I didn't join Farrah and her friends in the dining hall that night after the Winderon and Voltrun match. Instead, I sat with Boris and Chris. Boris poked his food with his fork and scowled at his meal.

"Boris, I'm sorry for your team's loss today. I was really rooting for you guys to win," I said.

"Yeah, yeah. It's been a rough day," Boris said.

"All from the Dragonstryke match?"

Boris shook his head. "Bradley isn't going to be attending Attleton anymore."

"You can't be serious?" My brow arched. "Why?"

"Why do you think? After the hellion attack, his parents freaked out and decided to pull him out of Attleton. They're going to try teaching him from home."

"Do people actually do that?"

"I mean, sure, they can. But I don't know anyone who was homeschooled. I can't imagine they become very good mages."

Chris chuckled. "You don't know anyone homeschooled because they're all holed up in their house." But his laughter quickly trailed off. "Sorry. It's not a funny situation."

I frowned. "Wow. That really sucks."

Boris nodded. "You're preaching to the choir. He was me and Chris's friend. We're glad you came along, but it sucks losing him. And the sad thing is that most of his classmates probably won't even know he's gone. He was a pretty quiet kid."

"That's too bad. Bradley seemed really cool." I hung my head.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence until near the end. I said, "Do you guys know what Patrick is like? He's in his sixth year here and plays on the Dragonstryke team? He's a Winderon."

Boris shook his head. "I only know very little about him. He's a bit stuck up and rude, but I think many people respect him. He can fly a dragon bike well and is one of our better Dragonstryke players. Why do you ask?"

"He's supposed to be my mentor."

"Oh. That makes a lot of sense. Sorry if I said anything rude." Boris laughed with embarrassment.

"I don't care. I don't know the guy, but he rubbed me the wrong way when I met him." I finished the last bite of my meal.

"Give 'em a chance. I know some people like him, but people who agree to be mentors should be nice and generous." Boris scanned the cafeteria. "Patrick is a little callous."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He's a little mean, but not directly, usually. I don't know how to explain it."

"There's another thing I wanted to talk to you guys about." I reached into my cloak pocket and pulled out the letter I received from D.S. "Did one of you guys send this?"

I passed it to Chris, who had been silent for much of our conversation. He read the letter and shook his head. I handed it to Boris, who read it with a pursed brow. "I have no idea what or who that is."

"Neither of you sent this to me as a prank or anything?" I asked.

They both shook their heads.

"Besides, it's not even that funny of a prank. Is this supposed to be an address? If it's a joke, I certainly don't get it," Boris said.

I took back the letter and looked it over again. "It kind of gives me the creeps. None of you guys have ever received a letter like this?"

Again, they shook their heads.

"Was there a return address?" Chris asked.

"Not really. Just D.S. again. Anyone famous around here with those initials?"

"Not that I can think of. I'm definitely more cultured than Quiet Chris over here, so if I haven't heard of him, he hasn't," Boris said and snickered.

"Yeah, but at least I get better grades than you." Chris shrugged but smirked and focused back on his plate. "Sorry, we can't help you, Rollie."

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"It's whatever." I stashed the note back in my cloak. "I'm sure I'll receive a follow-up letter if I don't meet this guy at this location. Could it be a room number in another dorm? Or something?"

Both of them shrugged.

"It's not in the Venomaus dorm," Chris said.

"It's not in the Winderon dorm," Boris said.

We finished eating our dinner, then we got up from the table and agreed to meet back for breakfast the following morning.

"And guys, I think we're in the clear," I whispered. "Have you been thinking of any pranks to do?"

"I wouldn't be so sure, Rollie. I feel like we should wait a little longer," Boris said.

"Oh, come on, no one has talked to any of us, right? So I think that means we're all right."

"Give it more time. We'll think of something good." Boris smiled and patted my shoulder.

The following day I went to the library in the afternoon to meet with Patrick. In the main lobby, I headed towards the center circle with rows of dark wood tables with older students chatting with younger students. The mentor meetings happened a few times by this point, but I didn't care that I was meeting my mentor for the first time. I squinted as I tried to find Patrick through the sea of students dressed in different cloaks. Wandering towards the back of the crowd, I spotted Patrick sitting a considerable distance away from the rest of the students at a corner table. He was in the middle of talking with a Fyron that I didn't recognize. As I approached them, Patrick noticed me and said something to the Fyron, and he left. They bumped each other's fists goodbye.

I took a seat across from him. "Hey Patrick, it's good to see you again." I was being honest. Even though the first impression didn't go so well, I had a newfound respect for him, being a Dragonstryke player. I was also giving him a second chance.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but what was your name again?"

I wanted to wince, but I smiled. "Rollie Magpie."

"Oh yeah, that's right. Hey man, so how are your classes going so far?"

They're going pretty good for the most part. It's tricky learning all of those runes and trying to be able to shoot flames from my fingertips." I gestured with my fingers expanding and closing quickly. I thought it probably looked funny, so I laughed, but Patrick wasn't amused.

"Cool, so you don't need help or anything, right?" He said, eager to be in the clear.

"Maybe. Any tips or tricks on passing Professor Hawthorne's class? That guy is brutal."

Patrick shook his head and didn't have any empathy. "No tips. He's a tough teacher, but you'll get through it if you just write down notes of his ramblings. Somehow he can remember the stuff he brings up and puts it on his tests."

"Maybe you might relate, but I thought taking History of Lementum would be fascinating, but it's just like a normal U.S. history course from home. Do you know what I mean? All these treaties, clauses, motives of why people did this, and all the things that led to battles other mages had with each other. I don't know. It just feels dry and dull."

Patrick exhaled. "I happened to enjoy U.S. history courses quite a bit. And I think Professor Hawthorne does a great job with his class. He's a brilliant man. So no, I can't relate. I find all of that history fascinating."

I sighed. It was going to be a long session with my mentor. I wondered how long I had to actually be there.

"Do you mind talking about what life was like for you back in our home world?" I asked.

"I do mind a little bit. I'm sorry." Patrick seemed sincere in his apology, which I was surprised by.

"No worries. I was just curious. Making conversation is all."

"Sorry, I just enjoy it here much more. I don't want to spend too much time thinking about that world. You know what I mean?"

I shrugged. "I don't know if I do. To be honest, leaving was a little tough. There's a lot I like about things back there, but I always felt out of place."

"With that hairstyle? You felt out of place?" Patrick said sarcastically.

"It's how I express myself. It's who I am. It looks badass to me, but I know people like you think it's a costume.

"C'mon, admit it. You wear that hair because you like the attention." Patrick had a snarky grin.

"I don't think so. I get along much better with people who don't gawk at my hair. But the people that stare at it and give me a weird look, I don't really hang with them. Something as simple as my hairstyle can tell me a lot about another person's behavior. I like being able to do that. If I blend in with everyone, how can I weed out people I don't want to be around?"

Patrick was about to eye-roll but refrained. "That certainly seems like an anti-social way to go about it. But I don't care. Do whatever you want. You do look silly, though."

I narrowed my eyes at him and cracked up obnoxiously.

"What's so funny?" Patrick glared.

"I feel bad for you. You can't talk about your life back home, yet I have no problem telling you I grew up in a trailer park in Ohio and had a terrible childhood. We could be sharing a lot, but you're just giving up on this whole mentorship thing. Why did you even bother to do this?"

Patrick was stunned. "Look, I'm really sorry at how I've been talking to you. It's just- I had a hard time adjusting here. My family owned a penthouse in New York City. It was hard to leave. So, please, I don't want to think about it anymore!" The last sentence from Patrick's mouth was rushed out and yelled.

I stared at him, unfazed by the outburst. "Thanks for giving me a little more information, but we can change the subject. Would you be down to talk about Dragonstryke?"

He took a second to cool down before responding. Patrick surveyed the other students, but no one looked at us. "I don't want to talk about Dragonstryke, but it's better than talking about our home world. What do you want to know about it?"

"I want to fly a dragon bike. Can you show me how to ride one?"

"I don't really feel like doing it. I've had enough flying from yesterday."

"That's okay. You don't need to do any flying. You can tell me what to do once I sit on a dragon bike. I really want to try it."

"The thought of being around a dragon bike sounds repulsive." Patrick turned his cheek and sneered.

"Please, come on, we can skip the mentor and mentee meeting next week. I really want to try it out."

Patrick's brow arched. "So if you take a seat on a dragon bike and I give you instructions, we don't have to meet next week? You sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive."

He weighed the idea in his head briefly. "Okay. Come on, let's get out of here then."

The other mentors and mentees sat at the tables, chatting away. They reviewed notes on scrolls and went over textbooks with them. The only thing I felt jealous of was how well they all seemed to get along.