A sour, yellow note. There it was again. Ellis' eyes narrowed at the back of Sarah Langtree's lilac blouse. Why did she make that sound? Was she making that sound? Ellis rubbed his forehead anxiously. He wished it would stop. Narrow gaze shifting he tried to ignore the sound, turning his focus on the front of the room. What period was it? History? No. Jesus. It was physics. He liked physics. He hadn't heard a word the teacher had said all period. The homework he'd handed in was a mess of figures. He was certain he'd failed it. Ellis had never failed at anything. He tried to make out the equation on the board. It was hazy. Ellis adjusted his glasses. No, it wasn't his eyes. The whole room was hazy, there was a fog, almost the same color as Sarah's shirt that filled the room. No one else seemed to notice it. Ellis wanted to hold his breath, he didn't want to breath whatever it was in. He wanted out of the room. 

The ringing bell almost made him jump out of his skin. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. Ellis was good at keeping a lid on his nerves. He didn't flinch, he didn't twitch. He got up easily from his desk, packed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, and sauntered, not walked out of the room. He didn't take a breath until he was in the hall. The air still smelled. It left a taste in his mouth. Like emulsified molasses. Ellis breathed. He tried to ignore the symbols in the shadows, the ones that looked like they might cut his eye if he looked at them too hard. He could feel the note throb in the bag on his back. It had beat like a heart, pulsing in his hand the moment he'd picked it up. It hadn't stopped since. A club for the occult, huh? Months ago the thought would have amused and delighted. Now it just unnerved him. Ellis could feel the world unravel. No, not unravel. It wasn't coming apart. That would imply that it was seamless before. No. Now he could just see it for what it was. He looked at the tiles under his feet. He used to try and walk only on one color. A small game as he walked from class to class. Now he tried to walk on different colors. There were colors no one else could see, and they filled the yawning gaps that he knew existed between the tiles. The world was like a wire net, thin, stretched, so fragile above the maelstrom over which they were all suspended. Ellis wished he didn't have to know that.

Before and long after he had known it, Ellis found himself in front of 12c. He wished he could truly ask himself why he'd come. He couldn't. Ellis knew precisely why he was here. Ellis touched a hand to the doorknob. It felt like wet satin. He breathed. He opened the door.

Colorful bunch. His first thought. He recognized faces. Marigold. New council prez. Not much competition around here. He didn't know much about her. She like to paint. Probably a little nuts. Nice curves. Little orange moth-shapes beat around her, throbbing like the letter she must have sent.

August. Batty. Knew her a little better. Tended to make a bit of a spectacle of herself. Wizard with what she did. Certainly a little nuts. Cute, in a mousy kind of way. There was a keening to her, like the last octave going out on an old amp.

The only other male in the room looked like he was trying to hide. Ellis didn't know him very well. Jackson something. New kid. Seemed unhappy with life. Join the club. He smelled like cinnamon and sulfur.

They were an odd bunch, that was for sure. So why did Ellis feel like the outsider? He only took a moment to take the room and it's occupants in. Shrugging in what he hoped and did look like a nonchalant fashion he threw his bag down at a desk next to August. Sitting down he kicked his own long legs up on the seat of the desk in front of him, folding his arms over his chest, glancing sidelong at the red-head.

"Hey there Batty, what's the word?"