Surprising no one, Gavin did not just find his way to his quarters.
Instead, he left the cubicle room and wandered down one dim, empty corridor after another, wondering where everybody was and why there weren't more lights. The place was as silent as a tomb. The only sound came from the squeaky wheels of his suitcase. If this was a school, where were the students? He couldn't be the first kid to get an ability that wasn't deemed superpower-worthy, could he?
Just when he was starting to feel good and sorry for himself, a loud bell rang and suddenly the place was awash in bodies. Doors opened and outpoured students of all ages, all gossipping with friends as they shuffled between classes. Overwhelmed, Gavin slunk against the wall and waited for everyone to pass, hoping he could get by unnoticed.
No such luck.
"Hey, who's that kid?"
"He looks new!"
"He looks old!"
"He looks smelly!"
Finally, a strangely-tall girl came up to him, hands on her hips. "You're new," she said, as if telling him something he didn't know.
"Yeah," Gavin nodded. "I'm trying to find my-"
"Just got processed." interrupted the girl.
Again, Gavin nodded. "Right. Now I think I'm supposed to be shown my-"
The girl interrupted again by taking a loud, deep breath and squinching her lips to the side, thinking. She was a few inches taller than Gavin, with curly blond hair that bounced around her head even when she wasn't moving. She wore a flowery dress and thick, black boots and had far too much makeup on her face. Gavin grew nervous under her stare and shifted from foot to foot, wondering where this was going. "I don't know where to go," he admitted finally.
Now it was the girl's turn to nod. "Obviously," she said very matter-of-factly in a way that wasn't nearly as cruel as it could have been.
"Hey, Jupiter, whatcha got there?" A small boy hurried up to the girl's side and eyed Gavin like he was some sort of science experiment.
"New kid," replied the girl, Jupiter.
"Cool! What's his ability?" he asked, speaking to his friend as if Gavin wasn't standing right in front of him,
"Don't know," answered Jupiter. She turned to Gavin. "Spill."
"Spill?" Gavin was incredibly confused.
"Tell us what your ability is," she explained. "The reason you're here."
"I... " Gavin nervously ran his hand through his hair, feeling awkward in the figurative spotlight. "My head is squishy."
"Seriously?" asked the little boy. "That sounds awesome! I can take my fingers off. Wanna see?" Without waiting for a response, the kid raised his right hand and promptly plucked his pinky off, waved it in Gavin's face, then snapped it back into place.
Gavin's jaw dropped. "Doesn't that hurt?"
The boy shrugged. "Does it hurt when you squish your face?"
The kid had a point.
"You don't have a room yet," said Jupiter, again not asking, but stating a fact.
"Yeah, I know," said Gavin, getting a bit frustrated. "Look, if you're not going to help me-"
Jupiter waved him quiet and turned to the younger boy. "Lincoln, take Squishy Faced Kid to Mr. Unger and get him someplace to leave that ugly suitcase of his."
"Ugly?" Gavin looked down at his suitcase.
"It's blue," explained the girl.
"Yes... and...?" Gavin wasn't sure why a simple, solid blue suitcase would be called ugly.
"Blue is ugly." she turned and casually walked away.
Gavin turned to the boy, Lincoln. "She do that a lot?" he asked.
"Do what? Walk away and leave you confused?" asked the boy. "Totally!"
Gavin nodded and grabbed his suitcase. "Well, then. Lincoln, right? Can you show me to this Mr. Unger guy?"
The little kid, Lincoln, clapped his hands together. "Sure thing! This way, Squishy!" He motioned for Gavin to follow him down the corridor.
"It's Gavin," said Gavin, who wanted to nip in the bud any idea that folks could call him Squishy.
"Gavin? Huh. I like Squishy better, but whatever." He hurried away and Gavin scrambled to catch up.
***
Mr. Unger turned out to be a tall, muscled, slow-moving man. He thanked Lincoln for delivering the new kid, then led Gavin through the dark halls and up three flights of poorly-lit stairs to a row of rooms. This took an incredible amount of time, and Gavin found himself stopping every couple of minutes and waiting for the man to catch up. He made sure to stop in the pools of what little light he could find along the way.
As they made their way, Gavin tried to get his head around everything he'd seen and experienced in the short time he'd been here, but soon gave it up as a lost cause. Who kept a school dark like this? What was that processing bit all about? Why had his parents had to stay outside the academy gates?
What in the world had Gavin gotten himself into?
With no answers forthcoming, he tried to concentrate on what was in front of him, and that was the hunt for his room. He was looking forward to a few moments alone and a chance to catch his breath. Finally, they arrived before a door marked D37. Here, Mr. Unger drew out a thin key and handed it to Gavin.
"This... is... your... room." he said.
"Thanks." Gavin took the key and inserted it into the lock, eager to get inside.
"There... are... a... few... rules... you... should... know," continued Mr. Unger, slowly lowering his hand back to his side.
What followed was ten minutes of the man delivering the most basic of instructions while Gavin chomped at the bit to just get inside his room, close the door, and breathe. Mr. Unger went over the dining schedules, explained the bathroom rules, talked about proper cleaning techniques, and for some reason ruminated on the difference between lint and dust. Finally, he was finished, and Gavin was free.
He opened the door, rolled his suitcase inside, closed it behind him, and got his first look at his new home.
It was a mess.
There were clothes all over the floor, every piece of furniture had some sort of garbage on it, and the walls were papered over with a chaotic number of posters, flyers, and drawings pinned one on top of the other. It was like his room had been the school's storage bin or something.
"Seriously?" asked Gavin aloud to the empty room.
"Seriously what?" answered the room.
Gavin jumped, startled, as one of the piles of garbage moved and then rolled off the dirtiest kid he'd ever met. He wore ragged clothing the color of dirt and peppered with holes and his hair was a rat's nest filled with colorful bits of who knew what. If he had to guess, Gavin would have said the kid was thirteen or fourteen, but it was difficult to tell under all the filth. The boy looked Gavin over and nodded.
"So it finally happened," he said.
"What?" asked Gavin. He knew the kid would take it to mean 'what happened?' but it would be closer to the truth to say it meant 'what is wrong with you?'
"They gave me a roommate. Must not want to open up another wing. Either that or they already don't like you." He stood, more garbage dropping off of him, and moved to the other side of the room. "You've got a bed here. Let me just clear it for you." He stopped next to what had looked like just another pile of refuse and shoved most of the garbage onto the floor to reveal a bed. He then gave it a little pat like he was a maid in a five-star hotel. "There ya go. Rock on."
He crossed back to his own bed and sat down.
Gavin remained just inside the door, staring open-faced at the boy. After a moment, the kid rolled his eyes and spoke.
"Yeah, I'm dirty. It's my ability."
"Huh?"
"My ability? Why I'm here? Why we're all here? I have a useless ability. I'm a trash magnet." When Gavin didn't say anything, the boy sighed and continued. "No matter what I do or where I go, I attract trash. Makes it hard to keep things clean, as you can imagine, but I'll do my best while you're stuck here with me."
The boy's obviously lack of self-esteem stirred something deep within Gavin, who finally left the door and rolled his suitcase over to his new bed. "It's OK," he said. "No big thing."
"It's disgusting," said the boy. He shifted on his bed, lifting his legs up and placing them on what looked like a piece from the underside of a car.
"You can't help it, right?" said Gavin. "It's your ability. Mine's my head. It's squishy."
The boy looked at Gavin for a moment, then gave a snort. "Squishy?"
Gavin nodded. "Like a sponge." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Gavin."
The boy sat up and looked at the hand, then up at Gavin. The barest hint of a smile arose on his face. "Stanford," he said, wiping his hand on his pants before taking Gavin's and giving it a shake.
"Well, Stanford," said Gavin when they were done shaking hands. "Got any words of wisdom for your new roomy?"
"Sure," answered the boy, laying back down and almost vanishing into the garbage on his bed. "Everybody's out to get you."
"What do you mean?" asked Gavin, suddenly alarmed.
"I mean don't trust anybody."
Gavin sat for a moment, disturbed by the odd warning. "Except you, right?"
"Nope," answered Stanford from within the pile of refuse covering him. "Don't trust me, either."