Chapter One

It looked like a relatively ordinary classroom, with six thick stone work tables finely dusted with dried glue, pen, and clay set around a wide open area in the middle. The gray-and-teal-striped floor was dusty from dozens of scuffed shoes walking across it. Brightly colored posters talking about art and college lined the walls. From the ceiling hung several simple yet intricate paper sculptures, all white but with shadows and folds creating light hues of gray where there were none.

The teacher usually sat at her desk, grading papers, unless she was explaining a new concept or correcting someone's work. In her thirties, she was tan, with dark straight shoulder-length hair and little makeup. She left me alone and I left her alone.

It was the kind of class I enjoyed. Not only was it an easy A, but I was usually free to finish homework or read because I caught on easily, finished everything early, and used the extra time to read or finish homework or write fanfiction. For the first few days of class, there had been a stool at my seat and I'd gotten used to the routine of the stool. It had honestly started to bother me when I found a backed chair, to the point where if I saw one, I had pick up the chair and move it and leave the stool in its place before I could sit down.

Directly behind me and right next to the door was a cabinet painted with a tree surrounded by a sky of a thousand shades of blue. The drawers, each a different color, were slightly scuffed and labeled with different class supplies. Next to the tree cabinet was a pair of taller cabinets, these ones a soft metallic blue-gray.

"Hey, Cameron, can you get the fine-tip Sharpies?" the teacher asked me.

I barely heard, still mentally exploring a boarding school for rich delinquents from the perspective of a fourteen-year-old high school junior.

"Cameron?" she pressed, walking over and reading over my shoulder. "Good book, huh?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Oh, right, that annoying thing called real life still existed.

"Um…yeah," I remembered as the images of Pine Mountain Academy faded from my mind. "What was that again?"

"Fine-tip Sharpies? In the gray metal cupboard? Top shelf?" she prompted, cracking a smile.

"Oh, right." Reluctantly, I placed Wringer on the work table, dog-earing a page before I closed the cover. Ryan Dean West's face stared up at me forlornly with a bloody napkin stuffed up his nose and a blackened right eye.

Standing up from my stool (not my chair), I shuffled over to the cupboard in question and reached for the silver handle of the cupboard drawer…

…and a tiny, white-gold spark of electricity, hot and fierce, jumped from my hand. Striking the cupboard, the spark shot into the metal handle and vanished with a sizzle. It would have been strange, but the same thing had happened many times before. Sure, it had never been so obvious – Amanda Beeson's soft, breathy whoa confirmed that – but I zapped pretty much every conductor I touched. My friend Annchi had once told me it was just because I had more iron in my blood, but I was just getting over anemia. The facts didn't add up, but I just didn't really want to think about it.

Quickly, I pulled the drawer open and got out the teacher's Sharpies. I shut the drawer and walked back, handing them to her.

"Thanks, Cam," the teacher told me with a smile, going back to her desk.

I sat back down at my stool and happily immersed myself back in Ryan Dean's world. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up and could have sworn that Amanda was staring at me as if gauging whether I could be trusted. When my eyes met hers, though, she quickly averted her gaze and returned to her project. I shrugged and tuned out the world again.

A few minutes later, Amanda looked at me again, and this time she didn't look away. Finally, she leaned over as if she were going to tell me a secret. Her long, silky light brown hair brushed the desk, and she frowned and flipped it over her shoulder.

Her hair now out of the way, she smiled at me almost conspiratorially. What? This was the most popular girl in school – or she had been, until her weird recent falling-out with Nina Rossi.

Apparently, Amanda had recently dared to transfer into a class with Ken Preston, a former jock whom both girls liked. To add insult to injury, Amanda and Ken had even started dating. I didn't really care much about the world of the pretty people, but Ken seemed to have made Amanda into something resembling a human being and that was an impressive feat.

"Hey, Cameron," Amanda said thoughtfully. "Have you ever thought about joining the gifted class?"