(Part 1)

"Here you go." I take the two pieces of paper from the nice lady inside the office, giving her a thankful smile before I walk off in what I hope is the right direction.

This place is huge.

I look down at the map she'd also been kind enough to include, familiarizing myself with the area. I've got art for first period, which is supposed to start at 8:20 and end at 9 o'clock.

It's on the second floor, in classroom: B15.

I take a left at the end of the hall, set on finding my locker first. I keep my head angled straight ahead, ignoring all the stares and whispers that are directed at me from the ever growing population of teenagers.

What'd I expect? I am new here.

I walk down a long row of lockers, dodging out of the way from incoming traffic and people who are too...distracted to notice me.

If you call sucking peoples faces off distracting.

I call it disgusting. Sounds the same, but it's different. Definitely different.

I smile in triumph when I spot a locker with my number on it, quickly dialing the four digit number in the lock to unlock it.

Opening the locker, I set a couple books inside that I won't need until later. Readjusting both my camera strap and backpack strap, I check my watch: 8:10 A.M.

Ten whopping minutes early.

I walk up a set of bustling stairs that leads to another floor, passing walls full of trophies and achievements.

Stopping in front of the open door with the number: B15. I straighten the baseball cap on my head, slowly walking inside.

A dozen or so chairs with easels positioned directly in front of each one, sit in a half circle. The teachers desk is located at the front of the room, all the easels angled towards the desk. A simple basket of fruit sitting on a small table in front of the desk.

All the seats empty.

Hmm, must be too early. I wonder if that can be considered a 'bad habit?'

I continue my walk forward, aiming straight for the person who's sitting down at the head desk.

He's probably somewhere in his early sixties, a mop of gray hair spread across his head and a peppering of a beard across his chin. He wears a thin pair of black glasses, his light blue eyes focused on a newspaper he's currently reading.

I stand in front of his desk for a second, waiting to see if he even notices me. He doesn't, and I finally clear my throat. Trying to draw his attention up to me.

He slowly looks up until his eyes are on my face, a smile breaking out on his lips. "Why hello." He greats, setting his paper down on the desk. "How can I help you?" He questions, placing his chin down on his hand.

"Is this visual art 1?" I ask, glancing down at my paper to check that I said it right.

He nods, looking over at his computer for a second. "Ah, you must be the new student who moved here from Kansas." He says.

"Yes. Heavyn West." I introduce myself, giving him a smile. "Ned Niki. I'm your teacher." His eyes land on my camera. "You do know photography is a different class?" He asks, slightly amused.

This time I nod, placing my hand on the camera that's against my hip. "I'm fully aware, sir. I just don't go anywhere without it." I elaborate, switching my weight to my right leg.

"I see." He smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Well take a seat anywhere. Class will be starting in five minutes." He informs me, the first bell startling me as it rings through the hall.

I turn around, my eyes in search of where I should sit seeing as I have first choice. "Oh, but do take in mind that the seat you choose. Is the seat you stay in for the rest of the semester." He gives a short laugh, lifting his paper back up to eye level.

Oookay.

There's four rings of seats, each row fanning out from Mr. Niki's desk. I make up my mind, taking a seat in the first row. My seat is the second one from the last on this side, which leaves one to my left and four to my right.

I pull my sketchbook out of my backpack, setting it up on the easel. Then I grab my container of pencils, setting them down at the side.

People begin to trickle in, the loud noise that had once only been in the hallway now beginning to seep in here as they bring the rowdiness with them.

I work on a few shading techniques I already know from past experiences, drowning out the distractions.

Which doesn't last long.

I'm torn from my sketching when I suddenly feel a light tap on my right shoulder. I look up.

"Anyone sitting here?" The girl asks, motioning towards the seat directly to my right. I shake my head. "No. I'm not holding it for anyone." I tell her, looking back over at my sketchbook.

"Great." She says, her voice light.

I glance to my right, looking her over.

She's most likely my age, though small and petite when compared to me. She probably only stands at five foot five, her arms thin and wiry. Black hair with blue highlights hangs down to a little past her shoulders, her left ear pierced in two different places. Her face is heart shaped, and a button nose completes it. She has heavy black eyeshadow around her eyes, her lips a bright red. She wears a dark blue T-shirt that says: Sorry. I'm not listening. And a red and black plaid mini skirt with two belts sewed onto the side. Finishing with black leggings tucked into a pair of black and white converses.

She places her own sketchbook on the easel, grabbing a bag of pencils out also. "You're new here, and I mean new as-in new to New York." She says it more as a statement, not a question.

I look back over at her, nodding. "Yeah, just got here yesterday." I confirm. "Is it that noticeable?" I ask, looking down at myself as-if I could actually see why.

She tilts her head to the side, looking me over. "Not really. It's just you seem...different from the rest." Her green eyes light up. "The country, right?" She almost hesitates.

I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Actually, yes. Kansas." I elaborate.

She flicks her hair behind her shoulder, seeming proud about herself. "It's a gift I have." She laughs like it's an old joke, looking back at me.

"I'm Zoey, Zoey Galaspy." She introduces, sticking a thin hand out at me. I return the gesture. "Heavyn West. And that's with a y." I quickly add the last part.

She practically squeals. "Omg, what a beautiful name!" I feel my cheeks heat at her praise, feeling more eyes land on me from her excessive loudness.

She's obviously one of those people who will be as loud as they want and not care a thing about it.

Her eyes widen as she thinks of something. "Hey, so what's your next class?" She questions out of the blue, shyly twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

I dig into my backpack, pulling out my schedule. Handing it to her, I let her look it over. "Cool, you're in almost all the same classes as me." She hands me the paper.

"Alright, being the kind and considerate person I am." She smiles. "I'm nominating myself as your personal guide of the day." She says it like she won't take no for a answer.

Sure beats getting lost. And who says you can't make friends on your first day of school.

"Sure. I don't mind." I honestly say.

Mr. Niki suddenly stands up, the room immediately going quiet. He walks over to the door, shutting it right as the late bell rings down the hallway. As he turns around, I notice his eyes land on the only empty seat left in the room - the one beside me, a sigh escaping his mouth.

He takes his seat again, putting his feet up on the desk as he leans back in his chair. "Alright, class is beginning." He announces. "I expect less talking and more drawing. And the seat you're siting in, is the seat you'll be staying in for the rest of the semester." He repeats what he already told me.

I hear a few groans in annoyance from behind me, and Zoey leans in closer to me for a second. "Then it's a good thing I'm sitting beside you." She whispers.

And I guess no one's sitting in the other chair beside me....

Mr. Niki points at the basket of fruit. "Your assignment for today is to draw that basket. Now get to work." He instructs.

I immediately hear the sound of pencils rubbing against paper as everyone begins their assignment, not a peep of disagreement from anyone.

Mr. Niki presses play on a old tape player, classical music filling the room.

There's a few more groans of annoyance, but no one directly says anything.

I rather like classical music. It's....peaceful.

Getting to work, I find myself zoning out as I lose myself in the music and the comfortable atmosphere. My hand automatically stenciling the basket of fruit as I repeatedly glance up at it.

After what could only of been five minutes, I'm suddenly torn from my drawing haze as the door abruptly opens. My right hand with the pencil jerking upwards from the surprise.

I stare at the two inch long mark I've accidentally drawn on my paper, my mind coming up with all the possible scenarios I could use to possibly add this mark to my fruit basket instead of smudging my paper from attempting to erase it.

I hear footsteps walk quickly across the room towards Mr. Niki's desk, pausing in front of it. "Ah, about time you joined us Mr. Smith." I look up at Mr. Niki's voice, my eyes landing on the late student.

His back faces me as he hands Mr. Niki a piece of paper, leaving me unable to fully look him over. He wears a black leather jacket that's stretched across broad shoulders, simple dark jeans with a pair of black combat boots. And he's tall, like over six feet I'd say.

He doesn't say anything to Mr. Niki. He just swings the black backpack off his shoulder, turning around.

Time seems to pause for a split second.

He looks like he's maybe sixteen, if not older. Black hair hangs in layers around his head, falling down so it just barely brushes the collar of his jacket. His smooth face looks like it has a natural tan to it, and a light sheen of sweat coats his skin - like he ran all the way to school. His sharp - yet not too sharp, cheekbone standing out.

Steady bright blue eyes that practically seem to pop off his face quickly scan over the room. Lingering on me a few seconds longer before they land on the empty seat beside me.

I get the sudden urge to gulp.

I quickly redirect my line of sight back to my sketchbook, my heart thumping oddly fast in my chest.

I breathe in, calming myself. Straightening my shoulders, I hold my pencil up to the sketchbook, my eyes focused on what I need to draw.

But I still can't help but be conscious of what's happening to the left of me.

I hear him lightly sit down, the chair giving a small squeak in protest. His backpack rustles as he pulls out his own sketchbook, placing it up on the easel.

Refocusing on the task at hand, I continue my rough sketch before I trace over it with a charcoal pencil.

I finish up my fruit basket right as the bell signaling the end of class rings out, approximately thirty minutes since I got here. Everyone in the room immediately starts packing up their stuff, seeming like they can't wait a second longer to get out.

"I'll see you all tomorrow." Mr. Niki dismisses. "And Mr. Smith. A word with you before you leave." He looks over to my left, crossing his arms.

Someone's getting a talking to.

I glance over to my left - and yes, I refrained from doing so during class. Mr. Smith is slouching in his chair, glaring at the sketchbook like it's actually the sketchbooks fault for being there in the first place.

Grouchy much?

Shaking my head, I redirect my attention on Zoey. She's got all her stuff packed up, motioning for me to follow her.

I grab my backpack, swinging it up on my shoulder as I follow her out into the crowded hall. Glancing at my watch, I read the time: 9:00.

Really? They only give you two minutes to get to your next class.

Zoey holds my arm as she expertly leads me through the crowd. "Are you sure I won't make you late for your class?" I ask her, making sure my voice is loud enough for her to hear.

She nods. "I'll be fine." She confidently says, literally pushing someone out of the way when they suddenly step in front of her. "Watch where you're going!" She yells back at him, giving me a smile before she faces the front again.

I have a feeling me and Zoey are going to get along just fine.

She stops in front of another room. "Well, here you are." She gives a hand flourish at the door, her eyes scrunching up as she smiles.

"Thank you." I playfully curtsy. "I might never have found it without you." I make my voice sound extra deep, a laugh right on the edge of my throat.

She laughs, pulling her short hair up into a ponytail as the warning bell rings out. "Gotta go. I'll wait for you here." She quickly says before mixing in with the dwindling crowds.

I quickly introduce myself to the teacher, double checking to make sure I am in fact in the right room. I take a seat in the back row, the room setup like your typical classroom.

Rows of desks sit in line after line, all facing the one large desk at the front.

I pull out my books needed for this class: English. Which is actually one of my preferred subjects.

Call me what you want.

The room quickly fills up, leaving only one seat in the front row and the seat directly to my right empty.

What's with no one wanting to sit beside me?

I shrug, doodling on the corner of my notebook as I wait for class to start. I look up as the door that had been shut, opens back up.

My eyes once again land on no other than Mr. Smith. Or should I say, Mr. Late?

I watch as he scans the room again, obviously looking for a seat to sit in. His eyes land on the seat beside me, and I sense a hint of hesitation that doesn't look like it should belong with his cold, uncaring attitude he carries around with him.

He seems to mentally shake his head, slowly sauntering up the row of desks. His head stays angled to the ground, a slight stoop evident in his posture.

He plops down in the desk a mere two feet to my right, his eyes staying focused on the top of his desk.

I manage to ignore him when class starts, my attention solely on what the teacher is talking about.

Class ends in about forty minutes, the bell ringing out.

I quickly pack up my things, glancing to my right as Mr. Late stands up, joining the crowd of teenagers exiting the room. The teacher still trying to talk over everyone with a few last second announcements.

I walk out the door, immediately spotting Zoey walking towards me. She waves, her cheeky smile lighting up her face.

She loops her arm through mine like we've been best friends since kindergarten, leading me off where everyone else seems to be going.

"The usual announcements they have at the beginning of each semester are down in the indoor gym." She informs me, explaining where we're going.

We pass underneath a welcome back students banner that hangs in the hallway, a few balloons tied on the ends.

Going down a few staircases, Zoey leads us into a large crowded room - what looks like the whole population of the school, five hundred students. Bleachers sit over to the left of the room, faced so you look at the basketball court that's positioned to the right of the room.

A few teachers and what I can only assume is the principal, stand on a small wood platform in the middle of the basketball court. A microphone in front of them

Zoey takes me up to the top row on the bleachers, and we take a seat.

I look over the whole room, recognizing a few students from both the classes I've already attended. And yes, I also spot Mr. Late....I really need to come up with a better name to call him.

He's leaning up against the wall in a secluded little section off to the right. Hands tucked into his jean pockets, his face impassive - as I've noticed it usually is, but his laid back posture making him look bored as all get out.

I narrow my eyes, something not seeming right about all this.

My eyes land back on a group across the room I'd noticed earlier, an aurora of 'get lost or die' surrounding them. There's about four guys, each just as handsome as the next. They're dressed in all black, donning leather jackets just like someone else over here. Piercings decorate all over most of their faces, jewelry glistening around their necks, pants hanging down low. The typical "bad boy" stereotype look.

But...

I look back over towards Mr. Late - at the quiet, reserved atmosphere that seems to surround him. Not a single piece of jewelry marks his face, just a thin metal chain around his neck that disappears underneath his white T-shirt.

I switch back over to the other group. They each have at least one girl with them -either sitting on their lap, or clinging to their backs in hopes they'll get noticed. Joking smiles on their faces as they talk amongst each other.

My eyes land back on Mr. Late.

He seems like he's going for the whole "bad boy" attitude and look - which everyone has obviously bought. But something just doesn't add up with him.

"-Heavyn." My head snaps over to my left, where Zoey's sitting beside me. I stare at her, unsure about what she was talking about.

"What?" I ask. She rolls her eyes, raising an eyebrow. "I've called you like three times. What's got you all..." She waves her hands in front of me, trying to think of a word. "Distracted." She brilliantly comes up with.

"Sorry." I grimace. "I tend to zone out when I'm thinking about stuff." I explain, which is true by the way.

She shrugs, dismissing it. "So I was trying to ask you if you'd be interested in sitting with me for lunch since we have it at the same time?" She asks. "But you know, if you've already made a friend and want to go sit with them than I completely understand. I just thought I'd ask." She rambles off at like sixty miles per hour, nervously wrapping her finger around a strand of hair.

"Well, I do believe I've made a friend actually." I slowly say, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my lips. Zoey's face falls at my words, obviously not getting what I'm doing.

"And I'd love to sit with her." I dramatically say, wrapping my left arm through her right to get the message along.

Her face immediately lights up, her smile stretching so big I'm afraid it's going to grow off her face.

She lightly jabs me in the side. "Haha. You think you're so funny." She chides, digging into her backpack.

She pulls out her phone, handing it to me. "Number?" She asks. I take it, pulling out mine to give her in return.

I type my number in her contacts, her doing the same thing to mine. The loud room suddenly grows quiet as the lights dim, signaling that it's almost time for the principal to talk.

I place my elbows down on my thighs, setting my chin in my cupped hands as I stare over at the small platform.

They drone on and on about how happy they are to see everyone again. Welcoming the few new students they have attending this fall - because apparently I'm not the only one. Finally ending with a little speech about how they care about everyone's safety.

"Safety as most of you know, is of utmost importance here at Eleanor Roosevelt. Where no Celestial can just walk in due to our latest technology: the High Rise Detectors. They can detect a Celestial from five feet away, immediately alerting our well trained security guards and automatically calling the nearest police department for backup."

The over excited principal continues.

"Eleanor Roosevelt is without a doubt, one of the safest schools in New York. And we intend to keep it that way." He smiles, delivering the final line.

Everyone immediately begins to clap, some so ecstatically their hands look like they're turning red.

I softly clap, my eyes landing back on the unmoved Mr. Late. He just stands there like before. Hands still in his pockets, his face blank.

People start trickling out of the room, and I lose sight of Mr. Late. Zoey grabs my arm, leading me out of the fray.

French and Algebra fly by in a blur, both Zoey and Mr. Late attending them too.

I glance down at my watch as Zoey leads me to the cafeteria for lunch: 11:10 A.M. Already half of my classes done.

Then I can finally get out and do something.

We walk into a large room filled with students. Chairs and tables are spread throughout the room, the area with the food over to the left.

Getting in the short line, I fold my arms across my chest as I wait for my turn. Zoey grabs a tray, placing a salad and two slices of pepperoni pizza on a plate. She finishes with a water bottle, paying the lady at the register.

I get basically the same thing. Only instead of pepperoni, I get one cheese slice. After I pay, I once again follow Zoey. She leads me off to the far end of the cafeteria, the area here a little quieter.

We take a seat at one of round tables that stands up higher than your usual table, our seats high chairs - no pun intended.

Zoey twists the cap off her water, taking a sip before recapping it. "So," she leans forwards. "How are you liking your first day at Eleanor Roosevelt High School?" She questions, looking keenly at me.

I take a sip from my own water. "It's no worse than my other school so far." I honestly tell her, taking a bite out of my pizza.

She nods, like she understands what I'm saying. But she's cut off as someone abruptly takes a seat on the other side of her.

I look up, taking in his green and black plaid shirt and whitewash jeans before moving on.

He's probably our age, tall at most likely five foot eleven, with a lanky body structure. His short hair is a bright, fiery red that stands out like no ones business. Acne dots his already freckled pale face, black rimmed glasses framing familiar green eyes.

I look between him and Zoey.

"Siblings?" I ask, still looking between them.

The guys eyes widen like he didn't expect me to guess that. "Wow. That's like honestly the first time anyone has ever guessed that." He practically sputters out, looking me over with fascination.

Zoey leans into him. "I know! Isn't she awesome?" She gushes, smiling over at me. "Intelligent this one." She mimics a Yoda voice, pointing at the side of her forehead. "I could tell the second I saw her."

"Oh," her eyes widen. "This Heavyn," she points at her brother. "Is my twin brother, Zack." She introduces.

"Twin?" I look between them, taking another bite out of my pizza. Zoey nods. "I know, we're definitely not identical in the slightest. But we are twins. I've got the birth certificate at home to prove it." She smiles to herself before suddenly looking confused.

She elbows Zack in the side. "We do have one at home don't we?" She ever so discreetly whispers at him. Zack makes a annoyed face, but leans closer to her regardless. "I believe so." He whispers back, playing along.

Zoey nods in satisfaction. "So yes, we do have one at home." She happily bites into one of her slices of pizza.

Zack unwraps what looks like a ham sandwich, taking a bite also.

"Zack, meet Heavyn who hails from Kansas." She motions between us, finishing introductions. "So how come I haven't seen you around this morning?" I ask Zack, sipping on my water.

He swallows, but Zoey beats him to it. "Oh, well my brother here is a real genius." She pats him on the shoulder. "So though he's still a sophomore, like you and me. He takes extra curriculum classes or whatever you wanna call them earlier in the day, then he takes the other ones after lunch." She explains without even taking a breath.

I though hits me, one that I'd thought of right after Zoey had introduced herself earlier.

"So Galaspy, huh." I see both their faces tighten. "Any relation to Captain Galaspy?" I ask, remembering the uh...nice gentleman they were interviewing this morning on the news.

Zoey rubs the back of her neck, and Zack coughs into his hand. "Um yeah actually. He's our father." Zoey says, acting like I'm going to hit her for saying such a thing.

They hesitantly watch me, gauging my reaction.

I nod my head in approval. "Cool." I simply say, stabbing a piece of lettuce with my plastic fork.

They both stare at me for a solid minute. "What?" I slowly ask, getting a little creeped out.

"That's it? Just...cool?" Zoey asks in disbelief. I nod again, not really sure why they're making such a big deal out of it.

"So you don't care about hanging out with a couple kids who have a captain of the police for a dad?" Zack straightforwardly asks.

"No. I think it's great." I assure them. They both let a breath out, looking relieved. "Well, you'd be the first." Zoey says. "As you can see, we're not the most popular people around here. Because for some reason, people think we're like gonna tattletale on them or something." She shrugs. "I mean we sorta used to be. But that was back when Zack was on the football team and I was-" She rambles on, only stopping when Zack clears his throat.

"Thank you, Zoey. But there's no need to take a trip down memory lane right now." He points out, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

I raise an eyebrow, looking between them. I really just can't believe a scrawny kid like Zack could make it onto the football team in the first place.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." They both look back at me. "I'm the daughter of a reporter. A lot of kids back at my old school avoided me because of that." I truthfully tell them, knowing how they must feel.

"Well, I guess we have our own group now." Zack smiles, showing off straight teeth - though they're definitely not the whitest.

"So when's your birthday?" Zoey asks out of the blue, chewing on a carrot. "I'll be sixteen on October first." I tell them.

She nods. "We just had our sweet sixteenth on August eleventh." She raises an eyebrow. "And yet, I don't feel any older." Her voice drifts off.

"Well happy belated birthday!" I look between them. "Thanks." Zack says.

My eyes suddenly latch on a figure as he takes a seat at the table that's tucked into the furthest corner, my seat giving me the perfect view of him.

Mr. Late quietly eats a sandwich, his head bent down as he - most likely than not, catches up on some overdue homework.

Wait. My eyes move back to Zoey and Zack. Maybe I can finally get an actual name here.

I clear my throat, getting their attention. "So uh, what's with that guy over there." I motion over towards Mr. Late with my head.

Zoey's eyes immediately light up, and she peaks over at me. "Why? See something you like?" She raises an eyebrow at me, wiggling it.

I get the urge to snort. "Just curious - which I'm curious by nature." I correct her. "It's just he's been in all my classes so far, and I haven't heard a single peep out of him all day." I set my elbow on the table - bad habit, don't do it kids. Leaning my head on my hand.

I suddenly notice Zack's grown quiet, oddly quiet. He's picking at his own salad, clearly avoiding eye contact.

What's with him all of a sudden?

Zoey nods. "Yeah, that's the usual for him alright." She gazes over at him, letting a dreamy sigh out. "That hunk of cuteness sitting over there all by himself, is Dravin Smith."

Dravin.....

She blinks a couple times. "He showed up exactly two years ago this semester. No one knows really who he is. Only his name, that he's currently sixteen, and that he was held back a year."

"So, was he always like...this?" I motion towards him.

"Reclusive?" She shakes her head. "No. He was actually rather friendly at first, and I even saw him smile a couple times. Though he did prefer to keep to himself and not draw any attention to himself - but that is kinda hard to do when you look like...that." She smiles, getting lost in her mind again.

She suddenly frowns. "But after only a couple months, his attitude literally took a turn for the worse." She sadly shakes her head. "He started showing up late for class, he wouldn't talk to anyone unless they relentlessly tried, he looked exhausted all the time, he got detention." She trails off. "I think he must've gotten mixed up with some bad business with some bad people. Drugs or something." She shrugs - something she obviously likes to do.

"And that's what you get now." She motions over at him. "Dravin Smith. One of the few, hot "bad boys" of Eleanor Roosevelt High School." She sighs, looking over at Zack.

"Zack here actually was friends with him before he want all loner on everyone." She taps him on the head. "And every time anyone even so much as brings up his name, he always goes all distant and closed off on me." She says directly in his ear, making sure he heard her.

I keep my eyes on Zack, who's still avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Zack gently pushes her away. "I don't get distant or closed off." He informs her. "I just don't want to talk about it." He tells her, his voice growing harsh.

Zoey crosses her arms with a huff. "Fine, we'll talk about my favorite subject then." She teasingly says.

Zack groans. "Here we go. She's like obsessed." He rolls his eyes. "Pretty much the whole female teenage population is. Get over it." Zoey states before practically squealing. "I know you're from Kansas which is like all the way down...somewhere. But please tell me you've heard of the Knight of New York - aka, MidKnight?" She looks hopefully up at me.

I give her a nod. "Yeah, I read about him some when we were in Kansas. But I don't really know much. Oh, and I heard something on the news this morning about how someone 'thinks' they saw him grow wings and fly away." I snort, brushing that image away.

But Zoey just leans in closer to me. "But it's true!" She almost yells. "I've seen them." She realizes she's practically climbing on the table, restraining herself before she continues on in a quieter voice.

"You see, about eight months ago I was kidnapped by a group of Celestials." She waves a hand, stopping me from interrupting. "I'm fine. Obviously." She assures. "Getting kidnaped comes with having a captain for a father. You know, leverage or something along those lines." She laughs like it's nothing.

I'm not so sure she is one hundred percent okay.

"So here I am, tied up and gagged in a old abandoned building. Surrounded by supervillains when MidKnight suddenly jumps through one of the windows." She looks me in eye, and I see Zack shake his head at her dramatic pause. "Only he didn't jump. He flew." She practically whispers.

"I know what I saw. And no, Zack. It was not just my brain coming up with things because I was under a lot of stress." She specifically looks at him.

"He had these giant, pitch black wings coming out of his back." Her eyes grow cloudy as she recalls the past event. "He singlehandedly takes down the whole group of supervillains, helping me get untied before he disappears back out the window."

Her hand grabs my wrist in excitement. "And Heavyn, I actually heard him talk. Which is exciting on its own because he never talks." She gives a dreamy smile, and Zack rolls his eyes.

"What did he sound like?" I can't help but ask, pulling out the small pad of paper out of my back pocket along with a pencil.

I see Zack glance at it as I start to write a few things down, his eyebrow raised in...concern?

"He sounded young." She looks up as she tries to remember. "But it was so dreamy, and there was actually something oddly famili-" She gets cut off by Zack.

"Which it probably was a dream, Zoey." He tells her, getting a immediate frown from her. "You were in a state of delusion. I mean, you'd been drugged for heaven sake. You most likely than not came up with all that in your sleep." He stares at her, eyes hard for some reason.

Well, this just escalated real fast.

But Zoey just hardens her own gaze, not backing down. "What is it with you anyway?" She questions. "Every time I so much as mention it you get all defensive." She accuses, and he glances away.

Over at Dravin.

I feel my own curiosity spark, the candle lighting.

   What is it with these two?

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A/N

   Hey all! So sorry if this chapter was boring or anything. Just had to have a chapter or two about her day at school.

   Part two will be up in a couple hours, continuing right where this chapter left off.

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