INKED

By J J Jackalope

"That's it. That's all I had. I kept pulling the lever of the slot machine in my mind to come up with another word, but all I could think was charred charred charred

• Language: English
• Publisher: JJ Jackalope
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798218400477

Book preview

Prologue

March 30th, 2020

They shoved my face into the ground until I felt grass in the back of my throat.

I don’t know what set Wyatt off this time. Maybe it was the homework thrown at us towards the end of Science. Or there was this nasty rumor going around where his mom was hooking up with a marked man. It could have even been as simple as the fact that I laughed when he’d strode up behind the bleachers with his little squad of future linebackers and called me the f-slur.

Or it was all three, but the laugh sealed the deal.

It wasn’t one of those haha, nice slur you used there, friend laughs. It was a maybe if I pretend this is a joke, you won’t kick my face in laugh. A new thing I’d been trying, and you wouldn’t believe it— didn’t work! He slammed the sketchbook out of my hands and went berserk.

I thought if I laid still enough, they’d think I was dead and leave me alone. I prayed they would because my only other hope relied on some random marked person trudging out of the woods with a dumbbell tattoo. They’d ask what’s going on, and proceed to chuck Wyatt across the schoolyard.

I didn’t know much about them at the time. They took up 3% of the US, and yet both Holston and my parents treated marked people like a myth. You’d think you’d tell your kids about the inked-up super-humans, but I guess not. That job was saved for the prepubescent tweens in my blank-only K-12 school with much less sheltered lives. And google, when my parents fell asleep.

Yeah, yeah, normal 13-year-old kids look up porn or beg their parents for Facebook. I stayed up until 1 AM on a school night watching Catalyst Riot videos from the 50s. A whole sea of marked people, humans with incredible powers, lay down their arms and get beaten again… and again and—

I tasted blood.

Wyatt yanked on the back of my shirt and rolled me over. He sat on my stomach while his no-name friends stood on my legs. They talked, but I only heard radio static and pages tearing.

Who knows why Wyatt chose me either. It had to be something deeper than my affinity for the dandelion patch under the bleachers. Otherwise, I’d have to assume he was ripped straight out of an old high school drama. They nearly gave me a concussion the day I came in with painted nails. Colleen had just turned eleven, what was I supposed to do? Tell her she couldn’t use her new nail polish on me? God, no. Makes talking with my hands more fun.

Still too much of a pussy to fight back, huh, Scott? Wyatt growled, the palm of his hand planted into my forehead. The other reeled back. My glasses flew off a while ago, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. "Fight me, faggot, fucking fight me!"

Before I knew what I was doing, one arm wiggled free from his legs and yanked the hand off my face. I didn’t want this, but there was something in his words that finally awoke my fight or flight and now I couldn’t stop. Playing dead only sounded more exhausting. I pulled the other arm free out of sheer desperation as his punch came down. Not sure where these killer reflexes came from, but with the way my neck craned my head out of the way, I couldn’t complain. I latched onto his wrist.

Wyatt growled at me, pulling at his arms. When he got free, I came back with an even tighter grip. I wasn’t all that strong, but god I sure was one thing: Annoying.

The other two started to close in for backup.

They weren’t going to stop until they called us in for class. They’d come again tomorrow, and the day after that, and after that. Like they’d been doing all year.

I shut my eyes and prayed. To whom? Not sure, maybe that imaginary marked person with the dumbbell. Or myself. I didn’t have a great relationship with praying to God, he’d never answered before.

The weight flew off my chest, and instead of toxic taunts, I heard screams. I sat up, fumbling to find my glasses amongst the grass until they slid into my hand. My arms buzzed with a rich energy coursing up my shoulders and drilling into my chest. The screaming faded into crying, and I finally put my glasses on.

Three long, thick blades of grass suspended the boys by their ankles, dangling in the air like a few fancy bird feeders. They wailed about a marked kid, but I didn’t see one. The blank-only title of Holston wasn’t just for show, they weren’t even allowed on the premises.

I looked down at my hands. My fingertips glowed with a brilliant golden light. The dandelion patch I sat in hugged my jeans.

And yet, no tattoo.

---

One friend.

No.

Just one!

They’re a waste of my time.

Then, darling, I pray to god someone wastes your time.

1

September 1st, 2023:

I Move Into a Totally Normal Boarding School

My new home stretched about sixty feet tall, the afternoon sun pouring around the edges like a halo. The windows on every side showcased our rooms in all their empty glory before some teenage boy got his hands on them. The double doors were plastered with signs full of announcements and standard schedules separated by grade, so no freshman found themself in a junior’s lunch. Down the steps from the door led to a sidewalk that wrapped around the circle drive, giving anyone a one-way ticket to all the other buildings on campus.

It was beautiful. A super-boarding school should not have been that beautiful. To me, at least… but listen, slap anything smack dab in the middle of Forest Park and you’d have me staring at it for hours. The plants were iconic. Yes, they might have had to tear down an acre or two (or three) of trees to set up an entire high school, but the aesthetic was there and so was I. Trust me, the plant life was gonna be fine.

Seriously though, cinematic establishing shots had nothing on Inked Academy.

Students filed in and out of the building with the same excited glow and their tattoos on full display in the summer air. Some stood on the steps, introducing themselves to the people they’d be living around for the entire school year. One held his hand out to another, and when their fingers met, the other guy yelped. Was it because of one of those old-timey hand buzzers or a power? I didn’t know… but that was the best part (my money was on power, though, who had one of those buzzers anymore?).

Scottlin, honey. A little help here? Mom called from behind me. Your sister’s not moving in, you are. Don’t have her carry half your things.

I pushed my glasses onto my head, turning around to my family. Well, ya know, if she’s offering…

Colleen chucked a trash bag full of clothes at me. For a blank 8th grader, she sure packed a punch. "I am not carrying your underwear to your dorm. Who knows where that’s been."

In the dryer last I checked. I shrugged, making my way around to the trunk where Colleen was rifling through my things to find the easiest load— which would have been the bag of clothes in my hand, but that was her mistake. Also this is full of uniforms, not my underwear. Those are… somewhere else, I think. Pretty sure I packed them.

"Pretty sure? Dad echoed behind me. He started sliding my mini bookcase out of the van with a backpack already slung over his shoulder. Please don’t say pretty sure when we’re an hour from home."

I’m, like, ninety-five percent sure, I said, stepping away with another couple of bags of clothes. Mom was pulling out an open cardboard box from the passenger seat, filled to the brim with my potted plants. I was gonna have to re-pot half of them after getting settled in; my mother wasn’t the most forgiving driver. She should have been cast in the Fast and Furious franchise. Would I have bothered watching it then? No, but at least she’d have an excuse for driving like a maniac. Either way, she was struggling with the ten-pound box of plants, dirt, and ceramic. "Hey, Mamma, do you need help? You don’t have to carry them, I could—"

"No, Scott, none of your… thing. Mom hiked the box up with her knee for a better grip. Please, let my last few minutes with you be normal."

Off in the distance, a crowd of students started chanting, SAND WORM, SAND WORM while someone literally crafted a worm out of sand and had it slither around the group. One kid barreled into it at high speed, and the sand dispersed. The crowd broke out into a holler and it was so sick I almost joined in.

Riiight, normal I laughed. I think you should’ve designed a different school then. Did you see that?

Mom gulped, turning away from the scene. My plants were already slipping out of her hands. Let’s… Let’s go inside, shall we?

They didn’t have to help me move in. Grace’s parents were more than willing to take me there and Mr. Garrido’s ability would have been a big help. He could phase through anything! Plus, the Garridos’ knew how my parents were with marked people, and the school was full of them. Quite literally too, because blank people were not allowed to attend. That was kind of the whole point of Inked Academy, the first marked-only school to have a successful opening.

Scotty, where’s this thing going? Dad asked the bookshelf hoisted over his head as he walked farther into room 42B. My own room back in Salem would have been cowering in the corner if it saw the space this one had. You could fit three beds in there, let alone two. I wanted to rave about the private bathroom until I realized I was an hour away from sharing it with a stranger. Maybe less; my roommate could have crossed the threshold any minute now.

I made a b-line to the window on the long wall, overlooking the circle drive. There were a couple of other cars parked behind Mom’s red SUV with teenagers juggling boxes filled to the brim with textbooks. One kid had a clothesline connecting the car and a window on the third floor. He kept hanging stuff on the thread and they traveled up a string like a zip line that had a really bad relationship with gravity.

God, I was gonna love this school.

Hello? Anyone in there? My dad tapped my head a couple of times. Come on, kid, I’m not getting any younger.

Oh right, the bookshelf. I swatted his hand away with a laugh. It’s like two pounds, Dad, you’re fine. Put it wherever.

Two pounds? I’ll have you know this is solid cypress, alright. It’s not some measly two pound—

Yeah yeah, okay, but it’d be zero if you’d let me give it leeegs. I sang, wiggling my fingers. And as expected, he plopped it down at the end of my bed as if the wood had caught fire. Kidding, I don’t even think I can do that. Too much varnish.

I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop threatening your father, Scottlin. Mom sighed wistfully. She crossed between us with my box of plants and carefully set it below the windowsill.

What threat? If anything, it was a generous offer.

You know what I mean. She turned around and gave me the look. The Mom look. Raised eyebrows, crossed arms, teeth together with her mouth ever so open, eyes that held the souls of millions of guilty children. We all knew that look. No one wants to see it.

We would have to put that on her gravestone, she said it so much. It’s all I’d been hearing ever since Holston… respectfully announced they could no longer educate me. My parents thought public school would make me too much of a spectacle, so I joined the world of online learning for a while. There was only one rule— no powers, in hopes we could all  forget about it. Ya know, not a good plan for a kid in the first stages of puberty. Abilities plus hormones were the makings of a minefield, and keeping that pent-up doubled the mines. But what can you do when both sides of your family tree are blanker than an empty sheet of printer paper?  

So, no powers turned into little powers, then finally fine, use your powers, but no one wants to see them. I would have been way more resentful if I didn’t see where they were coming from. Mom’s parents immigrated from Italy where God apparently hated marked people, and Dad came up from Utah. You know, Mormons. Safe to say they weren’t prepared to raise a marked kid, let alone one that defied all science to exist.

Maybe my roommate will, I said. Whoever he was. You’d think the orientation slips we got in the mail last week would’ve clued me in on who I was spending the next year with, but no. Call me crazy, but… somehow that made me even more excited. You know that game Guess Who? It was like that except I literally couldn’t guess.

Sure, if you don’t make him wanna blow his brains out. Colleen slammed my suitcase on the bed. Both Mom and Dad turned to her with dirty looks. He’s gotten significantly more annoying in the last year, so I'm preparing him for the heartbreak.

Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head. His hand came to squeeze my shoulder. She’s kidding. I’m sure you’ll come home for Thanksgiving with the whole school your friend. You’ve got my looks after all.

The whole school seemed a little much when I’d only managed to land my first friend a couple of years ago. Believe it or not, online school wasn’t crazy on the whole friends thing. Neither was Holston, but that was on me for spending every recess alone. Ya know, when Wyatt let me.

My time at Inked wasn’t going to be like that. I’d make sure of it, starting with my roommate.

"Your looks? My mom scoffed, knocking her hip into him. Have you seen our son? If he’d gotten your looks, he’d still have his braces."

Dad narrowed his eyes at her with a smile. "Fine, your looks, my… charm."

Ooh, I like that.

I gagged. O-Kay, now that you guys have gotten gross, I think it’s time to go. Get a room or something, as long as it’s not mine.

Listen, I thought love was beautiful and I welcomed it. My parents were gross.

Dad laughed, his hands where I could see them. He carefully started to walk backward toward the door, eyes flickering to my plants. Last chance, Scotty, you sure you don’t want us to take a couple of those home? I bet Colleen wouldn’t mind—

Don’t volunteer me for that! My sister whined. I don’t want those magically modified little monsters anywhere near me. Am I the only one who remembers when Scott put a hole in his ceiling? No way, they’d kill me in my sleep.

It was an accident, she barged into my room and scared the crap out of me while I was painting. Tell me, how else was I, and by extension, my plants supposed to react?

I don’t think you’d be able to keep them alive anyway. I shrugged, dragging my eyes along the ceiling. I wondered if my roommate would let me put up all the string lights I brought. The singular light in the middle of the room was kind of underwhelming— Shoot, wasn’t I trying to get them out?

Colleen glared at me as I tried to shoo her towards the door. You wouldn’t believe it, she didn’t budge. "Hey, I could! Watering something once a day can’t be that hard, especially if you can do it."

Okay, not what I meant. It’s not like I was watering them anyway. If I said grow, they’d grow. Honestly, I was starting to think one drop of water would shock them to an early grave. Mom gave me a little blue watering can last year and I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d never use it. You said you didn’t want to anyway, what’s the problem?

Just because I don’t want to doesn’t mean I can’t!

Oh my god, Collie, it’s fine.

Clearly not if you think I’m so incapable. We had a gardening badge in Juniors, you know, I earned that patch—

When did I say incapable? It’s different—

Oh yeah, I’ll bet it’s loads different. I know you’re super into global warming right now but—

I wouldn’t say into, maybe aware of it—

—But I am not a contributor, I recycle all the time, I could totally—

How’d we get on recycling?

"—Totally keep your dumb little plants—"

Hey, you two, Dad interjected, thank god. I got lost as soon as she brought up global warming. He pursed his lips and jerked his head towards the door. Visitor in the doorway, reel it in.

Visitor? No way, Grace would’ve texted me as soon as she arrived. Anyone else was much less a visitor than they were a complete stranger. Or… A roommate, perhaps.

When I turned, there was a beautiful, tall black girl standing in the doorway, leaning against the threshold with a couple suitcases and a perfectly arched eyebrow raised. The sides of her head were shaved, but the hair she did have was so fluorescent-ly pink, it would glow under black light. She had it swooped over to the right, falling into a lush braid that reached the end of her ribs. Her eyes were a dark, eerie blue, accented by the sharpest eyeliner I had ever seen. She looked pretty toned under her artfully cut-up Nirvana T-shirt and sweatpants. Like she could bench press me, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find that out. I liked my feet on the ground, thank you.

The look she gave us was pretty much the equivalent of how I looked during my online math lessons. Confused, annoyed, and yet slightly entertained by how the guy in the videos wrote his fives (from the bottom, which deserves jail time).

Oh, sorry, sweetie. My mom cooed, stepping forward. I think you might be—

Ah ah, if you’re about to say I’m in the wrong dorm, save it. The girl dug through her pants pocket and yanked out a crumpled sheet. She thrust it towards us like it was an FBI badge. It says right here, Room 42B. I’ve been stopped, like, three fucking times already on the way up. Not having this conversation again.

Oh my god. ROOMMATE. I only glanced at the paper long enough to read her name. Scarlett Galloway, like some kind of English writer that had an apartment smack dab in the middle of Manchester.

Mom opened and closed her mouth, scanning the page. Unfortunately, she did decide to open it again. Are you sure—?

"Mamma, I muttered, stepping in front of her. The term roommate" scrolled through my brain like an alarm; flashing lights, sirens, the whole sha-bang. I held a hand out to her and put on a kind smile that I definitely hadn’t practiced in the mirror.  Hi! I’m Scott. Your roommate.

Scarlett’s kickass composure faltered for a split second as she put down the paper. Scarlett. She took my hand and I could’ve sworn I heard my bones crack. Her head leaned in as her eyes flickered at my family. Just you, right? They’re not moving in too?

"Uh, no. They were leaving. I said pointedly, spinning back around to them. Remember how you guys were leaving?"

Colleen shook her head. Actually, I distinctly remember you agreeing to lend me one of your dumb plants—

Let it go, Collie. Dad put an arm around her to usher her to the door. All three of them made way for Scarlett to finally enter before replacing her in the doorway.

You know, I really could have done without my roommate’s first impression of me being a brother-sister bicker-fest, but what can you do? She was gonna show up eventually.

Mom pulled me into a tight hug, straining up to her tippy toes. "You’re going to be alright, Fiore? She pulled away enough to hold onto my arms. You have everything, yes? Toothpaste, socks, backup glasses…"

Yeah, Mom, I’m good, I assured her, although I couldn’t remember where any of those things were. Somewhere, surely. Like my underwear!

Secret stash of Claritin? Emergency contacts? I know you’re going to lose at least one pair of glasses, Scottlin, that’s just like you.

You know I’d rather be blind than put anything near my eye.

She gave me a face but thankfully didn’t fight on it. Eye contacts were made in hell and I wasn’t gonna take any criticism. What about Sharpies? I bought you that whole pack last week, don’t forget to take a shower tonight so you can draw—

"Sta’ zitto, Mamma! I hissed, lowering my voice. God forbid the first fun fact Scarlett got was my no-mark fiasco. I really don’t need the whole dorm knowing I’m blank, okay? I packed the markers, it’s cool."

Sorry, I’m sorry. Mom stepped away, this warm glow to her face that still seemed so sad. Promise me you’ll be alright. Stay out of trouble, no detention, keep up your grades—

Dad put a hand on her back, his finger curled in her hair. Ilenia, he’ll be fine. Let’s get home before you decide to spend the night, yeah?

You just want to catch the new episode of NCIS tonight. Colleen huffed.

Yes, is that a crime?

"A little."

Okay. Okay okay. Mom took one more step back, out of the way of the door. I’d be lying if reaching for the handle didn’t pull on my heartstrings. I love you. Be good, And we’ll text you when we get home.

After a couple more goodbyes and I love yous, I shut the door as they started off down the hall. Maybe between then and Thanksgiving, we’d all learn how to have a shorter goodbye like normal people (no we wouldn’t). The distance would be good either way, I hadn’t been away from my family for more than a day since Dad forced me into Boy Scout Camp and I bailed halfway through because of a broken arm.

I sighed, leaning against the door.

They always like that? Scarlett asked. She’d kicked her boots off and started lounging across her bed. The two suitcases were stacked on top of each other on the floor, only open enough to have a couple of cords hanging out. Ya know. Clingy?

Interesting first topic of conversation, but alright. Kinda. It comes and goes. Not my sister, though.

"No, you think so? You two seemed so close." She said sarcastically, sitting up and propping her feet on the suitcase stack.

Well. Little sisters, you get it. I moseyed over to the windowsill and squatted beside my plants. All the loose dirt at the bottom of the box was gonna be a bother to re-pot, unfortunately, my chlorophyll control did not stem to dirt (which was bull, by the way, half of it was just dead plant remains).

Eh, not really. Scarlett shrugged, head rocking to the side. I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I just didn’t. I swear I’d gotten a hang of small talk, I had to drive Colleen to ballet every weekend ever since I got my license and she loved killing conversations. Scarlett was … New. Not bad, not by any means, just new. So is that your emotional support plant battalion, or is it power-related? Or, wait, better question, are you some sort of crazy hippie with a secret weed stash?

 The first two, no weed. Sorry, I said, holding up my favorite ivy plant in a hanging pot. Her name was Medusa, and she was perfect. Did she listen to me all the time? No, but you’d be surprised how common that was when you had free reign over plants. Still hadn’t figured out if they were just stubborn, or it was a me problem. That’s why I was there, I guess… but maybe that me-problem was about to be a us-problem and my sister was right and I was going to annoy my roommate to the point of no return. Wait, is that okay? They won’t get in your space or anything, I can keep them contained and-and it’s not like they’re sentient so—

"Dude… Chill. Scarlett leaned forward, her elbow propped up on her knee with her head held in her hand. I don’t have a problem with your green thumb, go crazy. I’d take this over a creepy doll obsession any day, at least this way I won’t have to file for a new roommate. Hate those shits."

I grinned, relief falling over my shoulders. Wait until you catch me talking to them.

She snorted, shaking her head. A dimple faded onto her left cheek when she smiled even the slightest. Scarlett got to her feet and cracked open her top suitcase with her foot. Believe it or not, I think I can deal with that.

Remind me to never listen to my sister.

2

September 1st, 2023

Shadows, Stuff, and the Power of Persuasion

If you stood in the doorway, the two sides of our rooms looked like a punk rock fitness geek and Tumblr’s manic pixie dream girl circa 2013 were about to hit the ring. Scarlett had three weights tucked under her bed, I had six different pairs of Converse. She hung a Ghost tapestry on her wall, I hung little blue fairy lights. Her bedsheets were black, and mine were… admittedly not out of their packing yet, but I was pretty sure Mom picked up some peachy ones. Anyway, I was going nuts over the contrast. Back in middle school, I fell head over heels for a scene girl who played the bassoon in band class. Not that I planned to fall head over heels for Scarlett, because right next to the tapestry was a pretty prominent lesbian flag. You wouldn’t believe it, not trying to fall in love with a lesbian. Seemed like a bad idea.

Yo, Scott, Scarlett called from behind me. She had a bag of nosy glass things in her hand that made dull clicking sounds when she shook it around. Someone’s at the door for you. Probably. I sure as hell don’t know ‘em.

I jumped to my feet and whipped around. Grace Garrido, was literally the only friend I had in all of online school. In the transition from what would have been eighth to ninth grade, I begged my parents to let me at least get a job so I didn’t come out into civilization with zero social skills and agoraphobia. I wasn’t like they kept me cooped up all the time, only… most of it. Eventually, Mom came home from adding a little bit more onto the pizza shop down the street, saying the owners were looking for another employee so their daughter had someone else their age. That was Grace! She was a little shy at first, but I wore her down within a week. It was a lot easier when I met someone more nervous around people than I was (which was saying something). The job helped me overcome that, though.

Grace was about a foot shorter than me. She had a pixie cut of sandy blonde hair that went really well with her tanned skin. Her eyes were a pretty, caramelized brown, which she complained about all the time. I never really understood why. "I just wish they were green or something, like yours. Something light, people don’t like brown eyes". I’d compare them to amber or topaz, and she’d smile and wave it off. Jeez, she had a great smile, one of the lucky ones who didn’t need three years of braces. She wore a worn-out blue sweatshirt and baggy cargo pants, with a gray knitted beanie flopped onto her head. She looked at me with a tight smirk, glancing over at Scarlett.

Grace! I exclaimed, rushing over and throwing her into a big hug. You’d think we hadn’t seen each other in centuries, but honestly, we had a shift together last week. What are you doing here? Aren’t you in the other dorm?

I finished up a little early… Thought I’d shadow over here, Grace replied quietly. She always kept her voice light and low, like she wanted to force a second puberty but didn’t want to be too obvious about it. Her hands came up in front of her as she pulled away, tugging at her hoodie strings. Are you almost done?

I looked back at the one box still on my bed. Textbooks. Eh, I’m done enough. Do you wanna meet my roommate? My feet started to bounce.

Uh… I mean, I guess so- As soon as she agreed, I pulled her further inside and into Scarlett’s view.

Scarlett, this is my best friend and coworker, Grace. Grace, this is Scarlett! My hands gestured wildly to each of them. My fingertips flickered gold for a moment, to which my plant cohort responded with ecstatic rustling. I shook my hands and hissed for them to stop it.

Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at us as she pinned a couple Polaroids to her wall. They were old, a sticky note taped over half of one so it only showed her smiling with, like three missing teeth. The other had her with a couple of adult white ladies. Reminded me a lot of my mom’s family photo wall at home. Grace, huh? Hey. You’re a junior too?

"How’d you guess my grade?" I asked. We didn’t really talk much in the unpacking zone. The most she’d said was How many sketchbooks qualify for an addiction? My answer was seventy-eight.

The guy I transferred here with said we’d only be rooming with people in our grade. She shrugged as she twirled around on her bed with a thumb tack wedged between her fingers. Also I peeked at your textbooks earlier, only juniors can take Math Studies.

Only juniors who are bad at math can take Math Studies. Also, when the heck did she look at my textbooks?

Huh. Well, anyways, Grace is too! We’ll have the same lunch and everything. I grinned, tapping my fingers together and looking down at my shadow friend. "We need to look at our schedules together when they send them out tomorrow. You’re my mom’s only hope for me graduating."

That’s a lot of pressure, Scott. Grace laughed awkwardly. Her hands were more so strangling their hoodie strings now, rather than holding them. She delivered a lot of pizzas back at her parent’s shop and really wasn’t one for constant customer service. I guess that fits here too. Your mom scares me.

"Yeah, well, good reason for that. Anyway… I swallowed, sharply turning back towards Grace. Do you wanna go explore the campus? I heard there’s a greenhouse somewhere around here! I can’t wait to spend half of my year in it."

Yeah, Scott. It’s like ten feet away from your dorm hall, Grace muttered with a soft chuckle. Let’s go now. They’re doing dinner for the juniors in an hour when everyone should be here.

I clapped my hands together, running over to the coat hangers I set up on the back of our door to snatch my jean jacket. Grace started out the door first, but I hung back a moment (not before smacking my elbow on the side of the door, of course, which I forced myself to ignore). Hey, Scarlett, if you want, you can sit with us at dinner. I mean, if you didn’t already come here with a group of friends you’d rather—

I didn’t, Scarlett said coldly before looking back at me. She let out a small sigh. I’ll think about it.

I grinned. It wasn’t a no!

Grace and I spent nearly an hour in the academy’s greenhouse. It was nice, full of a ton of different flora and greenery, but it was clear (probably only to me) that they weren’t getting taken care of properly. I took it upon myself to fix a few of them up as much as I could. There was one fern that I accidentally grew exponentially more than I planned (LIKE, TEN FEET BIG), but I didn’t think anything of it. Gain more control over my powers, that’s what I was there for. Gigantic fern or not, when we left, most of the plants seemed to be a lot perkier.

Did you guys go on vacation in the last week? You have more freckles every time I see you. Grace asked as we finally made it out.

I shook my head, wiping my running nose with my sleeve. The price I pay for helping plants. You know my parents, Grace. They haven’t taken me anywhere special since sixth grade. The closest I’ve got was the piercing shop last March for my birthday.

Any chance they were overcompensating by letting you get a nose piercing?

Ab-so-lutely. I swung an arm around her shoulders, a little higher than I remember it laying. "Okay, did you grow taller in the last week? Jeez, Nightcrawler."

She kicked up her foot as we walked to showcase one of her brand-new sneakers with an exceptionally thick sole. Her eyes practically glowed with excitement. New platform Vans! To go with the ones without the platforms. My sister got me them before she left for grad school. They’re made out of, like, recycled old shoes and stuff so they’ll probably wear out in a couple years. There were platform Crocs too, but…

They didn’t go with the Inked uniforms?

Yeah… They really picked a strong blue, huh?

Yes, and I loved it. The royalest of all royal blues. Then we had some red sweaters, girls had optional yellow plaid skirts, and then the training clothes were a whole assortment of primary colors. It was pretty genius, honestly. "Just think about how all school assemblies are gonna be, like, looking at a sea of people. Emphasis on sea."

She laughed, but after a moment frowned. So uh… You invited Scarlett to sit with us at dinner?

I nodded, staring off into the already sun-setting sky. The school's campus was surrounded by a forest of big-leaf maple trees, just starting to shift to that autumn shade of red at the tips of the leaves. It really was a beautiful place to build an academy, A-plus for aesthetic value. I made a mental note to paint it some time, I was pretty sure I’d brought all my supplies with me. My mind quickly turned back to Grace when she didn't reply to my nod. Wait, I'm sorry. Is that okay? She didn't actually say yes. She might not even sit with us.

No! No, it's okay, Grace placated with her hands up. She's interesting, is all. I was surprised she was your roommate.

Yeah, a little weird to have a co-ed dorm for highschoolers, but I'm not complaining. Scarlett seems nice enough. I guess nice wasn't the best word. We really hadn't spoken that much. The girl didn't immediately hate me, so I was trying to view that as a win.

Grace gave me a face that made me think I was completely missing something. She gave me that face a lot, because usually I was.

What?

Nothing. She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. We should head to the dining hall. It's almost time to eat.

I nodded quickly and picked up