"What were you thinking?" Were the first words I was greeted to as I walked in the house.
"Dad…" I started.
"No," he cut me off firmly. "I changed my mind. I'll do the talking for now. Did you realize that you could have hurt someone? That you could have hurt yourself? Someone could have figured out what you can do, Lance. We still don't know exactly what's going to happen. I just… I thought last night was a little slip, but this… this is huge! I have no idea what we're going to do. I guess we could move again, but if we go too soon it'll look suspicious. But if we stay here the chances of you getting caught are higher."
"Dad," I hesitantly stopped him in mid-pace. "That wasn't me. Those quakes. Those were real."
"Lance," he groaned.
"You've gotta believe me, Dad," I begged. "I know I've done some crappy things, but I would never do this. And I'd never lie about it."
"I have been wondering how you could suddenly become that powerful," he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "I mean Rebecca called me in a fit because the house was shaking and then it was on the news that the school had been badly damaged. That's at least 10 times the distance you've been able to hit before."
"Because it wasn't me," I explained again. "I promise. Whatever I've done before, you can trust that."
"Okay," Dad sighed as he slumped into a nearby chair. "But we're nowhere near a fault line, so I can't even begin to figure out how this could possibly happen."
"I don't know," I sat down on the couch opposite him. "I've been wondering the same thing myself."
"I'm glad you're alright," Dad offered. "But this has got me thinking. Maybe we should move back to California. Of all the places we've lived, that was the one place we worried the least about you getting discovered."
"And the place that made my headaches the worst," I countered. "All the movement there really gets to me. Plus you can't move everyone again just for me. We've moved four times in the past year before moving back here. Wasn't the point of coming back here to stay settled?"
"We came back here because…" Dad caught himself, "that doesn't matter. The important thing is that things have been good lately. But now…"
"Boarding school," Rebecca interrupted as she came in. "I told you when we came back here that if he pulled one more stunt, he was out of here. And you agreed, Jack."
"Honey," Dad began, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes tight, clearly preparing for the fight that would ensue.
"Don't honey me," she spat. "You let him off the hook last night. But after today? After he destroyed the school? There's no talking this away. He's dangerous, Jack. Can't you see that?"
"Says the witch," I mumbled.
"He didn't cause what happened today, Becca," Dad argued. "It's unfair to punish him for something that he didn't do."
"Didn't cause it?" she huffed. "It's never his fault that's he's such a delinquent, is it? Who's fault is it then Jack? Who made your son out to be such a… such a hood!"
"Who turned you into a royal bitch?" I muttered.
"Lance," Dad kept his voice steady despite the redness creeping up his neck, "Go to your room."
"And pack," Rebecca added with a cold glare. But I never moved to go because we all froze when the doorbell rang. "I bet that's the police," she grumbled as she moved to answer the door.
"Hello, is this the Alvers residence?" a smooth voice purred. "I'm looking for Lance Alvers."
"Of course you are," Rebecca threw up her hands and left the door wide open as she stomped down the hall to the master bedroom. Dad and I waited until she had slammed the door before turning to the stranger stepping through the door.
"Mr. Alvers, I presume," a tall, well-groomed woman closed the door behind her and held out her hand to my dad before looking over at me. "And Lance. A pleasure to meet you both."
"And you are?" my dad took her hand and offered her a seat.
"A friend," the woman answered curtly. "It seems you've been in a bit of trouble today, Lance."
"I'll ask you one more time and then I will literally throw you out of my house," Dad snarled, "Who are you?"
"My name is Principal Darkholme," she offered with a mysterious smile. "But you may call me Raven."
"Okay, Raven," my dad eyed her suspiciously. "I'm Jack, and as you already know this is my son, Lance."
"And I'll assume the charming woman who answered the door is your wife," Raven winked at me as she said the word charming before turning back to my father. "Now that introductions are out of the way, can we get down to business?"
"What business?" I asked.
"Bold and to the point. I like that ," she commented before standing up to start her speech. "I'm the Principal of a well-respected school in Bayville, New York. We pride ourselves on having the brightest, best, and most talented student body. Ever. So my business, to be blunt, is you, Lance."
"I think you've got the wrong kid," I laughed. "I'm not a jock."
"Certainly not. But you do have other talents," she smiled as Dad and I shared a quick look. "You have great potential. You just need some nurturing. And a whole lot of discipline."
"I don't know what you think my son can do, but…" Dad began to stand up as he pointed towards the door.
"I think your son could prove to shock the world with his greatness," she shot a teasing smile at me before continuing. "His schoolwork clearly shows promise, but at the moment he puts in little to no effort. I believe under the tutelage of my staff and myself that we could unlock his potential and make him the star he should be."
"So you want my son to come to your school because he might become a better student?" Dad frowned uncertainly.
"No. I want your son to come to our school because I know he will do amazing things," she explained, "My employer handpicked your son out of millions to join our school, and I'm sure he wouldn't have done so without very good reason."
"And your employer is?" Dad asked.
"A Samaritan who thinks that investing in the future of our youth is the key to everything, which is why he funds our highly innovative and advanced school," she shrugged before adding. "Who happens to prefer to remain anonymous."
"So what exactly are you pitching us here?" Dad leaned in with interest.
"I'm asking that you consider transferring your son to our school, letting him move in to one of our spacious boy's only dorms, and allow me to do what I do best," she reached over and placed her hand on my head. "Mold young minds. All on a complete scholarship of course."
"Bayville," Dad mused. "That's close to the city, isn't it?"
"Close enough that we can easily take our students in for some culture and once-in-a-lifetime experiences," she nodded. "But far enough away that it proves to be of little distraction."
"It does sound intriguing," Dad looked at me.
"You can't be seriously considering this?" I spat. "They're going to realize in a couple of hours that they've got the wrong kid and send me back."
"Oh, I've got the right kid alright," Ms. Darkholme sat back down and stared at me over the rim of her glasses. "I'm certain of that."
"You get the final say, Lance," Dad promised. "But it sounds like a great opportunity. And it'd surely beat whatever boot camp I'm sure Rebecca's already found."
"You'd really send me away?" I sank back into the couch cushions as the realization hit me.
"I just don't know what else to do," Dad shook his head. "I've tried everything else I can think of, but… you're special, Lance. You've always been special. Maybe you just need a special school to give you the right challenge."
"I can't believe this," I sighed. "You're really shipping me off. I never thought you'd do that."
"I'm not shipping you off, Lance," Dad argued. "I promised you I would never let that happen. You don't have to go if you don't want to, I just… I really do think something like this might be what you need."
"You really think so?" I frowned.
"I think it's worth a try," Dad offered. "You can always come back. Come home."
"Okay," I answered after a long pause before turning back to Ms. Darkholme. "When do we leave?"
"Immediately," she grinned triumphantly.