Gryphon Heart

Alex 1: I’m Attacked by a Fire Breathing Dog



         Have you ever seen something out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked directly at it, there was nothing there? Or have you sworn you saw something, but it just wasn’t around when you looked closer? I’m kind of like that, but… different. I didn’t know much about it until I was thirteen, however.

         I was odd. My mother called it “overactive-imagination”. Other kids called it “weird”. I’d always called it awesome.

         Ever since I was little I was able to see things like that out of the corner of my eye. But when I looked directly at it, it was still there, clear as glass cleaned with Windex. I could see, feel, hear, and smell these weird creatures other people couldn’t see. I recognized some from mythology, from all kinds of cultures, and others were just downright strange. Most of the time they would hide from me though – I’d hardly ever see them outright. See, sometimes they’d come across a clearing or run across the street or stop in front of me for awhile, but it’s not like they came up to me begging for treats or anything.

         I learned not to ask questions early on. I mean, when I was five it was acceptable when I would point out that there was something in the apple-orchard bushes that none of the other preschoolers could see. But when you notice a strange creature that had two longer legs on one side of its body and two shorter ones on the other side so that it could easily walk in one direction around a hill – in fifth grade – it gets you laughed at.

         Not only did I, you know, have unnatural abilities, but I also wasn’t that normal in appearances, either. I mean, my slim, lanky build and dusty brown hair were average enough, but I had these unnatural orangey gold, yellowish eyes. They had been green once, but around the time I turned thirteen they had started to fade into yellow. These aren’t exactly the characteristics that make you popular, especially not in a school full of kids that are as bloodthirsty as ravenous wolves.

         I mean these school kids can be nasty. I could give you any one of my school days as an example. Once, in fifth grade, there was this really mean kid in my class. He wouldn’t quit knocking my books off my desk or pulling my chair out from under me. So, one day, I snapped. He’d pulled my chair away as I was sitting and I fell on the floor, hitting my head on the desk behind me as well. I’m not really sure what I did, I just sort of flicked my wrist and around thirty pencils rose up off of the desks, floating in the air, and rocketed at the kid like miniature spears. He ran away so fast it would’ve made a cheetah jealous.

         Yeah, this sounds strange and out of the ordinary, I know. But with me, it’s the norm.

Like another time, in sixth grade, I hadn’t been prepared for a tough English test. I was so nervous I began to sweat. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was just racking my brains, searching my mind for any answer, and what I came up with was weird.

         Answers started flowing into my mind. The thing was, I realized they weren’t really my answers. They were coming to me in the voice of this “brainiac” blonde girl who sat in front of me. Somehow, I’d gotten into her mind and was hearing her thoughts. I guess reading another kid’s mind counts as cheating, but who cares? I got an A. Besides, it’s not like I wasn’t doing anything. It doesn’t count as much work if a kid just looks over someone else’s shoulder and reads their paper. At least I went to the trouble of reading someone’s mind instead.

         There were other times at home when I’d have these experiences. Once I’d seen something that looked like a tree – a short, droopy willow, was crying. I’d gone up to it, shakily touching my hand against the rough bark. It spun, and as it did shaped into a girl. I blinked, unbelieving, to see that the tree was absolutely gone. The girl, of course, had run away. I’ll never look at a tree the same way again. 

         I had never been quite sure what this was. I started to unravel the mystery during the summer of seventh grade.

I was out in the woods behind our house, just running through and enjoying myself. I loved that scent of trees and dirt and growing things and that forest color that you just can’t get in the city.

It reminded me of the fun times I’d had when I was littler.  I could remember being in the woods then and playing with all sorts of things.  When I was smaller I’d come here to be myself.  Even as I got older I continued to come here to escape the horrors of middle school and all of the teasing and ravenous wolves’ comments toward me.  The woods was my sanctuary. Sure my house was perfectly as good as among the trees, but the outdoors just gave me a feeling that I didn’t have when I was in my house. There I felt connected to my ‘powers’, or whatever they were. My mom simply thought I had a huge imagination, or at least she said that every chance that she got. In this woods I felt like I connected with my 'powers' to other creatures who have some kind of 'power.'

         I sat down on the opposite side of a small stream that flowed through the wood and I fingered the moist clay by the edge of the water. I loved this spot because I occasionally saw those creatures no one else could see around there. Today seemed still and silent, however, and I enjoyed the peaceful calm. I usually sat a little farther down stream from here, but this spot seemed even better.

         The sunlight trickled through the leaves and an early autumn breeze blew them off the branches, twirling down in a flurry of red, orange, and brown. The quiet chirping of crickets and patches of blue sky above relaxed me, and I closed my eyes. They flew wide open again in an instant. I’d heard a twig snap behind me.

         I spun around and stood, heart racing with excitement and fear. Who is it? What is it?

         “Who’s there?” I yelled into the trees, glancing around wildly. My heart pumped fiercely against my chest. I strained my ears into the silence.

         Nothing.

         I allowed myself to relax my shoulders and, realizing I had been holding my breath, exhaled. I turned to step away.

         It hit me with all the force of an atomic bomb. I was knocked ten feet to the left by something that had leapt at me from the bushes. My side stung and I was having trouble catching my breath.

         I didn’t have time to rejuvenate before the creature leapt back on top of me, digging its thick black claws into my shirt. I tried to yell, but somehow couldn’t. It snarled and swiped its huge black paws at me, snapping its gleaming white teeth, its red eyes glowing.

I desperately scratched and clawed to get away from the beast that had pinned me to the ground.  As I wiggled and punched and kicked the dog I never seemed to harm it the slightest bit. It was as if my defensive attack was as useful as attacking open air.

         I managed to struggle away from the beast long enough to see that it was a little bigger than a mastiff and was shaped like a large, shaggy, black dog. Its red eyes gleamed fiercely as it snarled. Fear pulsed through me and I was rooted to the spot.

         Fire sprouted up around the creature and reflected in its eyes, and I could feel the heat of the flames singeing my clothes, though the fire didn’t catch to the plants. It lunged toward me again. I regained my ability to move and sprinted in the opposite direction. I yowled as I tripped, idiotically enough, over a gnarled tree-root and fell on my face in the earthy leaves. I writhed in the mud and dirt before spinning around so I was laying on my back in the leaves, looking up at the ferocious beast as it lunged toward me, about to land on top of me, its jaws parted, eyes gleaming, foam dripping from its mouth. I recoiled at the smell of rotten meat. I anticipated the sharp, pointed teeth to close around my throat. Let this be quick, at least.

         I waited in fear, but when minutes passed and nothing happened, I opened my eyes. I had expected to be sitting on a cloud in Heaven or something, but instead I was laying in the leaf-litter on the forest floor.

         I scrambled to my feet and glanced around warily. The dark dog was gone, nowhere to be seen. It had vanished.

         I ran as fast as I could to get home. What was that?! Why’d it attack me? I need to get home… now!

When I arrived in front of my house’s back door my heart fluttered with relief. I flung open the screen door and then the second door before scurrying inside and slamming them both shut behind me. I turned, chest heaving, to see my mother standing in front of me. Her mouth was gaping wide and her expression was anxious.

         “What?” I asked. Then I froze. I had just been practically shredded to pieces by a giant fiery dog. I probably didn’t look too good. I glanced down to see that my clothes were in tatters and singed, shredded and burned by some creature my mother would never know exists.

         “What! What did you do to your clothes?” she raged, throwing her hands up in the air, “And you’re all dirty! Look at your face. Mud, dirt, and scratches… and you have leaves in your hair. What were you doing?” She was trying to act like she was mad, but she looked more worried than anything.

         Oh, nothing much. I was almost eaten by some monster dog with blazing red eyes and a frothing mouth. Oh, and did I mention that it could manipulate fire?

         “I was just, you know, messing around.”

         I hated lying to her, especially since she did so much for me as a single mom and all, but it was actually better for her than the truth. That didn’t stop my stomach from doing a guilty flip when she gave me the most concerned, unbelieving look ever.

         “Alex, I’d like to believe you, but you’d have to have encountered something as bad as an angry herd of elephants to end up looking like that.” She hesitated, “Or you could’ve gotten caught in a paper shredder. I don’t know which would come closer to what I’m seeing right now.”

         I decided to help, “I think it’d have to be the paper shredder.”

         She gave me a sarcastic smile, “I agree.”

         “So… should I go upstairs and get cleaned up?”

         “I don’t know. Getting attacked by a paper shredder must’ve been horrifying. I’d like to hear the whole story.”

         “It was so terrible that I’d rather not speak of it.”

         “No, I insist.”

         She led me to the living room and forced me to sit down on the couch. She sat on the chair opposite and stared at me patiently.

         “Go on.”

         My mind was whirring as I frantically tried to piece together a story, but came up blank. All I kept fishing out of my tired brain was an image of those piercing red eyes and gleaming fangs.

         “I… tripped. I’d gone back father then the stream like you’d told me not to, and fell off of a little dirt cliff and rolled down. I landed on some rocks and got scratched up.” I paused for a breath, surprised at my almost coherent story, “Sorry I went so far out.”

         Mom looked almost relieved, “So that’s why you didn’t want to tell me. Well, now you know why I’d said not to go farther than the stream.”

         I swallowed my guilt, “Yeah.”



Bennet 1:

Number One - My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear Plexiglas visors, not face-concealing ones.



         Internet resources have always been my favorite; anything that anyone could ever want to know is right there, just waiting to be found. During one of my more productive searches I came upon a wonderful wiki site called www.tvtropes.org. That’s also how I found something called The Evil Overlord List. And something deliciously horrible happened that day.

         I became genre savvy.

         Even though this Evil Overlord List took things to the extreme, I began to realize that it could relate to me. My plans sounded a lot like those in non-seer novels and stories, and even a bit like the plots of many men in our own seer history. I decided that these rules, these warnings for “evil overlords”, could be very, very useful. These could make me unstoppable. So I used them.

          My printer took several minutes to finally print the entire list, and I snatched it up as soon as it was done. I quickly punched holes along the edge of the papers and found a nice, deep green binder. I slid the list into the three-ringed binder and smiled as I clicked the rings closed. Now this was going to be useful to me.

         The first rule seemed straightforward enough, so I put the binder down and walked over toward the phone on my desk and dialed the number of my good friend and second-in-command, Natalie Rivera. She had always been very helpful in my plans thus far, and I had placed her in command of pretty much everything. She answered on the second ring.

         “Hello?”

I sighed, “Hey, Nat, it’s Cael Bennet.”

Her voice sounded more relaxed, “Hey, Bennet, what’s up? Having trouble with something?”

         I started to pace the apartment room, one hand holding the phone and the other in my pocket, the way I always paced when I was talking on the phone. “No, no trouble. I just wanted to go over uniform.”

         There was a chuckle, “Uh, did you say uniform?”

         “Yes,” I said, noticing a bit of embarrassment creeping into my voice. “I just wanted to make sure that our legions aren’t faceless, you know what I mean?”

         “I’m not following.”

         I tried to explain, “Well, whenever Green or Greyson or whomever else faces us and they can’t see our warriors’ facial expressions, they won’t feel bad about killing a feeling, thinking human being. But if we simply give them non-face-concealing helmets with Plexiglas visors, their eyes will be visible and–”

         “Oh, oh, I get you. Alright, then, Plexiglas visors.” There was a pause and I could here a faint scribble as if Natalie were writing something down on the other end. “You’ve been working yourself up about this, haven’t you? What, are you having second thoughts?”

         “No!” I insisted, trying to sound as heartfelt as possible, “I’m ready for this, I know I am. Our community is ready for this; we need this to advance. I’m just trying to make sure that everything works out perfectly according to plan… can’t let anything go wrong.”

         “I understand,” she said. “Well, I’ll send in an order for the helmets right away. Should I have them sized for each Tamer?”

         “I would appreciate that very much, Nat.”

         “I’ll see you later, then.”

         I hung up the phone and glanced about my apartment. It was funny to think that I wouldn’t be living there much longer. First of all I would be moving into my new quarters at the boarding school called Farther Sights. The school year was about to start again and, as the new headmaster, I would be expected to live on campus there from then on. That was how it worked at Farther Sights; of course, that was mainly because we catered to seers, like myself.

         Father Sights had what they called A classes and B classes. The A class was for ordinary children who came during a seven hour school day every Monday through Friday for one hundred eighty days. The B class was for the… um, “unordinary” kids. They stayed all year ‘round. Farther Sights was meant for those of the seers without parents or guardians. There happened to be many of those thanks to their… “abnormalities”.

         Soon the school year would start again and my plans would be set into action. My wonderful beasts would be raised… Ah, I could feel the power already. What I really wanted to do was meet the B class students. They would be the most important people in my plans..

         The other headmasters were important, too. I already knew Natalie; she was a headmistress over in Europe. Then there was Green, a headmistress in the United States. Oh, how I loathed her. I hated her, but not because she was a horrible opponent. She was strong, smart, and got along with me quite well… I don’t know, I just never really agreed with her on the important things.

         Like the plans.

         I decided that this would be a good time to start packing. I walked over to my closet and took out a suitcase, laying it on my bed and filling it with clothing.

         “Rusty, come.”

         A dark, slithering beast slipped out of the shadows and slinked over toward me. I pet it gently. With Nat, Rusty, the school, and the internet, I could not fail.

         The phone rang, so I went to answer it. It was Nat.

         “Hey, Bennet, I’m sending Sunny to your apartment as a model for one of those helmets that you requested.”

         I moaned, “Aw, why Sunny?”

         “Because your niece really wanted to work for you! You should be grateful that your sister’s kids look up to you.”

         Grateful? That Sunshine AKA Sunny and her little sister Alice were obsessed with me and my plans? Ugh, whenever they visited it was all “Uncle Bennet this” and “Uncle Bennet that”. I swear, if Nat had actually let eleven-year-old Sunny do anything but model these helmets that Nat had somehow received in less than ten minutes, than I would strangle them both.

         “Sunny’s not going to be in the actual legion, is she?”

         Nat laughed, to my relief. “Of course not, Bennet. She’s eleven!”

         I sighed, “Well, that’s a relief, ‘cause–”

         “That’s why I’ve set her up as your personal assistant instead.”

         Oh no. No! “What were you thinking? Seriously? You put my obnoxious little niece as my assistant?”

         “Uh, yes. You’d better get used to it.”

         “But–”

         “Goodbye, Bennet. Sunny should be there in a couple of minutes.”

         “But–”

         I scowled. She had hung up.

         Some second in command she was.

         And then the doorbell rang.



Alex 2: I Meet Autumn



         In three more days, I was ready for school. I was starting at a new place – Whittington Academy. They accepted kids for eighth grade through high school. I had grabbed my new backpack and was ready to head outside to wait for the bus. I had my hand on the doorknob when Mom grabbed my arm gently from behind.

         “Alex,” she spoke so faintly I could barely hear, “you’re going to be really, really shocked when you get there. I–”

         “Don’t worry, Mom,” I brushed her away. “I’ll be fine.”

         No, Alex, that’s not what I mean.”

         “Don’t worry.”

         She looked at me nervously before backing off reluctantly, “I’ll let you find out on your own. Don’t be alarmed, though, okay?”

         I slipped out the door, laughing a little about how much Mom still worried about me going to a new school.

I sat on the front porch steps, crouching with my hands around my knees. I was wearing something simple – a white, long-sleeved, tan striped shirt and a jacket with jeans and tennishoes. My backpack was slung over my shoulder and my cat, Cinder, was sitting idly near-by.

         The morning was cool and crisp with an early, brisk fall nip in the air, even though it wasn’t officially autumn yet. That was typical of Evansville. The weather was always different each year, so there’s never really a ‘normal’. In most instances, horrific disasters plagued our poor southern Indiana city. We’ve had fires, earthquakes, floods, ice storms, hail, tornados, and even fog so thick they cancelled school. We’ve had everything besides hurricanes, tsunamis, and alien abductions.

         I plucked my shoestrings as I waited. Soon I heard the screeching of wheels and a bright yellow school bus pulled up, reading Whittington Academy: 62 on the side.

         I stood, adjusting my backpack. I walked across the pavement, glancing back to where my mom stood in the doorway.

         “Bye!” she waved.

         “Bye!” I yelled back with a wave. I turned, clambering onto the bus.

         The bus driver was an old lady with short gray hair and a mean look on her face.

         “Sit at the seat that says your name above it,” she had a rough sort of voice, like she didn’t really want to be talking to me, and I huffed.

         The bus was one of ordinary school buses with the uncomfortable red leather seats and sliding windows that didn’t let in much light. I walked and walked and walked, finally reaching the very back of the bus. To the right were two seats beside each other, one tag reading Alexander Gryphon and the other reading Autumn Foster. I shoved my backpack all the way to the window and sat down, trying to make myself comfortable.

         I learned two things real fast. Number one: never sit in the very back. You take the bumps in the road the hardest and all of the creepy kids sit back there. Too bad I didn’t have a choice. Number two: the bus driver of Whittington Academy: 62 was the nastiest person on Earth. The rules were: no gum, no candy, no food or drink in general, no moving to another seat, no leaning on the seat in front of you, no talking above a whisper, all personal belongings must be kept inside a bag; this includes books, cellphones, and ipods, you must keep your back straight against the back of your seat, no hands, feet, or knees in the isle, and no putting your hands, head, or anything out the windows. Then the lady would yell at random kids every few minutes for no real reason.

         I tried to keep a low profile, staring out the window so that the bus driver wouldn’t take notice in me. Everything was pretty quiet for a while. The seat was uncomfortable, but I kept myself busy by counting the cars we passed, then lowering my sights to counting red cars only once we got onto busier roads. The bus steadily gained more and more kids. After a bit I peeled my gaze off of the window and observed the others.

         This special Whittington bus had only five rows of chairs with room for two people on each on either side of the isle. Up front to the far left sat a girl with long brown hair and a blonde boy, and a pale blonde girl and redheaded boy on the other side of the isle. In the second row was a dark, Hispanic boy, a curly dark haired girl, an Asian girl, and a freckle faced boy who kept turning around occasionally, getting himself yelled at. In the third row was a lone girl around sixteen, and across the isle sat what seemed to be a fourteen-year-old boy and seventeen-year-old girl. The entire fourth row was empty save a tan skinned and light haired girl against the far right window, and the fifth row was just a blonde boy who sat across the isle from me and myself. The nametags above him read Veronica Reed and Samuel Webb, so I guessed he was Samuel.

         A couple of hours must have passed before we picked anyone up again. The bus stopped in front of an old brick building and a girl, weighted down by her backpack, hurried onto the bus.

         She had feathery red hair to her mid-back with a sweep of bangs that she had to keep shaking away from her face. Her eyes were a bright yellow, which startled me. I realized that she was the only other person I’d ever seen with yellow eyes. Then I noticed several others on the bus shared that odd eye color.

         “Where do I sit?” she puffed.

         “In the back to the left.”

         “In the very back?”

         “Yes.”

         “Are you sure?”

         “Yes.”

         “I can’t.”

         “Why not? That’s the assigned seat I’ve given you, and you’re sitting there.” The bus driver was glaring threateningly.

         “I get car sick so easily that I’ve thrown up from riding in the back of a van. I need to be up front if you don’t want toast and jelly barfed up all over the nice leather chairs.” The girl was rolling her eyes.

         “Go. Sit. In. Your. Seat.” The words were separated menacingly and the girl grudgingly stomped down the isle. She stopped next to me, and sat down beside me.

         “You must be Alexander Gryphon, like the tag says,” she remarked hollowly, “I’m Autumn.”

         “Just call me Alex,” I provided. The bus started up again and lurched forward. Autumn groaned.

         “Do you know much about the school?” she asked. She looked around thirteen, same as me, so she was probably just starting out here, too.

         “No, not really. I only know what the information booklet said about the building and staff.”

         “Oh,” she faced me, “that doesn’t tell you very much about the classes you’re going into.” I thought about this a minute, then shrugged. Autumn turned to face forward again. She was already wearing a yellow jacket that read Whittington Academy. I thought, where did she get that?

         “My older sister, Harper’s, hand-me-down.” She gestured to the jacket.

         “How–” I was going to ask how on Earth she had known I was wondering about the jacket, but I decided against it. Besides, I had the weirdest feeling that I would find out soon enough.

         She was starting to get really pale, and I scooted closer to the window, “So… what are you listening to?” Apparently Autumn hadn’t gotten the memo that ipods had to be put away – either that or she was trying to get back at the bus driver for making her sit back here – and she was listening to a gray and white I-pod.

         “Breaking Benjamin, Flyleaf, and Paramore – mainly Paramore.”

         “What song are you listening to right now?” I wanted to try to keep her mind off of being in the back seat of the bus. Maybe she wouldn’t barf all over me then.

         “Brighter, by Paramore.”

         “I’ve never heard it.”

         She started to sing, but softly enough so that I was the only one who could hear it; “I'd still wave goodbye, watching you shine bright. Now I think…” she paused, “…hey, I think we’re here.”



Bennet 2:

Number Forty-Four - I will only employ bounty hunters who work for money. Those who work for the pleasure of the hunt tend to do dumb things like even the odds to give the other guy a sporting chance.



         “Sunny, no! Stop it! You’d better not be messing with anything in those vials and tubes on the shelves!” I flinched when a loud, shattering crash resounded from in the living room. I quickly wiped my face with a towel and left the bathroom, stomping outside furiously.

         There Sunny stood, hands outstretched and a shattered potion bottle at her feet.

         “I’m sorry, Uncle Bennet, but it slipped. It looked really neat–”

         “Oh, it was neat, alright!” I raged bending down beside her to help her clean up the broken glass. A sulforus smell was clouding the air and the potion had left a dark, stinky stain in the carpet. “That was important! Do you know how hard it is to find good geese from the Barnacle Tree and drops of poison from Bohun Upas? It’s going to take so long to get more! That was a perfectly good concoction that you just ruined!”

         “I’m sorry, Uncle,” she wimpered as she bent over to help lift the broken glass. She looked flustered as she leaned over, strands of her blonde hair falling out from under her crooked helmet with a Plexiglas visor. I never understood why she insisted to wear it everywhere. I mean, it was a clever uniform that I had come up with myself, but come on.

         “Just be more careful next time – and stop picking up that glass! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

         She dropped the glass hastily and backed away. “S-sorry.”

         I muttered, “You should be. Now go do some paperwork for me, or something.”

         She left and I relaxed a bit. Then the phone rang again and I groaned. I threw the glass away and attempted to cover my nose against the smell and answer the phone at the same tme.

         “Hello?”

         It was Nat. “Hey, your voice sounds funny. What’s the matter?”

         “I’m covering my nose.”

         She snickered, “Why?”

         “Don’t ask. It involves Sunny.”

         “Oh, that explains everything. Anyway, I called to ask about the map.”

         Ah yes, the holographic map… It was so heavily guarded that it would take quite a bit of work to retrieve. I hadn’t quite thought that part through yet. Maybe Nat had some ideas?

         “Do you have any ideas?” I asked, hopefully.

         “Actually, yes. I was calling for your permission to hire a bounty hunter.”

         A bounty hunter? Surely a common, everyday lowlife like that wouldn’t be able to retrieve it. “You’re serious?”

         “Serious as an African Kongamato once you’ve looked into its eyes.”

         I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Nat to invent the lamest phrases ever. “Yeah, whatever. How are you going to find someone with the bravery – or more likely the insanity – to do something like that?”

         “I already have.”

         This was a surprise to me. “Who?”

         “He’s a smart, tough guy who is well known in the black markets of the seer world. He’s said to be the best of the best.”

         “One moment please, Nat.” I rushed to grab my green binder and flipped through the pages of The Evil Overlord List. Ah, there was something useful: number forty-four. “Does this guy only work for money, or for the sport of hunting?”

         Nat replied, “I don’t know for sure, but he’s asking for a pretty hefty price.”

         “Let me ask him myself. What’s this guy’s name again?”

         “Drystan. Drystan Lyons.”



Alex 3: I Find Out What I Am



         The bus was pulling into a large, round drive way where several other buses were parking and unloading kids. A white stone fountain was in the center of the drive way, and a large brick building was right in front.

         “I think so.”

         The bus driver opened the doors and we all stood, pushing and shoving to shoulder our backpacks and get out. Autumn grabbed her things and turned. Then, hesitating, she turned back to face me, letting Samuel and Veronica shove past her.

         “Do you need any help?” she paused, “You know, this being your first year too and all. I know what’s going on here, thanks to Harper.”

         I nodded gratefully and she flung her backpack over her shoulder and started to walk away. I followed.

         “So where did you go before?”

         “Uh,” I hesitated, “a lot of places.”

         “That’s what I thought. I had, too, before coming here. I’m sure you’ll fit in perfectly.”

         I nodded hopefully and she turned, walking out the bus and onto the pavement in front of the school building. A man with fiery red hair was standing up beside the doors, ushering kids inside the doors, and shouting, “Everyone to the right and into the gymnasium!”

         I stepped up through the doors, following Autumn inside and started to go to the right, but she grabbed my arm and took me aside to the left, through two glass doors, and into a room with thick blue carpet and white walls.

“They’re going to call you in here, anyway. They already know.”

“Know?” I asked, confused, “Know what?” She didn’t reply.

         I glanced around, watching as kids filed in. There were about fifty or so of us.

In the front of the room was a wooden desk. Kids were laying their things down and sitting on their backpacks, so Autumn and I did the same, sighing with relief. It’d been a long bus ride just to get here. Color was returning to Autumn’s face, which was great. At least she wouldn’t vomit all over me.

         She sat back on her backpack, “I guess this is where we’ll be going for the next five years.”

“I guess so.”

“Are you nervous?” she looked down at her feet, “I mean, about the new… curriculum. It’s not like you have any experience.”

I sat up indignantly, “Hey, my grades aren’t that bad.”

She laughed, “That’s not what I mean.” She glanced up to the door, “You’ll find out soon enough. Here comes Principal Green.”

         I gasped. Miss Green, my dark haired, amber-eyed substitute literature teacher for the last month of seventh grade, was stepping behind the desk and sitting down. Miss Green’s not only a substitute teacher in Evansville, but also Principal Green of Whittington Academy?

         “Principal Green scouts out potential students from other schools during the last month of every school year. This year she must have gone to your school. There are a lot of kitsune scouts.” Once again, Autumn somehow answered my questions without me ever asking them. And what was a kitsune?

         “Good morning students,” Principal Green beamed, “it’s good to meet all of you. My name is Principal Green, and most of you probably know what you’re doing here. Others of you most likely do not,” she paused, stepping out from behind the desk. “You’re all seers, children who were born with their entire minds unlocked. Most people only use ten percent of their brain, while all of us – seers, the community within the community – use one-hundred percent.”

         A couple of kids were exchanging quizzical glances, and I wasn’t exactly registering what she was saying. I glanced questioningly at Autumn, who seemed distracted. She must have heard this before.

         “This gives you unnatural abilities. For some, you can generate force fields, read others thoughts and memories and create barriers to conceal your own, and lift objects, all with your thoughts. This is only a small part of being a seer, however,” she stepped closer to us, looking excited. “Where do you think that – what you may refer to as ‘mythical’ – creatures came from?”

         A chunky brunette girl spoke up, “Greeks and Romans, right?”

         “Some,” Principal Green nodded, “but they weren’t made up fairy-tales. The ancient seers only recorded their presence down for all to see. Non-seers regarded them as myths, but I’m sure all of you have seen them – odd creatures that you can’t really explain. Most ordinary people catch glimpses of these creatures through the corners of their eyes, but you can see them straight on. These creatures can cloak their presence entirely from the unopened eye, but as seers, all of us can witness them first hand.”

         I thought back to the creature in the forest, and to how Autumn had been reading my mind. This explained a lot of things, but I still couldn’t quite believe it. My head was spinning with the new information.

         “Some of these creatures are friendly but most, unfortunately, are not. That’s why young seers are expected to come here to be trained to protect themselves and contribute to seer society while simultaneously blending in with non-seer society. Did you notice that you all have orange or yellow eyes? When you turn thirteen your eyes begin to make a color change, signaling your maturity as a seer. Your powers are at that time adaptable and creatures will begin to notice you. This means that life can be dangerous for you. That’s why you come here.”

         Everyone was silent. I expected someone to protest, someone to challenge the truth of this, but I suppose everyone had had some kind of encounter like I’d had.

         “Now,” Principal Green beamed, “for the fun part. Every young seer receives a guardian, a young creature that grows beside him or her and will serve as his or her protector and companion. Each school has four guardian possibilities. We, Whittington Academy, provide a wider array of mythical types than most schools. The possibilities are,” she paused as a door to her left opened and four people walked in, an old woman, a younger lady, a tall dark-haired man, and a light haired man, each carrying a different odd creature. Most everyone gasped, “a gryphon, phoenix, hippocampus, or pegasus.”

         The old woman was holding a creature no bigger than a Labrador puppy that was a golden color with a lion body, tail, legs, and paws with an eagle’s beak and large wings sprouting from between its shoulder blades and horse-like ears laying back on its head. That was the gryphon.

         The young woman had a large, fiery red bird perched on her arm with a yellow, violet, and scarlet tail. It had large black eyes and a knowing expression. That was the phoenix.

         The dark haired man had an apparently full-grown creature at his feet. It was aqua blue with the front half of a horse and the back half of a fish. Instead of hooves it had large, rubbery flippers on its two front legs. Around it was a seemingly magical one-inch layer of water. That was the hippocampus.

         The light haired man was followed by a large brown horse with a dark mane that looked almost normal, with sleek fur and hard muscles, except for the fact that it had two large, dark, feathery wings sprouting from its back. That was the pegasus.

         I gaped in surprise. Sure I’d seen creatures before, but not like this. They’d always been elusive, wild. Not up close like this. Unless you counted the fire-dog-thing, of course – that was a pretty close encounter.

         “These are the guardian choices,” Principal Green gestured toward the creatures. “Allow me to introduce you to Lila and June, two of my fellow kitsune, and Mr. Graham and Mr. Freeman, the Greek and mathematics teachers. The teachers are accompanied by their own guardians, while kitsune do not have guardians of their own.”

         A short girl spoke, “What is a kitsune?”

         “We kitsune are mythical creatures in and of ourselves. See, creatures can appear to whomever they want voluntarily, including non-seers. We kitsune are many tailed foxes that morph into human female forms and make our presence known to all. We actually live quite ordinary lives in seer, non-seer, and creature societies.”

         A boy in the front asked, “When do we choose our guardian?”

         “Well, you don’t exactly ‘choose’,” she mused, “you’re assigned according to the answers you give on,” she turned and lifted a stack of papers from her desk, “this test.” She began to walk among us, handing out one crisp piece of paper to each of us, each a test determining our guardian.