A 17 year old girl. Her red hair frames her face, adding an extra vibrance to her freckled features. She's wearing the frilly pink crop top and a pair of high-waisted jeans, an outfit that would be commonplace at any high school. But she's not at a high school, and she looks severely out of place. She's shackled to the wall of a cramped, dirty cell. She turns her head around to look at the cuffs and sees the logo of the Metis institute. The logo flips some hidden switch inside of her and she starts bawling. A guard appears, aiming a huge gun at her head. She hears the click of the safety, and her eyes well up again, though she swallows her sobs.

"You going to stop, Deveraux?" he asks cruelly, his narrow face twisted in a sneer. "Or am I going to have to use Big Bertha here?" He pats the gun fondly, but the movement jerks his trigger finger. In the split second before the gun goes off, she watches his eyes widen in horror and surprise. She closes her eyes and awaits her fate. The bullet hits her and pain races through her body for a brief moment, before she can feel no more.

I drop to my knees on the office floor, panting heavily. I've never had a vision where the owner of the item was murdered, and I never hope to again. I've always felt the emotions of the clothing's owner, and the despair from this one is too much for me. My insides churn, and I lean over and vomit into the wastebasket. I suppose the office isn't as picture-perfect now.

Mr. Galleoti looks extremely curious, but his face has another emotion on it. One that's slightly unsettling. "What did you see in your vision?" His voice has a slight edge to it. Does he know what happened to the girl? I wipe the thought from my mind as quickly as it appears. If he knows then he probably wants it kept quiet, so it's probably not the best idea to tell him all of what I saw.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, mind racing to come up with a lie. If he reads my thoughts now I'm screwed. "I was a girl with red hair. About 17 years old. I died. Suddenly."

The unknown expression disappears from his face and is quickly replaced with concern. Real or fake, I can't tell. "You were in the girl's body? You experienced the same things she did?"

I nod shakily. "Yep. Emotions, actions, death."

He looks horrified, but the strange look has reappeared on his face. "You died in her body with her? That explains your rather...adverse reaction to the vision." He regards his wastebasket with disgust. "I think that's quite enough use of your powers for one day. You may go to lunch and dinner, but you are excused from all of your classes for the day."

His tone sounds final, so I don't argue, though I'd rather go to my classes. "So I'm free to go then?" I say reluctantly.

He nods absentmindedly, his attention already focused on a stack of papers from somewhere in his desk. One of his seemingly never ending drawers no doubt. I walk back out into the office. As I stride past Mrs. Grouch I debate making a rude comment, but decide against it. Don't want to give her more ammunition for the gun of hate she's aiming right now.

○○○○○

I decide to explore the institute. Will's tour of Metis was nice, but he only showed me things he thought were important. For school. I saw the office, and the classrooms, but not anything fun. So now it's time to find something for me to do. I have all day to "rest up" and I plan on doing anything but that the entire time. And besides, maybe I'll find the dungeon. I wouldn't mind investigating more about the girl with hair as bright as the sun.

I wander around the halls of the institute, marveling at the amount of money that was sunk into the facilities. The tile flooring of the walkways, the fancy light fixtures; this place looks like the weekend home for a billionaire, not a school. And it's not just certain areas. Everything looks like this. I stop in my tracks. Except this doorway apparently.

While all the other doorways are some modern-looking white material, probably some form of plastic, this doorway is made out of a dark wood. And the door is a work of art, a carved masterpiece made of the same wood. I run my fingers along the door, tracing a particularly impressive carving of a Greek god chasing after a fly. I wonder what type of wood it is? I flash back to my brief stint as a trend follower, reading the Hunger Games. I smile. The wood is mahogany, and if Effie Trinket has anything to say about it, it's expensive. But the doorway doesn't look expensive. It looks old, imposing, intriguing. I have to know what's inside.

I push open the heavy door, using my shoulder to brace myself against the weight. A draft of wind blows past, cooling the tip of my nose. I take a deep breath, and my nose knows what the room is before I even see it with my eyes. Sweet-smelling, with hints of vanilla and almond. Vaguely chemical. I smile. It's a library.

I step inside, soaking in the familiar atmosphere. Besides Second Chance, I spent my time in the library for as long as possible, hating to go home to my empty house. Libraries have always been a safe haven for me, a portal to other worlds. Worlds where no one has powers, where everything's normal. Where people have lives that are worse than mine could ever get. Yeah, libraries are amazing. I can't believe Will didn't find this place important enough to show me.

I clear my mind and roll up my sleeves, ready to read. I grab random books off the shelves, not caring about sizes or covers. Just that they are books. And books they are. I grab a stack of ten then plop myself in a comfy looking armchair by the entrance. I read for what seems like 10 minutes, but I finish 3 books, so it had to have been longer. My suspicions are confirmed when the bell for lunch rings, a higher pitch than all the others.

I stand up from my chair stretching. Looking longingly at the books, I decide to leave them here. I'll never make it to lunch if I'm lugging around a stack almost as tall as I am.

○○○○○

Sitting down at the table, I look around to find the group's eyes on me. Except for Travis that is. His eyes are predictably glued to his tablet screen, fingers tapping away in computer languages that would take me years to understand. But that doesn't matter, I'm sure he wouldn't be interested in what I have to say anyway.

"Guys. I have something to ask you." I look at each of them in turn. "I went to the office today and did my power demonstration."

"Oh cool!" Sean interjects. "How'd you do? I flopped during mine, was too nervous to morph."

I glare at him, before finally saying, "I did fine." Can't he see that I'm trying to say something? Maybe I'm not conveying the right image. I lean forward over the table, into the group of people. They all mirror my actions. "Guys, I have something to tell you." I make my voice quiet, trying to show how important it is.

I must have succeeded, because all of their eyes are on me. "I was in the office, doing a demonstration of my powers. The director handed me a shirt and had me do a reading on it." I look around and see only confused faces, one glowing from the screen of a tablet. Oh. I haven't told them about my power yet. "I can see the last thing the owner of any article of clothing did. All I need is to touch it."

Their faces look shocked now but I continue.

"So I did the reading, and became a girl with long red hair." I pause for dramatic effect. "Who was locked in a dungeon somewhere with the Metis logo." A ripple of unease spreads over the table. "A guard came in and shot her, accidentally. The vision cut off there."

I look at everybody. "I haven't been here that long, but you guys have. I need to know more. Have any of you guys seen someone like that?"

Sienna speaks up first. "I haven't, but I'm not always focused on my surroundings."

"More like what's on your plate," Sean mutters. Sienna looks down, blushing.

"I haven't either. Sorry, Kyla. I wish I could help." Zoe sounds sincere, but her face looks nervous. I shouldn't have gotten them all involved.

"That's so odd." Will mutters under his breath. He's so quiet I wonder if he meant for me to hear at all. "I've lived here since I was little, and I don't remember ever seeing a girl with red hair. If she was here at the institute, wouldn't I have seen her? Wouldn't somebody?'

I feel my heart drop at Will's words. He's right. If he hasn't seen her, if nobody has, then who's to say she was never here at all. A small voice tugs on the back of my mind. You do. You saw the logo on those handcuffs. She was definitely somewhere Metis related at the very least. I brush off the voice though. I should leave playing detective for the adults.

"You know what guys, it's stupid. I'm sure there are plenty of places called Metis in the world. Don't sweat it." With my words, the mood at the table lightens considerably.

Sean smiles. "So if you aren't investigating the girl anymore, then you don't have any plans tonight?"

I narrow my eyes at him. He sounds too smooth right now, too practiced. He definitely is going to ask for something. I'm proved right by his next statement.

"We should go to the club tonight." He directs this statement towards the table, not just me. Making it harder for me to opt out. I see what he's doing, the sneaky boy.

Zoe claps her hands together, and I know there's no way for me to get out of this one. "Yes! We should go! Kyla's never been and it will be the perfect way to celebrate her first day of classes."

I briefly think about telling her I didn't go to any classes, but looking at the expression on her face, I can't bring myself to.

Wills shrugs and gives a nod. Sealing my fate.

○○○○○

Standing in my closet, looking at all of the clothes, I come to the conclusion that I have no idea what people wear to a club. What kind of club is it anyway? What type of school has a club for the students? I'm sure that none of us are legally able to drink yet.

I place my hands on my hips and let out a sigh. I can't pick out my outfit by myself. I need help.

As if answering my silent prayers, Zoe bursts into the room, armed with a flat iron and a makeup kit. She's already dressed, in a sky blue dress that brings out the pale color of her hair. "You better not have messed up your face yet, Kyla," she warns, walking into the bathroom to set up.

"I wouldn't dream of destroying the great Zoe's canvas." I reply, looking up at her with mock admiration.

"Very funny. Now sit." She points at the bed and I dutifully sit. Going into my closet, she comes out a few minutes later with an outfit for me. "Change."

I start to move towards the bathroom and she stops me. "Actually," she purses her lips in thought, "don't. I want the final product to be a surprise."

I roll my eyes. "Sure Zo. Whatever you say.

I start to regret my words when she starts putting my makeup on. Grabbing several tools that look like torture devices. She starts raising one of them towards my eyes. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's that?" I ask, raising my hands above my face.

"It's just an eyelash curler. Don't be such a baby, it won't hurt." I reluctantly move my hands. "See?" she says after doing one lash. "All it does is make your lashes stand out more."

I look and the mirror and have to agree. My the difference between the curled lashes on my left eye and the straight ones on the other eyes is definitely noticeable. The curled lashes frame my green eyes much better.

"Ha!" Zoe crows. "You like it!" She points the curler at my face. "Now stop complaining.

After half an hour of having my face brushed, eyebrows combed, and lips glossed and unglossed, I'm fed up. "Are you done yet?" I ask, not daring to move any part of my face other than my mouth.

"One..more..second," she says, rubbing what looks like a fat golden lipstick on my face. "Just have to add some highlight."

I keep my face still until she finally removes the highlight from my face. "Finally."

"Oh no, you're still not done yet." Zoe grins. "I still get to do your hair."

Another hour of sitting in the chair and my whole body's sore. Zoe decided that my hair needed to be pin-straight to go to the club. When my hair is as straight as a bone lying in the middle of Death Valley, and probably just as heat-damaged too, she finally declares it finished.

"So can we go?" I ask, trying to keep from sounding too eager. From the frown on Zo's face I failed.

"No, you haven't gotten dressed yet." She rummages in her makeup box and pulls out a strip of black fabric. "Put this on. No wait. I'll do it for you."

She ties it around my eyes and I groan. "Is this really necessary Zo? I can put my clothes on without a blindfold."

I can't see her face but she sounds exasperated. "Yes it's necessary." She steers me out of the bathroom with her hands and gives me the outfit. "Do you want me to go into the bathroom while you change?"

I nod. Hearing the door shut and lock behind her, I start dressing. Very..very..slowly. It's almost impossible to put on the clothing she gives me without being able to see, but I manage.

"Zoe!" I call. "I finished putting on the outfit. Can I take off the blindfold now?"

I hear a shriek from the bathroom. "No! Wait!" She unlocks the bathroom and steers me back inside. The blindfold falls away into Zoe's hands and I find myself looking into the mirror.

My initial reaction is utter shock, this girl staring back at me couldn't possibly be related to me. I'm sporting a pure black dress that falls tightly above my mid-thigh. The dress seems overwhelmingly short and I probably would have never picked it out myself. My usual wavy locks now fall straight over my shoulders, with a glossy texture that looks like it belongs in a magazine. And my face is nearly unrecognizable. My now emphasized cheekbones rest prominently on my skin, and a shimmery glow reflects off of them. The lipstick Zoe used is probably brighter than my future, and my eyelashes are without a doubt darker than Satan's soul. In other words; I look stunning.

I look at Zoe in the reflection, and she's beaming. "Do you like it?"

For a moment I'm speechless. She doesn't know how much I like it? "Zo, I love it. I've never looked this good in my life."

Her face lights up. "I'm so glad! Now let's go, we don't want to be late."