I come to my senses and though the migraine is gone, my head still hurts from when it was unkindly introduced to the floor. Opening my eyes slowly, the first thing I notice are the pants of the coach’s tracksuit.

I freeze.

He’s standing over me. Is he about to bite me? I think in horror.

Wait. Has he already bitten me? My eyes widen and I’m too scared to find out the truth.

I really, really don’t want to be turned into a vampire on my first day of school. I’d rather not get all my blood sucked out of me either, I kind of need that. As the monster’s fangs aren’t currently on me, I decide to try and make a run for it.

Pushing off of the bench I had been carefully placed on with all my strength, I attempt a rush to the door.

But I hardly move a fraction of an inch when his hand clasps my shoulder, not letting me budge at all.

Shit, he’s strong.

I break out into a cold sweat. My heart feels like it’s about to explode. Just as I’m about to scream for help I hear a concerned voice.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so well.”

Oh, thank god!

I try and look past the creature’s legs to make eye contact with my saviour, but I see nobody there. Only then do I realize that it was the monster talking. Scared out of my mind, I slowly tilt my head up, rolling my eyes as far up as they can go so as to not make any large movements.

I blink at him, surprised.

The fangs are gone. The pale skin is gone. His eyes are a normal dark brown.

Did I just imagine the whole thing?

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. These headaches must be a lot more severe than I thought. I make a silent promise to tell Leah first thing when I get home.

“Fine, fine. I must be more nervous than I thought. You know, first day and all,” I give a small laugh trying to blow it off.

I’d rather nobody know I had a psychological meltdown on my first day of school.

“I think we should get you to the infirmary,” he says worriedly while glancing at his watch.

Sensing weakness I counter, “No really, it’s alright. Besides, we’re probably late for class.” I get up and stretch a little, demonstrating my health. “I was told I need to get a uniform before I can enter the class,” I say with a question at the end, prompting him to move on.

I’d really like to get out of here. Despite not seeing the face of a vampire on my Martial Arts instructor anymore, I still feel very uncomfortable.

“Alright,” he says grudgingly, “Let’s get you outfitted.”

Wow. That was easy.

Maybe I didn’t completely pass out, because there is no way a teacher wouldn’t force me out of class if I fainted right in front of him. Then again, he could just be really irresponsible.

The ‘uniform’ is basically a tight fitting black t-shirt made of a very breathable material coupled with shorts of similar make. It has a white logo of a mountain at the back, surrounded by clouds under which it simply said, ‘Olympus’.

The coach introduces himself as Howard Mosby and told me I should just call him Coach or Coach Howard. “None of this Mr. Mosby business,” he says. He tells me I should hurry to the changing room and join the students warming up in the dojo.

As I jog to the changing rooms I thank my stars that I don’t have to participate in today’s lesson. Coach Howard said that first lessons are spectate only and that he didn’t think I should be performing physical activities in my state anyway.

Once I was done changing I left the locker room – which looked like a hotel suite – and made my way to the dojo. People were all warming up and stretching at their own pace but they had gravitated into two distinct groups.

“Greens, to me!” shouts a woman loudly in one corner of the large wooden floored room. A group of about twenty students rush to her and line up in a grid like fashion.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

On the other side of the room a smaller group of ten, far more serious looking trainees line up as soon as the see Coach Howard with no need for him to say a word.

I watch in fascination at the distinct difference between the two groups. While the ‘Greens’, as they were called, were constantly fidgeting and whispering; the other side looked ready to kill.

“As always, we start the year with an exhibition match,” says Coach Howard with a grin. This results in a ripple of excitement amongst all the students, even the most stoic of the veterans.

Coach Howard and the lady walk to the centre of the room and face each other. The both smile and give a slight bow. “I’m going to kick your ass this time Howie,” says the female.

Coach Howard gives her a dirty look, clearly not liking the use of the nickname. “Bring it.”

They both raise their hands in a guard. While Coach has his arms compact and raised high with his knees bent and staying low, the woman has them loose and constantly moving as she bounces on the balls of her feet.

She bounces closer to Coach ever so slightly and suddenly he is rushing towards her. He bends his body forward as goes to tackle her hips but she bounces to the side. The movement was performed so fluidly that I am sure she planned it from the start. Her knee comes up in a swift strike as she goes for his face.

Wow. They’re really going at it.

Unbelievably, however, Coach is ready for the strike and his hand blocks the knee and pushes it to the side. He takes advantage of her swivelling body with a swing of his elbow catching her on her cheekbone.

She is forced to retreat and gives Coach an angry frown as she restarts her bouncing motion. Her check is red and looks like it has even been cut slightly.

After his first strike Coach decides to change up his style as well and now he too is light on his feet.

They both rush at the same time, sensing something far out of my understanding and meet each other halfway.

They strike and block alternatingly with increasing speed. It gets to a point where I can simply stare in slack jawed awe as I am barely able to perceive their movements. In the blur of their movement I once again see Coach with pale skin and glowing eyes but I quickly shake the afterimage away. I don’t want to faint again.

Just as their exchange was becoming almost rhythmic, the woman goes low and hooks his feet from under him with her leg. In less than a second she has him in an airtight hand hold, forcing his arm into an unnatural position. She holds it for five seconds. Ten. Finally, Coach can take it no more and he taps out.

At this point they’re both panting and grinning with their backs on the floor of the dojo. “Told ya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” coach replies grumpily.

He then turns and whispers something in her ear which causes her body to freeze and her eyes to go wide. She whispers something back at him and flips up and off the ground. She then saunters back to her group and calls, “Alright future knuckleheads! Get back in line.”

The rest of the class is a combination of drill and body strengthening exercises. Boring stuff mostly, and I quickly grow distracted.

At the end of the class Coach calls me over to where the two teachers were finishing up with a group of students.

“Samantha, this is our new student from 2-C. He’ll be joining the Greens.” He looks at me questioningly, “Unless you have experience?”

“None at all,” I shake my head. They quickly explain what they expect from me in the class and give me a paper, presumably some kind of waiver, that I have to get signed from my parent or guardian.

When I leave the room, I see Justin leaning against the wall, clearly waiting for me.

“So, what do you have next?” he asks conversationally as we start to walk. I’m not sure where I need to go next so I just walk beside him.

“AP Calculus,” I say hoping he doesn’t change his friendly demeanour. But he just laughs, “Oh, you poor thing.”

“Hey, I can manage it,” I retorted.

“Just know that last year a whole bunch of the geniuses took it with the intention of taking the advanced class this year, but they’re all repeating it.”

“What?” I ask redundantly, more than a little surprised.

“Apparently, the teacher’s a real bitch. They all failed the internals.”

I groan inwardly. What have I gotten myself into?

“By the way, why do we call Howard coach?” I ask. I was curious about it during the class but didn’t get the chance to ask anyone. “Shouldn’t we call him sensei or something,” I add with a laugh.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “We call him coach because he used to be an Olympic coach like, ten years ago,” he explained like I was stupid.

Woah. But he looks like he’s barely 30. When I ask Justin about it he simply replies, “Dude, the man’s like sixty,” as though it was no big deal.

“Huh. So, what do we call the other one?” I try keep the interest from my voice.

Justin see’s through me though and gives a boisterous laugh, “She’s smoking, right?”

“Yeah, I guess, for a teacher.”

He just rolls his eyes like that doesn’t matter. Ah, teenage hormones. What would we do without you?

We make it to the Sciences Building and go our separate ways. Justin has Literature next and the Language and Arts building is on the opposite side of campus.

As I am about to walk up the stairs leading to the front doors of the building, I feel my headache come up again.

Damnit, it hasn’t happened so often before.

“So, have you figured it out yet?” says a recognizable voice from behind me.

I turn around slowly, trying not to further agitate my head. Once again, my vision seems to darken. This time it goes a step further and I see colours separating from rays of light. When I see the girl, instead of her fire-red hair, I see actual fire that is somehow tamed into a braid. Her eyes are completely black and her ears are sharp, like an elf. Her skin is flawless, whatever subtle freckles she had were gone, replaced by white porcelain skin – broken only by a black tattoo that winds all over her body.

My eyes go wide in shock but this time I don’t freak out. I was already expecting to hallucinate so I kept my expressions in check. But holy shit. I’ve been reading far too many fantasy novels.

I shake my head and say nervously, “Maybe?”

She smiles at me expectantly.

“I am Kylar Coates, and I am…human?” the last part turns into a question as I see her huff in frustration.

“As far as you know anyway.”