Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

Ivy didn't know how much time was passing. She didn't care. But as she sat on the floor and cried, the seconds flew. And then the minutes. And Ivy cried and cried, until suddenly, and for no reason, Ivy stopped crying.

She got up. She went to her closet. She picked up her book-bag. She walked out of her room. She walked past her mother's bedroom (she could hear her mother sobbing quietly through the door, and she felt a small pang of regret). She walked down the stairs, out of her house, onto the sidewalk. She walked down one block, then two, then three. She walked until she stopped, and then she waited.

Ivy felt strange. She no longer felt sad, but oddly content. It was as if the sun had replenished her, as if the darkness that she'd spent the last year wallowing in had drained her of what little happiness she'd had; and now, it was coming back to her, filling her up like warm gold. Her cheeks began to feel stiff, and it took Ivy a few moments to recognize that she was smiling.

She cleared her throat, letting the smile fall from her face, and glanced up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. A bus. A fleeting image of the man with sandy hair shot through Ivy's mind, and she shook her head vigorously. She wasn't going to think about that.

Not today.

She watched as the bus came closer, slowing, stopping—for her; and the doors creaked open, and Ivy stared into the darkness, a darkness that was all too familiar; and she thought, for just a moment, that she would not go. She would not take that step into the unknown. But she thought again; this bus would take her to a new life, a life that, whether good or bad, was different. And Ivy needed different. She needed it desperately. She needed it like ivy needed the sun…

She took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and—

"Is this the bus to Sky High?"

The figure in the driver's seat leaned toward her, slowly emerging from the shadows, and Ivy looked up hopefully. A bespectacled woman looked back at her. She was grinning.

"Sure is, doll," she said, her southern accent like honey.

Ivy gave a nod and clambered onto the bus nervously. She realized she was sweating and started mentally cursing herself. Damn it, why did she get on the bus?

She jumped slightly at the sound of the bus doors slamming behind her and decided she would have to sit down. She took a seat in front of a dark-skinned girl and immediately proceeded to stare out the window.

Looking around the bus, Ivy had counted no more than six students, all younger than she. She guessed not many other "special" children lived in her neighborhood. Or maybe there just weren't many at all. She began to feel ill.

It didn't help, of course, that the bus had just driven off an unfinished overpass and they were now falling toward their eminent deaths. Ivy shut her eyes tightly, too scared to scream, and waited for impact. When none came, she opened her eyes and glanced around the bus. Everyone was fine; calm, in fact. She looked back out the window. Clouds.

Realizing they were floating to school via flying bus, Ivy sank back into her seat and groaned.

It was going to be a long day.

—

The bus came to a less-than-smooth landing just atop the hovering mass of earth, which seemed to house the school. Ivy made certain she was the last student to get off of the bus and, thanking the driver, she took her first step toward a new life.

As she walked, Ivy began to sweat again. She hadn't been around this many people in a very long time, but she was starting to feel better about the fact that there were so many. Hundreds, thousands of students passed her, chatting casually to one another, acting as though there was nothing unusual about spending a day at a floating high school for freaks. Maybe Ivy wasn't so strange. She felt herself smiling again and immediately sped into the building.

—

"Ms. Rivers, we've been expecting you."

After a short and confusing search for the main office, Ivy had managed to find the woman she had been scheduled to meet with. A handsome Mrs. Powers stood in front of her now, smiling cheerfully. Ivy returned the favor.

"Hello," Ivy said nervously.

Mrs. Powers lifted a manila folder from her desk and flipped through its contents noisily.

"It says here you're a going to be a junior this year. Are you excited?" she asked, still grinning.

"Yes," Ivy responded.

There were a few moments of silence as Mrs. Powers glanced over what was, presumably, Ivy's student file. When she was done, she threw the folder back onto her desk and placed her hands on the table's wood surface for support.

"So, Ivy. I've read in your file that you were pulled out of school after an unfortunate incident last year."

Ivy nodded.

"You were homeschooled?"

Ivy nodded again.

"How was that?"

Ivy shrugged.

Mrs. Powers gave a small sniff then continued. She didn't stop smiling.

"How are things at home?"

Ivy was thrown off by the question.

"I…" she started.

Mrs. Powers stared at her for a moment and then turned around, as if suddenly uninterested.

"Your mother has provided us with substantial evidence that your powers are extremely harmful, potentially even fatal, for anyone who comes into contact with them. Therefore you will not be put through power placement, and instead will be placed into hero level classes. Here is your schedule," she said, handing Ivy a piece of paper.

Ivy was speechless, flabbergasted by the information she had just received and by the mysterious inner workings of Mrs. Powers' mind. She watched as her new principal took a seat behind her desk and began to stack several loose papers, humming to herself. She looked up at Ivy, as if wondering why she was still there.

"Have a good day, Ivy," she said.

And with that, Ivy stood, picked up her bag, and exited the office, more nervous than ever.

It was going to be quite a long day indeed.