Kaz watched the blue screen, frustration welling up inside of him—so much fanfare, for nothing to happen, well not nothing. He’d been stuck on a loading screen which was a unique torture he never thought he’d get the pleasure of experiencing again. Maybe, as a bonus, it functioned as a big clock. That was important. It was a core function because Abyss Dorm was pitch black. It never changed, and the lights were always one. Looking on the bright side wasn’t working.

He was driving himself crazy. Kaz glanced at the screen for the thousandth time, but it hadn’t changed. His mother could call it what she liked, but it was a comprehensive gaming system. It also deepened his suspicion that this world's connection to Earth was deeper than his mother knew.

[Status] {Skills} {Quest} {Storage} {Shop} {Map}

Name:

Race:

Level:

Class:

Experience:

Strength:

Agility:

Stamina:

Soul Force:

Mana:

Perception:

HP:

Loading—---

He covered his face with his hands, groaning. Exhaustion tugged at him, but he couldn’t sleep. It was easy to blame the system but to begin with, he wasn’t the best sleeper. Years of keeping one eye open to survive didn’t lend itself to healthy sleeping habits.

Kaz scoffed, Who are you kidding? He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Last night was a manic episode following his panic attack. It was easy to spot in hindsight: insomnia, racing thoughts, impulsive and high-risk behavior. He should have seen it coming and prepared better. The last few days were stressful and he’d been overstimulated. Then the mess of yesterday didn’t help.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Chirp.

Chirp.

Something soft brushed against his cheek, pulling him out of his swirling thoughts. Kaz opened his eyes. Looking down, he was face to face with large googly eyes affixed to a black cotton ball.

Chirp.

It hopped about his chest. Kaz moved slowly, extending a finger. It chirped, hoping close to rub against him. “What on earth are you?” Kaz laughed at his silly joke. The tension in him eased. Kaz’s breathing evened out. He guessed cute things worked to reduce stress in any world.

His instincts weren’t screaming run, so whatever it was didn’t mean any harm. Probably. Kaz wasn’t sure how well his instincts worked in this world. And all friend-shaped things had turned deadly in his old one.

Chirrp.

It hopped up and down excitedly. Kaz opened his palm, waiting. It examined it for a moment before hopping on. It was accustomed to humans at least. He sat up and lifted the creature closer.

He blinked. It blinked.

Kaz ran his finger down its body. The creature was a tiny, ninety percent fur, hamster–that chirped. He’d seen a girl with horns, but this little fluff ball made it hit home he was in a different world.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’d feed you if I knew what you ate.” The little thing grew bored and hopped away, dashing for Tristen’s bed.

Kaz checked the system. It was four o’clock and he had his uniform– there was no reason for him to stay here. He pulled out his notebook and froze. He turned it over in his hand, half expecting it to disappear. The headmaster’s ominous warning rang in his mind, but there was proof that external materials could be used in Killingworth. Was it because he had it on him when he came? The gauze hadn’t vanished either. Kaz took a sandwich out of his storage space. It didn’t disappear.

As he munched on it, he looked inside his storage space for a book he’d be willing to risk. There were a lot, but they were also relics from a world that would need years to recover. The miniature cat facts book didn’t seem important on its own, but–

Chirp.

Kaz looked down. “Back again?” The cotton ball hopped on his lap, communicating his desire in a universal language. Kaz opened his palm and he hopped in. He scratched at it until the little thing jumped off to explore his bed. He pulled out a blank notebook, and nothing happened. Resting it on the bed, he took out an ABC book, again, nothing. He took out a dictionary with the same result. Could the rule not apply to books from Earth?

Or, was it his storage space? It didn’t use magic. Theoretically, there was no way for them to tell he was removing items from it. He looked at the storage ring on his finger. He took up the empty not book and put it in the ring. A second later, Kaz took it out, only for it to catch on fire.

A grin spread across his face. That was convenient.

There was a loud screech-like chirp. He looked down at Fluffy, rummaging through his sandwich. “What are you doing?” As if to answer his question, it devoured the mutated lettuce before Kaz could stop him. He just managed to snatch away the tomatoes and it wasn’t happy.

“You can’t eat it.” He didn’t know what effect orgone would have on creatures in this world. On Earth, everything mutated, doubling in size, even plants became carnivores. Kaz shuddered, remembering his run-in with a mutated corn plant. As he listened to the incessant chirping, he was reminded why he never kept birds. “No,” he said pushing at Fluffy’s forehead. Kaz wasn’t sure if he was anthropomorphism Fluffy, but he was sure the little cotton puff stomped off in a huff.

Kaz stifled a snicker when it turned back to look at him. He transferred the items in his storage ring to his storage space and was surprised at how much there was inside. There had to be a method for him to know what was inside without removing every item. Mana signature? That was how the bed and badge were registered. But, he’d been wearing the ring for a while and nothing had happened. Maybe it belonged to his mom. She expected him to transfer the items over to his storage space. They hadn’t had time to discuss all the little details. Could the answer be in her journal? He could access that now.

Or was he overthinking things? This was a fantasy world. Kaz took out a pin and pricked his finger, rubbing a drop of blood on the gem set in the ring. There was a buzzing sound in his head and then he knew the ring was empty.

This whole morning reminded him how prone he was to overthinking– the answer was often the simplest solution.

Speaking of answers. Kaz took out a dictionary.

Anorak: British, Informal- a person who is extremely enthusiastic about and interested in something that other people find boring.

A boy in a fantasy world used very British slang to call Kaz a nerd. One mystery was solved but it was a piece in a larger puzzle. Call it instinct or premonition, but Kaz felt all the breadcrumbs led to the same place.

“If he wasn’t allowed he couldn’t even introduce himself as Huxley, you know naming magic as well as I do! In this school, calling himself Huxley? If he didn’t have permission, he’d be dead!”

His cousin’s panicked expression. Other boys watching with weary, but reverent stares. His mother’s vague, but determined words. What would his gingerbread house look like?

Huxley.

It wasn’t special to him. He’d used it all his life with little care about where it came from. Kaz paused, as he thought about it- the name Huxley was also very British.

He turned the thought this way and that but didn’t have enough information to work with. It was a problem to be explored another day.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Kaz bit his lip, should he? He wanted a bath and they couldn’t detect when he took things from his storage space. No. He wasn’t sure if they could or couldn’t tell when he used his storage space. All he knew was the spell they had in place wouldn’t destroy the items he took out. It wasn’t worth the risk to enter his space.

Kaz tried to bound off the bed, but it was closer to a sluggish crawl. He went to the trunk at the foot of his bed.

1. One extra uniform

2. One map of the campus

3. Seven transportation tickets

4. Seven copies of Killingworth Incomplete Student Handbook

5. One student progress summation.

Kaz put up the extra uniform– more than a little grateful for it. He had to figure out how and where to wash his clothes. The urge to bang his head on the bedpost was strong, but he pushed it away.

Next was the map, and Kaz had to do a double take, the house mistress’s warnings taking on a new meaning. The campus was massive. Its scale resembled a city more than any university campus he knew. The golf cart in his storage space was whispering sweet nothings in his ear from the beyond, heck his bike was straight up screaming his name. He reached for the transportation tickets wondering how to use them. Not that it would do him any good. He didn’t know where his classes were. The map, while having the buildings numbered, did not have a key or a legend that told you what the buildings were. It was unhelpful at the basic function a map should have. Kaz felt that if another person were here he’d be ranting at them.

Kaz chuckled. He sort of hated the feeling of being led around by the nose. The map led to the tickets, which led to the handbook to tell him how to use it. A book he couldn’t open. Kaz tugged at the cover but it didn’t give. He tried a drop of blood, but that didn’t do anything. Banging it on the ground like a toddler also proved unsuccessful. He was about to set it on fire when the silver shine of his school badge caught his eye.

He closed his eyes and bit his lips, taking deep breaths, trying not to lose his temper and his sanity, what was left of it. Even if he’d grown up in this world, he didn’t think he would have any better luck navigating this school.

Kaz pressed the badge to the front of the book. The words on the cover scrambled, rearranging to say: Kaz’s Incomplete Student Handbook. The book flew out of his hand and started floating. The summation that he hadn’t touched, turned into a golden beam of light and flew towards the book sinking into it.

The light disappeared and the book fell into his hands. He turned it over and read the cover. Ignacious Kaz’myr Blake Huxley’s Student Handbook (1%)

“Hmm. Yeah. No. Not today satan.” Kaz put away the lighter, he couldn’t remember taking out. Kaz wasn’t sure. This school seemed determined to test his sanity, but just maybe, his student handbook was a scavenger hunt puzzle he would have to complete before he could read.

Kaz gave a dry chuckle, reaching for the map which, as expected, turned into a golden stream of light. The pitch of his laugh took on a slight hysterical quality.

Ignacious Kaz’myr Blake Huxley’s Student Handbook (5%). The map was valued more than his report card.

Kaz hesitated, but couldn’t resist. He opened the book and couldn’t hold back his relief at seeing a completed map. He was in building one, Abyss Dorm, and his class was in building three.

His relief died a swift death. It was too easy. The house mistress' warning rang in his ear. She had to know that fourteen students would have a map. Even if it wasn’t to scale, at best or worse it was thirty minutes to an hour's walk. Or he could be overthinking it. This was an advantage for students who claimed one of the coveted beds.

It didn’t matter.

Kaz turned the page. Then everything reached a boiling point, and he threw the book against the wall. The heavy thud made him feel better–not as good as he would have felt setting it on fire, but soothing enough that he didn’t rip out the pages when he reached for the book again.

Name: Ignacius Kaz’myr Blake Logan

Year: 1st Year

Demerits: 5

Dorm: Abyss

Individual Assignment: Report to the White Tower for Physical at 8 am

Group assignment: First Class at 9 am

Teacher Assessment:

Teacher Comment: Ignacius is a hard-working student who applies himself fully in class. He is a team player but should focus more on his individual assignments. Talia Eytel.

It was good to know teachers everywhere gave generic comments on report cards-no, that wasn’t the point.

When did he get five demerits?

Fuck. The barrier. He’d tried to cross over to the girl’s side of the room five times. Kaz tapped his finger against the page. If there were more parallels to be drawn, then using the demerit system from his world after a certain number of demerits accumulated, the student was given detention, loss of privileges, or some other punishment based on the seriousness and frequency of the infraction.

What privilege was he on the brink of losing or had already lost?

Kaz drew for his trusty notebook. “Fuckers,” he huffed. Every student laned by that red line and touched it. And the only privilege they wanted now was to leave Abyss Dorm. That made two requirements he figured out. Kaz needed half his weight in gold and no demerits to change dorms. No, he’d figured out all three. He reached for his badge and took the second appointment slot. Someone had figured it out before him.

Then, how should he get rid of his demerits?

Kaz reread the assessment, focusing on the teacher's comment. They hadn’t had their first class, and at first, he assumed she wrote a generic message for all students, but that might not be it.

‘team player but should focus more on his individual’ Oh. He wasn’t supposed to share the information he’d figured out. Maybe. It was hard to tell with these nut jobs in this school.

‘applies himself fully in class’ Kaz puzzled that line, settling on going to building three before going to the white tower.

He shrugged into his uniform, looking at the six other copies of a book he shouldn’t need. Seven books, seven beds. It was the start of a pattern.

Kaz was ready. As he walked to the door, he paused. A team player if some of it had meaning then all of it might have meaning. Kaz wasn’t to neglect the group while maintaining himself as the priority?

If he thought about it anymore, he might never leave this room. He walked to Tristen’s bed, tapping the curtain. It was pulled aside to reveal grumpy purple eyes promising pain.

“This better be good,” he said, his voice roughened from sleep.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Tristen said.

Kaz glanced into the murky darkness. “Want to take a guess?”

“I always get up at five,” Tristen said.

Kaz looked at the blue panel. “Hmm, then you’ve overslept by ten minutes.”

Tristen’s head snapped up, deep eyes searching Kaz’s face. “Fuck,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Wait a second, I’ll get ready.”

“Wait–” he cut off his words when he noticed curious eyes looking at them. “Can I sit on your bed?”

Tristen followed where he was looking before motioning him to sit.

Kaz sat, pulling the curtain closed. “Go in your trunk, press your badge to the student handbook, and put in the map and student assessment.”

Tristen looked like he had questions, but he didn’t ask. He opened his trunk. “I have the map and student assessment, but no handbook. I also have a pamphlet but the name is blank.”

“Fucking teamwork,” Kaz said. Seven books, seven beds. Kaz pulled out a handbook. “I’ll trade you a handbook for a pamphlet. Anything else in there?”

Tristen took the book, pressing his badge to it. A similar phenomenon happened, the book absorbed the map, pamphlet, and assessment. “I have seven transportation tickets, five more pamphlets, another uniform, the map, and seven compasses. What did you find?”

“Map, uniform, books, assessment, and seven tickets. I also have five demerits and a sketchy not from my teacher.” He looked at Tristen and Kaz couldn’t help wondering why he was so open with Tristen. He just liked him. Kaz couldn’t explain it past that.

“I have one demerit and no note from the teacher.”

Kaz laughed, running his fingers over the words on the book’s cover. Ignacious Kaz’myr Blake Huxley’s Student Handbook (10%) “I think– you got a compass and I got a note. By the way, make an appointment with the house mistress. More than that, we need the other five here.”

The grin on Tristen’s face couldn’t be described as anything other than shark-like. “I love this school.”

Kaz didn’t know what expression was on his face, but it made the other boy laugh. “I think you got dropped on the head as a baby.”

“I get that a lot.” He disappeared and a short time later came with five grumpy boys all holding bundles in their hands.

Kaz passed out handbooks and got: another pamphlet, a class schedule, a house point task sheet, a class attendance tracker (no shocker there), and a group project insert. For unique objects, they had: Kaz’s note, seven compasses, seven blank contracts, seven library passes, and seven stable passes.

“You only have a note,” the boy from the last bed said.

“If I didn’t start this little sharing circle all of you would be floundering. Or would you prefer I don’t explain what the note means?”

“Don’t we already know?” he asked, nervously glancing at the others.

“Is there any more information on your assessment? The physical set for tomorrow? Do you know how to change dorms?” Kaz asked, making notes.

There were gasps and more shared looks. Tristen sat, looking like an enforcer with a grin, and crossed arms. “Write up the contracts stating that we won’t share anything we learned here with anyone else.”

“Not quite,” Kaz said.

“Who do you want to share with? Your cousin?”

“You’re a spiteful little thing, aren’t you?” Kaz asked. He cut the boy off before he spoke. “I want to trade information with the girls. It’s possible what they got differs from us.” Kaz gathered up his portion of the loot and put it away.

“You can use your storage item? How?”

Kaz raised an eyebrow and did his best to convey he thought the boy was an idiot. He didn’t believe the message landed. “They never said we couldn’t use our storage item. They just said we couldn’t use what wasn’t school-issued. School handbook,” he said, putting it in and out of his storage ring. “There is a physical at the White Tower at eight. And because I’m not feeling generous anymore, only the first requirement to change dorms will be given for free. The other two will be traded for items of interest.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Shut up,” A boy with a slurring accent said. He was in the bed next to Tristen. “The handbook is the most important item here. If he wanted your weight in gold for it, you would have had no choice but to hand it over. It’s because he gave it for free you thought you could take advantage of him.” The boy squinted his blue eyes. “I’m Cyr’ran. None of that formal bullshit, please. Oh, and do you have any sea folk blood?”