I wake up to sun in my face, and I instantly knew that I had messed up. It was almost night when I fainted, so I've definitely been unconscious for far too long. I close my eyes briefly, then open them again to glare at the window across from my bed. I sit up, noticing as I do so that my back has a rather painful bruise. Reason one why I suck at fainting. If I've learned anything from the television, it's that when you faint you're supposed to fall slowly and gracefully enough that your knight in shining armor can catch you.

Too bad Will didn't catch you, I find myself thinking. I'm instantly disgusted with myself. I literally just met the guy. He had no obligation to catch me, and I had no reason to expect him to.

That doesn't mean you didn't want him to.

I push the thoughts to the back of my head and busy myself with getting out of bed. Shifting my weight over to the other side of the mattress, I swing a leg over the side of the bed...and instantly slam my leg on a box.

I curse. Who puts a box right next to a bed? Don't they know that normally that's where people get off the bed at? I flop to the ground and rub the red spot on my leg. It's going to be a huge ugly bruise.

Will chooses that moment to walk in through the door. His face drops at the sight of me sprawled out on the floor and it's all I can do not to burst out laughing.

It's not my fault though. He's the perfect picture of a cartoon character right now: mouth open so wide he could catch flies, eyes bugged out so far they look like they are about to pop out of his head. I let a small grin escape, and then full blown laughter.

Will goes from shocked to happy in about 5 seconds. "Kyla! You're awake! I was starting to worry when I saw you on the floor. I was worried I screwed up by telling you about powers too soon and you were going to be in a coma." Will shudders dramatically. "You've been asleep forever." He drags out the r so long it seems like he's going on forever.

I interrupt before my head explodes. I haven't had any caffeine yet, and I wouldn't want to start my first day by strangling one of my peers. Not that I'd do very well from on the floor anyway though. I sit up. "So where exactly am I? I didn't pass out here, and I'm not really in the mood to be kidnapped again so soon."

Will rolls his eyes at my sarcasm and I'm tempted to stick my tongue out at him. Sure it was a little unnecessary, but sarcasm makes the world go round. "You, my dear, are in your very own state of the art dormitory. All of the kids here get their own dorm. It cuts down on fights, and the last thing the Institute wants is more fights."

I see a lightbulb go off in his head and he starts moving around the room, giving an exaggerated tour. "Here is your dresser, with a fingerprint lock." He places his finger on the scanning pad to demonstrate how his print doesn't work, then gives me a pretend shocked face when it doesn't.

"Only your prints will work on it, so you don't have to worry about people stealing your clothing." He looks me up and down. "I don't know if you would have to worry about that anyway though, so let's just ignore that feature." I laugh as he continues. "Here is your bathroom, with - get this - a self flushing toilet." The look he gives me is so full of awe that I have to laugh at him again.

"Okay, okay. That's enough." I say, still laughing. "My stomach can't take all of this." Will doesn't seem irritated by my laughter though, he seems encouraged.

"Oh no, my lady. I can't stop now. You haven't gotten your full complimentary tour package yet."

And honestly, I bet that he wouldn't have stopped if the speaker in the wall by the door hadn't flipped on at that moment.

'Kyla Barnes, please report to the headmaster's office. Kyla Barnes, please report to the headmaster's office.'

The speaker shuts off with a crackle and I look at Will, panic evident on my face. He walks up to me and helps me up. "It's fine Kyla. It's probably just because you're new. The headmaster tries to make sure that he knows all of the students in the school, and he can't do that without talking to them, now can he?

Will prompts me to nod and I follow along blankly. What he's saying does make sense, but I instantly am back to the day after my parents died.

The headmaster is an imposing lady, her grey hair knotted in a severe bun on the back of her head, and her cool blue eyes as piercing as ever. "I'm sorry for your loss, Kyla."

So many people have told me that, but out of all of them, I think she means it the least. Her voice isn't touched with the slightest hint of pity. All I can hear is disinterest.

"You know that it requires money to go here, don't you Kyla?"

I nod my head, not seeing where this is going.

"Well, in the wake of your parents disappearance, you will be expected to pay for the next school year." She slides a bill across the table towards me, and my eyes widen at the sight of so many zeroes. How am I ever going to pay for this?

Fat tears drip down my face as I grab the paper, and shove it into my pocket, not caring if it gets wrinkled.

"That will be all, Kyla." She turns back to her computer screen, not sparing another second of her time on me. I think I see the ghost of a smile on her lips. "You'd better get back to class. Wouldn't want to waste such a nice education now would we? You never know how long it will last."

I allow Will to guide me to the Headmaster's office, only snapping out of my flashback when we reach the door. I'm shaking a little, but I pull myself together enough to address Will.

I give him a small smile. "I'm good now, thanks."

He frowns, the corners of his mouth dipping to show his reluctance. "You sure? You were pretty out of it there for a bit."

I nod. "Yeah I'm sure. Thanks for getting me over here."

He looks me over one more time then fixes me with a smile of his own. "No problem. See you later Kyla."

After he leaves, I check to make sure the engraved sign by the door says Office before walking inside. The scent of lavender hits my nose, but it doesn't calm me like it usually does. I'm still hyper aware of my surroundings, noticing every small detail. The small cobweb in the corner, the mark of dirt on the cream colored lampshade. My eyes flit around the room, taking it all in. I stop suddenly, noticing the expression of the woman behind the front desk, who's looked up from her computer to glare at me. It's clear that she doesn't think very highly of me. I shiver at how much she reminds me of Mrs. Johnson.

"Kyla Barnes?" She asks sharply. Maybe it isn't me she dislikes. I allow myself a sliver of hope. Maybe she hates her job.

"That would be me." I flash a smile, hoping the action will get her to sound a little more welcoming. It doesn't work.

"The director will see you shortly. Please have a seat while you wait." Her tone is cold. A smile won't win this woman over. She turns back to her computer, her long red fingernails tapping away at the keys. I sit on a bench I noticed earlier, resting my arm on the cold wooden surface. The bench looks old, the carvings on the seatback have been worn away from years of use. Some aren't even discernible anymore. I twist my ring around my finger, calmed by the feel of the textured metal under my touch.

After what seems like forever, a door opens to the left of the front desk, and a man steps out. "Kyla Barnes?" He asks, spotting me on the bench. I nod. "Come in please."

At least he seems more approachable than Miss Secretary over there. His eyes seem kinder, his tone is more gentle. Not what I expected from the leader of a prestigious institute.

The inside of his office is amazing though. It looks exactly as I would expect from him. One wall is made entirely of glass, allowing sunlight to flood over the contents of the room. A flat screen is mounted on the right wall, with a small bookcase underneath it. His desk looks like something out of an add for office supplies. Everything is organized and in a set place. A small golden nameplate reads: Zachary Galleoti. There are no papers strewn about, no broken staples on the floor. It's almost too perfect.

Mr Galleoti completes the image by sitting down in his high-backed chair, clasping his hands on the desk. He gestures for me to sit down in the armchair in front of his desk, a far cry from the wooden bench from earlier. "So, Kyla. I bet you're wondering why I've asked you here." He smiles. "You aren't in any sort of trouble, so don't worry about that." My shoulders instantly relax. "When new students enroll at the institute, we have a simple form that has to be filled out, along with a demonstration of abilities. It shouldn't take very long." He pulls a sheet of paper from an organizer on his desk and turns it towards me. The top reads Student Ability Form.

"After you complete the form, please wait here while I review it. I need the results before you do your demonstration." He pulls a gold fountain pen out of a cup and hands it to me. "Don't worry. There are no wrong answers. Take all the time you need."

I look down at the form, biting my lip. I've never been particularly good at taking tests or filling out questionnaires. The questions seem to lead you towards an answer, and I have a tendency of overthinking things.

The first question reads: What abilities do you possess? Include all sub abilities and unnatural quirks, no matter how minor.

Ok, I can do that. I write morphing and visions down on the paper in my shaky scrawl. I pause for a moment before writing down another ability. Keeping my clothes when I morph. If Damien can't do it, as a teacher, then maybe it's an ability. Even if it's not, better safe than sorry.

Anyway, next question. Are your parents alive? Do they know you are an Alter? I suck in a sharp breath, causing Mr. Galleoti to look over at me curiously. I write down my answer in shaky handwriting, making sure not to let a tear fall onto the ink.

Let's try the next question. All of them can't be as sad as the last one. Did you notice any scents when you came into the office? If so, what scent? I furrow my brow. Why would they put this on the form? I did, but how does that help them in any way? I write down lavender and move on. They can ask for whatever weird information they want. I guess it really doesn't affect me that much.

I flip the paper over to make sure there isn't anything written on the backside before handing it and the pen back. That's the shortest test I've ever had to take in my life, but I'm not complaining.

He briefly scans my form before regarding me. "You have pyschometry. Very rare, but not unheard of." His face tells me otherwise but I keep my mouth shut. He looks back down at the form, and smiles.

"Ah! This is promising. You are able to detect signatures."

My face scrunches up in confusion. Is that what the scent question was

about?

Mr. Galeotti sounds exasperated. "The lavender, my dear. Every Alter has a unique scent. Miss Dabney's happens to be lavender." I start to interject, but he just keeps talking. "This scent will be very strong. The only downside to being able to detect signatures is that you can't smell perfumes." He chuckles. "That little fact drives my wife nuts."

"So. For your demonstration, we'll have you morph with this shirt." He pulls out a frilly pink crop top from another one of his desk drawers. I suppress a laugh, feeling that it probably wouldn't go over well. It's slightly comical seeing a grown man holding what is obviously a teen's shirt. He looks slightly uncomfortable holding it too, and is all too eager handing it to me.

I take the shirt from him, and practically hear the sigh of relief. "Do you want me to do a vision too? I might as well since you want a demonstration of abilities, right?"

He thinks about it for a moment. "I don't see why not. I know who owned the shirt, so I'll be able to see how accurate your visions really are. And please. Don't say do a vision. The correct terminology is do a reading."

Grammar nazi anyone? I roll my eyes inwardly. My pet peeve is when people correct my grammar. If you understood my meaning, who cares about verb tenses and proper use of vocabulary?

He clears his throat, breaking me out of my mental rant. I focus my attention on the shirt, and the vision envelops me.