1.

“Well, here we go,” I said quietly to myself. I took a big breath and stepped out of the car. I gave a tentative wave to Aunt Syl and watched her drive away. She waved back enthusiastically. I felt anything but encouraged.

I had to go to school right? I didn't have a choice. I was pretty sure it was against the law not to go….. I tried to think of other reasons to suspend the inevitable but came up empty handed. Social suicide… I was well on my way.

I cringed inwardly, knowing I looked like a hot mess. I could feel my tan skin, turning translucent with nerves, and my unruly dark hair, tangled and wild as I stood too long in the wind. It whipped around my face in the hot, humid breeze, partially blocking the impending view from sight. I brushed my hair out of my face, but it refused to obey and with another gust of unbearably hot August air I was forced to walk forward to maintain my sight.

I felt sick and nauseous; I was practically on the verge of puking. I closed my eyes for several seconds and then opened them again, hoping I’d be someplace else, any place else. But I was right where I was supposed to be: staring up at my new school. The tall, ominous buildings clustering together, stared back. Their dark, red brick laughed at me silently, daring me to run away. The central bell tower, with its golden bell, and low musical chimes taunted me, mocked me.

Ok, maybe I was being a little over dramatic, but school had never really been my, um, thing. It could have been because I was a complete social spaz. Or it could have been because this was my fourth school in two years. Either way, I seemed to always have trouble adjusting to teenage normalcy.

Kingsley Preparatory Academy was a last resort of sorts. Well, really, it was the last prep school that would take me; God forbid I went to public school. The niece and only surviving relative of my aunt the doctor, I was destined for a higher education.

If only I could have gone six months without getting expelled. Kingsley was the last prep school in Omaha that had given me a chance and that was only after a very large donation from my aunt and a promise from me that I wouldn’t burn it to the ground. Although I harbored no ill will for the school itself, I was not sure if I could keep my promise.

Not that I would burn it down on purpose, but that kind of stuff just sort of happened to me. I mean, the burning down of schools, the flooding of schools, and the infestation of huge, tropical insects of schools…. all kind of fall into the category of been there, done that. It's not like I ever did it on purpose, it all just sort of happened.

So after another big breath, I began my death march to the top of the hill and the large, brass, double doors that led into the Administration Building. The doors slammed shut behind me, making me nearly jump out of my skin. The lobby was dimly lit and it took a while for my eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outside.

Kingsley was immaculate; beautiful marble floors and elaborate lighting sconces filled the lobby. An intricate, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and gave the room a soft glow that reminded me of dusk rather than 8:00 am. Plush, crimson divans lined the lobby, and oil paintings of elderly people adorned the walls. I reminded myself that this was a school building and not the sitting room to an expensive Victorian home.

I forced my feet forward and adjusted my back pack straps. I stopped to fidget with my uniform, afraid to make the wrong first impression. The front counter, located directly on the other side of the lobby was made from a beautiful wood, probably mahogany, that expanded the width of the room and stood to my elbows. I walked the rest of the way tentatively, as this was like no other school building I had ever been in. And I'd had my fair share of experience.

An elderly woman, with snow white hair and small framed glasses, sat behind a smaller desk made from the same wood as the counter that partitioned us. Her posture was perfect and her legs crossed properly, as she focused typing at her computer. A name plate that read “Mrs. Truance” decorated her desk, facing me. She glanced my direction from the top of her spectacles and gave a small sigh.

“You must be Eden Matthews,” she declared more as a statement than question.

“Yes, I am,” I choked out.

“Welcome to Kingsley,” she said tersely. Mrs. Truance stood up gracefully and walked over to me with several sheets of paper in her hand. “Here is your class list and map of the campus. It can be quite confusing, so please ask for help if you get lost.”

“Thank you, I will,” I tried to smile, but she had already turned away and headed back to her desk. So instead, I looked down at my class list and found my first hour of torture to be English.

I shuffled through the papers until I found a map of the campus. Junior AP English was located in the English and Arts Building, which appeared to be two buildings east of this one.

“Please hurry Kiran. I don’t want you to be late on our first day,” a curious accent and heavy footsteps made me turn to see two figures walk through the brass double doors I had just come in. The brilliant sunshine illuminated the lobby and I was blinded for a moment as the doors slammed for a second time and my eyes took a moment to adjust again.

“Stop worrying; I’m royalty for god’s sake,” the second voice had a strong, aristocratic English accent and sounded irritated. As they walked closer I could see that they were dressed in the Kingsley uniform, and close to my age.

I noticed the boy who spoke first right away because he resembled a giant. He was at least 6’5 and very muscular. He was good looking with olive skin and dark hair. Maybe his accent was Italian or Spanish? He looked a bit rough, like he had been in a fight or two, but also leaned toward the other one in a strange way, almost like he was bowing slightly. Although his eyes were a bit far apart, they were deep brown, with glints of gold, and said something about him, but I couldn’t define their feature.

As I watched the two boys walk closer I eventually noticed the second one, who had been almost overshadowed by his friend until he was nearly five feet away. My mouth dropped open as I looked at him. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Not usually the type to objectify men, or even notice them at all, my reaction was almost as shocking as his beauty. He had thick, dirty blonde hair that was unkempt in a way that said movie star. He ran his fingers through it slowly, moving it away from his forehead and I could swear it happened in slow motion. He had clear deep eyes, a color that was almost indefinable. They reminded me of the ocean, aqua at first, but the closer he got the darker they appeared and then suddenly they were turquoise and shining. A straight nose, and perfect, full, but masculine lips completed his face. I hardly noticed anything else as I stared stunned and bemused into his eyes; eyes that happened to be staring back into mine.

“Excuse me, Ms. Matthews; you are going to be late for class if you don’t get going. Can you read the map, or are you already lost?” the stern voice of the secretary pulled me out of my stupor.

“Um, no, I can read,” I said, sheepishly, still unable to take my eyes off of the mysterious boy staring back.

“Of course you can read,” she said sharper, snapping my entranced mind back to reality. “Now, get to class.”

This time I obeyed, although hesitantly. I was thankful for my long hair, and let it fall in front of my face, hoping to hide my mortification. I could feel my usually tan cheeks burning with shame. As I started to walk past the eyes that had captured my attention so humiliatingly, I began to have the strangest, but not so unfamiliar feeling.

My skin started to tingle as if I were being shocked a million times and my insides began to grow warmer and warmer until I felt like all of my major organs were made from the sun, at the same time my blood began to warm and then quickly heat to what felt like a strong boil. I picked up my pace and nearly ran out of the double brass doors into the fresh air, trying to catch my breath.

It was only the end of August, so the sun was still hot and the humidity, already overwhelming, despite the early morning hour. I pressed my face against the cool brick of the building, gasping for air and mentally calming my insides.

I realized that I looked ridiculous, but the physical changes that had just begun to occur in my body were usually a sign of pending destruction. Although I had never been sure of why my body suddenly felt like a giant microwave, I could always be sure that it would end in a great travesty. I pressed my face closer to the brick, allowing the shade of the building to cool me, calming the electrical impulses tingling beneath my skin.

I was officially humiliated by my erratic behavior. I was sure I left those inside completely amused and confused. I was just thankful I was able to stop the electrical build up in time.

The first time I felt the electric pulses underneath my skin I thought they were bugs. In the middle of second semester of my freshman year I thought I had been attacked by a swarm of insects. During gym class, I began to freak out, feeling the creepy-crawly sensation of the electricity building slowly inside of me. I remembered my gym teacher rushing over to my side and then nothing, supposedly I passed out. But not before screaming something about bugs being everywhere. When I finally woke up, I was outside in an ambulance, surrounded by hazmat guys. Apparently my school had become completely infested with tropical insects, the really big kind. Unfortunately, I had implicated myself in what the school board assumed to be a terrible prank and I was respectfully asked to leave.

After pleading a pitiful case to the next school, I was allowed to begin my sophomore year on the condition of absolutely no shenanigans. I lasted all the way through the year until during finals week I felt the electrical sensation again. This time I tried to contain myself and get it under control, wishing only to wash the feeling off. Again I must have blacked out because I woke up to find myself inside another ambulance, the school having flooded spontaneously. Their school board did not ask so nicely for me to leave; but Aunt Syl did force them to give me passing grades by threat of a lawsuit, since there was really no substantial evidence I caused the flood.

Last week, the beginning of my junior year, I started my third prep school, only to experience what felt like my blood beginning to boil. I had been told it was my last chance to finish high school. Unfortunately for them, no one would be finishing anything at that school, since I magically burned it to the ground.

I couldn’t explain what happened to me, I just knew better than to mess around. The powers in charge of Kingsley must have been brave souls to have allowed me entrance into their prestigious prep school; or had taken out an extremely large insurance policy.

I was just glad I was able to stop it that time. I had never felt the impulses react so strongly. More than a sweeping feeling of unconsciousness, the electrical impulses had felt alive, as if they were reacting to something. Who knows what would have happened had I let them continue…. possibly the Apocalypse? I had no idea why those things happened to me, or what exactly they were. I just knew that I was always the one responsible for something catastrophic. And I was really hoping to avoid closing this school down for good.

I turned around, so that my back was to the wall and slid down slowly to the ground and closed my eyes. I was completely unconcerned with being late to class after all of that; I had bigger things to worry about. Like making sure there was still a class to go to.

I compelled my nerves to calm down, and started to slowly relax. I forced my muscles to loosen up, mentally unflexing them. My relaxation only lasted a second though as the Administration Building doors burst open. The two boys, from before, exited the building in mid-conversation.

I prayed that they would not notice me and crouched even closer to the wall. I could not have felt more humiliated. And although, the gorgeous one did look in my direction, he acted as though he couldn’t see me and they continued down the steps.

“What are we doing here Talbott?” the one named Kiran demanded, almost growled.

“Please sir; you know what we are doing here,” Talbott replied, almost too softly to be heard.

“No I do not,” Kiran snapped again. “Aren’t there any qualified girls in London? This is ridiculous. I don’t even know where we are. This is the ugliest place I have ever seen. I cannot possibly be expected to spend the next two years of my life here. I want to talk to my father,” his voice had almost turned into a whine, but his accent was so sexy that I could hardly tell.

“There are none in London with her pedigree and power. Your father looked. Your father looked everywhere. And this place is called Omaha…. Nebraska. And I’m afraid he will not be moved; this was his idea,” Talbott said humbly but persistently. Although inferior in looks, he certainly seemed to be more mature.

“This is ridiculous. Where is she?” Kiran looked around himself with such pride and arrogance that I found his beauty quickly fading. Crouching closer to the wall, I could not believe they still hadn’t noticed me.

“Please calm down. I believe you will meet her soon; but we must get to class now or you will be late on your first day,” Talbott half smiled and started walking in the direction of the academic buildings, Kiran followed slowly behind, arms crossed, looking less god-like and much more child-like.

I breathed a sigh of relief and slowly stood up. Reluctantly, I collected my papers and adjusted my uniform, which consisted of a navy blue pleated skirt and white button down, collared shirt, knee high navy blue stockings and of course the classic prep school tie: navy blue with red plaid. I gathered my nerve and headed in the same direction as Talbott and Kiran, already afraid of the rest of my day.