What you see inside brings you to a dead stop just one step inside the door. The building you glimpsed as you made your way towards the school was certainly of a decent size, but the room that you're in is the size of a stadium.
Surrounding the improbably sized room is what seems to be exercise equipment, ranging from the recognizable to the hellishly incomprehensible; half of it wouldn't look out of place in a medieval torture chamber.
"It's…" you start, then you stop, taking a moment to try to think of the right thing to say. Whatever that is, you don't know it, and you look at Michelle for assistance.
"Yeah, it's all right," she says, making what would appear to be a large effort to seem extremely nonchalant. "We need the space, you see. Try keeping a bunch of werewolves cooped up in a normal-sized gym and see where that gets you."
At that moment, a pale, translucent figure floats through the wall, stopping partway through when it sees you and Michelle. He has dark skin (or at least, the memory of his skin appears dark), and he seems to be about seventeen years old. He is also, you can't help but notice, wearing the spectral remains of a school uniform. The only parts of him that still seem to have any substance are his eyes, which direct a piercing blue gaze wherever he turns.
"Oh," he says mildly. "I didn't think anyone would be in here at this time."
Michelle snorts. "And what were you going to do if there wasn't, Renault? Lift weights? Go for a jog? You're hardly well-equipped for bodybuilding right now, are you?"
The specter ignores her, gliding the rest of the way through the wall and turning his attention to you.
"And this must be the new mortal," he says. "So what's your sport of choice?"