Fern pedaled up the hill, breathless, her calves sore. She pushed, pushed with her every muscle, though they were so unwilling, up, up the hill. The bike screeched and groaned as the chains rubbed together, protesting, telling her to stop and rest, telling her to stop so she would fall back down the road and back the way she came; leaving her to start all over again.

Fern hated them; that was official. She hated them for not letting her take a car. She hated them because she had to ride on this piece of trash, this bike, for eight hours straight and reach Coates Academy before night fell. She hated them because she knew if she didn't make it on time her hands would be submerged into cement and she would have to face the same fate all those other kids had, too. She hated them because they made her so weak, so vulnerable, so scared, and so hideous.

She hated it.

The ground swayed and twirled beneath a struggling Fern, like it was welcoming her, welcoming for her to join it on the ground and hop off her torturing bike. Fern wanted to, no doubt, but she also wanted to keep her hands and not have them locked in a block of rock.

Fern kept pedaling.

She trudged down the road, her back arched, eyes alert even though they were far too blurry to really see anything out of them. She kept a grim expression on her face, hoping that if someone saw her they would know to keep out of her way.

Today Fern wore a dark red shirt, a color she wasn't really fond of, and black jeans. Fern had wanted to wear a green shirt, for green was her favorite and she wore it on days when she was happy but her arched fingers and tired eyes would tell otherwise.

Suddenly Fern remembered her conversation with Sam the other day, the one by the brunt apartment building. She remembered Sam asking her questions, questions like 'Are you from Coates?' Or 'How'd you get to Perdido Beach?' Fern couldn't remember his exact words, but she remembered she had felt safe. . . . Like if anything were to happen she didn't have to worry because she had the superhero on her side. The Perdido Beach hero. The man who was crazy and ran into a burning building. Sam Sam the school bus man.

But then there was also Caine Soren.

And he could beat Sam anyday with just the flick of his hand.

Fern pedaled harder.

Perspiration started to drip down the side of Fern's temples, slowly and a little in a tickling manner. She reached a hand up and wiped it away quickly, not wanting to look tired and exhausted and worn out and restless. . . . Which was basically everything she was.

Fern wouldn't mind showing up to Coates, she really won't, all sweaty and gross, her blonde hair matted to her head. But she wasn't going to give him that pleasure. She wasn't in the mood. But was she ever?

Fern pushed her bike up the hill, breathless.

Only two more hours, Fern thought to herself. Only two more hours.

The two hours passed by like a living hell. Fern fell off her bike seven times, and counting, because her hands were wobbly and unstable and she would stop pedaling at random points so she would fall, fall onto the hard ground. Her skin was covered in bruises and scratches and cuts. Why her? Why did she have to go all the way to Perdido Beach? What would they gain from this?

A rumbling school the size of about twenty-five, normal-sized houses came into view. The windows glistened, most of them had their blinds drawn, but some classrooms didn't, making the outside world able to see all the way inside.

Around the school, in the parking lot, there were many, many expensive cars. In fact, there were probably more than the amount they would need. Fern remembered him telling her that she couldn't take a car because they needed them all, they needed to use each and everyone for a reason he wouldn't explain to Fern.

He had also said for her to take a bike because he couldn't risk losing her, losing Fern, if she accidentally drove off a cliff.

Fern parked her bike by the giant gates that prevented her from getting any closer to Coates Academy.

She stalked over to the gardhouse, her usually grace restocked.

The person on the other side let her in.

"What time is it?" Fern asked Jasmine.

Jasmine's skin was a silky color of chocolate and it seemed to glow brighter today. Her black hair was longer than Fern's, not much longer, but anyone could see the difference. Her black eyes scanned Fern, concerned about her bruised body.

"You still have thirty minutes. That's enough time for you to change into a new pair of clothes and maybe rinse off," Jasmine said doing the math in her head.

"Did you bring me an extra pair of clothes?" Fern asked, sounding doubtful.

"Of course." Jasmine turned around and reached into a green bag that was no larger than the backpack Fern used for school. Jasmine's shoes squeak on the ground as she lowered herself to floor level and⎯ after a few moments of fishing around⎯ Jasmine stood back up, straightened her back, and offered a blue t-shirt and light blue jeans to Fern.

Fern took it gratefully and smiled in a little pained way, but said the joke they now said instead of a farewell. "Stay loyal to Caine."

"I will."

Fern escaped through the backdoor and stayed close to the shadows. The bushes swayed and rustled in the breeze and they scraped her long legs in protest, as if they were saying 'Do not come this way.' But Fern kept pushing anyway, determined to make it to the showers on time. She couldn't afford to have her hands locked in cement. No. She could not afford it.

Fern rinsed her dirty body off until the water ran clean and quickly changed into the new clothes Jasmine had gave her. Fern smiled at the feeling of her being clean once again.

She then sauntered back outside and to the front of the building, right were she knew they would see her. Fern walked so, so slowly, even though her mind was racing and all she wanted to do right now was run away. . . .Preferably to Perdido Beach.

Fern heard the sound of someone walking on pavement and⎯ as nonchalantly as possible⎯ turned to see who was the owner of the noise.

He walked in a very confident and freely with his body out in the open. He knew that many were out for his blood but here he was, walking in the middle of a parking lot, not at all fearing a bullet with fly through his chest.

"There you are," Drake said while slapping his lips together, like he tasted something bad.