Chapter 5 [Erin]

The mood in the red-orange common room after dinner was a peculiar mixture of sleepiness, boredom, and anxiety. Not a single girl was vertical—everyone was draped around and across couches and armchairs haphazardly, disregarding the function for which the furniture was made. Erin lay sprawled on her stomach on the rug, with colored pencils scattered around her, concentrating hard on her drawing. She had to. This had to be perfect. She loved to draw, but if she didn’t do it perfectly, she’d hate herself for it… actually, most things she drew didn’t come out perfect. That was why she didn’t look through her old sketchpads or even keep them with her. She would throw them out or, if someone showed particular interest in one, give them away. She had a never-look-back policy.

So when her old school, for the brief period that she had gone, had taken such delight in a picture she drew in art class that they blew it up and made it a mural in the cafeteria, she couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stand having to look at it all day, because every time she did her eyes would find something else wrong, some bleeding color or backwards hand, some bizarre proportion. And when she did, the beast would come. She didn’t go there anymore. It was an experiment, and it had failed.

She drew with little flicks of her mechanical pencil, framing the hair around the catgirl’s face as she brandished her sword. She envied the girl in the drawing. So… so two-dimensional. Stuck in one place, not having to worry about change. One of the girl’s hairs accidentally crossed into her eye. A brief wave of panic surged over Erin as she grabbed her eraser and fiercely rubbed out the perceived error, ready to redraw it—oh, hell. She got part of the chin accidentally. She should just redraw the entire face. The eraser vibrated over the picture, and she was thankful for the extra-thick, extra-high-quality paper that made up the sketchpad, that took down lines clearly and then allowed them to be erased without trouble and without wrinkling the page. That would ruin it completely.

“Hey!” said a voice from up above. Erin dropped her pencil and twisted around to where the sound came from; it was a tall, dirty-blonde girl with her hair tied back in a ponytail, slightly chubby, with clear blue eyes framed by round glasses.

“What’re you working on?” she asked, kneeling down and then resting on her stomach like Erin, propping her chin up in her hands. “I saw you working earlier today, but I couldn’t see what it was.” She scrutinized the page with interest. “Ooh, you’re drawing anime? Wow… that’s, that’s incredible!”

“T- thanks…” Erin muttered, looking at the picture to avoid having to maintain eye contact with the girl whose name she couldn’t remember. Unfortunately, looking at the picture produced different problems. The girl, she saw, was too skinny. Down came the eraser, rubbing out the offending line, and then her mechanical pencil whipped out, drawing a line that was almost identical, about a millimeter further to the left.

“Is that character anyone in particular?” asked the strange girl, attempting to make conversation. “Does she have a name?”

“No,” replied Erin. She is a distraction. “Shut up!”

“Woah, sorry! Didn’t… mean to anger you, really.”

“No! No… oh god…” she put her head in her hands. “I—I didn’t mean that… not to you…” The other girl looked thoroughly confused.

“Wait, what? But then who were you saying it to?”

She keeps talking. “No! Not—nobody. Nobody at all. I was talking to myself. That’s the truth.”
“Oh, well, um, if that’s the truth…” she said, and was silent as a frowning Erin returned to her work. She blew on the paper to brush the eraser shreds off, and continued with the detail. The little rings in her chain-link vest, all evenly-sized. Then the background—perspective, drawing that door just right in proportion to her… much better. Now she could color.

“Have you drawn for long?” asked the girl, who Erin suddenly remembered was named Nikki. She was trying to be friendly.

“Y- yeah,” said Erin, starting with the first basic color for the girl’s face. A little yellow, around the edges and then spreading down to her neck, hands, legs… “Since before forever.”

“I can’t draw to save my life,” Nikki said, smiling a little. “Can you teach me?”

She would waste our time? “Ugh—um, yes, yes, I could do that. I could teach you.”

“Ooh!” That was from elsewhere in the room—both Erin and Nikki looked up to see another girl—the short Mexican one, with black wavy hair that swirled around her head and rectangular glasses that looked to be about a centimeter thick. “Is someone drawing?” She landed with a flop across from Erin, so that to her the drawing must have seemed upside-down.

“Wow! Is this yours?” she asked, her entire person seemingly vibrating with excitement. “Can I see?” Erin weakly let go of the paper as the girl—Anita—spun it around so that it was right side up for her. “That is amazing! That’s so much better than anything I could do! Here, color it! Go ahead! Can I watch?” she spun the paper back around.

“Oh, um, sure,” Erin said, reaching for another colored pencil and struggling to not make eye contact with either of the people who were avidly watching her. I can smell them. They are too close. “Stop!” she cried, and Nikki and Anita sat up, stunned. Erin’s hand, curled into a fist, was increasingly covered in a fine white hair. “I… I’m sorry. I need to leave,” she said, keeping her head down as she picked up her supplies and retreated to her room, shedding pencils and spare papers everywhere. She ducked inside and slammed the door behind her, dropping her things on the table just as her fingernails started to lengthen.

So weak, said the beast, almost snidely. All of them, and you as well. You are powerless against the world. The minute you accept this is the minute all this nonsense can stop.

“Never!” she retorted, gripping her wrist, trying to restrain the fur growing down her arm.
They are pathetic! Pathetic in their desires, pathetic in their jealousy. And so weak! Flesh like paper, so easy to rend!

“They are my friends!” she cried.

They hate you! They judge you! Their only feelings towards you are jealousy! They hear you now and think you are crazy! You are crazy! Destroy them! Her teeth started to lengthen, the bones of her face rearranging, elongating into a more animal form.

“You—will—not—” she growled, her words marred by her increasingly less and less human tongue, “Control—me!” A clawed hand reached for the light switch and flicked it on. The sudden flood of light caused her vertical pupils to contract, blinding her—the beast let out an animal howl in her mind, and she took the opportunity to regain control. Her teeth shrank and her skeletal structure rearranged. The fur faded from her hands and legs, as if sucked back beneath her skin. She gripped the desk and stood there, panting, as the last of the beast’s changes faded from her body. She fell onto the chair and slumped there, panting from fatigue. She could feel the beast back inside her mind, too tired and blind to attack again, but still there, and all the more angry for having been bested.

After a few minutes of sitting there with her head tilted back, looking full- on at the fluorescent light, somebody knocked on her door.

“Who?” she asked weakly.

“I- it’s Carrie,” said the other girl, opening the door a crack. “I was just wondering… we’re, uh, going to play Apples to Apples. Do you… want to come play too?” Erin studied the girl, doubtless that she was wondering what had just happened, remembering the beast’s cruel words: they think you are crazy. Of course. But that was the beast. You did not listen to the beast.
“Ok,” she said, pushing herself up. “How… how do you play exactly?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” said Carrie, and the two of them sat down in the common room in a circle along with Bridget (who had come out of her room), Nikki, Keli, and Anita. A brief explanation of the rules was given and hands were dealt and they began.

“You know,” said Anita, “I like to draw anime too actually. Maybe we could share tips with each other?”

“I think I can draw,” laughed Carrie, “But I’m no good with people. Animals are my specialty—well, Pokémon really. It’s the truth,” she said, shrugging.

“I like drawing anime too. Well, manga, actually, although the art style is ‘anime’—but ‘anime’ means ‘cartoon’ so it’s not technically correct either.” That was Keli.

“Wow! Is everyone here a huge artist slash japanophile slash nerd?” joked Nikki.

“Nah, not really. Tess doesn’t watch anime, and can’t draw to save her life. She’ll admit it,” said Carrie. “She’s more of a gamer geek. And not even good games, either—just kids’ games for the DS. RPGs and things.”

“You think you could not trash your friend every time she’s not around?” asked Nikki, critically.
“Eh, she’s around. But you may be right,” said Carrie, sighing. “The point I was trying to make is that everyone here—everyone here—we all have similar interests.”

“Neeeerrrrds,” teased Bridget. “I don’t draw or play video games or anything. But I do think that anime is awesome.”

“Hey. You’re every bit as big a nerd as we are. Don’t deny it,” retorted Carrie.

“I’m not saying that I’m not, I’m just saying that you guys are.”

“Guys, guys, are we going to play or not? Did I bring this thing here for nothing?” asked Nikki, brandishing her hand of cards.

“Sorry,” Carrie and Bridget apologized, and the game began. Nikki was up first, pulling out “sturdy” for an adjective, and the girls around the circle considered their options briefly before each tossing in a card.

“Still, though,” Carrie continued as Nikki passed judgment, handing the first green card to Keli for her use of ‘Don Quijote,’ “What a coincidence that they’d put all the nerdy girls in one league. Right?”

“I doubt it’s a coincidence,” said Keli, drawing the next adjective (gregarious). “We are to assume they planned the leagues, yes? Then they picked people with compatible personalities. I mean, honestly. They’re called leagues. That was intentional, I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah, I figured that out. Like ‘justice league,’ am I right?” said Nikki.

“I suppose it’s on the basis that when we grow up, we’re less likely to turn villain if we’re okay with working with other people. I mean, especially with the anti-vigilante act. Solo heroes get busted.”

“Yeah. Nowadays, if heroes want to... y'know, be heroes, you have to pretty much go military," remarked Nikki pensively.

"It's better than the alternative though! Vigilantes always just turn into criminals. This way it's easier."

"I wouldn't assume that," said Keli quietly. "I mean, groups-- leagues-- are inherently less mobile than individuals. And villains aren't bound by that. Communications can be intercepted, and then they're gone."

"Wait, but that makes no sense," said Anita. "Wouldn't having more heroes make it easier to catch people? You could spread out and stuff."

"I think we've gotten a bit far off the subject," remarked Nikki, chuckling. "The point is that they're training us by putting us together in leagues, yes?"

"I think so," said Carrie.

"Yeah, and they group us depending on personality compatibility," said Keli. "I wish colleges and things would do that more often."

"It's still surprising that so many of us were so similar," said Bridget. "I didn't know there were that many antisocial female nerds anywhere! No offense."

"Hey! That sounds kinda offensive to me!" retorted Carrie.

"It's only a matter of cause and effect," explained Keli. "We're empowered, which means we avoid close contact with others, right? Even if we're not usually antisocial, I mean, if we have social personalities," she glanced at Bridget when she said this, "we're forced to adopt the air of an outcast. And, I dunno. Maybe liking anime is genetic or something."

"Or perhaps it's all just a coincidence, eh? Your turn, Carrie," Nikki said, drawing an adjective for her (Bizarre).

Erin stayed silent, listening to the girls' conversation. She was too tired to put in her own response; the best she could do was robotically put down a card for every action. She didn't mind being an outsider in this conversation, really; with the beast quiet, she didn't get angry about being walked over, ignored. The less attention they paid her, the less they put themselves at risk. And it was nice that they had similar interests; she had seldom had friends who actually liked what she liked. They just tagged along because they admired her worthless drawings. Actually, come to think of it, she seldom had friends.

"I think that pop art is definitely bizarre," Carrie concluded. "Whose is it?" Erin meekly raised a hand. "Good call! Here you go," she said, tossing Erin the spoils of her victory. "It's your turn to judge."

The sudden shift of attention made her uneasy; the beast whined in her head, still too quiet to hear. She drew an adjective. Ferocious. How coincidental. The other four girls put down a card each, and she looked at her choices. Capitalism, Tarzan, The Middle Ages, Oprah. She picked up the last one.

"What's up with this?" she asked. Carrie started giggling uncontrollably.

"I dunno. I thought it was funny. Plus I just wanted to get rid of the card."

“Um, ok,” she said, pushing it aside. She looked over her choices once more—capitalism, Tarzan, the Middle Ages. None of them seemed at all ferocious, but she tossed the economic system and the time period, since they seemed like further wisecracking, and settled on Tarzan. Keli nodded and sagely took the card for her reward. They played on into the night, and when the stack of nouns was finished, Nikki pulled out a deck of regular cards. Carrie then proceeded to educate everyone about the rules of a card game called Presidents, and they played a few more rounds of that before Anita retired to bed. By ten thirty, Carrie and Bridget had gone to bed as well, and then Nikki and Keli, leaving Erin as the sole remaining person in the common room. The beast was irritable, but it was weary—Erin had been laughing, which hurt it and silenced it.

She was not going to sleep, however. She walked into her room, which was eerily quiet—she was the only person in the red- orange league to have a single room, which was for the better. She didn’t want to risk falling asleep and having the beast take over when there was someone nearby. She locked the door behind her and didn’t turn on the lights—she could see fine, better in fact, in the dark. She reached into her personal duffel bag and pulled out a handheld game system—a Gameboy SP (her parents hadn’t gotten her the latest system). She turned it on and played, disregarding the time—she rarely got this chance, to play unrestricted, with nobody telling her what to do. She relished the freedom.

Her conscience heckled her—a voice in her head that was not alien, but stern, and parental. It told her, in an approximation of her mother’s voice, that she should go to sleep because classes were going to start the next day. She brushed it off, focusing on her game. She always tried to minimize the amount of sleep she got, because although she did need it to rest and recover, the beast also would recover while she slept. It never slept, and if she stayed asleep for too long then it would eventually overpower her.

The school would teach her about the beast, they said. They said that she would be able to work with it, overpower it, rule it. To not live in fear. But that wasn’t what she wanted, or what her parents wanted. She just wanted it to go away, forever. She wanted them to use their science to lock the beast away, either in an unbreakable cage deep within the recesses of her mind or outside, where it could harm no one and control her no more. She was an “empowered,” her abilities a “gift,” they said. That wasn’t true. It might be for those with the lovely powers like being able to make plants grow or heal or fly, but for her it was nothing short of a curse.

Super powered alter egos were a class C power, they told her, but the beast wasn’t just an Empowerment. It was literally a separate mind. She wasn’t just a weirdo empowered kid; she had other problems, problems the psychiatrists saw when the homicidal beast went away. She couldn’t talk to people, she couldn’t understand them. She didn’t want to listen to anyone, least of all herself. She had to face the fact that even if she could be fully cured of the beast’s evil, she would never be perfect, or have friends, or fit in. She closed her eyes, her Gameboy still turned on and lying on her lap, and drifted off into sleep.

The landscape was a blank, uninterrupted white, with a grey horizon. She was standing waist- deep in snow, and she could see flakes being blown everywhere, but could feel no wind. She did not feel any cold through her thick fur. She could see her hot breath rising in clouds as she exhaled. She took a deep breath, the scents telling her more than her carnivore’s eyes ever could. No less than seven hearts were beating nearby. Seven repositories of life like herself, seven lovely… friends…

Suddenly she was standing at the opposite end of the snow field, looking across at the beast, standing there inhaling. She knew what it was thinking, and it knew what she was thinking. She stepped forward, or tried to, but her legs couldn’t push through the snow. She was locked into place. Looking down at herself, she saw that she was wearing the summer uniform, her bare legs and arms exposed to the elements. This time the cold cut through her like a knife, her pale human skin not up to the winter chill. She shrieked, startled,
And sat up. Her sheets had fallen to the floor, and a breeze from the open window was blowing across her legs. Her body was on its side, curled in on itself for warmth. You are awake, remarked the beast, now functioning. A shame, but it will not be long before you sleep again.
Erin did not reply, because she heard a small electronic noise from down beneath the bed. She found her gameboy, which hadn’t been turned off, and she panicked for a second before realizing it was paused and sighing in relief. She saved, turned it off, and attached it to the charger.

She looked back at the bed. She was sleepy, but she wasn’t going to permit herself to go back to sleep while the beast was still talking. So she pulled out her sketchpad and colored pencils and sat down to draw. The red lights on the digital clock told her it was two-thirty in the morning. Sleep dragged at her eyelids, so she furiously rubbed at them, the crust that had built up falling away in little flakes. She put pencil to paper and shaded the background a little harshly, creating a darker mark that contrasted with the rest of the light colors—so, irritated, she had to return to everything she had drawn before and color it slightly darker to match with the new shade.
Eventually, though, her frustration subsided, and she was able to relax into the rhythm of the drawing—color, erase, color, erase. Eventually it was done, and she flipped the page over and started on a new one, this time a butterfly-winged girl seated on a toadstool.

She worked into the night, and by dawn she had finished two more pieces and had resigned herself to snooze for the remainder of the night. She was awoken by the sound of feet shuffling outside her door, and she looked at the clock—seven thirty in the morning. The first class (gym) was at nine, giving her time to go eat breakfast. But I don’t want breakfast, she told herself, denying her stomach’s rumbling. You do not need to eat, rumbled the beast. Return to slumber and I shall sustain us.

“No!” she cried, the first word she had spoken out loud since last night. The beast shrank back, surprised at the sudden noise. She threw off her covers and walked to the bathroom. On the way there she realized she had never changed out of her regular clothes before falling asleep—they were wrinkled around her body, and she had red marks on her arm and chest where the buttons had been pushed into her skin as she slept. No matter, really—she was going to be wearing the uniform, anyway. She brushed her teeth, washing the foul taste from her mouth, and pulled off the multitude of hair ties that kept her hair locked into two long pigtails. She brushed through her hair for the first time in a while, getting the brush wet and forcing it through painfully until all the knots were out. She then retied it, putting the ties in rainbow order again. Beast or no beast, she knew the importance of a first impression, and messy hair would detract from that. All the while she was preparing, the other girls ran to and from their rooms, doing the same. All three of the showers were going as each of the girls prepared for the first day they would meet their teachers and, formally, the red-blue league.

Erin returned to the room and went into the closet. Hanging there were multiple uniforms, all adult small, as well as a jacket and a windbreaker. She took down one of the uniforms. It was almost reminiscent of a Japanese schoolgirl uniform. It was predominantly red, but the short sleeves and skirt were orange, for her league. There was a patch over the left breast that displayed the school’s logo—crossed swords behind a shield with “GA” written on it. Looking through the closet, she noted that there was another option with pants instead of a skirt, but she was rather partial to skirts so she settled on that. Besides, pants were often a hazard should the beast take over—not that she was going to allow it to, but if it did, the shifting bones and growing muscles in her legs often split pants apart at the seams.

She put on the clothes, taking great care to not look at herself in the mirror, for fear that the outfit was unflattering and that she would be subjected to cruel remarks by the beast. They fit her well—the school had asked for her measurements when they invited her.

She stepped outside, where Carrie and Tess hovered, talking. They were both clothed in their uniforms as well—Carrie wore a skirt, while the slight Tess took the pants option. Carrie waved upon seeing Erin.

“Hey, good morning!” she said, smiling cheerfully. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your first day of school?”

She’s trying too hard, Erin thought to herself. She looked at the girl and nodded, almost imperceptibly, without saying anything. She noticed that, strapped to Carrie’s backpack, was a staff just a little bit shorter than Carrie herself.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing. Carrie, confused, looked to either side of herself before realizing what Erin was asking, and she pulled it out from behind her and held it forward.
“You mean this?” she asked, and Erin nodded. “Oh! Well, this is my summoning staff. I can summon by drawing with anything, mostly, but this works best. It’s a… a family heirloom. It helps me focus. Um. C’mon, let’s go to breakfast. I’m starved. Here, Tess,” she addressed her friend. “Can you put it back for me? I don’t wanna bother… thanks,” she said, as the girl took it from her hands and stuck it back underneath the straps on her backpack. The three girls then walked out towards the Social Studies building cafeteria, which was nearest to the gym where their first class would be. The bell tolled again. it was eight o’clock.

They ate without much ado; Carrie and Tess chatted, and Carrie threw some questions towards Erin sometimes. Erin could see that the girl was deliberately trying to include her in the conversation; she replied quietly and shortly, not giving the other girl much to work with. She didn’t enjoy being forced to eat, but she had to in the presence of these two—she knew that if she didn’t eat, they would notice. Then they would think she was a freak, for not liking food. Even if they didn’t think she was a freak already. She realized it was the beast that was influencing her self-deprecating thoughts and screened them out, eating a slice of apple so that the crunching drowned out the voices in her head. They were done in half an hour, or rather long before then, but they remained at the table after their food was done and chatted.

Finally, Carrie (who had become the leader of the small trio and was well aware of it) stood up and announced that they should get to gym early. Erin and Tess gave her wordless assent, and they left the building. The gym building was behind it, right next to a track. The dewy grass dragged at Erin’s shoes, dripping in and getting her feet wet. They quickly located a path and shook their feet out disdainfully, droplets flying from their toes. While they were walking, Carrie seemed fixed on something over by the track—there was somebody running there. Erin squinted her eyes (it being difficult for her to see in the bright morning light) and saw that it was a boy, clothed in the red sports uniform. He was running incredibly fast. Carrie lifted an arm hesitantly, but from that far off Erin doubted that he could see her, whoever he was.

They entered the gym building, following the signs that told them to proceed to their locker rooms. When they got there, Bridget and Keli were already present, and they informed them that Nikki was in the gym already. Erin went to her assigned locker number and pulled out her gym clothes, which looked suspiciously like spandex. There was a short skirt with short legs underneath—a “skort,” she supposed. There was also a red tee-shirt, socks, and a water bottle with the school logo on it. She overheard Tess complaining about how she had to wear a skirt, and Carrie telling her to suck it up. Erin changed with little ado. The clothes were stretchy and very easy to move in, if not the most attractive. The girls changed up, with Anita and Lucy arriving slightly later, and reported to the gym.

It was a wide-open building with a vaulted ceiling. It had all the fixings of a regular high school gymnasium, plus some that you wouldn’t expect. There was a scoreboard hanging on one wall, and basketball hoops at either end, plus some soccer goals pushed off into a corner. There were bars for doing pull-ups, folded-up mats that could be laid out for gymnastics. Erin then realized that the circular panel in the middle which displayed the school’s logo could probably be raised or lowered, to create a platform. There were also deep ruts around the perimeter.

“I dunno, they’re probably for walls,” said Carrie when Erin pointed them out. “I mean, like, in case there’s some game that needs to be closed in, like hockey or something, then they can probably raise them up.” Erin thought about this a little and decided that it was a good enough explanation. She looked up to the ceiling, which had ropes and rope ladders strapped to it. It all seemed fairly normal; everything was polished and looked brand new.

“Uh, hey, guys? I think we’re supposed to head outside actually, seeing as nobody’s here,” pointed out Bridget. Carrie laughed and they headed out one of the doors marked EXIT, which was conveniently propped open. They were outside facing the track, and the sunlight was finally warming up. If Erin squinted, she could see mist rising off the grassy field. It smelled fresh and peaceful. The beast was silent.

They heard voices from the track, and they arrived there to see the entire red- blue league already there. Some, including the boy that Carrie had seemed interested in earlier, were running laps. When they saw the girls, some of them waved.

Reaching the track, they stood and talked and waited for the gym teacher to arrive. He did arrive shortly after, carrying no equipment but a clipboard and a pencil. The running boys slowed down as soon as they saw him, and the sixteen boys and girls gathered around, all quietly enthusiastic.

“Welcome to Gladiator Academy!” he said, his voice sharp. “I will read your name off this clipboard, and you will step forward and demonstrate your powers. Is that clear?” Everybody nodded, but Erin felt sick to her stomach. Would she have to let the beast take over? Do what the man says, it told her. She stayed silent, a frown on her face.

“Tyler Asta, please step forward!” said the gym teacher. A nervous-looking boy with acne and messy brown hair stepped up.

“Um, hey,” he said. “Um, my power is, I can go intangible.” He frowned, trying to concentrate, and then started in surprise when his foot fell through the solid ground. “S- sorry,” he said, and pulled his sneaker out, now caked with damp dirt.

“Good. You may go back in line. Bridget Baker,” he called, and Bridget stepped forward.
“I have super strength,” she said. “Um… hey, you,” she said, pointing to the intangible boy. “C’mere, and stay solid please.” She placed her hands around his waist and lifted. He came up off the ground effortlessly, like he was made of Styrofoam. She waved him around her head a few times before setting him down shaken, but unhurt.

“Good,” he told her, checking her off the list. “You may go back in line. Frederick Cacophon.” The boy that stepped forward this time had curly dark brown hair and glasses; he looked Jewish.

“Um, I’m afraid I can’t show my power here,” he said. He didn’t seem embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“Well, my power is to generate sonic booms, but to do that I need a guitar. Preferably acoustic, since electric guitars don’t actually make that much sound on their own. I could go get one…” he trailed off.

“No, that’s all right. You shall demonstrate your powers at a later date. Next. Anita Checkers?” Anita shuffled forward, eyes down.

“I, um, can fly, b- but… I’d rather not…” she fiddled with her belt, which had an emblem on it that Erin could make out as being a stylized cloud and wings. “N- not out here, at least. I might… drift off and not be able to come down again…”

“Fine,” he said, writing down a note on his clipboard. “That belt you have—is it a power nullifier?”

“No, it’s a gravity distortion mechanism or something,” she said. “I don’t know what it does exactly. But it basically returns my body’s gravity to normal.”

“It has the logo of the Coalition of Peace on it. I wasn’t aware they provided such services to Empowereds in general.”

“Oh, um. I got it from my parents. They… know them, I mean they have connections,” she said, looking slightly uneasy.

“Very well. You can go back in line, and you shall demonstrate your powers to me at a later date. You too, Cacophon,” he told the previous boy, who nodded in assent.

“Vitor Chiaroscuro,” he said, and the Brazilian boy stepped up without saying anything. He held out a hand towards the gym teacher. The shadow he cast on the grass beneath him—a stretched-out man-shape—began to distort, and then rise from the ground, a mass of black and dark brown and green. It made Erin’s head hurt.

“Interesting. Can you explain what your powers do?” asked the teacher.

“I can grab things, and move them,” said Vitor. “And… I think, with enough practice, I could become a shadow as well.”

“We shall see. Step back in line now… Kurt Durham?” This boy had messy, shoulder- length brown hair and wore a grey pimp hat which conflicted with the otherwise formal uniform. Erin found him slightly intimidating.

“Aw, man, do I have to demonstrate my powers?” he groaned. “I can regenerate any injury I receive in seconds, but it still hurts like hell… oh, hey, I could do this though. Look,” he said, and he held out his thumb, on which a sliver of fingernail—about a quarter inch—was visible. Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he bit down with one tooth and tore off the nail, opening up the quick underneath and causing a little blood to well out (which Erin could smell). As soon as it was exposed, though, the nail began growing, until it was indistinguishable from what it looked like ten seconds before.

“All right,” said the gym teacher, checking him off. “I understand your aversion to demonstrating your abilities in this case. Next up is Lucy Fortuna.” The little Chinese girl stepped up shyly, and Erin knew what was coming—the inevitable explanation of how she didn’t know what her powers were, etcetera. She saw the looks of surprise pass briefly over the faces of the teacher and the boys, and then Lucy was asked to please return to her place in line.

“Okay, next. Carlos Haylor.” Carlos was short, white, and bespectacled; he demonstrated his ability to alter his body’s temperature at will. Erin became increasingly uncomfortable as her turn neared. The beast growled expectantly, as if waiting. He had let the others go free without showing their powers, but what if… what about her? What if he forced her to shift? Oh, yes, we shall show him our power. No! She thought, unable to say anything out loud. The hair on her arms began lengthening again, and she had to devote her full attention to keeping the beast repressed. After Carlos came Nikki, who had difficulty locating something metallic before finding the metal clip on his clipboard and lifting it out of the man’s hands for a few seconds before dropping it down again. After her came Tess and Carrie, but Erin was too busy fighting an internal battle to pay any attention to them.

Some boys came next—Tybalt, or Ty as he politely asked to be called, couldn’t demonstrate his abilities because they apparently only manifested when he held a sword in his hand. Kyle Pepper, however, was able to shoot balls of fire from his hands with ease, and got a bit carried away and ended up scorching the grass to either side of him. After Kyle was Austen Silver, who preferred to be called by his last name, who had superspeed and incredibly fast reflexes; he sprinted at the speed of an Olympic runner without much visible effort, and told them with a sizeable helping of ego that, with training, he could probably run far faster than that. Meanwhile, Erin’s fingernails had grown into curved claws, and the white fur had spread to the backs of both hands—the beast was winning.

Now it was just Keli before it was Erin’s turn to go. She watched, almost painfully, as Keli stepped forward and drew a stream of water out from her fingers. The people standing around Erin noticed that she was growling under her breath, and shuffled away. They think you are a freak. They fear us! said the beast triumphantly, its influence spreading up her arms in a new surge of energy.

“Erin Stevens,” said the teacher, his voice seeming to echo despite the fact that they were out in the open. “Erin Stevens? Is she—”

“Here,” Erin gasped, her voice raspy. “No—stop—” Heads turned and those that hadn’t seen her gasped, stepping back with fright. There was one short scream from someone in the crowd, and Erin felt her control slip completely.

Her teeth lengthened and her facial plates and muscles rearranged into a snout. Her eyes opened wide, yellow and slit-pupilled. The space around her grew wider still, as the others backed up, one step at a time. Hair grew to cover her arms and legs. Muscles bulged out of her previously frail frame, causing the previously loose tee- shirt and bra to grow tight on her, digging into her skin and then, with an audible snap, coming off. The same happened with her shoes and socks, as her toes lengthened into talons and ripped through her footwear. The elastic skirt remained, stretched nearly to its breaking point, and the shorts that were underneath it hung down around her legs, burst at the seams. Three-inch-thick fur covered her from head to toe, and as she stretched to her full height, she stood seven feet tall. The beast that had been Erin howled, victorious. As if to indicate the change’s completion, a white furry tail whipped out from under her shirt.

The beast inhaled deeply, bringing in scents that it hadn’t been able to experience firsthand in months. The last time it was free had been March, when the girl had been expelled from her previous school after it had compelled her to attack the teacher. Now, it felt the wind ruffle its fur again, the damp grass between its claws—and the many terrified little bags of flesh that stood around it. It could smell their fear, hear their beating hearts. And it was starved. The girl never nourished herself. It would start with the nearest one, the meaty- looking female. With a roar, it lashed out with a massive, clawed paw—

Something caught it before it could strike its target. Nikki was stunned for a second, looking with confusion at the paw with the fierce, curved talons, before realization that she had nearly been killed kicked in, and she ran. The beast pulled at its paw and roared, furious, trying to figure out what it was that had stopped its attack. A tightly-coiled, flesh-colored rope was wrapped all the way up its arm. The beast’s eyes followed the rope to its source, where the gym teacher stood, still wearing the same stern expression, his arm having stretched to an impossible length. The beast brought back its other paw to strike the nuisance, but in an eyeblink that was restrained as well, pulling the beasts’ arms behind its back like a handcuffed criminal.

The beast, frustrated, thrashed against its bindings and flailed its head, trying to sink its teeth into the arms that bound it. Twist as it might, it couldn’t reach its arms. Some other fleshy appendage—a finger?—whipped out to secure the beast’s mouth as well. Unable to bite or claw, the beast lost its balance and crashed to the ground, still fighting its bonds.

“You,” the teacher called to the speedy boy, his voice as even as it had been before. “Go into the gym. There’s a room just to the left of the door as you come in. Right inside there is a box labeled ‘emergency.’ Grab it, and bring it here. Fast,” he said, the last word the only hint that he was struggling. Silver paused, again unsure, before running back to the gym and returning in less than twenty seconds with said box, which was plastic and full of a number of contraptions.

“I had hoped we wouldn’t have to do this. Open it,” he commanded, and the boy did, revealing several plastic devices that looked like syringes. “Those are—erh—temporary power repressors. Give them to some other kids and stand about fifteen feet away. Press the button when I say. Go!” Silver didn’t pause this time—he grabbed two of the devices, leaving them in the hands of the two nearest classmates (Kurt and Lucy). Meanwhile, the other kids—those that weren’t powerless in the face of the threat—were readying their powers for defense. Carrie stood behind a spirit deer (a doe, but the large creature seemed imposing all the same), Tess’ palms crackled with sparks, and Vitor had brought his shadow out to form a sort of translucent barrier between the beast and the group.

Kurt, Lucy, and Silver spread out around the beast, holding the power repressors awkwardly, still not entirely sure how to use them—they seemed like crude devices, a plastic fluid chamber mounted on a grip with a thumb trigger in the back. The beast managed to open its mouth with a roar of triumph, and the finger that had been restraining it whipped back to the hand it had come from with a snapping noise. More fingers extended but were fought off by the snapping teeth.

“Now!!”

All three kids fired their guns at once. Silver’s went right over the beast’s head, and Kurt’s just barely avoided the beast’s foot, going instead through the crowd to hit Vitor’s shadow-shield, which dissipated immediately as the boy fell to the ground, startled and powerless. But Lucy’s shot was straight and true—the pressurized liquid projectile struck the beast square in the chest, miraculously missing the waving appendages of the teacher.

A few tense seconds passed, where the warm morning seemed to freeze. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see if it would work. Even the beast stopped thrashing for a second, startled by the clear liquid that was dripping down the fur on its chest—and then it let out a noise that seemed genuinely unnatural, not a roar but a shriek, as the fur on its chest seemed to suck back into its body. It collapsed in onto itself, undergoing the whole growth process in reverse, the change starting from the area where it was hit and radiating outward. In less than ten seconds, the last of the white fur had vanished from Erin’s hands, and the girl lay face down in the dewy grass, naked except for her ripped skirt. The whole class, even the gym teacher, stepped towards her hesitantly. Was she out cold?

Only when they got close enough to her did she realize she was crying, at first quietly and then in big, racking sobs that made her whole body convulse. The teacher said nothing to her, and instead unhooked a transceiver from his waist and spoke something into it. Shortly afterwards some paramedics arrived with two stretchers: one for Erin and one for the accidentally power- stripped Vitor.
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Author's note:

Eh. Erin. She needs development, and I need practice writing her. You won't be seeing much more of her, as she's out for most of the day. But I'd like some feedback on her character. How could I improve the beast's speech and better show her split personality? What did I do well?

...Oh, yeah, and this shows the last of the boys, doesn't it? Meet Fred, Tybalt (he gets a better nickname later), and Carlos (who you will most likely never hear from again). Fred likes to play music (he's part of Kurt's hypothetical band; his power was originally Kurt's, actually, but I thought the Instrument of Murder better suited him). Tybalt, I don't even know actually. He's just there. He thinks swords are cool so he probably gets along with Silver. Carlos is short, nerdy, and Tyler Asta's best friend; the two are red-blue's equivalent of Carrie and Tess, now that I think about it. (now there's a crack pairing if I ever saw one! Carlos/Tess!) His powers involve altering the temperature of himself and things around him, which is incredibly lame and I should replace it with something.