[i]Not how he wanted me to be, not how I wanted to be free. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I have such trouble standing tall.[/i]

It was someone new. Greg peeked up from his position, seated on the roots of a tree with a book held in front of his face. The boy was dropped off in a black sedan and immediately began asking for a light for his cigarette. This bothered two people, the blind boy and another, though the flash of irritation didn't last long enough for him to get a real trace on either of their feelings. For the best.

[i]Dark, stark, leaves a mark. Difficult, dangerous, don't dare dally.[/i]

Greg sighed and looked back down to his book, trying his best to ignore the voices as he always did. He wasn't having much success with reading, to be honest - the dark glasses he was wearing made it difficult to discern the words. He hated them, of course, but it couldn't be helped - he couldn't risk anyone making eye contact with him.

The trip had been hellish, of course. He'd taken a plane from Idaho to New York - a four hour flight with a two hour time difference. There were so many [i]people[/i] bustling around, going and coming and grieving and fearing and looking at him with hairs standing up on the backs of their necks when he walked past. For the umpteenth time, Greg wondered why his power couldn't have been being invisible.

He hadn't spoken to anyone except his family in... well, a long time, and hadn't exactly traveled in a while. Taking that kind of voyage was a culture shock, even though Sarah had been nice enough to help him get packed and ready to go. Of course, the journey itself wasn't even the worst part.

And now he was going to get on a small bus with a bunch of other teenagers, and go to a school for mutants. Part of him was terrified that he wouldn't fit in, that they wouldn't like him, that he'd be alone again. Part of him was resigned to it.

[i]Pet with pets, exquisite, exotic, kills me when I don't have it.[/i]

Greg ground his teeth and looked back to his book. He'd read it plenty of times, but it was one of his favorites, and besides, he'd read practically everything plenty of times by now; he'd had a lot of time for that. Reading.

He'd been turning pages for a while now, but his eyes hadn't been absorbing it. He flipped back to the first page and began again. [i]"One morning, upon awakening from agitated dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself, in his bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin,"[/i] he whispered to himself.