lessons and stuff." I felt bad about lying. But my candy-wrappered room was kind of like a mural, and maybe I could find a way to organize the wrappers so it looked like a picture. Then I'd have given my self an art lesson, so I wasn't lying. Much better.

"Well, if strange stuff does happen there, you'll have to tell me about it. I've been wondering about the rumors."

Since guitar was our last class, we went to both our lockers and then outside, just talking. I found out that Sydney is an only child, has a pet chinchilla[3], and likes acting.

When we got outside, Sydney whispered to me,

"There's two men staring at us from across the street."

"You sure they're looking at us?"

"Yeah." I turned around, and two men in a white car looked away. Something about them freaked me out, and when I said good bye to Sydney, I practically ran to Scott's car.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
[1] If anyone reading this has been to New York, I would be curious to know if that actually happens. I doubt it, but it would be really really weird...

[2] My friends made up the socks comment as a way to break the ice if you're talking to a boy you have a crush on. That doesn't happen much to me, so I use it as a conversation starter. And everyone I've used it on says "Socks?" Then either says "I don't," or "I like them." Every time.

[3] My cousin had a pet chinchilla. It was like a giant squirrel.

Me: (looking at Jet) Do you think that's kind of a plot?

Jet: No.

Me: Do you like Sydney a bit better now?

Jet: No.

Me: What's you're problem?

Jet: I'm locked in a fireproof cage. What do you think my problem is?

Me: (hands Jet some froot loops) These'll make you feel better!

Jet: Why do I even bother?