Casey was nervous, not the kind you get when your about to play a championship game, no it was the kind that appeared when your gut was telling you everything was going to go to hell. After all the meetings and the bureaucracy was over with, Casey walked out onto the streets. He currently was wearing only a white tanktop, blue jeans, and had his backpack slung over his left shoulder. Within it was journal that was not his, a paintbrush, and a tightly sealed mason jar of his blood that he had made into a paint. While he didn't doubt the intentions of the school, he still liked to have his things close.

Not particularly tired, Casey decided to look for his classes, and picking up a handheld map from one of the larger stationary ones, he sat down on a bench and began mapping out the fastest route for each class day. After sitting at the bench for half an hour, scrutinizing the map, he was finally satisfied he had found the best possible routes. Deciding that he was done worrying about school for the day, he pulled out the journal and began reading from it.