But before he even dared to step one foot into the room, the door slid right open. Right on Matt's face, a familiar face stared at him. Her eyes were glaring at him, a hint of smut and smug was present on her eyes. Matt's felt his heart throbbing faster, and his feet tapping.

  "Good morning, Porter." She smugly whispered while writing on her clipboard. "I see that you are not late, and I take it that you've gone and visited your mother at the hospital near— Inner City. Well, a lot has happened while you were gone, and oh. Here's your ID card, your friend kept it clean for you."

The ID was spotless, but... Matt noticed something a bit weird about it. A huge white spot was over on the place where his photo would be. He turned his face and frowned at the girl.

Matt raised his voice slightly and said, "Hey, Twintails... where the hell is my face. And why do you have my ID? I gave this to Otto. What the fuck Twintai—"

  " Hey, hey, do I have to remind you that my name is Ronnie? .. Of course not, but we don't really have much time left til homeroom. Get your ass to your seat, I'll standby for more people like you."

He noticed that she was staring at that weird smirk that hadn't really gone away for a while.

  "Alright then... Twintails..."

There was something about Twintails that Matt never personally liked. It's the fact that she'd always target him for some nefarious plot she brewed in her pot of misdeeds. But it has been getting less frequent nowadays, ever since middle school, something Matt appreciates — mostly. He plopped himself down into his chair.

  'Fucking hell, she ruined my ID... probably used acetone.' Matt thought. 'I should ask Otto about this.'

Leaning forward, he peered at the person in front of him. He had white hair, modestly cut on the sideburns and wore the standard school uniform: a gray blazer, white T-shirt, silk black tie, and brown trousers. He noticed Matt's eyes staring at him, he''s really getting some bad vibes.

  "H-hello there Matt, you're looking more stressful today." Otto stuttered, his hands were trembling a bit. "I have kept the house clean for the most part, but what do you—"

  "Never mind that, Otto" Matt interrupted. "Why does Twintails have my ID?"

  "Oh that, Ronnie asked me if she could borrow it. S-says its for the new student council book. She never gave it back, and I didn't really ask for it back. But, I see she gave it back to you."

  "Yeah, she gave it, but there's a blank space where my face is. Pretty saddening." Matt said, slowly putting himself back to his seat. He bit his lips, trying to relieve some of the stress that was in him. A lingering memory flashed periodically, it was a bit of a nightmare. He shook his head, and decided to leave it behind.

  "Oh, and that favor you talked about..." Otto said. He looked a bit troubled when he said that, but it isn't out of the ordinary for him to act like that. He bent down towards his backpack, ruffling his backpack looking like he was finding something. Meanwhile, Matt fumbled with his fingers and leaned backwards from his chair, precariously keeping his balance in check.

  'Favor? I don't remember asking him for something.' Matt thought. 'Wait — oh that favor, now I remember. But is it the right time, though?' But by then, Otto was having a file at his face.

  "Hey, hey, hey, don't get lost now." Otto snapped. "And here is the f-fruit of my harvest, cultivated over the past month. Compiling a few thousand words for a report. And you said these were from some dreams you've had and those so-called powers you've been describing lately. Plus, Connor and Edwin helped in this."

In an instant, the file was snatched away from Otto's fine hands and were now in the posession of Matt's hands.

  "Thanks for that... um. I'll probably read this later."

Otto nodded subtly, readjusted his glasses and turned back to his own desk. Matt, on the other hand, slumped over the table resting on his left arm. He looked at his ruined ID, and wondered if what Otto... no, Twintails said were true. He sighed and turned his attention towards a sound that had been in the background for a while.

A debate had been going on next to the doorframe, sparked by the evermore exuberant Twintails against a person who'd just arrived. He couldn't really hear them very well, drowned out by the number of people speaking at the same time. They were waving their hands, doing numbers of gestures, in an effort to convince.

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Matt sighed played around with his pencil. His hands were trembling a bit, but not so much that it was noticeable. Until his hand accidentally dropped it, and rolled a few inches away from him. He was a bit annoyed at what had happened, but he took another deep breath,. He decided to extend his arm forwards and try the levitation thing he did before.

He took a deep and composed breath, and made the pencil slowly come towards his hand. But he held a boulder on his back, which was hard to mitigate the weight of. The pencil then slowly trembled closer and closer to his hand. Matt looked towards his left and right to make sure no one was watching. Then, it came within his hand's reach. He tried grasping for it, but then he dropped it again. A great yawn was being broadcasted through the doorframe, and the focus of attention shifted there.

  "What's up..." The booming voice echoed.

The debate had stopped, both parties were in the path of the last person to arrive. A stout, youthful and jovial man who was holding a black suitcase had now crashed the party. He coughed a bit, and took out a green inhaler and stared at Ronnie and the other person.

  "What's going on 'ere, and what the hell are you talking about?" He said confused. "Oh, and good morning to all of you, I've gotten a bit sick from my asthma. Decided to come anyways, and I've arrived to a block party, fantastic. Now then what were you talking about with Ms. Nantes, class representative?"

They both scowled at the teacher, crossing both their arms, refusing to say anything about it. But, one student stood up from his seat near the front.

  "Umm... Mr. Blythe, they were arguing about cak—" He said before being interrupted by Twintails.

  "Zip it, Connor." She said.

  "Mhm... cake you say." Mr. Blythe said. "Oh, right. You can go back to your seats. I need to start homeroom."

The two then returned to their seats, although not before sharing a gaze of aggression towards themselves. Blythe then sat down on his desk, and inhaled another breath through his inhaler.

  "Wooh, an argument about cake. Great first impression on today, girls. Now then, I assume everyone is present today? Even the one who went on a leave yesterday?"

  "Yes!" The class answered in unison. Well except for Matt, who went like this, "Yeaah..." In an almost unmotivated screech.

  "Good, now then for the next hour or so, you all know that we have both homeroom and biology with me. But before we do anything about that, I have some papers I need to distribute. Column leaders, please pass the papers to the people in the back. 'Tis an important document so please take care."

Mr. Blythe then stood up again, opened his suitcase, which had a ton of documents inside. He then distributed the papers to the column leaders, who began giving the papers to the people. Matt's column leader, a fat, blond guy walked calmly towards the back, whistling a simple, but cool tune.

He neatly placed the papers into the center of their tables, and kept one for himself. When he got to Matt, though, he just simply slammed the paper into the center and glared menacingly. It didn't intimidate him one bit, and glared back. The column leader simply nodded back, and walked back to his seat.

  "Good day, good day..." He whispered. "What a wonderful day..."

  'Now then, what is so damn important about these papers.' Matt thought. 'Let's se—'

An ominous logo was on the top of the paper, and that shuddering fear he had felt in the truck came back like a javelin. A circular outline with a triangle on the left and a trapezoid in union on the right. He'd wished that he had forgotten those memories, but apparently he never did. He quietly placed the paper aside.

  "If you haven't noticed, there is a waiver down there." Mr. Blythe announced. "But let's set it aside, in favor for an explanation for the documents."

He sighed, his friendly demeanor changed into a concerned one. He coughed a bit, and again used his inhaler.

  "The Mesa Delta Corporation has asked of us participate in a joint field trip to their... main facility, tomorrow starting at 6 AM. Frankly, I don't know why all of a sudden they want to this. They've been a facility long been some place of clandestine deals. All they said was that 'There were opportunities for everyone, the youth should know as they're the future.'"

Right after he said that, a bunch of cheers were thrown against him. Some were clapping, and some looked like they had gotten the best birthday gift they've had since second grade. But Matt did not look a bit too happy, but a deep blue sadness.

  'A field trip there...' Matt thought hastily. 'Don't really like that, never want to go there ever again. And plus my sixteenth birthday is coming up after that event.'

  "Reminder, class." Mr. Blythe suddenly boomed. "This is a joint field trip, and you guys know what this means. Our peers from Inner City and Rowskid are coming too."

...

Most of the class then quickly shut up... An artist had burst into the room and covered most of the class in gray paint, and drew a blank expression, and as quick as whence he had come, he left immediately, only leaving a water bomb. And in an instant it exploded spontaneously, spraying away the paint. Students began to move again.

  "Wait... we are going with them this year?" One inquired. "Not Cariad and Trueno?"

  "Yes, Cariad and Trueno have declined the offer. But it's their loss, they are missing out on a lucrative offer of education."

Meanwhile, Matt had been listening thoroughly. He did not really like what was happening, but that weird smirk he gave earlier was back.

  'Well at least this will make it more bearable.' Matt thought. 'Guess Boris and the gang are probably coming, ooh the memories.'

But his thoughts were quickly sucked into the drain, because of a dissociated ringing which reverberated through the hallways, like a dying horse. Homeroom was up, and the last grain had fallen.