The nightmares had only gotten worse. The plague of a guilty conscience made Jayce evermore sick in the head. He wasn't a killer. The worst crime he committed was getting drunk at a party on his sixteenth birthday.
That had been a hell of a party.
Now his life was just hell.
Even his dreams were tainted.
The second night Jayce spent at the Evans Academy, his dream began with a funeral. He was a child again, dressed in a little suit, standing at his weeping mother's side. Jayce grasped her hand, tears of his own staining his face. He wanted to be strong for his mother, but being the last ones at his father's fresh grave was an exception for tough guys. Anyone could cry as a loved way decayed beneath their feet.
Jayce's older brother, Mathieu, stood under an old, gnarly oak tree a few feet back. His bangs hung over his eyes, casting a shadow so dark his irises looked black. He texted his girlfriend frantically, probably going on about last night's League of Legends match. It hurt Jayce to see his last male role model dealing with his grief by ignoring it rather than drowning in it. Even as a child, Jayce knew his brother would explode one time or another. Mathieu would take out all of his pain on his younger brother, resulting in Jayce's first scar.
Jayce, eyes teary and tired from a night wasted with sobbing, looked up to his mother. She looked the same as she always had. Even the underlying displeasure remained in her eyes.
"You think I just love sleeping around with another man, don't you?" Her tone had turned as bitter as 90% dark chocolate since the eulogy. "I couldn't stand your old man so I slept with another."
"Mom?" Jayce tried to yank his hand away from his mother's grasp but it wouldn't release. This felt familiar. The wedding.
Jayce was back at the altar, watching his mother wed his step-father-to-be. He panicked, confusing by the shift in scenery that his mind tried to play off as nothing important. He knew something was wrong. This wasn't real. At least not yet.
"Don't do it!" Jayce desired to scream from the bottom of his heart, but the words came from another. The voice was more confident than Jayce's but not as kind.
A well-dressed Mathieu sprinted down the aisle, hand outstretched toward Jayce. They locked eyes. Mathieu's were as cold and empty as his father's on his deathbed.
"Don't kill the girl!" Mathieu halted before Jayce, a spitting image of their father. The clean, dark hair, the stubble of a beard, and the same goofy, crooked grin plastered permanently on his face. "Don't do it! Let them all die!"
Then everyone in the room melted like a candle in fast forward.
Jayce shot up from his bed. He climbed out, tumbling to the floor as his feet got tangled in a mess of blankets. He hit the floor hard, his chest meeting the carpet before his elbows could embrace the impact. The air left his lungs and hung around outside for a moment. Finally, when Jayce had sucked enough air back in to focus on something else, he turned his attention to the bigger matter at hand.
Classes with superhero children.
He threw on a fresh uniform Mari and unwillingly delivered to his room. He sported his white Evans Academy dress shirt with navy blue ripped jeans and purple high-tops. At least he'd gotten to dress himself.
He rolled up sleeves of his shirt to reveal the scar on his arm. Jayce's fingers ran across the rough surface. Whoever Rivera was, they'd done a decent job of healing. With the scar on display, Jayce figured the other students would fear or respect him. He never liked to flaunt such things, but this was unfamiliar territory. For all he knew, another student could turn him into a chicken nugget or bite his head off.
He checked the alarm clock. An hour past breakfast. Classes had just begun.
Jayce quickly brushed his teeth and bolted out of the door. He sprinted down the halls, passing Louisa Evans. She looked back at him and laughed.
As the doors passed, Jayce checked every number in search of 238.
235.
236.
237.
Bingo.
He skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the wall. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but it didn't budge. Jayce tried again to no avail. Eventually all the jiggling grabbed the attention of the teacher. She peered back at him from the door's vertical window. Two different coloured eyes stared back at him, outraged by his tardiness on the first day. One blue. One brown. Both angry.
The door opened quickly and Jayce was yanked into the room. He stumbled, a chorus of anxious laughter erupting at his expense.
Looking at the classroom, he knew he was in a special school. Twenty desks formed a circle around a wrestling mat. There were no windows, just harsh fluorescent lights beating down on the faces of half-awake students. Posters detailing fighting methods lined the walls.
Then there was the students. Most looked like regular Americans. Dark skin, light skin, tan skin. Brown hair, blonde hair, red hair. The others were difficult not to stare at. A boy seated near the back wall had completely black eyes, darkness swirling inside them. His skin was grey as if he'd been dead a few days, but with the look he was giving Jayce, he certainly wasn't dead. A girl two seats over had long green hair and matching nails. Her eyes were a violent shade of red like blood had been injected into her irises. Something told Jayce the hair wasn't dyed. Four other students had physical traits which made them stand out like beautiful monsters.
Jayce just hoped one wouldn't bite his head off.
"Mr. LeBlanc. I'm Ms. Astley, and the first thing you should know about me is that I have never tolerated tardiness." A deep frown set into her face, turning her gentle laugh lines into deep crevices.
"Ah, yes ma'am. I'm just going to take a seat now..." he trailed off. Not daring to turn away from her, Jayce backed up until he reached a seat and plopped down. The big blond guy with piercing eyes growled at him. He flinched.
Ms. Astley adjusted her turquoise blouse and returned to the chalkboard. She picked up a meter stick and slammed it against the words "Fight or die."
"Has anyone been in a real fight before?"
Jayce remembered the spat with his brother. The scar on his cheek suddenly seemed to scorch his skin.
A girl maybe twelve-years-old raised her hand. With confidence she said, "I fought the school bully alone when I was nine."
"And did you win?"
"Sure did."
Ms. Astley's eyes narrowed in disbelief, but went along with the scrawny girl's story. "And how did you win?"
"Used my power. Punched a hole in her locker and scared her off."
Ms. Astley feigned a smile which faded as her meter stick pounded down on the girl's desk. The girl jumped back, her chair flipping and throwing her to the ground. She scrambled to get up, everyone snickering.
"Fighting. Fighting is not about mere strength." She touched her fingers to her temples. "It is about wit. It is about using what you have so when you face someone bigger and stronger - and you will - you can compensate for your disadvantages." She slid off her ruby-red high heels and tied her silver hair up in a bun. "Jane, you'll help me demonstrate how not to fight. Get on the mat."
The snarky girl gulped and reluctantly rose from her seat.
Jayce's stomach dropped. He sighed, glad he wouldn't be humiliated by the teacher on his first day of school, but he worried for the girl.
Jane unlaced her sneakers and set them under her desk. She walked around to the opening in the circle, walking like a puppy replacing a wolf. She stepped into the centre, her toes on the edge of a blue circle. Ms. Astley stood directly across from Jane, examining her and assuming her strengths and weaknesses.
"Well, fight me," demanded the teacher, her two-coloured eyes piercing into Jane.
Jayce got second-hand fear as it oozed off the girl, then she dashed across the mat with newfound determination. Jane attempted a left hook, but Ms. Astley ducked and swiped her leg across the mat. It pounded into Jane's leg like a wrecking ball, knocking her to her chest. Her teeth clicked together with a crunch.
Jayce hoped she hadn't broken anything, even if she deserved to be knocked down a peg.
The fight continued as the child leaped up and grappled Ms. Astley around the waist. Her feet slipped against the mat, the skin peeling away as they plowed deep into the ground. The teacher with her fox-like cunning let Jane tire herself out just enough to allow a blow to the ankle could be dealt again. Jane crumbled, once neatly tied back hair spattering across the blue circle. She groaned and grabbed at her ankle.
Ms. Astley clapped, drawing the class' attention from Jane. Jayce conformed, too afraid to be his teacher's next victim. "Does anyone know what she did wrong?"
No one raised their hands, too stunned, too in awe.
"She depended on her power. That is not your only tool and it shouldn't be used unless all resources are exhausted. You never know when you could find yourself unable to focus your mind on your ability. In that same time, as the power lacks, your human instincts kick in."
Jayce realized Ms. Astley wasn't a normal teacher. She could dampen abilities, make anyone normal again, but he suspected she had her limits. It wasn't permanent, and it put a strain on her as if she was trying to extinguish an eternal flame with a piece of paper.
"...LeBlanc."
The big blond kid next to Jayce nudged him hard in the shoulder and grunted, "Your turn."
His heart sank. He'd been glad to sit back and watch Ms. Astley fight Jane who was being hauled off to the nurse's office for a twisted ankle, but now he had to prove himself. Jayce knew he wasn't better than a girl with supernatural strength, but he had to try.
Jayce shot up from his seat. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists. He glared at the other students, putting on the first facade of strength he'd been able to manage in a few days. He stilled, considering a plan, but nothing came to mind. Rounding the circle, he faced doom like a man - shoeless and scared out of his mind under a calm exterior.
"Is this because I was late?"
Ms. Astley shook her head and pinched her nose, then peered up with something wicked in her eyes. Madness, maybe. "This is to see if the underdog can win. Prove my point, Mr. LeBlanc." Her neck twisted to the side, scanning the kids around Jayce's seat. Her eyes landed on the overgrown heathen. "Kevin, on the mat."
Kevin wasn't muscular. He was obese and riddled with bulged anywhere fat could form. His uniform barely fit around his waist and thick neck. A chubby face sat atop a neck of equal width, making it look like someone had sat on top and squished his upper half together. His eyes were narrow and dark, the first thing Jayce noticed after his steroid-fed mushroom for a nose. He pitied the woman that carried such a huge being inside her for nine months.
Then Kevin took a dozen floor-shaking steps around the room. Jayce quaked in his socks, knowing they'd soon be splattered with his blood and tears. Kevin was a towering blond beast with the height of the Empire State building and the strength of King Kong. And Jayce couldn't even guess what power he'd been gifted.
Whatever, Jayce thought. He cleared his mind and focused on Ms. Astley's words.
She stepped out of the ring, leaving Kevin to hover two feet above Jayce in a pre-fight staring match. It felt like they were the only two people in the world, just not in the way rom-coms portrayed that feeling.
You're the underdog. Ah, screw that. Play dirty. Do whatever it takes to knock Kevin on his big, fat butt.
Jayce revealed his canines in a large smirk.
"3... 2... 1..."
His heart leaped into his throat.
What was he doing? What was Ms. Astley allowing? Has anyone died? How had his first day at a school he didn't want to attend already have gone so wrong?
"Go."
Jayce remembered the feeling of Wendy sending him to a world between life and death. He remembered purgatory and his ancestors standing above him like gods. They peered down on him like a scientist would a lab rat. He shivered under their foreign presence. Spirits were cold and terrifying and beautiful.
He took that feeling and let it explode inside his heart. It took real emotion to completely transform, and he'd felt nothing more intense than being in the presence of the dead. A sound of surprise rang out through the class as Jayce suddenly turned into a mouse.
Yes! he screamed in his head. Oh hell yes!
Before gravity yanked his small form to the ground, Jayce bounded for Kevin's belt. He clawed at it, clung to it, then climbed it. He scurried up the blonde's massive form, Kevin stomping about likely a giant with a bad itch. Jayce dodged his fists all the way to the top of his shoulder. Being up there felt like staring down at the world from the topic of the St. Louis Arch his parents took him to long ago, just with enormous people below instead of ships and buildings. Before the nostalgia could distract him, Jayce bit down hard on Kevin's ear. Blood seeped from the wound.
Jayce laughed to himself a moment too soon. Kevin grumbled and his skin began to crack. It turned a shade of orangey-brown and grew rough edges. He could turn to rock.
Jayce squealed as he slipped from Kevin's shoulder. He landed in a hand of stone, choking on the fear he might be crushed. He crawled around and scratched, but couldn't escape between the narrow gaps in his adversary's fingers.
As Jayce began to shift back, Kevin raised his hand high above his head. Jayce saw a flash of blond hair, then felt the wind rush past his ears as his body tumbled toward the big blue ground. When he hit the floor, he was human again. He had just been saved from a devastating impact.
Still, Jayce could feel an ache in his side, somewhere between his neck and his ribs. He folded up on the floor, groaning and squinting. The pain grew into a harsh throb in his shoulder.
The class watched in terror. They knew Jayce stood no chance against Kevin, and for trying he earned a dislocated shoulder.
If this was just his first day, things were going to get a lot worse quickly. Jayce would have to toughen up or get pushed around. He only hoped when the time came to fight Armina to the death, she'd be an easier target than Kevin. He doubted she'd be easy.
Ms. Astley drew another lesson from failure. "Jayce relied on his power and was sloppy. He didn't wait for Kevin to show all of his cards. No, he went ahead and made the first move when he was on the lower ground."
Jayce half-listened to the lecture through the sound of his own sharp inhales. This pain wasn't as bad as the gunshot to his arm, but it still hurt like hell. He couldn't stand. He couldn't even sit up.
Before Ms. Astley could continue her lecture, the bell rang. Jayce struggled to get himself up with the aid of the desk. He met the teacher's gaze.
"Head off to the nurse for that shoulder, and work on your strategy."
Jayce scoffed and hobbled off to the nurse to get his shoulder back in place. She sent him off late to the second period with his arm in a sling for safe measures. Luckily the class was much safer. English.
The rest of his morning classes passed by without any issues worse than name calling and teasing from the other students. He didn't mind, but started to notice people were either out to date him or out to kill him.
Finally in the same room as a few familiar faces, Jayce sat down with Lewis, Armina, Wendy, and Mari who insisted she join them. Not that he entirely minded. Mari was fierce and absolutely terrifying, but Jayce was drawn in by that confidence as much as he was pushed away.
They ate lunch in near silence, aside from Lewis' invitation to Friday night's secret bonfire in the downtown park, then Armina raised a question. "Ms. Astley's beginner's combat class?"
Jayce nodded.
Mari laughed.
Lewis cringed.
"What's with the baby-faced heathens being mixed with twelve-year-olds? Isn't that dangerous?"
Armina's semi-permanent smirk grew wide. "Oh, it gets much worse the higher level you are. Right, Lewis?"
He shrugged. "Uh, yeah. I guess. Yellow's mostly newbies who haven't fully broken in their powers, which makes them reckless. I'm actually surprised you got blue, Jayce."
Jayce sure as hell was glad he got the lowest level. He couldn't imagine Lewis or Armina's first days. If Kevin had thrown him down that hard, he bet red-level students wouldn't stop there. Jayce was sure Nathaniel had personally selected blue to keep him alive.
Mari leaned on the table, her head sitting upon her hand. Her rosy cheek was squished into her hand. "What's it like being a red, Armina? There's so few of you." She spit out the word you like Armina was far from human.
Jayce wondered if she felt like an alien in her own home.
"Well," sneered Armina. She looked enraged, her new haircut revealing her entire gracefully wicked face. "Being a red means I could kill you in a second if it came down to it. Want to test me, blue?"
They stood up, grabbing the attention of the room. Armina's face was inches from Mari's, and Jayce thought she might just do something.
"Whoa! Whoa! Guys, you're making a scene. Just sit down."
Mari shoved Lewis off his seat and yelled, "Stay down!"
He obeyed reluctantly.
Jayce's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He remembered Mari shoving him into the wall and felt his throat close up. He felt like a fish out of water, drowning in oxygen.
"Don't touch him!"
Armina went to shove Mari, but Jayce caught her at the upper arm. She shrugged him off and shared a long glance. She scoffed and ran her hand through her dark brown hair.
"She's not worth my time anyway." Armina plopped back down next to Lewis who was straightening his uniform. "Everyone knows I'd win."
Mari rolled her eyes. "Keep dreaming," then joined another table, eyes remaining on Jayce.
He felt unnerved. Would Armina really hurt someone? Was she worth dirtying his hands? Only time would tell. He only hoped six weeks would be enough to understand Armina Stanton, the scariest and strongest student at the Evans Academy.
Jayce was lost in his thoughts, the chatter between Armina and Lewis a distant mumble. His morals were being tested. His knowledge of movies had gotten him this far, but no movie could match his current situation. In foreign territory, Jayce had a stick in a crowd of children armed with guns, and his target was the one with a bazooka.
Soon he'd either be blown to bits or reborn a killer, but for now, he had to decide whether to be Lewis' plus one.