Behind These Refuge Walls

I'd like to say people at my school are original. Unique. Different. But they're the same, cliche students you see everywhere. It's because people don't try to be unique anymore. Being yourself doesn't matter. As long as they're capable of copying a long legged bimbo from a reality show or a brainless dickhead from a commercial, all is well. I suppose that's one of the many reasons that have made me so disgusted of society and thus, closing off. I come across as cold, emotionless, perhaps cynical.

There are plenty of things I dislike in this world and there are some that I actually hate with a passion. Spineless bastards fit in that last category. Sean Pierce is one of them. It came as no surprise to him that I was 'out to get him', like 'the crazy bitch' that I was (as my classmates had so delightfully described the situation) and he did everything he could to avoid me like the plague (he did, however, take every chance he could to brag about how fierce he was). I suppose everyone expected something like this to happen, just not so fast after Damien's quick downfall.

The devil mentioned before graced us with his presence that day. He didn't avoid me all together, but when we crossed paths in the hallways that morning, he only shot me a dirty look before pretending that he hadn't seen me at all. I guess I was satisfied by the reaction. What I wanted was to be left alone, after all.

"I feel all tingly," Max whispered to me as we sat in English.

"I told you to change your panties," Jake scolded.

I suppressed my laugh, resulting in my huffing. "Nice. I've taught you well."

Jake shrugged. "Ew, I think I'm going all cynical because of you. Max, do something."

"No can do, man," said chubby boy excused. "She's rubbed off on me, too. So how are things with hot señorita Carrie?"

I fell back in my comfortable silence, not feeling necessarily obliged to listen to their conversation. The reality of my actions didn't hit me until Max decided to force me into joining.

"Right, CJ?" I stared up at the pair of expectant faces, feeling like an idiot. "I was just telling Jake how lucky he is. I mean, come on, two dates in a row with the school's hottie?"

I felt like I didn't know the people standing in front of me. Like I was the awkward stranger in their lives. I didn't know what they were talking about. I didn't know Jake was dating. I didn't know Jake. Period. And as I looked around the classroom, I realized I didn't know anyone in that place. It made me wonder what I was doing there in the first place.

"Charlie, you alright?"

My momentary panic dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

"Yeah, I'm fine. So, Jake, I wasn't informed about your dating."

I reveled in the boy's blush. "Yeah, well, you know Carrie from my French class." Vaguely, I recalled a tall and skinny redhead. "We went out on two dates."

"And she totally likes you," came Janice's cheery voice as she plopped beside me. Weird how Janice hadn't hit me as a happy person the first time we met. I actually took her for one of those lonely goths every school seems to have. She still looked like that, though, but only during class.

In English, she sat quietly, watching the teacher with bored eyes. When she finally turned towards me, she switched back to happy-go-lucky mode.

"So, James talked to headmaster Vallin yesterday." I nodded silently, eyes keen on following Mr. Henderson's moves. "He'd like to meet you." That snapped me out of my reverie.

"What?"

"Why, Miss Sanders, I take it you don't agree with me?" My attention fell back to Mr Henderson as he leaned back against his desk. He eyed me curiously, pretending not to know what I was doing. Of course, he knew that I wasn't paying attention in the least, but the bastard just felt like rubbing it in my face.

If only I could recall whatever nonsense he had been blabbing about...

"Actually, sir," I began, "I do disagree. I'd say Salinger's cynical approach is rather enlightening. Those who criticize it only hate the truth."

His 'I-know-what-you're-doing-but-I'm-pretending-I-don't' face fell. In its place came a pleasantly surprised smile and a glint in his eyes that told you just how satisfied he was that one of his students had an opinion over something. Glancing around the class, I noted that most of the students were texting under their desks or applying their morning make up (here, a short haired girl tried to control her lip balm with little success). A few were watching me with interest, some looking as if they were praying I landed a big fat detention.

Mr Henderson stood up straight. "So I take it you're a Salinger fan, Charlotte?"

"More or less," was my cryptic reply.

He smiled crookedly and dove into a deeper lecture about The Catcher in The Rye. Not that anyone was really paying attention. Janice poked my side and I resisted the urge to slap her. I hated being poked. Poking others was fine. Being poked was definitely not. She noticed my grimace and withdrew her hand. Good girl, I felt like saying.

"What do you mean the headmaster wants to meet me?" I questioned, nervously playing with my paper.

"He wants to meet you. I told him a little something about you." I rolled my eyes. God knew what nonsense Janice had fed Vallin. The guy probably thought I was a sociopath or something. Or maybe he wanted to meet me so he could snap my head in two. I gulped. "And he's really interested in meeting you. Really, Charlie, I think you'd be a great part of our family."

My fidgeting stopped. Family. My thoughts instantly flew to mom and dad, both working their asses off back home. I hadn't called them in a while. Granted, they haven't called either. Doubtlessly, my mother was probably pissed off or going in some form of depression ("Oh my God! My children have forgotten me!"), while my father huffed and puffed at his office ("Insolent brats.").

"...Of course, it's safe to assume that some writers have a tendency to overreact..."

"So, tell me..." I twisted in my seat to look at Janice, who was looking seriously at Mr Henderson. "Since you're a...well, you're a...you know...since you're..."

"A witch, Charlie," she said in an almost resigned tone. I didn't miss the look on her face that told me what an idiot I was.

"Yeah, that." Pause. "James pretty much proved me the whole deal. What about you? You gonna show me some magic, doll?" I delivered my demand with a low, Irish voice (a little trick I had learned from Gerry) in the attempt to hide my awkwardness.

Instantly, the seriousness on the little goth girl's face dissipated. She beamed in my direction. "Alright. Check this out."

I followed her gaze to Mr. Henderson, who seemed to be in a very heated conversation with himself (I don't think his lectures could be described otherwise). She discretely pointed at a book on his desk. I glanced at Janice in time to see her hazel eyes turn light green. I'm positive my heart stopped beating. The book was violently tossed from the desk and hit Mr. Henderson's back.

Jake and Max snickered behind us. The room fell silent just as Janice leaned back in her seat, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. I looked at her. She shrugged.

"I'm still learning, so don't preach." I wondered briefly if she was fucking insane. I had just witnessed the witch beside me move a fucking object by just looking at it and she apologizes for her actions not being creative enough?! "I'm not half as good as Miranda. You should see her. She kicks ass."

"Would someone tell me what the hell that was?!" barked Mr. Henderson from the front of the class. I could honestly say I had completely forgotten about him.

The chuckles from around the class gave him a good enough reason to dump his frustration on some of the unlucky students. Detentions flew around the room in little words. Once the class was over, however, Mr. Henderson returned to his usual, pragmatic self. He gathered his stuff and just as I was about to make my grand exit, he stopped me with an expectant look.

"You wanted something, sir?" I can't say I knew my way around manners. The man in front of me adjusted his blank t-shirt (I have to say, I always admired the man's taste in clothes; he looked nothing like an ordinary fourty year old English teacher).

"Charlotte," he began and I bit my tongue from voicing 'Uh oh!', "how is Stratford High treating you?"

"Good, sir," I replied nonchalantly. Not really.

He looked at me, rather surprised. "Really?" I quirked my right eyebrow and my habit didn't fail to make Mr. Henderson drop his act. He sighed. "Look, Charlie, I hear that you have had some trouble with some of our more...spoiled students." I smiled when he said my name. Usually, people his age found it inappropriate to call me like that. I also noted how he refrained himself from grimacing at the mentioning of said students.

"Yes, well, there were some misunderstandings. But don't worry, sir, I have everything under control." Oh, you have no idea.

"I do hope we're not talking about the same control you showed with Danielle." He tried not to smile.

"No, sir, I can be much more subtle than that." I grinned and was thankful that he appreciated what he thought to be a joke of mine.

"Good to hear." He took a book from the stack on his desk and changed the subject. "You're a very interesting student, Charlotte." I shrugged. "And you are also very clever and well read. So I can't help but ask myself why in the world you just sit around in classes. I see no participation whatsoever from your side. Why's that?"

"Oh. Well, uh..."

He smiled - that kind of smile that told you 'Aha! I got you by the balls with that and I'm flaunting it!'.

"See, Charlotte, I happen to think you're actually afraid of putting some spotlight on you. You, young lady, are afraid of looking smart in front of your classmates." Oh, no, he didn't! "Think about it for a second, Charlie. Why not participate in some debates? People like smart girls. I'm quite sure you'll earn a lot of popularity if you show some interest."

"Sir, with all due respect," - though I have no respect - "I'm not looking for popularity." But damn it, if he wasn't right. Actually showing that I'm smart would gain some approving nods from people.

"Still," he insisted (why did these people have to be experienced with debates? And they only had to use words to fight! Unfair, people, unfair!), "I would like you to participate more in my class." He pushed the book in my hands and I stared like a retard at the old copy of Shakespeare. "Am I clear, miss Sanders?"

"Yes, sir."

Paige strutted past me while flipping her wavy hair and huffed. I showed no reaction or emotion as I continued my way down the hallway. Next to his locker, Ryan was talking with Damien and Clive. By the looks they were giving each other, the conversation was not pleasant. There was something in Ryan's eyes that screamed anger and demanded submission. I shivered.

Off to find someone familiar.

And familiar she was. Just not pleasantly familiar. Danielle was watching me with an apprehensive stare as I passed her, her attention turning from Damien and the boys (who were not very far from us).

"Here to draw some blood, Sanders?"

"Not yours, Morrisson," I replied coolly. "Not today."

She snorted. "You're not fooling anyone with that act of yours, you know?" She stepped away from the wall that had been her support until then. "Teachers might like you, you and your whole 'I'm a fucking saint' act, but we all know what a scheming bitch you can be."

I continued to walk away slowly, but noticed how Damien turned around as soon as those words left Danielle's mouth and stopped. Ryan's frown met my blank stare. Danielle stepped closer to me, her disgust clear in her eyes as she approached.

"You think you can just come here and steal from us?"

"I didn't steal shit from you, Danielle!" I finally barked. Time seemed to stop as curious gazes landed on us. "I have everything I can ever ask for! You think I'll steal from a lousy bitch? You have nothing I want or don't have already," I hissed. By far, I was disgusted with myself. Never in my entire life had I used my material state as an advantage. I never flaunted it, I never spoke about it. But his bitch was asking for it and it was the only way to get her to back off. Then why did I feel so...low?

She stared at me for a second, then the initial shock was wiped away from her face. Her next words came in a tone low enough for only me to hear. "I have a place in Ryan's crew. And I will not give it up. Not to anyone in this school and especially not to you."

With a final nod, I turned away from her and continued to walk away. Finally, I figured out what this was about. It didn't give her an excuse, but it gave me a different view over things. The first time Danielle picked on me, the first time I gave her a black eye was when Ryan had challenged her to do something. It was her rite of passage to his crew. And now I knew what Ryan's crew was - the group who participated in all underground fights. I had been the one to stop her from entering the crew, so she was now out to get me. For a second I thought she knew who I was in the underground world, but then shook that thought away. Ryan hadn't told anyone else, I could tell.

She thought I was in Ryan's entourage?!

I didn't look at him as he brought a chair beside me and slid into the seat. For a lack of better words, Ryan seemed troubled for the time being.

"I didn't tell anyone," were his words somewhere through the middle of Health class.

"Thank you," was my curt reply.

"Sorry about Danielle. She just...has an idea stuck in her head."

I looked back at him, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Why does she think I'm part of your brawling crew?"

The corners of his mouth lifted in a half smile as he glanced at me. "Haven't heard a girl talk in brawling terms for a while now." He noticed my demanding look and sighed. "I don't know what goes on in Danielle's head, alright? She just assumes things."

"Well tell her to stop," I hissed.

He nodded. The way his lips twisted made me think he wanted to say something, but decided against it. We fell in silence as Ms. Kroft explained the assignment.

"You all know I'm fairly non-conventional. So Health class is going to go my way. Not the way you see it on your reality shows. You are going to walk out of this class knowing exactly what to do and how." I felt my eyes widen a bit. Ryan tensely shifted in his seat. "I put you all in pairs because we're also going to try out some things and then talk about them." Giggles and chuckles surrounded me.

"First things first. I want you all to look at each other." The woman needed medication. I glanced at Janice, who moved her partner around like a Guinea pig, all the while holding a determined glare.

"Not gonna look at me at all, Charlie?" Ryan grinned, having already been staring at me for a while now. I frowned and continued to ignore him. He seemed amused. "Fine," he grunted. "Be like that." There was a long pause in which he tried to summon a coherent phrase. "Sean's avoiding you."

He succeeded in making me look at him from the corner of my eye. "Good for him."

"You got any special plans for him?"

I took a deep breath of air and let it out of my lungs. "What exactly did he do?"

His features were quickly pulled in a grim look. "He took you to dance and then he started putting his hands everywhere on you. When you didn't push him away, he took you to one of the couches and tried to make out with you." His frown deepened. "He didn't get a kiss from you, though. I told you he got pulled away." He let his gaze fall on me, taking in my distant face. His eyes widened. "Fucking shit, Charlie," he hissed, "you really don't remember anything?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be asking you, would I?" I counterattacked. Truthfully, I did remember some parts. After my medicine had relaxed my brain, I began getting flashbacks. They weren't much, as I couldn't make out most of the faces, but they were enough to make me feel disgusted with myself. I had danced disgustingly close to Damien and Sean.

"Alright," Ms Kroft went on, "I want you to look at your partner. And I mean really look. Take in their features. Do they have a nice smile? What do you see in them?"

A boy in the front row smirked at his partner (a shy girl in a tight tank top) and exclaimed, "She's got bangin' boobs!".

"Brilliant, Kevin," our teacher replied sarcastically. "But that's a start. It means she looks appealing to you."

Others in class expressed their perverted thoughts regarding their partners.

Ryan turned his chair so that he was entirely facing me. I titled my head to the side, taking in Ryan's jawline, that V-neck of his shirt, that hint of muscle revealed by it, that crooked smile and those blue eyes...God, those blue...Woah, stop! I could feel my cheeks burn and the way Ryan seemed to be focusing on my entire body didn't help diminuish the heat. What was this woman forcing us to do?!

A crooked grin appeared on the boy's face as he leaned back in his seat, eyes going to my neck, inspecting my surfer-like necklace, down my tight t-shirt, inspecting my ripped jeans and even glancing at my Vans. He did linger on several parts of my anatomy - an action that had me squirming under his gaze. Was this guy actually checking me out?

"She's decent," he finally said with a shrug, though the sparkle in his eyes told more. I felt my jaw drop. Though amused by the situation, I tried not to show it.

I scoffed and actually surprised myself by joining his game. "Decent? By the way you keep giving me once overs, I'd say I'm more than just decent."

He smirked and licked his lips (Hot damn!). "Busted. But I don't think I'm the only one repeatedly giving once overs."

I caught the allusion quite fast and although I hated to admit it, my face burned. "Don't get your hopes up, McCarthy. You're not that great." A little angry voice in the back of my head was reminding me that when you want to insult someone, you don't use flirtatious tones.

"Ouch." He brought a hand to his heart, faking pain. The smirk never left his face.

"Attraction," came Ms. Kroft's voice as she walked past Ryan's seat, "can come between any two people."

I failed to hide my snort. Ryan took notice of it, too.

"You don't think that opposites attract?" he wondered. I only shook my head, trying to avoid looking him in the eye. Somehow, it made me nervous.

"What I want you kids to do is think about what you like and dislike in a person. By the end of this week, I want you all to know what you want." She made grand motions of her hands.

Grimacing became my next favorite thing. The bell soon rang and indicated all idiots to barge through the door. I grabbed my things and just as I tried to walk past Ryan, he grabbed my upper arm.

"Charlie," he reprimanded (or at least, it seemed like it). I lifted my eyebrows, sending him a clear message that I had no idea what it was he wanted to tell me. "Sign up for the next match."

My face fell. I'm positive all enthusiasm (if there had been any) left my features and was quickly replaced by my usual cold demeanor. I didn't fail to notice the look of disappointment that crossed Ryan's eyes as he witnessed the change.

"I told you I'm done with that," I mumbled, looking around for any possible witnesses to our conversation. There was no desire, whatsoever, to keep lingering on this subject for too long.

"No, you're not. I saw that look in your eyes when you saw me fight. You miss it. Why did you give up?"

"Because it fucks up your entire life!" I nearly shouted.

"No, it doesn't!" He frowned, taking a threatening posture that had little effect on me. "You know what, Charlie, I think you're scared. You gave up because you couldn't handle the pressure anymore, is that it?"

I couldn't take it. Those low blows coming from him were worse than I had ever imagined low blows to be. The worst part was that he was wrong about all of those things. So I exploded with frustration.

"You don't know shit, McCarthy! I gave up because I had to!" And then, just as a safety measure, I added, "You don't know me!"

Pushing past him, I flew out of the room and narrowly avoided bumping heads with Janice. She noticed my burning glare, but didn't back down as I had expected her to.

"You alright?"

Grunt.

"McCarthy giving you a hard time?"

Grunt.

"I heard about your confrontation with Danielle."

"Confrontation will be when I smack her head in the nearest wall. That was preschool rivalry."

She didn't even wait for me to stop fuming, she just dove in the next subject as if I hadn't been talking to her in my most undermining tone. "So I was wondering if you're free this afternoon. James is coming over to pick me up and Vallin would like to meet you today."

I stepped out in the sun, my frustration diminuishing by the minute. "So what, no Cain today?" I don't know why I asked that, but it seemed like ever since I started spending time with Janice, the guy totally abandoned them.

She shook her head. "Vallin sent him on a small mission, but I think he should be back today. He's left his Protégée alone for too much as it is."

"Protégée?"

"Oh, well..." She paused, searching for her words. "Some of the 'staff' and most of the seniors take younger students under their protection, so to speak. And throughout the period of their staying at Massey, they're like mentors for the younger ones. Cain, after oh so many attempts at trying to convince him, decided to take James under his wing. It's pretty cool, really."

I smiled despite myself. It sounded a lot like Gerry and I. Ever since I'd met the man, he'd been some sort of father figure/mentor/friend to me.

"So can you come?"

I turned my head to look at Janice properly. She was giving me a hopeful look and something in her eyes told me she was praying that I didn't run away. I nodded and followed her to the familiar old Volkswagen. And just as James greeted us with great enthusiasm, I locked eyes with a pair of blue orbs. The owner stood in the parking lot, ready to jump in his Escalade, and watched me with a frown. I pretended not to notice.

"So what else should I know before going in the lion's den?"

"Oh." Janice shifted in her seat, trying to recall whatever information she had lost. Her hazel eyes then sparkled. "Right, well, Vallin also has a team of sorts. A team that handles all problems with creatures that have gone to the dark side."

"Basically a private SWAT team," James interrupted once we reached a metallic gate. By its side stood two buff men, dressed in uniforms as to appear like bodyguards. Or maybe they were bodyguards.

Massey High is not a school. At least, that's what I thought when James drove through the entrance to an amazingly large estate, passed several trees that made up a small forest and pulled up before a huge old building that looked like a Gothic palace from the early centuries. Far to the right there was a large lake, its azure water sparkling in the sun.

Further, behind the castle were other Gothic-like buildings, similar to the main one, connected through stone paths. Those, as Janice explained, were dorms. All of the paths connected led to this main castle and I found myself staring at all the greenery.

Along with stone walls, the estate was surrounded by a forest. There was neat lawn everywhere, a tennis court to the far left and benches and outdoor tables everywhere.

Then I noticed the population. There were so many students, carrying books, laughing and chatting and acting so normal, that I found myself wondering what else was wrong with this place, aside from the gigantic funds they seemed to be getting. A pair of skinny twins passed us and greeted James and Janice, their porcelain skin and Gucci bags screaming luxury.

I understood now why Paige hated people from here. This was the mother of all private schools.

I followed James up a set of stone steps and walked up to the entrance of the castle. The doors (a set of massive double doors that could only be seen in movies) were wide open, but there were few people walking in and out these.

"This is the main entrance. The entrances for the students are located in the north and west sides," Janice explained.

We walked through a long corridor, the sounds of our footsteps echoing throughout the space. I couldn't keep count of the turns we made and steps we climbed, so when we finally made it through the mass of students (who all seemed fairly normal to me) and reached a set of double doors (this time closed), I froze, confused.

"Relax," James suggested.

And just with that, he pushed the doors open and I stumbled in a Victorian office, in the middle of which was placed a massive wooden desk. The far wall behind it along with the one to the left were hidden by bookcases, filled with more books than I had seen just in one place before. Facing the desk were three chairs, to the left were two armchairs and to the right was a couch, all made of dark green leather.

And sitting in the rotative chair behind the desk was a man in his early fifties, dressed in a casual suit and looking up at us with a stern face. I assumed this was the headmaster, Vallin.

"James, I do think knocking would have been a bit more appropriate." The mohawked punk beside me flushed. The man turned his attention to the blue haired girl beside me. "Ah, Janice, I haven't seen you in a while. Been busy?"

"I've been having a hard time with aunt Sylvia."

The ghost of a smile crossed the man's features. "Oh, yes. Send her my best." His gaze then moved from her to me and I froze as he seemed to inspect me. "I see you came with your...friend." I noticed the apprehensiveness in his voice, but he signalled us to approach him.

I followed Janice's lead and sat in one of the seats facing the desk. Being so close to the headmaster, I suddenly felt nervous. The man in front of me was by far the most serious and wise looking I had ever met. He had this aura that made you think he knew everything and saw everything. He knew you by just looking at you. And I hated being understood just from one look.

The man placed his elbows on his mahogany desk and laid his chin against his knuckles. With a cautious smile, he greeted me.

"I am Vallin de Rivier, headmaster of Massey School for the Supernaturally Gifted." He gave me a tired smile, his eyes showing nothing but warmth. I felt as if I'd known this man for my entire life.

I smiled faintly and nodded. "Charlotte Sanders, sir." And that, you'd say, was that, because I was practically at a loss of words. Sitting frozen in my seat, I noticed James beaming at me.

"Charlotte, I understand Janice has...explained to you some things?" I nodded - again, an action that looked so faint it almost wasn't there. Vallin frowned. "Sanders...Where have I heard this name before?" he wondered, studying me.

"You must have heard of my father," I found myself blurting, "Richard Sanders. CEO of Barton Cosmopolitans." Gah! I felt like stabbing myself thrice, reviving myself, then stabbing myself again. I wondered, stupidly, why I had just told a complete stranger my father's identity. I failed to notice Vallin's illuminated look at the mentioning of my family's company.

"Of course! But it's not your father I've befriended a long time ago. No, I do believe I've met your grandfather." At the mentioning of grandpa Charles, I smiled widely. He noticed, too, and shared the kind smile with me. "A great man, I'd say. I trust he has a granddaughter just as great?"

I stuttered. "Oh, no...I don't think so...I don't exactly...resemble to grandpa."

I don't know why there was particularly sadness in my tone as I spoke those last words, but it was there, nevertheless. Charles Sanders was one of the greatest men that have ever roamed this earth. He was the founder of the family's business. But he has always been a warm man, kind and who has never been afraid of his own feelings.

Vallin watched me curiously. "I'm sure he'd disagree. Funny, though, how exactly his granddaughter walks in my office. He and I have been friends for a while now, but we haven't seen each other lately. Business and all. Tell me, how is he?"

The hesitation from my side was clear as I stared down at my hands. When was the last time I'd spoken to grandpa Charlie? It seemed as if I'd left him behind with all my years of childhood.

"He's...Well, I haven't kept in touch with my family for a while now, sir," I admitted, "but I will mention you the next time we speak." If there will be a next time.

Much to my demise, Vallin seemed to have a firm grasp of the situation, because the way he looked at me told me he understood my distancing.

"Very well then." He looked at the brightly coloured duo beside me and smiled. "These two have been talking about you for quite some while now. When James told me they planned on telling you everything, I couldn't help but demand to meet you myself." He stood up, brought a pair of rimmed glasses to his eyes and searched through the books in his case.

"Tell me, Charlotte, what do you make so far of this?"

A tall red haired boy breaking his bones to mutate into an eagle. A blue haired pixie moving things without touching them. "I think it's quite insane, sir."

He pulled out two old books and chuckled. "I appreciate your honesty, Charlotte." Then, taking small steps towards us, he placed one of the books on his desk, right under my nose. I took in the picture of an old man with grey hair, beard and glasses, his skin wrinkled by the passing of time. He seemed happy, though, for there was a spark in his eyes that made you feel warm and safe inside. Underneath the picture laid written in italic 'Solomon Bayard'.

"Do you believe in the impossible, Charlotte?"

I took no time in answering a definite, "Yes.". And I had been honest, too. Ever since I developed a conscience, I searched for possibilities, for breaks from the boring reality. And now that Janice had offered me such opportunity, I wasn't to let it go.

He nodded, pleased by my reply. "Good. Then, Charlotte, allow me to dive into a little history of our school." He pointed at the page with the old man's picture. "Solomon Bayard founded this school in the early 1700s. It was about then that the supernatural community began to lose ground in front of humanity. Many were killed during raids, others fled. It was clear that they needed a refuge, a place where they could be themselves.

"So Solomon Bayard decided to turn his mansion into a school. He took in a few supernaturals that he knew and together with his wife, a very pragmatic elf, began teaching the young ones all the knowledge they could gather. As time passed, more supernaturals turned at his doorstep, some offering to teach, others asking for a place to hide. Solomon helped to the best of his abilities.

"It was only when his daughter, Catherine Bayard, took over the school, that the problems rose. Many humans began to question the Bayard family's morals. Riots arose and when Catherine turned thirty, the humans set the school on fire." Janice sighed beside me. "Many were killed that night, humans and supernaturals alike. Catherine, although greatly injured, survived.

"And so, she settled in an old, abandoned castle, one that benefited of a great amount of space. She turned the Gothic castle in what you see today, the Massey School for Supernaturally Gifted."

With a flip of the next page, Vallin ended the story. "I've been the headmaster of this school for over twenty years now. And I can tell you, it's a great honor to be a part of this school's history, for you see...no headmaster has been anything but human so far."

I looked up at him curiously, forgetting my voice. "You mean humans have always been in charge of Massey?"

He nodded. "Solomon himself was human, which of course, caused many supernaturals to not trust him. At the same time, though, the human society accepted Bayard's school because, well, they were sure that he was one of them. So they didn't question. Also, the leaders of this school have always been humans who believed in the collaboration between humanity and supernatural." He brought his hand to his temple, massaging the spot thoughtfully. "It is, however, believed that Solomon was the reincarnation of a demigod, but that's not a very trustworthy theory."

I opened my mouth to ask one thing, but out came another. "So no other human knows about this place?"

"No, not at all. Some have their doubts, but modern society hides us well enough through ignorance."

Janice chuckled beside me, giving my brain enough time to click. "Why didn't you enroll in this school from the start?" I asked her.

She shrugged, seemingly uninterested. "I didn't know about my powers until tenth grade. When I found out I got pretty scared, so it took me a while to get used to the idea. Either way, it was too late to enroll and I didn't particularly want it, so my aunt, who is also a witch, simply introduced me to some of the people here."

The atmosphere in Vallin's office was strangely warm and pleasant. Like when you're in your dad's home office and you're having a chat with him over some interesting subject. It gives you that feeling that you're important, that you're actually involved in something and at the same time, you feel like home.

"You have a very interesting vibe to you, Charlotte," came Vallin's observation, to which I responded with a disbelieving stare. He smiled. "Tell me, what do you enjoy doing? Do you play any sports?"

That was how he locked me up. Janice had no idea of my passion for martial arts. James was even more clueless. But I figured, now that the entire underground buzzed with excitement since spotting me, what use was there to hide it anymore?

"I practice mixed martial arts, sir." Janice whipped her head in my direction; James grinned, surprised. Vallin looked a bit taken aback as he inspected my thin frame. "And I play the occasional basketball with my brother." I know, I felt like snapping, other people collect stamps whereas I viciously punch a bag for a 'hobby'.

"And how experienced are you with your fighting?"

I was surprised, nonetheless, to see that he didn't question my ability to fight. He actually seemed to realize there was something more to it than just the occasional 'practicing'.

"Uh...I've been at it for eight years now, sir."

"You never told me you fought!" Janice exclaimed, almost stupefied. I could only shrug, causing her to gasp. James patted her back, trying to diminuish her shock. Vallin, on the other hand, had fallen in deep thought. He concentrated his gaze on a spot on the opposite wall, but he seemed to be looking further than that.

"You wouldn't, by any chance, think she'd be a good member of the team, would you, sir?" James so sneakily launched the question that a four year old could realize the hint. Three sets of eyes stared at James - one in utter confusion, one in shock and another in interest.

"We'll see, James," Vallin replied, then turned his attention to me. "I have a team of a select few people who handle the supernatural situations that get out of hand. The situations are, however, not pleasant for the eye of a someone so young." I eyed him suspiciously, already imagining what the missions consisted of. Vampires being staked for being...naughty.

Freak.

"I can assure you, sir, I've seen plenty of things," I once again blurted and this time, along with the words, came the memories. And with the memories came the horrified shudder that they failed to notice. I pushed all the images back to the dark corner of my mind. I didn't want to dig up my past.

He suddenly seemed to remember he had been holding another book in his hands. Vallin reached for it and gently handed me it.

"You will find here all the information you would want about supernaturals. I'm sure you'll think of it as an interesting lecture." I marveled at the black velvet cover of the book. There was nothing written on its covers. "Well," Vallin said, "you are now a part of our family..." James and Janice high fived each other. Clearly, this was a sign that Vallin didn't intend to stake me. "...so feel free to come around whenever you'd like. We'll introduce you to some of our students."

And just as those words left his mouth, the double doors were violently pushed open, the intruder not paying much attention to the old and beautifully carved wood. All four of us turned our heads in the direction of the newcomer.