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James Garritsen

"So what?"

0 · 504 views · located in The Silhouette Institution

a character in “The Silhouette Institute”, as played by Redred33mer

Description

James Garritsen

Image
Basic Information


Age: 17

Gender: Male

Orientation: Heterosexual

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 201 lbs

Rank: Medial


Powers


The basis of James' powers is that they are psionic; they grow with his mind and are a projection of it. In other words, he is a psychic. With his mind, he can manipulate energy to do a number of the things. Of the things he knows how to do is create pure energy waves, manipulate objects, form fireballs and streaks of lightning. The extent of his powers are a direct relation to the expanse of his mind, which can be scary.

Appearance


James has a sturdy build, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. His defined jawbone and growing beard can often give him the look that he's in his twenties, when he's still only a minor. Seldom does he shave his beard now, but hardly does it grow when it gets fuller. He also waits longer than normal than getting haircuts, as longer hair doesn't seem to really bother him. Usually, he wears cargo pants or baggy shorts and a solid colored, earth-toned t-shirt. However, for more modest occasions, he might wear a polo or button-up shirt.

Personality and Lifestyle


James is rather quiet; he always keeps to himself and only does what he absolutely has to in school, having few if any friends. The extent of his powers and his control of them are hard to measure, so while he is barely passing Power Control, he is failing Power Expansion, as if he doesn't try. What he thinks he is a master at keeping a mystery for others, but the extent of thinking and his intelligence are surely shown whenever he plays chess, one of the few ways he interacts with other people. When people talk about something he'd rather not, he either ignores them, or if it's some criticism of his actions, he sometimes tells them something along the lines of it not being their business. He's also not one known to swear much.

Some other things he does outside of class is venture off into the woods; he's always back for lights out. If he's not off campus or playing chess, there are two other things he'd be doing, playing ultimate frisbee or lifting an excessive amount of weights. Keeping an incredibly fit body, like his powers, he barely applies his strength. When sparring, he'll usually just take the hits until he's beaten or rung out; he has never let people know why he lets himself be beaten. The only time he fights back is when people have powers to cause pain from within himself, for when he is confronted with such powers, those who might be able to sense his power can feel momentous surges of it at startling heights.

Though he goes through a school made to tame "special" abilities, James' powers are rarely displayed. As psionics mainly manipulates energy already there, he uses minimal pushes of energy in class to show he still should be there, sometimes firing off an occasional lightning bolt or fireball. Sometimes, when he's bored, he'll play around with rocks or water until class is over.

One of the struggles he's had with school is the ranking system, though he rarely voices his opinion about it, and when he does, he never supports it with a basis in reality. He just says "think about it, it is." He has a hard time accepting or dealing with people who think they're better because some fancy word is attached to them. Recently, his attitude has become more short-fused. A couple times in the past few months, he used his powers against teachers when they've reprimanded him for playing with floating balls of water or compacting rocks in class. While punishments were severe, there doesn't seem to be a big change in his overall attitude; he's only become somewhat reckless.

Likes:
-Chess
-Frisbee
-Nature
-Guns
-Rock and heavier music

Dislikes:
-Using his powers
-Elitism
-Class
-Most pop (songs/culture)

History


James has never discussed his past with anyone. However, as the school is a government operation, some guidance counsellors and higher staff members are most likely aware of it, though he refuses to discuss it with anyone.

James was born in West Virginia, raised in a primarily conservative manner in the countryside. Farming was the thing to do, and he was home schooled. When he was five years old, he became conscious of his ability, and had no siblings either. His father began trying to help tame the powers of his son, which could be considered out of hand sometimes when he was upset. One such incident when he was eight resulted in the quaking of an entire wheat field, something that took some time to level again and seed.

As he became older, his powers grew but he became more controlling of his emotions. He kept the use of his powers minimal, slowly expanding his horizons as a fighter. Sparring with his father time and time again after he turned ten, it was constantly proven to James that he had much to learn. But the happier days of James' life was cut short when he was 13, and his mother was diagnosed with cancer. His mother would die in a year.

With all parental responsibilities falling on James' father, sparring became more or less a weekend activity. As the community had some shared home schooling activities, James' education was unaffected by the loss, and he got a considerable amount of support from the friends he had. However, it would be one day, during a sparring match, things would turn for the worse again.

Sparring one afternoon with his father in the open plains, James and his father were at a stalemate as two balls of psionic energy collided. His father was only trying to keep his son at bay, to not hurt him too seriously, but James was determined to not lose. Summoning all of his power, with lightning littering the field they were at, James won the battle. And lost his father.

With the disturbance having been noticed throughout the community, the American government did their best in trying to hide the unstable child from the media. It would be then that James would go to a very selective fostering program for those with powers, and end up in France to tame his powers.


The Promise

So begins...

James Garritsen's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Benjamin Cesar Mason Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Scott Kearny Character Portrait: Jon Dunaway Character Portrait: Theodore "Todd" Bronte
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Atheya found herself at one of the few back doors of the Institute that lead outside. This one was generally left unguarded at the night, when darkness fell over the sky. She had providentially found out about this particular exit as a New Blood when she liked to sneak out to the back woods and walk around, in which she still does to this day, and was about to go do. She actually was only a New Blood a short year ago; coming here after one of the teachers found her stirring up trouble in New Orleans. Well, not exactly stirring up trouble, more or less just being careless with her powers and scaring the living day lights out of people. She had changed now of course until coming to this place; she grew to be not as much as a hard ass. Now she was actually rather kind and caring, and could control and know when to hold back her powers. But that’s what the Silhouette Institute does; it helps people with these anomalous powers to let them control it. She had been thankful to them, and not only because of the fact her constant migraines had now become only small headaches. She did, however, still suffer from insomnia. All of this was due to the fact Atheya had the ability to connect her mind with others, she found her mind always was ticking like a clock, and because of herself constantly having to hold back such mind links, which now was a fairly easy thing to do, it rendered her useless when she tried to calm her head down. You could imagine how all her shields would be down in sleep, leading her to literally walk through others dreams. You know, when she did sleep.

But yes, mind linking is her knack. She can create a link between herself and with the minds of others. The metaphor she often uses to paint an image of it is like a signal from one phone, to another. Like an invisible wire connecting the two. With this link, she can do many things, but it hadn’t always been that way. She grew up in Hereford, England up until the age of ten. Both her parents were loving and didn’t give a damn their daughter could hear their thoughts or walk through dreams, no matter how surreal or impossible it seemed. It was simply put that the family was fairly healthy, but that was until the death of the two. They had gone on a trip to New York City for the young girls tenth birthday. She had always begged them to go, she thought it would seem as wonderful as in all the movies. Yeah, she didn’t think that now after what she witnessed. They were walking back to the hotel from dinner, when some guy jumped out at her mother. Her father pushed Atheya back, so she was not seen. She witnessed both her mother and father get mugged, and stabbed. After the man in the black clothing whit the bloody drenched knife left, the young small girl ran crying only to have people rush over and call ambulances. After that, it was all rushed, she was sent back to England, to social services, unknowing of what was to happen to her. Unfortunately, both sides of the family had no close relatives, only holding distant cousins and such. The family didn’t even have any close friends that could take her in, so she was shipped off to London by Child Services and placed into a lonesome and low budget orphanage, being shipped from foster home to foster home only having one family she loved. She didn’t like to think about them any more. It hurt.

But regardless of all that, New York and her birthday was pretty much ruined for her. It sucked that the date of all this was coming up shortly as well.

Pushing open the wooden oak door, she took in the crisp cool air of the night into her lungs, breathing out a long sigh. It was a little cold out to be wearing the outfit she was without a jacket but to be frank, she preferred it like that. The cold didn't bother her. She actually laughed a bit at her own outfit, as it consisted of a white shirt in which she never wore. She found herself to prefer darker clothing, but she guessed tonight was an exception. Maybe she unintentionally balanced herself out from her dark surroundings. Putting on her head phones, she walked on further away from the tall, old historical building in which the institute lied, and made her way into the back woods and down the trail that was made after years and years of people walking along it.

She walked for awhile, in silence listening to her soft music, glad her cellphone hadn't buzzed or anything. It was nice to be by herself at times, and the night time before everyone was asleep was a good time. She often came back when everyone made their way to the dorms, but barley ever slept. A good night, she would get maybe four hours of senseless dreams, sometimes hers, sometimes not.

Brushing away a looming trees ragged branches, it came back to smack her on her arm, creating a small line of red along her pale smooth skin. It had cut her, slightly. Touching it, it felt a bit sore, but a few scrapes was not uncommon when she walked in the wood. Ignoring the small stain of scarlet red that touched her white sleeve, it gave her another reminder of why she wore dark clothes. Finding the small clearing she found herself stopping at most of the times, she sat down on the soft grass, and lied down slightly, the back curve of her neck almost perfectly moulded for the fallen log covered in moss behind her, giving her a small head rest so she still sat up in the slightest. The song Werewolves by Cat Power shuffled on, and the melancholy sound just made the whole scene she was in feel surreal... strange. Dream like. It's one f those moments she wished she had brought her sketch book. But sitting here, in the night, the cool wind brushing her arm like tender strokes, was enough.

"He don't even break the branches where he's gone, once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying, I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying..." She sang quietly under her breath, glancing up at the night sky, stars easily shown as if she where far far away from the institute and all that came with it.

It was a Sunday and classes would start back up tomorrow.

She would need to leave soon.

But not yet.

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Character Portrait: James Garritsen
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As it got later, more and more students returned to their dorms. The hallways by the classrooms became relatively quiet, hardly a stir to be noticed. At the end of a hallway leading to training facilities, only one was lit. There was a line of punching bags hanging from the wall, one swaying heavily.

"Ragh!" James grunted, kicking it away as it came back towards him. In a succession of punches, he kept the bag away, and with each strike it became harder to move with a one hundred twenty pound vest on. He was drenched in sweat, his knuckles red and white as they scraped against the sand-filled bag suspended from the ceiling. There was no sign of him using his more supernatural abilities, only his human strength. His abdomen ached with supporting the added weight of the vest and each toss and turn of his body, as well as his arms from lifting barbells earlier, and now enduring them in the flurry of blows he unleashed on the punching bag.

Taking a deep breath, James kicked the bag away again. He chambered his leg, hitting the bag low with a roundhouse kick, rechambered, and hit it in the midsection. Hitting it with the back of his fist, a small gust of wind went out across the room as a blue field of energy enshrouded his arms. As his fist once again met its target, a beam of blue energy shot out and pushed the bag way even more. Then, it seemed, all of his energy he was using became concentrated in his right leg, and he kicked the top of the punching bag. With a loud cracking sound, it became disjointed with the ceiling, and fell off to his left. But he wasn't finished yet.

Quickly, he spun and kicked out towards the punching bag on his right. Yet again, the same blue energy swung with the kick and extended towards its mark. Flowing with his momentum, he twirled and jumped, kicking out once again and disconnecting a second punching bag from the ceiling. Taking a moment to recover, he took a few heavy breaths, and proceeded to take his vest off, and put away what equipment he could.

There was something gnawing at him, and for the longest time. While he felt remorse for his past, he was beginning to feel unscrupulous amounts of rage. He was forced to lead a life he did not choose, live where he was unfamiliar by someone else's accordance, be talked at by people who had little understanding of him, his interests, and his capabilities, and lastly, coerced to rely on institutions he'd much rather have no affiliation with. But, if it were not this, the alternative might be living the rest of his life out in prison, or perhaps not keeping his life at all.

Holding his hand out, he let a fire burn in his palm before he looked at the time. It was getting later, and he'd rather leave before he was uselessly reprimanded for whatever it may be after being found by staff. He began his way down the hall, turning the light out on his way.

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Character Portrait: James Garritsen
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The alarm clock.

There was a redundant beep as the alarm clock went off. A bit high pitched, loud, annoying. James' eyes opened slightly. Hardly in the summer had he used. Many times in the year before has he slept straight through it. Yawning, he sat up and lazily hit the device, the room going silent. It took him a moment for him to pry his body from the comfortable bed, opening his dresser and picking a green polyester shirt and cargo pants. It was seven thirty, still early enough to grab breakfast at the cafeteria before class. Power Control, they called it.

"So the fresh meat's all in today?" he said to himself, noting that everyone who was going to arrive should already be here for the new year. "Either this year will be okay, or it will be shittier than last."

Dressed, he put his shoes on, ones you might take on a short hike, and proceeded out and through the halls. Coming down to the common area heading to the cafeteria, there was nothing particularly distinctive about him. No one really knew enough to talk about him, nor did anyone have anything to talk to him of. He was able to reach the common area without any difficulty. The sight of an unfamiliar individual crossed his eyes, a gold aura cracking the ground below him as some metal was layered over his arm. It seemed to also have the attention of another person, as he looked on he overheard the name "Valor" as the address of the ability. Simply, he walked on, before being noticed and proceeding to the cafeteria.

After receiving his food, a simple pancake, sausage and carrot assortment, he sat down at a table. Alone, though in the open. Quiet, but surrounded by chatter. Aloof, yet conscious of his surroundings. It was mysterious, perhaps dangerous, perhaps caused by an immature understanding of the world and the people of his generation. The thought of reflection were of the highest intrigue to James, only because there was so much he had yet to figure out. Where was he caught?

Whatever the case, whatever his thoughts were, his face was expressionless as he ate.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Spencer Stone Character Portrait: James Garritsen
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Atheya simply disappeared before Spencer's eyes. One moment she was there and next, she wasn't. Spencer blinked her eyes fast, remembering this was only a dream. For a few moments after that, she remained seated, staring at the place the other girl had been. Was all of that true? Was Atheya just a product of her imagination, or was she really a student at the Institute? Guess there was no way of really knowing, for now, but she really couldn't think of a way she could have come up with that name all by herself. Atheya, Atheya she repeated in her mind as they slowly leaned back and laid herself down on the moist turf. What a peculiar name. A small smile appeared on Spencer's lips as she rested her head and watched the stars above her. They seemed bigger and brighter than in the real world, and the moon was concealed, giving them a special shine and greatness. A soft breeze caressed her whole body, calming her trembling hands and shivering legs, still tense from the scene she had witnessed before. Shutting that first part of the dream out of her mind, she noticed just how much she wished to not wake up from this one dream. To forever lay on this glade, star gazing.

But that safe haven of her's didn't last long. The stars slowly started expanding, their shine almost blinding her with a white blindness, that however didn't hurt her. A sinking feeling invaded her, the sensation that she was in a void as the dream started to fade away and darkness became her new vision. She couldn't move at first, her brain waking up before the rest of her, but as soon as she regain movement her hand hit the light switch. Being in the dark made her feel bad. She then proceeded to curl up in bed, wrapping her arms and legs around the blankets and emitting a high pitched sound. She did this basically every morning before stretching in bed like a cat, it was her way of telling herself "okay, I'm awake". It took awhile for her to remember this was her bed at the Institute and she her alarm clock would probably ring soon, warning her it was time to get up and head to class. With a heavy, long sigh, she sat in bed and clicked the button on her iPod, checking the time on the screen. 6:24. She went on to get up and search her bag for her class schedule and found, examining the smashed paper, that she had almost two hour before class. It wasn't enough to go back to sleep, but going to class immediately was not an option either.

The girl slipped into a pair of sweatpants and pulled her hair back quickly in a messy bun. Taking a seconds look around the room, she also decided to put on the sweat jacket. Even if it was summer, she felt a bit chilly, as she was most of the time, and mornings were always a bit colder. Before leaving she sticked her eyeliner and lip gloss in her pocket. Stepping out of the room, she walked towards the bathroom of the girl's wing. Once inside, she walked up to one of the many sinks. It was a bit sinister to see all of those mirrors alined, with only herself in the center of all of them. Stupid me she thought And stupid classes. I should get at least... 6 more hours of sleep. Yes, wake up for lunch. Beautiful. She sighed once more and washed her face, then looked at herself at the mirror, face still dripping. She looked like a mess. She always failed to remove all her makeup, therefore the slight trace of black eyeliner smudged her bottom eyelid, her lips were pale and cracked and the waves of her tied hair were uneven. Staring at her face like it was someone else's, she smiled, not caring about her looks. She pictured her face in that see of students that were more or just as skilled as her. Fascinating people.

After she had freshened up and applied her everyday makeup, she left the room, returned to her room and dressed herself with a comfortable outfit and black beanie to hide her hair. By then, it was already 6:50. Spencer grabbed her iPod and her earplugs and headed towards the field on the outside. She soon noticed the hallways were not as crowded as the day before, or even that night, which meant most medial and new blood students should be asleep or getting ready now. She envied them, looking at the closed doors as she walked on. She turned on the music and adjusted her steps to the rhythm. Faster, faster the singer screamed in her ears, and so she did. On the outdoors, she took of her jacket and stared at the trees and leaves, remembering the glade from her dream. Now that she thought about it, it would be way to lonely and quiet to be there forever. She preferred it here, with loud music in her ears and the notion that, as she walked by, many sleeping students dreamed in their beds. She sat down and closed her eyes just outside the building, leaning her back against the walls. Minutes passed without her noticing, lost in thought. She would listen to the songs and associate them with her life and the people she had known. Her only indication of time she receive was the sudden growl of her stomach that made her check the timer. 7:28. The cafeteria must be open by now.

Once in the cafeteria, she filled her plate with scrambled eggs and a glass with orange juice. One might find hard to believe that such a small girl could eat so much so early in the morning, but oh she could. Although Spencer didn't really mind food, she was constantly hungry. She then turned and searched for a place to sit. She told herself she had already felt alone enough this morning, so a little company would be nice. Someone she could talk to. She passed a few groups of people sitting at the tables, talking tiredly. Nerds she thought to herself of the first groups. Then snobs, losers, sluts until she found something interesting. A boy sitting on his on, his face, expressionless. He couldn't be more of a blank paper, so Spencer thought perfect. "Yo." she said simply, sitting down without asking. After a few bites of her eggs, she looked at him again. "I didn't see you at that power demonstration thing yesterday. Medial?"

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Character Portrait: Spencer Stone Character Portrait: James Garritsen
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"Yo.

Looking up from his tray, James' eyes came upon a girl dressed a bit lazily made her presence known as she sat. While he didn't mind the company, or her appearance, the word had a particular resonance that dug into him. However, he ignored it, and with a bit of a cheer he said, "Hello there."

"I didn't see you at that power demonstration thing yesterday. Medial?"

"Medial?" he repeated. "Are such small, one word titles in a place so far removed from society that hardly anyone knows about, assigned by people who think they know you better than you do and how to run your life better really that important? Do they hold any weight at all? Am I so different than everyone else? Are you?" he answered, smiling a bit after while still eating.

Was he so far different than everyone else? He appreciated socializing, though it wasn't something he went out of his way to make a priority. The inherent fallacies in the world, made by disagreeable people he could spot so easily, some of which put upon him by those who were arrogant or elitists. Yet, to say he is above that, doesn't that make him elitist? A confusing circle to think about, and another thing James did not have an answer to. After giving her some time to think about that, he looked up and finally answered the initial question she asked.

"No, you did not see me there. I have no incentive to be there; I've showed these people all I want to show them, and have no motive to progress here. Even if I did go just to meet everyone there, I'm going to be stuck here for another few years with all you guys, I got plenty of time."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Spencer Stone Character Portrait: James Garritsen
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ImageFor a moment or two, Spencer stared blankly at the boy in front of her while trying to figure out whether he was joking or seriously over analyzing her question so deeply. As it turned out, as she stated by observing his concentrated expression, he was serious, and that caused a surprise expression to take form in her face. That was not the answer she was expecting, even more from someone who looked like him. "Well aren't you a smart puppy" she giggled a bit, partially because she meant it in partially in a attempt to lighten the mood. "But it does tell me something about you. And me. Whether or not I'll be seeing you in class." She replied quickly before shoving another big portion of eggs in her mouth. She was not one to talk a lot during meals, since she basically fed like the food was about to jump out of her plate and run away at any moment.

As she chewed on her eggs, she discretly glanced at him while processing his short speech. Meeting people, he said, and she laughed in her mind. Well, the demonstration had definetly not helped her getting any friends. At most it had helped her figure out who to not approach, and that was basically every single New Blood who could give a decent power demonstration, since they had all made fun of that lovely girl who could grow plants. Honestly - not that Spencer could speak in any other way - she had quite liked her power. It wasn't meant for destroying, but for creating. Now, that boy, she would want to know what exactly his power was. He definetly looked destructive, but sounded rather... Meh.

"Well, you are getting to know me. I'm Spencer by the way, some call me Spence, some call me Finny, but you can call me whatever you like, I guess. And if it makes you feel better, I didn't get to show anything or know anyone in there, so..." Spencer shrugged and adjusted her beanie. She couldn't say it wasn't uncomfortable to not know anyone around, but oh we'll. most of them didn't quite please her anyway. But then, thinking about cliques and friends, she realized something and, abandoning her eggs, her eyes turning to his face, she frowned and stared. "You really don't look like a Medial, though. Aren't you suppose to be sitting with friends?"

She continued glancing at him, awaiting the answer. It was, of course, a indiscreet question, but she didn't seem to realize it, she never did. Just kept looking and eating her eggs like before. Although Spencer couldn't tell, this was what usually scared people off. Not only the way she would always assume things about them and constantly insist for answers about their personal life but her unawareness of how inappropriate her comments could be. Nevertheless, she found it very hard to understand that, after all, she was being honest. Isn't that what everyone wanted? Isn't that what everybody was always writing in their online profiles ans stuff? "I appreciate honesty", she had lost count of how many times she had heard this sentence. As she remember the people who said that so many times, she stared at him wondering if he would be another one of those.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Spencer Stone Character Portrait: James Garritsen
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Spencer quickly finished her eggs and examined James' face carefully. Eventhough he was complaining, the question didn't really seem to upset him, which she couldn't tell was good or not, so she just crossed her legs under the table and softly pressed the palm of her hand to her chest, a flattered expression appeared in her face, a small open mouthed smile along with a sigh. "You really think I don't look like a boy? Aw, thank you!" she giggled a bit sarcastically. Of course it was just a joke, but well, to Spencer, it was kind of a compliment. Her face and traits, her fragility were very feminine, but there was no denying her body could be confused for a young boys', which did always upset her. It also something she could never understand; from the pictures and the stories her father used to tell, her mother was a rather curvy woman, and most of Spencer's features were inherited from her. Well, bummer she tought and watched as James stood up, carrying his tray.

He was right, she found by checking the watch on her cellphone, which was nestled in the front pocket of her shorts, it was past time to go to class. Power Control 101 she remembered reading this at the wrinkled paper schedule that was not so carefully placed on her desk. Imitating his action, she grabbed her tray with the empty plate and followed him through the cafeteria to place her tray on top of the pile. Then, as he began to walk away and she realized they would be now following different ways, she waited until he was just a few steps away from her and called out his name, still with her eyes fixated on they pile of trays. "James." her voice was a little louder and more serious than before, but then a smile took her lips as she turned her head to look at him above her shoulder "It was my mother's name. Grandpa wanted a boy." She replied simply and, with a final movement of the head, walked away in the opposite direction

As soon as Spencer left the cafeteria, all thoughts of James, her mother, student ranks and names disappeared along with the smell of eggs and pancakes, giving space to her mental map of the school. Spencer had a good sence of direction and could clearly remember where her first class was, so she allowed herself to just move in a slow pace through the halls in which the sun sweetly spilled its beams. The warmth that embrassed those halls made her remove her jacket, tying it around her waist, and then the weather was quite pleasant. A gentle breeze caressed her skin and the humming of birds resting on the roof lulled the morning, putting her mind at ease. Until now, every day, this is what had been encouraging her. Nevermind the unpleasant people, the new rules, the strange classes, this was a truly beautiful place. Eventhough she prefered rainy days to sunny ones, she felt nice while wandering around in this weather right now.

She was so involved in her lightness that the ring of her cellphone made her jump. She sighed, frowing and scolding herself for being so silly as she checked her cellphone. It was an unknown number, so she just silenced the call. She wasn't one to answer her calls, let alone from someone she hadn't bothered adding to her contact list.Nevertheless, what did call her attention was that even after she had ignored the call, she still heard a ring. Following the sound, she looked around the corner, the hallway to her left and, just a few meter ahead from her, she saw another person's back. She couldn't tell what was going on, but he seemed to ignore the ring of his phone, his eyes fixated on one point on the space ahead. There was nothing there, but still he seemed to not be able to deviate his gaze. She slowly walked around him, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression and ended up hearing his question. He didn't seem to be asking her, so she tried - vainly - to see who he was talking to. Who are you, freaky kid? she thought to herself.


Who are you...?


And suddenly it was like he had just been awaken from trance. Just as she had done a moment ago, he checked the caller ID but actually answered. Spencer scratched her head a bit timidly; he could now see her and she knew it would look like she was beeing sneaky and spying on him or something, so she quietly moved her mouth to say "Sorry" hoping he wouldn't feel uncomfortable.