Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

"Ivy Rivers?"

Ivy looked up from the schedule she'd been studying to see a young blonde woman standing in front of her.

She nodded, then added, "Wait, how do you know my name?"

The woman smirked.

"Because you're the only student late to my class."

Ivy, surprised, looked to her right and saw a classroom full of students staring at her; she felt her face getting warm and looked back at the teacher.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I had trouble finding… Sorry."

She turned and walked hastily to the only open seat: a chair in the back next to a sullen looking redhead.

"Now that everyone's here," the teacher said, throwing a glance at Ivy. "Let's continue. Most of you know me already, but for those of you who don't," another glance at Ivy, "my name is Ms. Keaton. I will be your History of Heroes teacher for the next 9 months. Now, continuing through the syllabus…"

"Hey."

Ivy jumped at the whisper; the redhead was talking to her. Ivy cleared her throat nervously.

"Hello," she said back quietly.

"I'm Layla. It's Ivy, right?"

"Ms. Beaumont."

Layla perked up at the sound of Ms. Keaton's voice.

"I hope you don't plan to talk the entire time I'm speaking. If so, I'm having lunch with your mother tomorrow and I'm sure she'd love to hear all about it."

"Yeah, Layla!" shouted a boy from the back of the room; Ms. Keaton glared at him.

"Sorry," mumbled Layla, her face turning the same color as her hair.

Ivy shrugged apologetically, and turned back toward the front of the room. A few seconds later she felt a folded piece of paper slide under her right hand. She turned to Layla, who was grinning slightly, and opened it.

A note:

Find me at lunch.

The bell rang suddenly and Ivy looked up to see Layla already halfway out the door. She looked back down at the note and sighed, picked up her bag, and continued on to her next class.

—

The next few periods persisted without any severe abnormalities, save for the unique subject matter, which, thankfully, Ivy had come to find quite interesting. Unfortunately, she had started to regain those all too familiar feelings of insecurity.

After Ms. Keaton's comment to Layla about having lunch with her mother, Ivy, so convinced she wasn't a freak only hours earlier, was now certain that she was bizarre, even by these standards. She was an outsider, an intruder on their closely-knit and interconnected community of freaks—which made her the freak. If not here, where did she belong? She was starting to feel sick again.

By the time lunch came, Ivy had lost her appetite all together. She could feel the note shoved inside her pocket and it suddenly felt like a million pounds; she touched it tenderly, feeling the paper crinkle underneath her jeans, and stepped into the cafeteria cautiously.

It was crowded. Ivy, feeling slightly claustrophobic, began to scan the head of every student, looking for a flame of bright red hair. Her heart shot up as she noticed a character with familiar orange tendrils. She made her way over to the table.

"Hi," Ivy said lamely.

Layla looked up, smiling. "Hey, Ivy. Have a seat."

Ivy obliged silently, taking the chair across from Layla.

"So—" she began, but she was cut off as Layla stood up, beaming.

"Hey, you!" she said to someone Ivy realized wasn't her. She watched as a boy with shaggy brown hair made his way over to Layla and wrapped her in a loving embrace. It made Ivy feel uncomfortable.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Layla said, looking terrified at her own behavior. "Where are my manners? Ivy, this is my boyfriend, Will."

Ivy looked at the boy with brown hair and gave a meek smile.

"Will, this is Ivy," Layla continued.

Something about the way Layla said her name made her feel strange; as if they had just been talking about her before she'd entered the room.

"Oh!" said Will, who, although grinning, looked surprised. "Hey—hey, I'm Will."

He put out a hand to shake; Ivy accepted the offer. She noticed his hand was strong.

"Yeah, I've heard all about you," he said.

Ivy furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Layla, who had started to blush again.

"Will!" she whispered, hitting his arm gently.

"How did you…?" Ivy began, but was again interrupted by more guests.

A lanky boy with blonde hair claimed the seat to her left, while another boy with glasses grabbed the seat on her right; a pretty girl in purple sat down across from her.

"What did we miss?" said the blonde.

"Is this her?" the boy with glasses added.

The girl in purple remained quiet, but stared at Ivy intently.

"You guys!"

Layla was absolutely red.

"Do you know anything about being subtle?" she asked breathlessly. "I'm sorry, Ivy, I—I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Um…" was all Ivy could muster. She was upset and thrown off by the fact that Layla suddenly looked afraid—as if she would hurt her. She took a moment to compose herself, and continued. "How is it… um… how do you all know 'so much' about me? I mean… All I told you before was my name."

There were a few moments of silence as everyone at the table stared at one another. Will stared at Layla pleadingly. She cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Uh," she started, taking a seat; Will followed suit. "Well, let's see. As you probably noticed earlier… my mom is kind of friendly with the people here at school and… well Will's parents have lunch with Principal Powers every Sunday and… Well, I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable, but… I mean, we just know so much about you…"

The ringing silence when she finished made Ivy's heart sink. She felt the color drain from her face. Did they know about…? No, they couldn't… Could they? Ivy felt embarrassed; she felt like she would cry.

"Excuse me," she said quietly, and she quickly stood and left the table.

She could hear Layla's voice echoing behind her as she exited the cafeteria ("What is wrong with you guys!"), but after a few moments she couldn't hear anything at all. She jogged down the empty hallway toward a set of double doors, which led outside, and pushed through them angrily.

Blindly, furiously, she walked. She walked with a purpose. She walked until she came to the end of the earth, and then she looked down. Nothing but clouds. She felt the wind wash over her face; she felt the sun hot on her back; she felt the sting of the tears.

She shut her eyes, never wanting them to open again.

Every pain Ivy had ever felt came rushing back to her in that moment. She felt the jab of her old schoolmates' taunts; she felt the twigs and rocks cutting her as the man with sandy hair forced her to the ground; she felt the hurt she'd felt the first time her mother had looked at her with fear; she felt the pain of seeing Layla, a stranger, look at her with such dread; she felt the sun, burning and unforgiving…

She took another step toward the edge, knowing it would be too easy; knowing no one would miss her, that everyone would be thankful a monster like her were gone. Another step. She was nobody; she fit in nowhere. Step. Step. Step. The pain was going to go away soon. Ivy threw her arms out. She would never have to think about the sun ever again. She took a sharp intake of breath, and then—

"Don't!"

Ivy stopped and opened her eyes.