New Arrival: Dalton, at your service!

[Jacob Dalton]

Dalton clamped the latches firmly down on his shaving kit, and added yet another member to the minor pile of luggage in the middle of the barren room.

“MAAAAOOOOWWWW…” The tanned, furry face was staring at him from atop the pile, great displeasure reflecting in those green-flecked eyes. Dalton smiled and plucked the sturdy cat off the pile and into his arms, cradled against his chest.

“Come, come, now, Martin: I know your old bones don’t fancy the rigors of a road trip any more than do mine. But Lord knows, not all roads and times are of our choosing.”

The professor scowled briefly out the window in the direction of Westridge High. The scowl faded in a moment to tired resignation, as he returned his focus to massaging Martin’s neck. Martin’s head lay back, eyes almost closed, as his forepaws kneaded Dalton’s chest and his throaty purr announced his sonorous pleasure with all the subtlety of a diesel engine.

“Our days here are done, my friend. Leaving may be a bitter pill to swallow, yet swallow it we must – and speaking of bitter pills…”

As his master fumbled briefly in a pocket, Martin allowed himself to be lulled back in Dalton’s arms like a sleeping baby. Dalton’s finger and thumb focused more specifically each on a certain area just behind the old feline’s ears, and started a quick, rhythmic stroking.

“raow, raow, raow, raow, raow…” the cat’s happy vocalizations took on the rhythm of his master’s strokes as Dalton’s free hand snuck towards the cat’s mouth and deftly dropped the pill straight down the cat’s throat. There was barely a pause in the yowls and the cat gagged the pill down. A scowl of momentary annoyance glinted from the green-flecked eyes before Dalton’s stroking brought him back to purring contentment: then Dalton gently set the cat down.

“Half an hour: just time for me to get us loaded, and gone. I am tempted to envy you: sleeping through that spider’s snare they call a ‘freeway.’ At least we shall be getting out at a decent time.”

There was no hour when Sacramento traffic could truly be called “light,” but Dalton was timing things carefully to reach the freeway right about 10:00 AM, when the frantic pace of the morning commute had died and the lunch crowd was not yet near. An hour and he would be out of town, on the open highways where driving was nothing but a man and his machine marking time against the wind. Big Blue might not be the most modern, fastest or most up-to-date car on the road, but in his opinion she was one of the most beautiful thanks to Giancarlo.

“Prof: you gave me my dream, ‘cause you didn’t let up on me. Now, let me give something back,” the young man had said. “Thanks to you, I paint the most beautiful cars I could ever hope for. And you, prof, you need a beautiful car: ‘cause if you have a beautiful car, you will look both ways and backways and upside down not to bung her up: and that’s the only way you’re gonna stop this cycle of ‘ding, ding, ding!’ You always brought me that junker you had: now you don’t have a car, you got a check and need to replace it. Come with me to the lots: you pick out something you really like, you buy it, you tell me how you want the paint. I will paint it for you at cost: a really fine job, take your breath away. You will never, never ding your car again: I promise you that.”

Dalton had nodded, almost speechless, at his former pupil’s intense assertion and exceedingly generous offer. “Very well. I have no doubt it will be superb. And, Giancarlo: I am honored.”

The young man’s face had broken into a big smile. “No, Prof: the honor is mine.”

Big Blue was a classic ‘68 Mustang convertible, but repainted with a metallic sheen that seemed to shift between blue and green depending on the light and the angle. It was intensely gorgeous: and Dalton knew his pupil had been right. It would be unthinkable to be careless with this work of art.

And now Dalton had two weeks to travel from Sacramento to Vermont: just he, Big Blue and Martin…

* * * * * * *


Driving through pine country was refreshing, to say the least. Now that he was off the four-lane freeways and onto a twisting, turning two-laner, Dalton could feel the closeness of the trees about him. He had missed this in Sacramento: the flow and touch of nature all around. What an invigorating kiss of cool, pine-scented breeze! Yes, he had made the right choice with Hammel.

The breakfast he had eaten that morning in Boston was four hours behind him: Dalton was beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger again, but didn’t want to stop with his final destination so near. He dug out one of the small packets of beef and cheese sticks and quenched his rumbling stomach for the moment.

Martin was lying on his back on the pillow Dalton had set for him in the front seat, paws dangling in mid air as he snoozed. Dalton chuckled at the snores emanating from the cat’s throat: how could he ever have thought of cats as quiet creatures? Martin certainly did not fit that mold.

He spotted a road sign: Pilot Ridge, 14 miles. “Well, well: almost there.” He stroked the cat’s belly softly, but Martin still popped awake as he did. “Nothing to worry about, old boy: you’ll see soon enough.”

And there was his exit: then a few twists and turns he would soon know like the back of his hand, but for today had him confused and flipping back and forth between maps and signs. He got turned around twice, but then caught the right road and pulled in at Roadman’s Lodge. The two story U-shaped complex seemed a bit faded from the years, but serviceable. He was pleased to see that everything was as he had been told: no big surprises like broken pipes spraying water, graffiti-decorated walls, or other signs the once-proud lodgings might have degraded to slums.

He would get used to the steps up to the inner balcony: yes, groceries would be a pain unless he shopped twice a week. Fortunately, each floor had a laundry. He fumbled for the unfamiliar key on his fob, fit it to the lock and turned. He was “home.”

He set Martin down, closing the door and allowing the cat to explore. Then he did a quick walkthrough, getting a feel of his new but temporary place.

The travel cases had preceded him, and as he requested, the landlord had allowed them to be brought in. Beat-up souvenirs of his days on band trips, he had purchased the used cases from Westridge when the school updated their travel supplies. Big, sturdy latched fiberglass boxes that had been used for drum sets, stage pieces, and other bulky equipment, they were perfect for protecting his treasures in transit.

He wasted no time opening cases and moving the essentials to the rooms where they would be needed. So much of his stuff was still in storage: the cases only carried the vitals he could not do without for months while he conducted his househunt.

Vitals, and one other item he had failed to locate until after the packers were gone. Gingerly he drew out the painting, unwrapping the paper for the first time in years. It was just as he had remembered: time had not cheapened the visceral impact on him of its images, nor cheapened the quality of the work in his eyes.

Two costumed figures stood back to back on a ledge by a lake: a young man in blue, a young woman in lacy white. Spouts of water and streaks of lighting flashed about them, striking the darker menacing figures surrounding the pair. The detail, fleshtones and shading were marvelous: the figures all but leapt from the page, expressions in their faces clear and memorable. No one seeing it for the first time would ever believe it was the work of a teen.

Memories both bright and painful welled to the surface. Anger for years of having to hide this piece away, avoid offense: Delia would never have accepted it on the walls of her house.

_Our_ house, he reminded himself: not like you ever acknowledged it. But this place: you never set foot in it and never will. Mine and Martin’s, to do with as we please…

Dalton shoved the resentful thoughts aside. Hanging a painting should not require an act of rebellion. He had spent enough years trying to please Delia: now it was his turn. He strode to the mantle and gently set the painting above it. There would be time for proper nails and such shortly. As his arms came down, he felt a weight of years suddenly lifted. A freedom long forgotten now had been reclaimed.

“Welcome home, boy,” he said to Martin: “welcome home.”

* * * * * * *

How differently the car rode now that it was unloaded! After two weeks of the cat a constant companion at his side, the drive from Roadman’s to Hammel was a short but lonely one. He watched closely for the turns leading up the hill to the school, beginning to dread what the drive might be like in the winter, especially if these roads turned icy. What was so clear now in the early afternoon light might well prove treacherous in the dark of night. One look at the steep gulleys next to the roads made Dalton shiver, thinking of Big Blue taking such a plunge. And then he came around the crest, spotting the school through the trees. With a sigh of relief he pulled into a parking spot, and keyed off the ignition.

He sat for a moment in the silence. This was it: life had turned a corner. The trip with Martin had been both the final lines in one act, and the opening scene of another. He took a deep breath. “Enter Dramatis Personae,” he exhaled, and opened the door.

Apparently he had arrived at a quiet time: there was no one in the halls as he made his way through the great doors. Was this the front entrance? He was not quite certain: the building seemed to have that vaulted sense wherever one looked. He padded quietly down the corridor, uncertain as to which office he should stop at.

Eventually his path took him to an open courtyard. A brief gust of chill breeze caused him to blink, his sight blurry for a moment: but he was certain he had seen a figure or two standing in the courtyard.

“Good afternoon! If I may: I’ve just arrived. Jacob Dalton, at your service: can anyone direct me where to go from here?”

[Lani Hunter]

It was the weekend and Lani was loving it. No one to come and drag him out of bed if he missed his first class because he was still blissfully away in dreamland. Unfortunately his dreams had been anything but restful. Lani thankfully couldn't remember any of what had brought him into this sitting position staring wildly around his room seeking the target of his fears. With a sigh he laid back down and twisted to see the clock. 10:30. He groaned it wasn't too early but it was earlier than he wanted to be conscious this Saturday. He entertained the hope of falling back asleep when his phone vibrated on his headboard. With a groan he snatched it and flipped it open uttering a tried "hullo?" It was his mother of course. He sat up again and rubbed his eyes sitting there in sweatpants and a loose shirt and swung his legs off the side of the bed as he spoke to her keeping himself from fall back asleep on here. "Hi, mom, what's up?.... I'm good how're you?" He stifled a yawn.

"Lan! Everyone if fine here Caroline is so happy you could make it to her appointment. Its very nice of the school to let you off for that." His mother answered and he winced glad she couldn't see him or she would know exactly what he was thinking. For Lani hadn't gotten permission he had just left. His guilt flowed away when he heard a high pitched voice calling over the phone. "Hey Lani you little sister wants to talk to you."

"Great!" He said standing to pace his way over to the thermostat and roll the dial a little closer to warm. "How're you feeling?" He asked as the enthusiastic little voice filled his ears. Apparently unlike everyone else in the family, Caroline's health was the last thing on her mind. She rattled on and on about her friends at school and how there was a boy at school who was teasing her and she had told him about Lani. He groaned inwardly knowing as a little kid she would fully well have told the kid that Lani could launch him into next week, which was only half true, he knew he should tell her not to tell people about his power but instead said: "You tell him if he's mean to my princess he'll have big brother Lani to mess with." He grinned to the phone besides who would believe her anyways. He still didn't believe it himself anyways. "Mommy and Daddy are taking me to the zoo!" Caroline added he could practically see her jumping up and down with excitement. He nodded sitting down in his chair.

"Take bunches of pictures for me!" He encouraged knowing she was in the picture obsessed phase. "Of lions!" She said. Lani joined her in laughter. "Of lions," he agreed. She still remembered his favorite animal. He listened to her singing a little making a song about lions. His heart twisted with a mix of love and sadness when she said goodbye. "Love you too, Caroline." He smiled and the line went dead. He sighed and dropped the cheap phone on his desk and went about actually getting ready for his day. After a quick shower he pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a concert t-shirt. All new and feeling awesome. He also pulled out his new sneakers, a simple black pair. He opened his computer and trained his eyes to the lower right hand corner to check the weather. Cold. "Alright," he said aloud and pulled a sweatshirt out of his closet.

He glanced back at the window and debated going out that way instead of his door but then the security was already on his tail. That really sucked. He had never been under this much watch, even by his parents. He doubted that security knew the nature of the people he worked for. His employer for one was a very pleasant man but one did not just quit. They could but you had to be smart about it. His employer was kind enough to Lani because Lani was not directly under his hand but his hands could reach as far as Lani's mental ones. Lani could quit anytime he knew, but at the same time he felt a familial connection with his friends there and plus there was nothing he could do to stop stealing and it would only be a burden not to have somewhere to drop it all off.

He sighed and grabbed a tennis ball. He had been using it off and on to train his power. He went out to the courtyard, there was likely to be no one there at least he could have peace. He let go of the tennis ball and sent it spiraling upward. Then around, then he bounced it ahead of himself as he walked down the path. All while keeping his hands in his pockets to force himself to use his power. Lani hit it against a tree a few times and closed his eyes letting the rhythm calm him.

"Good afternoon!" Lani nearly jumped out of his skin and in his panic his powers defenses flew up and as he whirled the tennis ball launched itself with all the speed of a bullet at the mysterious person. His hand reached out after it as though he had thrown it and his mind came back to reality and he realized he wasn't being attacked and there was a middle aged man who was about to get done in my a tennis ball. "Ah! Stop!" He screamed at the tennis ball and 'dropped' it. He jogged over to the person his eyes glaring and his mouth set in a hard frown. The tennis ball bounced a few times to the person's feet. He looked the man over, it wasn't anyone he knew but then again he never went to class so chances were that the man had been here the whole time. He took a deep breath and nodded at the man. "Sorry, um..." He said stunned silent by the man's forwardness. "Uh... Where are you looking to go?" He asked figuring he had almost taken off his head he might as well help him out.

[L.C. Milliner]

Outfit

One thing that most people didn’t realize about Hammel was that sometimes people went out of their way to make it decorative. For example, one of the teachers of years long past, blessed with the ability to make plants grow, had somehow managed to make a tree mature to its fullest in the concrete covered courtyard. (Say that five times fast.) Now that it was late fall, the tree had lost almost all of its leaves. A few stragglers clung to the branches of the maple, but they wouldn’t last past the next windy day. The extraordinary thing about the tree, however, was that it was still living after what had been done to it. You couldn’t see in it the summer or spring, but in the winter, when the foliage was gone, the tree showed battle scars- deep furrows raked into the bark, holes dotting the trunk, and around the lower branches there were long gashes that looked like some form of monster had worked the tree over while it was in a raging fury. Indeed, now that the colder months had come along, the tree looked as if it had braved a battle with a chainsaw. The culprit, of course, was well known to anyone who dared to ask about it. Buried in the trunk, about twelve feet up, were a pair of letters that, coupled together, gave the name of a person that nobody wanted to argue with.

L.C. yawned as she nestled her back up against the trunk of the tree. Classes were out and most of the students had gone into Pilot Ridge for the afternoon, but she had stayed behind. It wasn’t a choice of her own; it was because she wasn’t cleared with security to go. She had attempted to walk through the gates nonchalantly as if she had nothing to hide, but was stopped and reversed, told as she headed back to the brick building that she was not allowed to leave campus for a week unless in the company of a faculty member. Last week she had pilfered a pair of headphones from the local corner store and so her punishment was a complete lockdown for two weeks. She detested every moment of it. She was allowed to keep the headphones, which rested around her neck, after she had coughed up a scrounged together amount of money. She was using them with her iPod, which was reaching the five-year mark on its time of service. It wasn’t like she could buy a new one, though. She had no money as it was, and she was saving up money for clothes, or she was before she got caught with the headphones. The Academy was not happy, as always.

The teenager huffed and blew her blonde hair out of her eyes, staring into the second story window of the school and into an empty science classroom. She rubbed her hands together, silently detesting the fingerless gloves she had picked up out of the Salvation Army bargain bin a few weeks ago. They looked so warm and fashionable in the store, and she couldn’t wear normal gloves unless she planned on ruining them. Her warm coat was a rare find though, she had snatched it from a high-end consignment store on sale for a five bucks. Looking down from her tree, she watched as a teen entered the courtyard, playing with a tennis ball. She yawned and closed her eyes, listening to the ball bounce, first off the ground and then off her tree. There were a few minutes of silence like that, punctuated only by the tennis ball, but then she heard a door open on the far side of the yard.

Popping a singular gray eye open, she looked to see an older man enter the courtyard. She sat up and blinked herself out of the halfway realm she was in, managing to miss the middle part of his announcement. She did not, however, miss the tennis ball that almost took his face off. That woke her up. “Jesus H. Christ, you trying to kill the man?” She yelled from her branch, looking down at the student who had thrown the ball. She proceeded to pull her gloves off and grabbed onto the trunk of the tree, ripping through the bark as she descended with a jump, iron spikes driving into the wood and leaving a trail of destruction up. Her shoes dug into the trunk as she steadily made her way down, dropping when she was five feet from the ground. The spikes gleamed in the sunlight, at least until they imbedded themselves back into her hands. She pulled her gloves back on and shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

L.C. stepped forward, elbowing the boy sharply at his lackluster apology. She wasn’t one for half-assed wordplay. She didn’t even bother to introduce herself; instead she turned her sharp gaze at the man and started in. She blamed him for almost getting his nose taken off too. If he hadn’t gone and surprised a kid with superpowers (Wasn’t that covered in teacher’s training or something? She was certain there were a full five minutes dedicated to her.) he wouldn’t have gotten a tennis ball to the face at Mach-5. “If you’re looking for the offices, they’re in the main hallway. Take that door out and go left, then take another left and go down the stairs at the end of a really long hallway, which will drop you off in a huge hallway that’s twice as wide as the others, that’s the main hall. You go right from the stairs there a little bit and they should be on the right. If you hit the cafeteria you’ve gone too far.” She made hand motions while doing this, pointing directions and even walking her fingers a bit when she got to the part with the stairs. Once she was done, her hands were back in her pockets. “Unless you’re looking for a classroom. Then I have no idea where you’re going.”

[Jacob Dalton]

<<"Good afternoon!" Lani nearly jumped out of his skin and in his panic his powers defenses flew up and as he whirled the tennis ball launched itself with all the speed of a bullet at the mysterious person. >>

As the young man turned towards him Dalton saw a tennis ball suddenly veer in his direction. Instinctively he sidestepped about six inches as if another fencer had lunged at him in a duel, and his hand went up to parry. “A tk?" He thought to himself: “mighty quick: good thing he practices with tennis balls instead of billiards…”

<< His hand reached out after it as though he had thrown it and his mind came back to reality and he realized he wasn't being attacked and there was a middle aged man who was about to get done in by a tennis ball. "Ah! Stop!" He screamed at the tennis ball and 'dropped' it. He jogged over to the person his eyes glaring and his mouth set in a hard frown. The tennis ball bounced a few times to the person's feet. >>

Dalton watched in pleased satisfaction as the boy reined in his power. He dropped the slight defensive stance, and as the ball bounced and rolled the final few feet towards him he stepped forward, lightly catching it under his foot. He nodded his approval as the boy approached.

“Good save. Quick reflexes, too. Well done.”

He popped the ball off the ground with a quick stroke backwards of his foot, deftly caught it and tossed it lightly back as he made his introduction and request.

<< He took a deep breath and nodded at the man. "Sorry, um..." He said stunned silent by the man's forwardness. "Uh... Where are you looking to go?" He asked figuring he had almost taken off his head he might as well help him out. >>

“I suppose the front office would be best. I am sure they could direct me from there—”

<< “Jesus H. Christ, you trying to kill the man?” She yelled from her branch, looking down at the student who had thrown the ball. She proceeded to pull her gloves off and grabbed onto the trunk of the tree, ripping through the bark as she descended with a jump, iron spikes driving into the wood and leaving a trail of destruction up. Her shoes dug into the trunk as she steadily made her way down, dropping when she was five feet from the ground. The spikes gleamed in the sunlight, at least until they imbedded themselves back into her hands. She pulled her gloves back on and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. >>

Dalton was mildly startled as a voice called out from above their heads, then intrigued by the figure of the young lady descending from the tree, clawing her way down like a cat. The shock of bright blonde hair against the dull green cap and spark of color from the red shoelaces in her otherwise low-toned apparel seemed to scream of everything bright and sunny buried inside this girl, longing to come out but trapped by her shell of anger and distrust.

“Not to worry: he caught it back himself. No harm, no foul. But thank you kindly for your concern.”

A slight smile played across Dalton’s face. “Granted, he’s got a mighty wicked serve. Andre Agassi, eat your heart out.”

<< L.C. stepped forward, elbowing the boy sharply at his lackluster apology. She wasn’t one for half-assed wordplay. She didn’t even bother to introduce herself; instead she turned her sharp gaze at the man and started in. She blamed him for almost getting his nose taken off too. If he hadn’t gone and surprised a kid with superpowers (Wasn’t that covered in teacher’s training or something? She was certain there were a full five minutes dedicated to her.) he wouldn’t have gotten a tennis ball to the face at Mach-5. >>

The girl was still fuming. Obviously there was more going on under there than mere concern for a possible injury to a stranger, but it would take time to get there. Meanwhile, he just hoped to see her loosen up a bit.

“Trust me: worse than tennis balls have been aimed at this face. My ex throws a mean saucer.

“Besides, he maintained control. Just as if I were to offer you a ‘high five,’ no doubt you would manage not to give me a ‘high 30’ in return. That could be painful…” he quipped in mock concern.

<< “If you’re looking for the offices...

...“Unless you’re looking for a classroom. Then I have no idea where you’re going.” >>

At first Dalton tried to focus on her directions: left, left, stairs, right, right. Then came her comment on the classrooms, and he grinned.

“A student who doesn’t know her way to a classroom? Please tell me Hammel isn’t one of those ‘open’ schools where teachers wear torn jeans and sandals, and hold forth under the nearest tree, perched on a rock and strumming ‘Kum ba ya?’ I shouldn’t think that will go over too well in a couple of months when you have three feet of snow on the ground.”

He nodded to the pair. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m your new English teacher: or ‘ye Olde English teacher’ if you prefer, as I tend to focus on the classics. Dalton’s the name: and you are…?”

[Lani Hunter]

Lani frowned not at all pleased with himself or his power. It throbbed in his head still excited from the rush of adrenaline and forcing it to stop had not been altogether easy. He shook his head in confusion as the man nodded in what looked like approval. Taken aback he adopted a scowl and shook his head. He didn’t need false praise, he should be better than this, he shouldn’t even have this power, he should be at home telling his sister fictional stories about people with powers. Lani was startled again next when the man voiced his praise. Well done? Well that was new. Lani hadn’t gotten a ‘well done’ since he had gotten here. Truth be told, Lani felt like ever since he had gotten here he had been doing everything wrong, even when he was trying. It was annoying and getting on his last nerve, perhaps that was why he felt suffocated and imprisoned here.

His eyes still wide and his mind numb with shock he caught the tennis ball clumsily. Who was this man? He certainly wasn’t like any other faculty he had met here? But then again most of the faculty he had met had something to do with Lani being in trouble so perhaps that was it. He was still stuck trying to figure out why the man was yelling at him, he could have done some real damage. Finally Lani found his brain again and stuttered out a “Thank you,” that was more of a question. He didn’t let the tennis ball out of his hand again afraid his power might go haywire with the excitement it was feeling. He nodded at the man’s request, a place he did not like to go but a place he unfortunately spent a lot of quality time in. He kept his expression calm and collected while his mind was anything but, at least he could appear to be calm.

Lani turned at the sound of someone calling out. Gritting his teeth Lani let his fist close tighter around the tennis ball. He glared, it wasn’t like he had meant to. He bristled and nearly launched the tennis ball at her but held himself back. “Back off.” He snarled his eyes more than threatening; she didn’t know him and didn’t know his circumstances. How could she make such an accusation? He never wanted to hurt anyone but people had gotten hurt. He remembered the first time he had gotten his powers no one had died but people had gotten hurt. Severely. Killing people, even on accident, was within his potential now and he did not appreciate that being pointed out. His eyes snapped back to the man who was coming to his defense. What? His brow creased in confusion then more anger.

“No,” Lani started but thought better and stopped his sentence there. Anything he could have said would have only made himself more angry and the man had been nothing but kind and it wasn’t fair to blame him for that. Lani shook his head at the man’s next comment, it made him sick. Nothing was good about that, not at all. Anything good about his power was bad in some way, sure it was powerful but he had almost hurt him. He had hurt so many people with his power it was out of control and so was he. If he thought it would be any use he would have run away that first time and never come back. He took a deep breath, “I am really sorry, I’m…” He stopped again not sure what to describe it as. Lani was dry tinder these days and one spark sent him blazing.

He snapped as she elbowed him it hurt more than he had expected. He made a sharp noise through his teeth that was half swear half growl. The man’s attempt at humor was lost on Lani as he fumed. “Huh?” He uttered completely shocked at how he was defending him again. “But...I could have taken your head off,” He informed him in case he had missed the tennis ball being launched at his head. Why wouldn’t this man yell at him? Lani certainly deserved it. His eyes darkened with guilt, he would have liked it more if this old man would have yelled at him. His hand tightened on the tennis ball and his power grabbed at everything and anything. A flash of a headache made him wince from keeping his power from acting out... again. Lani crossed his arms and released the tennis ball so it could orbit over his head just to occupy his power as he tried to retain whatever feeling of calm he had had earlier. He fumed in silence not willing to rage again. His temper wasn’t normally this short but the pain and frustration led to a very short fuse that went off at the shorted provocation. However Lani wasn’t angry with the girl he was angry with himself because he knew he deserved it.

Lani closed his eyes and trained his mood as he had in the past casting the dark angry thoughts into the back of his mind. Slowly the angry lines around his eyes faded though the dark glare was icy and dangerous showing how close he was to the edge on his temper. All he had wanted this morning was to have a calm day and practice his power a little bit. Calmed he was now able to make sense of what was being said. She was giving better direction than he ever would have been able to and then her power was spikes? He mentally shrugged it off and let his mind release the dangerous thoughts that might lead his power to do dangerous things. Lani grinned as well his more of a mocking and cold feature, “No sir, that merely means that she’s never seen the inside of one.” He rolled his eyes at her, not that he had seen them very much but at least he went some of the time. You judge me I’ll judge you, Lani thought at her.

Lani having an easier outlet for his anger now was calming fairly quickly. One of his skills was to let things roll off his shoulders at least until later when he could really dwell on them. He was thinking clearly again and not just reacting and he could see her view and it embittered him but it didn’t anger him. His frown set he nodded at the man. An English teacher? He was certainly not in tune with the rest of the teachers at Hammel. They were more into telling students what they could and could not do rather than take the time to get to know them. Lani nearly laughed at the reference to the “Olde English Teacher” instead he shook his head at the old man. “Lani,” he replied, “I’m a senior with telekinesis.” Lani’s relaxed state returned with more of an air of neutrality rather than anger as he looked to the girl for her answer.

[L.C. Milliner]

Many people realized L.C. had a tendency to state her opinion more than most people. Some people had the good sense to be quiet and not say anything at all, but she seemed to lack one thing many people had: a filter. She said what she wanted when she wanted and held a great deal of swagger in her step because of it- what could the other person do, beat her up? Lay a hand on her, and it was suddenly drilled through with spikes. She had gotten too comfortable over the years with people being afraid of her in Hammel. How she would be able to function in society was a popular subject amongst the staff. She did have a filter, in reality; she just tended not to use it most of the time. She could be mature when she wanted, but when she was surrounded by teenagers she generally left it off for the sake of her sanity.

She noted when she stepped up that the boy was miffed. This earned him a snort and an eye roll of the highest degree. He could grow up. It wasn’t like she threatened to call a teacher, which she was encouraged to do by the student handbook standards, since he had technically assaulted a staff member. (Hey, she knew the rules, she just chose not to follow.) She looked to the older of the two males as he spoke, nodding in silence as she glanced back to the teen beside her, turning her head to look up. He looked conflicted, she didn’t like it. He couldn’t take a hint, could he? The best thing to do when an adult forgave you for something was to accept it and change the subject. The longer they lingered on it, the more of a problem it would be.

Listening to the other male’s retort, a smile almost made its way to L.C.’s face. She covered it up as best as she could, crossing her arms and looking at her feet to cover up the slight smirk that had appeared at the corner of her mouth. She could relate to the ‘saucer’ comment, her Mother had thrown her share of items back in the day. That thought alone wiped the smirk from the teen’s face and stopped her thought process cold, she nodded at the ‘high 30’ comment and looked off to the side as if she didn’t much care for his wit. She could pull off the ‘bored, angst-ridden teenager’ look well enough when she wanted. “Yeah, well. Don’t do that, then.”

She almost felt sorry for him, he had probably just met the two most moody students in the entire school.

The classroom jab from the both of them made her twitch and suddenly her defenses were up. “I meant if you were looking for a specific classroom. Lay off, ball boy, at least I attend my power training classes.”If he was going to play that way, she could too. She crossed her arms even tighter against her and she could feel her skin start to prickle- oh, she wanted to shove some spikes in his face. She sighed and looked at the ground, turning to go when the new teacher stopped her with his introduction.

“L.C. Milliner, senior, living iron maiden.” Yes, she always liked that phrase. It was much better than the scientific ‘iron spike protrusion’ crap they had slapped on her record. She lingered for a moment, deciding on whether she should shake his hand or something, but decided against it. He’d likely leave her hanging- it wasn’t uncommon among the newer staff. “And it’s just L.C., nothing else.” She muttered, cutting off the question that was probably already forming. She didn’t want to be called Lyra. It just wasn’t done, and if he thought he would get away with it, he had another thing coming. If Dr. Neville couldn’t even call her that, there was no way a new staff member was allowed to. She dared Lani to say anything about it.

[Jacob Dalton]

<< He took a deep breath, “I am really sorry, I’m…” He stopped again not sure what to describe it as. Lani was dry tinder these days and one spark sent him blazing.

... “But...I could have taken your head off,” He informed him in case he had missed the tennis ball being launched at his head. Why wouldn’t this man yell at him? >>

Dalton cocked an eyebrow at the young man. “Seriously, both of you: it was a tennis ball. Fluffy, light, squishy: made to bounce. I guarantee you tennis players in polo shirts and shorts get whacked on a regular basis, and rarely even bruise. Good thing you didn’t just pop out here and pick up a rock from the ground.

“Which means you brought the ball with you: correct? So: you had the foresight to select an object with which to practice, and you chose one which would be safe. And you were practicing in order to learn control. On your day off. With no one out here cracking the whip to push you on. I should fault you for which of these? If I supervised the dorms and came across a student up at midnight working on his essay for my class next week, would I fault him for a moment of writer’s block?

“Don’t worry. I’ll be hard on you when you need it. Right now? It would be most inappropriate. You weren’t invited to Hammel because your powers hold no danger. You were invited here to learn how to control them, to minimize that danger to yourself and to others. And you are right on track.

“Both of you: an important lesson in how he regained control here. Why did you yell ‘stop!’? The tennis ball can’t hear you: but your own mind can. We say it, we think it: this is why chanting mobs are so dangerous. They are reinforcing their own herd mentality against all arguments of reason: ‘Down with apples! Down with apples!’

He grinned for a moment and shrugged. “Fortunately for the orchard farmers, that’s not one you hear too often. Good thing: could destroy an entire industry that way, if it caught on.

“Words. Have. Power. Not only to communicate to others, but to ourselves. Claim that power: tell yourself you will do something, over and over, and you commit to it: you give yourself strength and control over your life.

“So: when you exercise your power, tell the ball where to go. Use your words to focus your mind. See how much better control you achieve.”

<< A flash of a headache made him wince from keeping his power from acting out... again. Lani crossed his arms and released the tennis ball so it could orbit over his head just to occupy his power as he tried to retain whatever feeling of calm he had had earlier. >>

Dalton nodded. “Try it. Tell it where to go: just remember, as you tel it, you are telling your own mind…”

<< Lani grinned as well his more of a mocking and cold feature, “No sir, that merely means that she’s never seen the inside of one.” He rolled his eyes at her, not that he had seen them very much but at least he went some of the time. You judge me I’ll judge you, Lani thought at her. >>

<< The classroom jab from the both of them made her twitch and suddenly her defenses were up. “I meant if you were looking for a specific classroom. Lay off, ball boy, at least I attend my power training classes.”If he was going to play that way, she could too. She crossed her arms even tighter against her and she could feel her skin start to prickle- oh, she wanted to shove some spikes in his face. >>

It was Dalton’s turn to roll his eyes. “Will you two please both lighten up? What? You don’t think you are each facing enough with your own issues, you feel a need to compound them for each other? Look at you! There is not one person in ten thousand on this planet who understands what you’re going through as much as you understand each other. With a whole world of people out there who don’t get you, how about playing nice with the few in here who do?”

<< Lani nearly laughed at the reference to the “Olde English Teacher” instead he shook his head at the old man. “Lani,” he replied, “I’m a senior with telekinesis.” Lani’s relaxed state returned with more of an air of neutrality rather than anger as he looked to the girl for her answer. >>

<< She sighed and looked at the ground, turning to go when the new teacher stopped her with his introduction.

“L.C. Milliner, senior, living iron maiden.” Yes, she always liked that phrase… … “And it’s just L.C., nothing else.” >>

Dalton had many strengths. His hearing was not one of them. He nodded. “Very well: Lonnie and Elsie, and that’s ‘Elsie,’ not ‘Miss Milliner:’ understood.

“So: what further plans did the two of you have today? I would appreciate a couple of guides around the school: treat you both to lunch afterwards, if you are interested…”

[Lani Hunter]

Lani blinked at the man who seemed to be completely crazy. He had a point and yet still Lani was sure it was going faster than any tennis ball was ever meant to go. Lani shrugged innocently that had been what he had done at the beginning and luckily a fellow student had recommended getting something softer. A tennis ball was the only thing he could have thought about that would serve his purposes. He nodded affirmatively when he asked if he had brought it. Lani smiled a little glad to finally hear a good word about his power, normally it was, 'you're still out of control', 'Hunter! What were you thinking?', 'Don't you realize you could hurt someone?', 'Practice more, you're falling short.' Something made him want to work at his power more than reject them, he had met people here who thought his power was amazing he just wish he himself believed it as well. The staff all treated him like he was a bomb ready to explode that needed to be monitored carefully.

"T-thank you, sir." He stuttered his mind still not really working as it tried to process the contradictory lesson he was being given now. When he started speaking about the lesson Lani nearly groaned, it was Saturday he didn't study on a normal basis much less the weekends. He measured up the man, he certainly wasn't like any teacher he had ever met he could tell not only from his words but from the confidence that he radiated. Lani was seriously hoping he wasn't replacing his English teacher, though all things considered Lani might start going. Lani chuckled a little bit half at the odd metaphor. Mr. Dalton was certainly an odd one. But not in a way that repelled people but rather that intrigued them and drew them in.

Lani was a little taken aback he had always thought he was a fool for talking to inanimate objects when he was moving them. The needs to flap his arms around also still held true and even when he worked his powers he was self-conscious for having to do so. Something in Lani had a feeling he was going to make an English lesson out of this and low and behold there it was. Lani cocked his head skeptical. He wasn't sure he believed him but he looked up at the ball spinning over his head. He shook his head at first not wanting to admit how bad he was at this. Especially with L.C. around, she had already expressed how terrible he was at control in that first sentence. He shrugged, "Alright, to the tree." He said pointing not really sure that it would work but the the ball went to bounce along the branches.

Lani let out a half laugh and smiled with triumph. More confident he said, "Come back." It did but way to fast. He caught it but it made him stagger a little bit. "Wow," Lani muttered looking at the tennis ball like he wasn't the one that was controlling it. He tossed it around in his hands for a little bit not using his power but enjoying using his own hands to do so. He glanced at L.C. when she spoke. She was playing the bored teenager meanwhile Lani was still buzzing about how he had gotten it to do what he wanted. He rolled his eyes a little at her but made it subtle like he was watching the tennis ball's path back up above his head where his power could have free rein of it again. His power had never been this obedient and he was just glad it was kind of listening to him now. He didn't know L.C. personally if he did they probably wouldn't be civil right now considering how their meeting had started out.

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't know the half of it, porcupine." He shot back. He opened his mouth to protest when the old man spoke up again. Lani sulked unhappy at her being able to have the last word. Lani looked guilty as they were scolded like children. Lani scowled but Dalton had a point. He couldn't share any of his new life with any of his old 'friends' who had neglected to return any of his calls about getting together during break. He couldn't even tell his employer but that was rather part of protect himself as much as to keep his secret. He glanced over at L.C. seeing if she agreed or if she would keep up her angst filled teenager act. If Lani knew anything he knew that everyone here had just as much right to be angry with the world as he did but apparently Mr. Dalton didn't believe it but when the only people to take it out on were the other metas who were stuck here with you it got hard.

Lani nearly choked at his mispronounced name. Sure in school he had gotten LANie, Lainy, and various other inventive things but never a Lonnie. Lani personally didn't think his name was really all that hard to pronounce. He shook his head chuckling a little bit, "No, its Lah-nee, with an a, Lani." He repeated emphasizing the 'ah' sound. Lani smiled and shrugged dropping the tennis ball into his hand. "I'm always game for free lunch." He smiled and tossed a teasing smile at L.C. moving inconspicuously out of arms reach from her. "How about it Elsie, you coming?"

[L.C. Milliner]

There were points in time when L.C. had a tendency to zone out. There were triggers to it, and as she turned to watch Lani throw a tennis ball to a tree, she had a moment. She watched the ball move between the branches and she sighed, almost longingly. She would die for a power like that. Growing spikes had advantages, for sure, but she couldn’t make anything out of it, or do anything sensible with it. The tree was a perfect example. Some people thought she didn’t realize, or didn’t care, about what she was doing to the tree that she had just climbed of. She did care about the tree, yes, but at the same time she hated that tree. It was the product of someone who was useful. What was she good for? Opening packages and boxes, cutting up food, and punching nickel-sized holes in objects.

She stared into the middle distance and sniffed, snorting mucus back into her nasal passages. She had been outside too long again, at this rate she was likely to catch cold. Her feet were cold because she had neglected to put on socks that morning. She absently began to shuffle her feet on the walk, tapping the toes of her shoes on the sidewalk to restore circulation into them. She stared at the ground, ignoring the teacher’s speech about words on accident. She was busy concentrating on the duct tape on the bottom of her shoes- was it coming off? She’d have to apply some more later. Her stomach was growling too- was the cafeteria still serving lunch? She didn’t know.

Looking up sharply, she turned her head to the boy at the porcupine jab and snorted. “Oh yeah, how original, go shove your tennis ball up your-” She was cut off by the older man and she hushed, biting her lip as she looked at the ground. She listened to his speech and nodded solemnly, not really convinced but still somewhat contrite. She stole a sheepish glance to Lani and moved to scratch the back of her neck- a nervous habit. “Sorry.” She muttered quickly, her voice so low that the wind could’ve carried the sound away with a slight increase in breeze.

L.C. almost bristled at the mispronunciation of her name, which was almost as bad as being called ‘Lyra’. “No, no, NO.” Her arms were back out, waving about. There were few things in the world she got passionate about, correcting people when it came to her name was one of them. She seethed, if he could read emotions, the subtle rage rolling off her would’ve sent him running to the hills. “L!” Her right hand jerked to eye level, thumb and forefinger forming an ‘l’ shape. “C!” Her whole hand curled to create a crescent. “As in initials. L. C. L.C.” Now that her rant was over, she sighed and crossed her arms, looking to Lani with a look of frustrated disbelief. He could share in her minor contempt for the man in front of them; his name had been massacred too.

The mention of food made the female perk up in an instant. The tiny starving carnival child residing in her conscious was screaming with joy, and a hint of a smile escaped to the corner of the girl’s mouth, escaping only when the boy nudged her. “Hey, hey, old man gets off the hook, not you.” She waved at him, a harmless gesture- mostly. Any gesture from L.C. could be taken as threatening, but when spikes failed to emerge from her fingertips, it was safe to assume she wasn’t trying to be lethal. “I’m in. Never turn down a free meal if you don’t know when your next one’s coming.” That was her personal mantra- as well as the mantra of any carnival child.

[Jacob Dalton]

<< Lani cocked his head skeptical. He wasn't sure he believed him but he looked up at the ball spinning over his head. He shook his head at first not wanting to admit how bad he was at this. Especially with L.C. around, she had already expressed how terrible he was at control in that first sentence. He shrugged, "Alright, to the tree." He said pointing not really sure that it would work but the ball went to bounce along the branches. >>

“Excellent. Bravo!” Dalton was pleased and proud, and it reflected in his eyes. These were the moments he lived for: when his contributions could give a student the tools they needed to take a step forward, not merely for one lesson, but for life.

<< Lani let out a half laugh and smiled with triumph. More confident he said, "Come back." It did but way too fast. He caught it but it made him stagger a little bit. "Wow," Lani muttered looking at the tennis ball like he wasn't the one that was controlling it. >>

Dalton nodded. “You’re learning. It doesn’t go from difficult to perfect in five minutes. Now you understand the principle: it is simply a matter of applying it consistently.

“I noticed you gesturing: yes, the same principle applies. Words, whistling, gesturing, snapping your fingers, tapping your toes, wiggling your nose or your ears: whatever means something to you, you can use. Decide for yourself what that actions means, focus on it; in essence, program your mind, then practice. In time it will become instinctive.”

<< He shook his head chuckling a little bit, "No, its Lah-nee, with an a, Lani." He repeated emphasizing the 'ah' sound. >>

<< L.C. almost bristled at the mispronunciation of her name... “No, no, NO...” “L!” Her right hand jerked to eye level, thumb and forefinger forming an ‘l’ shape. “C!” Her whole hand curled to create a crescent. “As in initials. L. C. L.C.” Now that her rant was over, she sighed and crossed her arms, looking to Lani with a look of frustrated disbelief. He could share in her minor contempt for the man in front of them; his name had been massacred too. >>

Dalton groaned inwardly. The last thing he had meant to do was insult these two by mangling their names.

“ ‘LAH-nee,’ not ‘LAW-nee:’ and ‘L.C.,’ not ‘Elsie.’ Please accept my sincerest apologies. Too many rock concerts in a misspent youth.”

The apology was sincere: the rock concert part was a minor joke. But it felt like the wrong place and time to go into detail about his past as a firefighter: the hundreds of rides on the truck with sirens blaring three feet from his head, or times spent in burning buildings with the roof about to collapse: the kind of thing that made even the threat of even the fastest tennis ball seem mild by comparison. Speaking of these at the moment might seem like braggadocio, oneupsmanship: also the reason he hadn’t demonstrated by using his own powers. When the timing was appropriate he would do so: meanwhile, when one needed to open a stubborn jar, there was no need to fire up the bulldozer.

Missing Lani’s name was simply mishearing, nothing more. But with L.C./Elsie, he perhaps had a more solid excuse. Allison’s best friend since grade had been an “Elsie:” a young lady Dalton had known for eight years, had last seen at Allison’s memorial service, and most likely would never see again. Not that L.C. physically resembled the original Elsie in any way: with her bright blonde hair, her general physical traits, style, clothing and her attitude crying out against the world, she was a far closer match to Allison. A different face, but physically, from a distance -- but Dalton was not about to let his mind wander too far down that path. There were thousands of sights, sounds and other events in life which could remind him of either Del or Allison, and he had best get used to it.

<< Lani smiled and shrugged dropping the tennis ball into his hand. "I'm always game for free lunch." He smiled and tossed a teasing smile at L.C. moving inconspicuously out of arms reach from her. "How about it Elsie, you coming?" >>

<< The mention of food made the female perk up in an instant… “Hey, hey, old man gets off the hook, not you.” … “I’m in. Never turn down a free meal if you don’t know when your next one’s coming.”
>>

Dalton exhaled silently. Having brought unintentional offense, at least he was able to extend an olive branch all could appreciate.

“Very well, then. Where shall we start?”

(This concludes this thread, to be picked up in the front office an hour later… thank you!)