Focus
	By me (mwahahaha)

 This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It 
may or may not match the timeline, characters, and 
continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares?
 To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either 
Sapphire's Place 
(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html)
 or the Big Closet 
(http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)



Chapter 1: Out of Focus

September 4

The bus finally pulled into a tiny town that looked too 
quaint to be real.  Driving through the small town, I kept 
looking up to see the crack in the globe that let out all 
the water and flakes of plastic snow.  There were already 
kids standing around with the familiar first-day-at-a-new-
school look all over their face.  The most conspicuous of 
them were obviously trying not to draw attention to their 
mutant features.  Looking at them, turning into a boy 
didn’t seem so bad.  Having giant bat wings, or black skin 
and white hair, or being covered in fur may sound cool for 
a super hero, but these were just kids.  Just looking at 
them you could tell they weren’t ready to drive a car, let 
alone fight crime.

Yet, if you were going to fight crime someday, this was the 
place to learn how.  Whatley Academy… I can’t believe I’m 
actually here or at least the bus stop nearest it in town.  
Everything I’d read about Whatley on the internet (which 
wasn’t as much as you’d expect) made me want to be here all 
the sooner.  Here, I’d meet new friends and hopefully new 
teammates.  I’d missed soccer last summer and the time off 
made me realize just how much I missed it.  With the way my 
body was coming along, the sports would be so much more fun.  
I can run for what seems like forever without getting tired. 
I can do chin-ups, push ups, none of which I could do 
before.  

Sure, things will be different.  I’ll be playing on the 
boys team instead of the girls, but I got over that weeks 
ago.  If I’m going to be a boy, I might as well try to make 
the most of it.  

The vans showed up right about the time people started to 
mix.  I met a boy named Gene, who seemed perfectly normal, 
but we scarcely had time to tell each other our names 
before we were called into the vans.  We didn’t even get to 
sit next to each other since they needed people to help 
load the girl’s luggage on our van.  Being a gentleman, I 
volunteered.  Those girls sure didn’t know how to pack.  
This one girl must have had half a dozen full sized trunks.  
The biggest thing I had was my computer box, which, I was 
glad to see, wasn’t the only one.

Iron gates, gargoyles, ivy growing up the sides of 
buildings... It was all exactly as pictured in the pamphlet.  
I’d thought they had prettied up the place and touched up 
the photographs to make it look better, but it was all 
remarkably perfect.  A little too perfect… This might lend 
credence to the rumors that the government was using this 
place to create an army of mutants to take over the earth. 
Or maybe the school hadn’t had several hundred teenagers 
running around tearing the place up for the last six months.  
In a couple weeks the place would definitely look much more 
‘lived in’. With my paranoia put on hold, I decided to try 
to just enjoy the setting.

****

Since we were carrying mostly girl’s luggage we had to stop 
by there first before we got to see our rooms.  Our dorm, 
or cottage as they called it, was Emerson.  There was a 
bust in the entryway that they told us was Emerson.  I took 
their word for it since I’d never heard of the guy.

We freshmen were all on the second floor which meant a lot 
of up and down stairs to get in all of our stuff.  Vans 
kept coming, dropping off luggage and boxes, just leaving 
everything in a pile.  You had to sort through it all to 
find which box was whose.  There were almost 40 of us 
running around getting in each others way, not to mention 
having to dodge luggage that kept falling down the stairs 
every time someone tripped.  Several students had thought 
of the brilliant idea of storing their luggage (and in one 
case furniture) outside their room in the hall, making the 
already narrow halls even more constricted.  

Helping guys carry their stuff up the stairs was great to 
show off the new muscle I’d picked up.  I felt like I could 
do anything.  One of the boys who I helped turned out to be 
my roommate, Jack.  He was a dark haired boy, an inch or so 
taller than me.  He was wearing a black t-shirt and torn 
jeans.  His hair didn’t look like it had been combed within 
living memory.  I thought he looked rough, but not 
unapproachable.

“So, why are you here?” he asked as I opened up my suitcase.

“What do you mean?  Same reason we all are.  I’m a mutant.”  
I am still not convinced this whole place isn’t just a 
government conspiracy.

Incredulously, he responded, “I know that, but what do you 
do?” 

“I don’t know… nothing I’ve been able to figure out.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me…”

“No, I mean, seriously, I don’t know.” Then I realized that 
he really just wanted a chance to show off.  “What is it, 
you, um, do?”

“I’m strong, and fast,” which he must have lost when it 
came time to carry his stuff up the stairs, “and I can do 
THIS!” The fluorescent light overhead flickered off then on 
again.  “I’m working on extending the range, right now I 
can flicker all the lights in a two story house, pretty 
cool huh?”

It seemed rather lame to me, but seeing how I didn’t have 
any powers, I couldn’t tell him that.  “Ya, real cool.  I 
bet you have all kinds of uses for that.”

“Oh ya, I can flicker pretty much anything on the power 
grid. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a code name do you?” 
I shook my head indicating the negative while I stuffed my 
underwear into the drawer.  “I want to be known as ‘Jack 
the Flicker’.”

“I thought he was a bad guy?”

“You just don’t get it. It’s all about the mystique.  You 
gotta give them something that makes them wonder about 
you.”  That made me wonder about him, alright.

“Ya, I don’t think I get it.  And besides, I don’t have any 
powers, right?  I don’t really need a code name.”

“Everyone is supposed to come up with a code name, it’s 
says so in those papers they gave us.”  He said indicating 
the packet they handed us earlier.

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

****

Luckily, I’d gotten the last of my boxes in the room, but 
we were all gathered up again for a tour of the campus 
before I even had time to unpack my clothes.  Besides 
seeing the usual buildings and statues, they took us in a 
vault where we actually got to see Champion’s super suit.  
There was also a painting of some evil rich guy who donated 
a lot of money.  The Metric ton of gold was by far the most 
memorable.  I don’t know what message it was supposed to 
send, but seeing that much gold in one place defiantly had 
an effect on me.  Maybe it was supposed to show people how 
small a ton of gold really is.

The danger room seemed to excite everyone else, but I 
couldn’t see myself using it.  Jack was practically 
drooling and groping everything in that room.  Some of the 
other kid’s eyes got really big and there were tons of 
questions asked like, “How dangerous is the danger room?”, 
“If it can’t kill me, why can’t I try it?” and my favorite, 
“What does this button do?” asked fifty zillion times.

After they were done impressing us with the history and 
traditions of the school, they took us to the big geodesic 
dome which turned out to be the dining hall.  We were 
apparently a little late for dinner since most of the 
patrons were finishing up.

The food was actually very good, and even better there was 
plenty of it, which was a good thing since I’d missed lunch.  
I’d expected a lot worse considering the horrors that my 
last school tried to pass off as food.  The thought of 
having to eat that slop three times a day for the next four 
years had scared me sick.  However, the food here is almost 
as good as home.

Not knowing anyone else, the Emerson guys stuck together.  
I still feel a little funny to be so easily accepted as one 
of the guys.  I’ve been practicing being a guy for weeks 
now, but I’d never had the opportunity to talk with so many.  
I spotted Gene at a table with three other guys, and 
decided to join them.


“Hey, it’s Gene, right?  You mind if I sit with you?”  
There was general agreement, so I too a free seat.

“This is Charles, he helped me load my suitcase on the 
van.”  Once again, there was a broad cloud of assent.

Gene, who was short with black hair and glasses, continued 
the introductions, “This is Steve” he said indicating the 
boy with short blond hair so fine it almost looked like he 
was bald.  “Steve is John’s roommate.”  John was darker 
skinned with curly hair.  “and this is my room mate, Jim”

“So what’s your power?” Steve asked.  “I was just showing 
them mine.”  At which point my chicken fried steak turned 
purple and lifted off my plate.  It hovered there a second 
before coming to rest once again back on my plate.  The 
purple colour remained though it didn’t seem to effect the 
taste any.  “The colour should fade in a couple minutes.”

Gene spoke, “Isn’t that cool?  We’re trying to figure out 
what he’s doing, and maybe if there’s anything important 
making turn colours like that.”

“If you couldn’t tell, he’s a gageteer.  John and I are 
both devisors. What’s you’re power?”

“I don’t know yet.  Nothing that I can figure.  But what’s 
a devisor?” I said.

“What do you mean ‘nothing that you can figure’?”

“Just that.  The doctor says all the tests say I’m a mutant, 
but I haven’t noticed anything extraordinary yet,” aside 
from turning into a boy.

Steve spoke, “If you didn’t have any powers then why did 
the doctor suspect you’d be a mutant?”

“There was some trouble with my blood work.  The doctor 
couldn’t figure anything out so he tested for this.  He got 
lucky.  A few months back, I noticed my eyes had changed 
colour, but I didn’t think anything of it until the doctor 
told me I was a mutant.”

“Something kinda similar happened to me” Gene added.  “I 
was always the kind of kid that took things apart to try to 
figure out how they work.  The fact that I could put them 
back together again just made everyone think I was smart.  
One time I took apart my dad’s big screen TV.  I thought I 
was going to be grounded for life until he found out I had 
given him every cable channel I could find.  I didn’t 
understand that those channels were encoded, I just saw 
them as frequencies that weren’t showing up right.

“Anyways, I’d probably still be in a normal high school if 
I hadn’t tried to tap into the washing machine’s  220 line.  
Got myself a nasty shock.  They say 220 is safer than 110 
because it will push you off instead of causing you to hold 
on tighter.  I don’t know if that’s true because one minute 
I was unscrewing the faceplate, the next thing I remember 
the doctor is shining a pen light in my eye.  Well, my 
parents had to explain what I was doing to get myself fried.  
The doctor notices my eyes,” neon green if you’re wondering, 
“and puts two and two together.”

“How’d your parents take it?”  Steve seemed to ask no one 
in particular.

Gene spoke up first, “well, it’s not like it was that much 
of a surprise.  You can only rebuild the microwave so many 
times before people start wondering why their cable goes 
out whenever our family nukes a burrito.  My mother was sad 
to see me go, and my dad is doubtful it wasn’t the 
electrocution that caused my mutation.  They don’t hold it 
against me if that’s what you were getting at.  My coming 
here was because they didn’t know how to deal with my 
mutation, not because they couldn’t accept it.”

I decided to put out my thoughts, “That’s kinda like what 
my parents thought.  They were always pushing me, trying to 
make sure I was going to get into a good college.  When we 
got the brochure for this place, it looked like the best 
opportunity for me.  They were so happy for me when we 
found out I was accepted, that they bought me a computer.”  
I could see Steve had something on his mind when he asked 
his original question.  “What about you, Steve, how did 
your family take it?”

“Oh, they were the best, I only ask because I was wondering 
how things were with normal parents.”

“I wouldn’t call my parents normal.”

“They also aren’t superheroes.  Well, at least one of them 
is, forgive me if I don’t tell you who they are.  I’ve 
spent the last four years of my life having the importance 
of the word secret, in secret identity, drilled into my 
head.  Ever since the Christmas I found that super suit, 
it’s been my daily mantra.

“I really didn’t expect to be a mutant myself.  But when my 
power showed itself, my coming here wasn’t even a question.  
Being the son of an alumnus who’s also a prominent super 
hero, my admission was never in question.  No one ever 
thought to ask ME about it.”  I sensed a lot of not so 
repressed anger at that, and the purple glow seemed a not 
so subtle cue to move on.

“What about you two?” I asked Jim and John who up until now 
had been concentrating on their food.

John took the bait first.  “Nothing much to say.  I figured 
it all out before my parents.  When your 8th grade science 
fair project is titled ‘Perpetual Motion’ and you 
accomplish it, people start asking questions.  Some parents 
at the school objected to my project, and to settle things, 
the school demanded a blood test from me.  When the results 
came back I was disqualified and got an F on my project 
which is totally unfair.  I mean, how was I supposed to 
know perpetual motion was impossible?

“In the end though, it was worth it.  The science fair 
thing made it into the papers, and one of the local super 
heroes decided to sponsor me for admission.  My parents 
were still feeling pressure from the PTA to do something 
about me, and this was a blessing for everyone.”

“How about you, Jim?”  He didn’t look like he wanted to 
answer.

“I don’t know what my parents think about me coming here.  
I never knew my dad, and my mother… she wasn’t home much.” 
There was more there, but I wasn’t going to press it right 
now.  

Uncertain of what to say, we just sat in silence, no one 
daring to even take a bite of their food.  Finally, I made 
up my mind to ask a question that had been on my mind, 
hopefully to lighten the mood a little.

“Anyone here going to try out for one of the sports clubs?”

“Why, are you?”  Jim asked, doubtful of my intention.

John spoke before I had a chance to respond, “I couldn’t 
imagine playing sports here.  Who in their right mind would 
want to play our football team?”

Looking up the schools sports programs, I’d been 
disappointed, but it made sense when you thought about it.  
“That’s why they don’t have teams here, they have clubs.  
The clubs then divide up into teams and play each other.”

John looked appalled, “Oh Gods, that’s even worse. Can you 
imagine playing against a level 5 exemplar?”

“How would basket ball work with people who could fly?” Jim 
asked with genuine interest.

“Golf would still work,” volunteered Gene.

“But who wants to play golf?”  No one answered me.  “Well, 
it doesn’t matter how strong someone is, sports are about 
skill and teamwork.”

“Sure, and keep telling yourself that as some speedster 
passes by you at 90 miles an hour, or a Telekinetic pitches 
you a curve ball that has a mind of it’s own.”  John had a 
point.  But I’m faster and stronger myself.  I’m getting 
muscles in places I didn’t even have a few months ago.

* * * *
September 5


Sirens were going off all over the ship, letting us know 
the obvious, they had docked.  The lights dimmed as the 
ship adjusted to the new mass jutting out from it’s side.  
Looking around at the five of us, we knew there was no more 
hope.  Ship verses ship we could dance around them for 
weeks, but this would be hand to hand.  Two women, a boy no 
more than a child, and the aging doctor all looked to me 
for hope.

The air felt dry, my throat scratched as I tried to swallow.  
“You stay here in med lab.  The automatic defenses should 
slow them down.  Just whatever you do, don’t open this 
door.”

The old doc nodded and walked me to the door.  As he closed 
the door behind me, his eyes caught mine, as if to say 
thank you.  I sped up the decks, lights flickering and 
gravity shifting with every step.  The sounds of metal 
screaming out it’s death cry as alien claws scratched and 
tore through it.  Red light bled through the halls, 
distorting the ship from its familiar dull grey until it 
could scarcely be recognized.

In a wave they were on me, filling the very air around me.  
I was swimming in a sea of unnamable limbs.  With each 
thrust of my arm, I marched forward.  With each great pass 
of my hand, the army would part.  I pressed on, desperate 
to find free air in this knot of flesh.

I gasped for air as I tumbled out onto a smooth warm deck.  
The roomy chamber was like nothing on our little ship.  The 
air was warm and my mouth was dry.  My tongue scraped 
against the roof of my mouth like sandpaper.  I couldn’t 
talk, not even to the figure standing before me, the leader 
of the army assaulting my ship.

He would have liked to boast about how he’d taken our ship 
after only two days of cat and mouse.  I wasn’t in the mood 
for talk.  I ran him through, my hands splitting the flesh 
of his abdomen.  I left him broken in half on the floor.

The doc was already hosing down the bulkheads when I 
returned, and the remains of the alien bodies, reduced to 
ash by the ship’s defenses, were mostly washed away.  The 
water dripping down the shelves reminded me how thirsty I 
was.  Doc directed me to the drinking water but I couldn’t 
find it.  I littered the floor with empty crates looking 
for even a single packet of water.

Doc called to me, “Look out!” as he dove into the safety of 
the med lab.  I almost didn’t see her diving at me from the 
ceiling, only managing to get my arm up enough to deflect 
her dive to the side as I spun away.  

“We are not the invaders you take us for.  We took your 
planet centuries ago, which is where we found her.”  I 
didn’t look back to see who the robed figure was indicating.  
I merely ran down the fragile man, tearing him apart until 
all I was left holding was his bloodstained robe.

“Why did you have to go and do a thing like that?”  I 
turned around to find the woman who’d asked the question, I 
was met by empty green eyes.  Her red hair, dangling in 
front of pointed ears, brushing against her cheeks, her 
lips pursed in a cute little frown.

Abruptly, I opened my eyes feeling torn between sadness at 
loosing the beauty from my dream, and relief at not having 
to face her cold empty eyes.  I pushed my blanket to the 
foot of the bed, threw on my robe, and walked down the hall 
to the water fountain.  My mouth still felt dry.


* * * *

That morning was the start of a lazy day.  I spent most of 
it poking around on my new computer, getting it settled in.  
Between frustrated bouts of “why wont you connect to the 
network!” I would empty boxes and put away clothes.  I was 
glad I didn’t need to bring my old wardrobe, I wouldn’t 
have fit a tenth of it in the tiny closet they gave us.  
I’d been thinking I’d ask my parents for some money to get 
more clothes, in addition to the uniform, but it wasn’t 
looking like that was necessary.

Jack didn’t look like he was having any trouble with the 
size of the closets.  He brought less than me, and used the 
rest of his closet space to stack his boxes without even 
bothering to unpack them.  As a result I didn’t see much of 
him that day.  After he finished ‘unpacking’ he was off 
with some guys he met.  He didn’t even bother to make his 
bed.  I would have made it for him except he left a 
washcloth on his bed, and I didn’t want to know what it was 
doing there.

Sorting out where to put everything in my desk took me 
right up until lunch.  I couldn’t find Gene and didn’t know 
which room was Jim and Steve’s,  Come to think about it, if 
what I read on the internet about devisors was right, I 
think I should probably stay away from their rooms.  I 
don’t know what brilliant mind decided to let two devisors 
room that close to each other, but nothing good could come 
from it, I was sure.

After lunch it was back to my room and the computer.  The 
other thing I poked at was the packet of papers they gave 
us.  School rules, dress code, curfew… all the normal stuff.  
I figured it would be useful to have as much of it as 
possible memorized.  Last year I’d used the rules to piss 
off the cheerleaders.  Turns out the school’s dress code 
didn’t make exceptions on the length of skirts, which kept 
them from wearing their uniforms to school all year.

* * * *

“Holy Crap! that was the shittiest fucking thing I…” My 
roommate interrupted my reading.  “Hey, how did you stay so 
clean?”  My roommate was covered in mud.  He looked like 
he’d been absolutely dipped in it.

“How did that happen?”

“What do you mean how did that happen, weren’t you there?”

“No, I left early.”  Jim had had a meeting with his 
councilor and the others were eager to get back to their 
rooms to work on something that was way over my head and 
probably, in all likelihood, should never be attempted.  
I’d gone back with them but left when they started to ask 
about how much radiation might be lethal.

“The Emerson seniors met up with us on our way back.  We’re 
not sure what happened but suddenly there was mud EVERYWERE!  
It was flying through the air and by the time it cleared 
the seniors were all laughing their asses off.  But I can’t 
talk I’ve gotta get cleaned up.  There’s some kinda dance 
tonight over at Stanton Hall.  The girls from Dickenson are 
gunna be there! OH YA!  We’re gunna GET some tonight!”

“Where’d you hear that?”  How’d he hear that?  I couldn’t 
even see his ears through the globs of wet mud.

“Everyone knows that Dickenson girls are easy.  Why else 
would they call it Dick-In-Son?”

I knew how my old friends would have reacted to a guy 
saying something like that.  They weren’t subtle and I made 
sure we never got caught. “Why don’t you go tell them 
that?”  

“Oh you KNOW I will. SHIT! I’ve got to shower!”  He was 
still dripping mud allover the floor.  

I sighed and threw the papers I was reading on my desk.  My 
first co-ed party, and I’m a guy.  What am I supposed to 
wear?

I went down the hall and luckily I was the first one to 
find the mop.  I filled it with water and mopped out the 
drips and muddy footprints Jack had left in our room.  I 
would have done the rest of the hallway but there were 
still guys covered in mud literally sliding down the 
hallway.  It would have taken a snow shovel to clean that 
hallway.

I still hadn’t decided if I was even going to the dance 
when my roommate returned from his shower.  Trying to 
figure out why the printer wasn’t working, I tried to 
ignore the half naked boy strutting around my room.  When 
that failed, I tried not to think about phrases like, male 
and female connectors.

I’d effectively distracted myself until my computer was 
booting up once more when I made the mistake of looking 
over at jack.  He was preening his hair in the mirror, 
trying desperately to get back that uncombed look he seemed 
so fond of.  I hadn’t really thought of how I wanted my 
hair to look.  I’d just gone to my dad’s barber and he’d 
cut it the same way he’d cut everyone’s hair.  It had made 
a big difference in how I’d been accepted by others and how 
I saw myself.  I’m not sure if I could change it, but what 
if that’s what the girls are looking for?  What am I 
looking for in a girl, anyways?

I ran my hand through my hair and decided I should probably 
shower.  That’s when the fear set in.  The showers were all 
individual stalls, but the guys all walked around with 
nothing but a towel around their waist.   Nevertheless, as 
I walked in wearing my bath robe no one gave me any odd 
looks.  Guys didn’t seem to notice anything in the bathroom 
if they could help it and I’d been counting on that.

I decided on a pair of my nicer khakis and a shirt I kinda 
liked and brought them with me so I could change in my 
shower stall.  I was surprised to see Steve in the bathroom 
as I got out of the shower.  He was dressed nicer than 
usual, apparently getting ready for the dance.  Peeking in 
on the rest of the guys’ rooms, I discovered that they all 
were in various states of getting ready for the dance.

One nice thing about this hair, just a shake in a towel and 
it was dry enough.  I didn’t spend as much time in front of 
the mirror as Jack, and lack of effort it took to get ready 
made me feel sorry for all those girls over at Dickenson.  
I had a good idea of what they were doing, having played at 
it many times myself.  Sara had made sure to impress upon 
all of us the need for a woman to look her best at times 
like this.

Jack was already leaving with the rest of his friends when 
I got back to my room.  I decided to wait for Gene and the 
others to finish getting ready, that way we could go there 
as a group.  I’d never before bothered to attend a dance, 
and figured there would be safety in numbers.

The girls at the dance looked worse than I’d feared.  If 
the girls at my last school were bowheads, these were 
killer whales.  The bowheads have certain insecurities you 
can exploit, but these women were gorgeous, and they knew 
it.  I’d have been jealous if I was still a girl.  I was 
VERY glad I wasn’t.  Very glad that…

Gene wandered up with a fresh glass of punch, “What do you 
think of the dance so far?”

“I’m not sure.  It looks just like my old school,” minus 
the acne.

“I know what you mean,” not really, there had been some 
mostly unsuccessful attempts at junior high dances. This 
one looked like it was going well.  

This being a dance and all, I got a wild thought, “Hey, why 
don’t you ask someone to dance?”

“What, like a girl?”  The concept turned Gene white as a 
sheet.  He was either scared of girls or bleeding very 
badly.

Steve and John walked up with their own cups, “well, I 
guess you could ask one of the guys but we’re just gunna 
turn you down”

Steve took up the joke, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel 
that way about you.” 

“Then why aren’t YOU out there dancing yet?”  Gene had seen 
by jab and raised me a dare.  I was new to this whole 
masculinity thing, but I knew it was my obligation, NAY my 
duty as a man to answer that challenge.

“Then watch how it’s done, BOYS!”  I’m sure I’m the 
youngest of the group, and that fact had to make my insult 
sting all that much more.

The target of my hunt must be selected wisely.  Aim too 
high, and I risk humiliation and rejection.  Yet, if I set 
my sights too low, I loose face.  A girl who’s slightly fat, 
but still attractive would have been a good bet, but they 
usually have an attractive friend and that makes it 
possible that they didn’t want to come and are only here to 
support their friend.  I think I’m putting too much thought 
into this.  Maybe knowing how a woman’s mind works isn’t 
such a great advantage after all.

In my smoothest voice, trying hard not to have it break, 
“Hello, would you like to dance?” I thought I had chosen 
well.  Not too attractive, not to homely.  Well rounded 
figure, without being fat, and with no sign of an 
attractive friend to be accompanying.  I should have 
remembered to look at her most important feature, her 
boyfriend.

He didn’t even say anything to me.  He just gave me that 
look of, ‘isn’t there some where you could be that wouldn’t 
require me to pound you?’

She answered, “I’m sorry, Vic, but could you deal with this 
for me?”  That was all the encouragement he needed.

I saw his fist coming at me soon enough that it didn’t even 
touch me. His left however caught my shoulder enough to put 
me on my ass.  Luckily the girl became more appealing to 
him at that moment, so he didn’t move on to kicking me.  
The rest of the floor hardly noticed the whole display, 
only a handful of couples even bothered to stop dancing 
long enough to watch.

Gene was laughing of course, but he stopped when I 
suggested he go try it himself.  In the end, we had a good 
time.  I DID find a girl to dance with, having first 
checked extensively for any possible dates.  I wish I could 
remember her name though.  She had blonde hair though, 
pulled back in a single braid.  We only danced for a two 
songs until an awkwardly slow song came up and we parted 
mutually.

The rest of the guys, even Gene, managed to find someone to 
at least talk to, though Steve seemed more interested in 
talking with someone who had shown up in what looked like a 
super suit, complete with cape.  

* * * *
September 6

I had to wake up early so I wouldn’t be late for my meeting 
with my councilor but still, the councilor was waiting for 
me when I got to his office.  

“Hello, what can I do for you?”  Déjà vu.

“I was supposed to have an appointment.”

“Ya must be Charles.  I was just lookin’ over your file, 
and I’ll be darned if is doesn’t raise more questions than 
a mime on an escalator.”  The heavy southern accent coming 
from a man in a suit and tie was absurd, yet somehow 
comforting.  “It says here you’re here on a Maxwell 
Scholarship! Whoowee!  That’s somethin to write home about.  
I ain’t never gotten one of those before.  We’ll go over 
what all that means to ya as soon as ya get through this 
here test.  Now don’t ya worry none, this is just a 
placement test and nuna the kids are bein’ told about.  
Keeps things simple, ya see, so we don’t have nuna that 
cramming the night before.”

The test was easier than listening to the man talk.  
Several hundred questions, mostly multiple choice.  No 
penalty for guessing, I hoped.  I figured I was already in, 
so I really didn’t feel any pressure to perform well.  As 
my dad always said, “You know what they call the person 
graduates last in their class at medschool… Doctor.”  Ya, 
it’s a stupid joke, and he used it as commentary about the 
declining state of the healthcare industry.  He always knew 
how to kill a joke.

I finished up the last essay, and handed it up to him.  
Every time I handed him a paper he gave me a more confused 
look, like I should have antennae or blue hair or something.  
I would have been worried that he’d figured out my past 
except that no one else had yet.   “It’ll just be a moment 
as I finish grading your answers”.  The accent had subsided 
a lot.  It was probably something he used to set the 
students at ease or something stupid like that.

“Well paint be blue and call me rosy!” or maybe not.  “Well 
if that ain’t the darnedest thang.  These here tests just 
don’t plumb add up.”  Maybe it was a nervous habit?

“What’s wrong with my answers?  Did I get something wrong?”

“Wrong?  WRONG?  You got damn near got ’um all wrong.  
These here tests say you’re nutin’ more than a normal 
highschool freshman!  All except that Maxwell question!”

“And that’s special?”

“You somehow solved a problem that our professors would be 
challenged on.  Then, right here as I live and breath, you 
did it again!”  I took that as a yes, that it was special.

“You mean that thing about fields and planes and stuff?  I 
didn’t even bother reading that one, I just wrote the first 
thing that came to mind.”

“’ell that’s a new one.  Nonetheless, I gotta put you in 
these here classes or you might loose ya scholarship.  
Advanced math, and pre-calc physics.  Says here you don’t 
know what you’re powers are, so I’ll be sending you over to 
get those checked out when you leave here, but powers 
theory and powers lab would be good for getting familiar 
with all that mumbo-jumbo.”  He mumbled something I 
couldn’t make out, but when I asked him about it he just 
went on, “Ya got your choice of PE or martial arts, but I’m 
gunna put ya in the martial arts class for now since it’s a 
prerequisite for plum near everything else.  But if it’s 
too much for ya, just let me know and I’ll get ya 
transferred outa there, likity spit.”  I don’t know if his 
speech was improving or if I was just getting better at 
understanding him.

“We’ll just put ya in English 101 and you’ll be done.  
There, that wasn’t so hard.  Now let’s talk about 
employment.  What kinda work would you like?”

“What?  I’m still only 13, isn’t that illegal?” That was 
the excuse my parents always gave whenever I brought up the 
possibility of supplementing my allowance.

“You’re birthday is in a couple weeks and the school 
encourages the students to get some kinda job, even those 
that don’t need it, but your scholarship requires one.  Not 
to worry though, none of the jobs will ever allow you to 
work no longer than three hours in a day, and no later than 
7 pm and no earlier than 7 am.  They might ask you to work 
a full 8 hour day on weekends but those are generally the 
only exceptions.  In any case, we’ll never work ya more 
than 18 hours a week, so you’ll always have time for 
study.”

“And I get to start the day of my fourteenth birthday?”  
The thought of finally having a disposable income was 
alluring.  I’d finally become part of the most sought-after 
demographic, teenage yuppie spawn.

“We could probably give ya a birthday off.  We’ll be 
sending you a letter in the mail to remind you.  So, what 
kinda work can you do?  The scholarship gives you dibs on a 
load of jobs in the computer lab, and the math and science 
departments.  It’s mostly gopher work, bringing teachers 
coffee and making copies.”

That didn’t sound nearly as bad as I’d worried.  “That’s 
fine,” I also liked the idea of working around computers, 
“how about the one in the computer lab?”  I’d finally 
gotten my own and I wondered what kinda stuff I could do 
with it.  That job sounded like the perfect place to find 
people who could show me.

“Ah, good choice.  That should do it for us here.  Remember 
now, if you need to make any changes, or ya just need to 
talk to someone, they’re payin’ me to do this.  Now if ya 
just go see Doctor Smith down in room 408, he’ll get you 
started on the physical.”

This part had me worried.  I’d heard lots of jokes about 
the “turn your head and cough” test, which would completely 
blow my cover.  I thought about faking an illness, buying 
myself time to figure something out, but that wouldn’t work! 
He’s a doctor!!

I’d settled on blaming it on my mutation if it came up, but 
it never did.  As it turned out the “physical” was a lot 
more physical than that.  Aside from the couple gallons of 
blood they drained from me, then replaced with watery fruit 
juice, it had little resemblance to my previous doctor 
visits.  They did various “scratch tests” like for 
allergies.  Nothing showed up which I expected, I’d never 
noticed any allergies.  Nevertheless they said they would 
check them again at the end of the tests.

Then came the REAL physical.  They had me run on a 
treadmill, life weights, jump, do push-ups, pull-ups, sit-
ups.  All the while they had various wires hooked up all 
over and a tube in my mouth.  Add to that, my elbow hurt 
where that nurse had stabbed my arm trying to find the vein.

I really surprised myself, I knew I’d gotten stronger, but 
seeing the pile of weights I could lift was quite another 
thing.  The doctor just nodded and checked off things on 
his clip board.  

After I got done jogging to exhaustion, he asked, “You say 
you played sports before you came here?”

“Ya, I played soccer and s-baseball, and a little 
basketball.  My parents thought it would be good for me.”  
I don’t think he caught my slip.  I’d tried to make it 
sound like I was just catching my breath.

“You did as well as I’d expect for a freshman with your 
level of interest in sports, though a little better than 
expected for someone you’re age.  So, I’ll give you a 
provisional rating of exemplar level 1, which may change 
depending on the rest of the results.  Let’s give you a 
chance to rest before the next round of physical tests.”

The rest was an hour of the worse card tricks ever.  They 
would look at a card and I’d have to guess what the card 
was.  Too bad I couldn’t have them put the card back in the 
deck and me trying to find it.  I think I remember some of 
THOSE tricks.

The advice they gave me was silly, like try to figure out 
what colour each card made, or what emotion it makes them 
feel.  I would be surprised if I got as many as a 
blindfolded chimp, as my history teacher used to describe 
the lowest score on a multiple choice test.

Then they gave me various objects and told me to make them 
work.  I don’t know what that meant, since a couple of them 
didn’t look like anything more than a shard of hard heavy 
plastic.

They lined up more objects in front of me and asked me 
which of them felt different.  Once again, the blindfolded 
chimp had a better chance.

They placed me in a darkened room and told me to signal if 
I heard or saw anything.  I thought I might have heard a 
noise like a dog whistle, but by the time I realized I’d 
heard it, it had stopped and I couldn’t be sure if I hadn’t 
been hearing things.  The room was REALLY quiet, and I’d 
heard people sometimes hallucinate in rooms like this.  
There was something like that in that really bad movie they 
made about sensory deprivation.  I doubt it was accurate 
though.  

After I’d sat in the room for what seemed like hours, the 
physical tests started again.  They put me on a treadmill 
but this time without all the wires and stuff.  They said 
to just jog at whatever pace felt comfortable.  This was a 
pleasant change from previous physical tests where they 
always seemed to push me right up to the very edge of what 
I could do.

It was almost relaxing, like the last time I went bladeing 
with my dad.  That was not a good thing to think about.  It 
left me totally unprepared for the medicine ball that flew 
by missing my left arm by mere inches.  The second one came 
from behind so I didn’t get to see it until it was already 
past my head.  The poles swiping at my legs were also an 
unwelcome surprise.

I stumbled off the treadmill and ran to the door, yelling 
for them to get me out.  The room just kept trying to kill 
me.  I realize this was a danger room and they had told us 
in our tour that these rooms couldn’t kill you, but that’s 
not what you’re thinking when you unexpectantly find 
yourself in one.  All I could do is run around and try not 
to get killed.  The attacks were getting faster, I couldn’t 
even see some of the things that were hitting me.  I 
finally just hid myself in the corner and tried to cover my 
head.  It was only a few bruises later that the noise 
stopped and the door opened.

“Now that was fun, wasn’t it?”  I could have strangled that 
guy right then, he looked so happy with himself.  I 
probably would have too, except my hands were still shaking 
too much.  “I think now we can put you down as an esper.  
This probably also confirms the exemplar rating I gave you 
earlier.”

He was trying to lead me to an assumed next test when I 
decided I’d had enough. “I’m not taking one more step until 
you tell me this is all about!”

“What does what now?”

“You’ve been trying all sorts of tests on me all day, and 
now you try to kill me!  What the hell was that room?”  I 
don’t like to curse, but as my friend Amanda liked to say, 
there are some times when you can’t express yourself 
properly without it.  This was defiantly one of those times.

The doctor looked hurt by it though, “I’m sorry, I guess I 
should explain.  That was what’s known as a Xavier test, 
it’s designed to test responses to high stress situations 
and physical danger.  We set it at levels appropriate for 
your abilities as measured by the earlier tests and I must 
say you did a spectacular job.”

“What are you talking about?  I was just trying not to get 
hit, nothing unusual happened.”

“The computer says you had a 32% evasion rate, that’s much 
higher than what’s expected of someone with your response 
times.  The only way for you to have gotten that high of a 
rating is from some kind of Extrasensory Perception or ESP, 
hence the title ‘esper’.  In simple terms, you can tell an 
attack is coming before it happens.”

“No I couldn’t, I just tried not to get in the way of 
anything, and did a lousy job at that.  As you say, I only 
dodge 32% of them, which means I got hit by 68%.  That’s 
failing.”  Everyone gasp in awe of my enhanced mutant 
arithmetical skills.  Is that a word?

“That’s not how it works, but I don’t have time to explain 
this right now.  I have another student scheduled to begin 
their testing just after you.  So, could you please follow 
me to the next room? There’s a few more test we need 
perform.”

The rest of the tests were not very exciting.  Mostly, they 
tried various ways to scare me into triggering my supposed 
danger sense.  I felt nothing of it, not even a tingle.

I ended up leaving with the labels of exemplar 1, esper 1 
(danger sense).  To me, it felt like one of those 
participation awards they give out to all the loosing teams 
at the end of a season.  I’ve gotten my share of those, and 
they felt exactly like this.  I am as athletic as a normal 
athlete my age, and I can play a mean game of dodge ball.  
Yet somehow this qualifies me to attend super school and 
will keep me from ever playing high school or college 
sports.  Not to mention never getting to see my friends.  I 
shouldn’t think about that, it’s still more painful than it 
sounds.

I walk myself back to my room, it’s lunch time and the 
cottage is empty.  I’d go but I didn’t feel like it.  I 
poke at my computer, and see that none of my old friends 
are online.  They’ve already started school so I didn’t 
really expect to see them, but I always check.  Hopefully 
they haven’t had the thought to go invisible to me yet.  I 
doubt they’ll go so far as to change their screen names.

Maybe if I write them an e-mail…

*****

I never got the chance to write the e-mail that night.  The 
night before our first classes was supposed to be 
uneventful so we could all get enough sleep and be fresh 
and ready for classes, or some such nonsense.  In any event, 
a thoughtless bastard woke everyone up with some kinda air 
horn, then a guy ran down our hall claiming there were a 
bunch of naked girls outside.  Of course everyone had to go 
see this for themselves.

“Did you see the LEGS on the black one?  She’s got it going 
ON!”  Jack hadn’t stopped talking about them since we got 
back.  “Oh, and when she was doing those kicks and spins!  
She was letting it ALL show.”

“I didn’t really get a good look at her.  I was over by the 
red head”

“Fuck yah!  I’d almost forgotten about her. Did you see 
that gown?  She might as well have been wearing nothing at 
all!  DAMN!  I wish every female flier would wear a skirt.  
What a beautiful world that would be.”  He got a far away 
look in his eye as if viewing an ideal plane in which he 
could see up girls’ skirts whenever he wanted to.

I hadn’t really noticed it… much.  I was just impressed 
with how much she looked like the girl in my dream.  Right 
down to the pointed ears.  And the way she floated…

Jack started out the door, “I’m going to take a cold shower, 
I’ll be back in about 5 minutes.”  Somehow I doubt it was a 
shower Jack needed right then.  He didn’t bother to bring a 
towel so I figured ‘cold shower’ was just a euphemism.  

I’d probably seen the red head around campus and my brain 
just plugged her into my dream.  Anyways, I think I needed 
a shower too, besides, it’s always busier in the mornings 
and I’m not that comfortable in my robe yet.  “I’ll join 
ya.” I called out after him.

“OH ya, yous likey the red heads don’t ya?”  I blushed and 
picked up my shower tote.

“Don’t ya know it!”