Outlines

Template
ACT I – 25% of the scenes

0-10% Stage I – Setup

10% Plot Point #1/Inciting event: (The things that sets the hero on the path to trouble)

10%-25% Stage II – New Situation

25% Plot Point #2/Change of Plans: (First major event that upsets the status quo).

Act I Climax: (The event that makes it impossible to turn back now)

ACT II – 50% of the scenes

25%-50% Stage III – Seeming progress

50% Plot Point #3/Point of no return: (Learns the full scope of the problem)

Midpoint Climax: (Introduces a twist or unexpected event)

50%-75% Stage IV – Complications and higher stakes

75% Plot Point #4/Major Set back

Act II Climax: (Increase the stakes and decreases the hero’s abilities)

ACT III – 25% of the scenes

75%-90% Stage V – Final Push (Crisis. Things can’t continue as they are.)

90%-99% Plot Point #5 Climax (The action the protagonist takes to resolve problem)

99%-100% Aftermath/Wrap Up: (Ties up loose ends and foreshadows the future)

War of the Hunger Games
ACT I – 25% of the scenes

0-10% Stage I – Setup Hunter arrives in Woodbury and gets acclimated to his new life. While at his new school for the first time, he meets Ashley and Isaac. The three of them quickly become friends. Isaac takes him on a short tour of the town. When Hunter goes home, he discovers a strange stone in his bed that he quickly neglects. Afterwards, he has a strange dream of a shape-shifting man and wakes up to discover that his hand is burning and is marked with a strange symbol.

10% Plot Point #1/Inciting event: (The things that sets the hero on the path to trouble) Hunter informs Isaac of his mark, but he brushes it off as nothing. Isaac gives Hunter a more thorough tour of the town, and Hunter sees a symbol on the Stryke Corp building that matches the one on his hand. A strange man sees them watching and quickly approaches, but they run away before he can reach them. At home Hunter has another dream, this time about a place called the Void Between Worlds, where he speaks with a mysterious figure. The figure makes cryptic comments about Hunter's mark, but says nothing clearly. That morning Hunter's hand burns again, more intensely then before. At school, a incident involving his hand forces Hunter to take refuge in the abandoned bathroom, where he discovers his ability of ArcLight. Confiding Isaac in on his ability, the two boys agree to investigate the situation.

10%-25% Stage II – New Situation Hunter attempts to hone his ability through training. With Isaac's help, he begins to believe he can control it. When the boy's see a semi-truck marked with the Stryke Corp logo carrying a symbol that resembles the one on Hunter's hand, they begin to suspect that the Corp is somehow involved. While at school, they are overhead by Ashley who believes they are up to no good. After getting into an argument with Dallas Wells, thry wind up in detention, where they overhear a strange plot.

25% Plot Point #2/Change of Plans: (First major event that upsets the status quo).

Act I Climax: (The event that makes it impossible to turn back now)

ACT II – 50% of the scenes

25%-50% Stage III – Seeming progress

50% Plot Point #3/Point of no return: (Learns the full scope of the problem)

Midpoint Climax: (Introduces a twist or unexpected event)

50%-75% Stage IV – Complications and higher stakes

75% Plot Point #4/Major Set back

Act II Climax: (Increase the stakes and decreases the hero’s abilities)

ACT III – 25% of the scenes

75%-90% Stage V – Final Push (Crisis. Things can’t continue as they are.)

90%-99% Plot Point #5 Climax (The action the protagonist takes to resolve problem)

99%-100% Aftermath/Wrap Up: (Ties up loose ends and foreshadows the future)

Dreams
I sit in the back of my Mom's sedan, staring blankly out the window and wondering how worse my life could get. I have my IPhone's earbuds in, but I'm not listening to anything. I'm just trying to look busy so that Mom doesn't try and tell me how the move will be the best thing that ever happened to us. Again. For about the fifteenth time. Honestly, I think she's trying to convince herself more than she is me. She's been like that since the divorce.

My seat bumps beneath me as our car goes over a particularly rough portion of the road. I glance out the window but see nothing beyond rolling green meadows. As usual. Since we reached Nebraska, I've seen nothing but empty fields, save for the rare moments when our car passes through another city.

There was only a half hour left before we reached our destination. Maybe enough time to get in a quick nap. But I found it impossible to sleep. Every time I shut my eyes I just envisioned the conversation with my Dad right before we left Chicago, a conversation that may just be the last time I speak to him in over six months.

I wish it had ended better.

Yelling angrily at him while I stalked out the door, fuming furiously about how he never listened to me...That's not how I wanted things to end. Why do all my goodbyes end in anger? I screw my hand into a fist and punch the seat beneath me.

"The house will be perfect, Hunter," Mom says, glancing back at me from the drivers seat. Apparently my earbud disguise has failed. "Your Uncle Roy picked it out himself. It's a real beauty. And Woodbury itself is a great town. A small, quaint little place. You will grow to love it, I'm sure."

"Yeah," I nod my head numbly. "Right."

I see her frown through the rearview mirror, but she doesn't say anything. She's grown accustomed to my indifference. I feel guilty, but is it really my fault that I'm not enjoying this? I've spent my entire life in the city of Chicago. I grew up there, I went to school there, all my friends were there. And now I suddenly have to leave it all behind to go live in some small Nebraska town I've never even heard of. I wasn't even given a choice. When the judge decided that I was to live with Mom, I was immediately condemned to Woodbury.

Mom grew up there. Her parents and brother still live there. To her, this is all just a homecoming. But to me it's the end of everything I've ever known.

I sigh, leaning back into my seat. If there was anything I've learned in my short sixteen years of life, it was that there's point in complaining about things you can't change.

We drive in silence for the rest of the trip. We pass by farms with horses and cattle, then a small copse of trees, and after that there's nothing but cornfields as far as the eye can see. I'm not surprised. This is exactly what Mom described; a small, isolated town filled with nothing but corn and nice people.

We drive for another half-mile before I spot the scattered lights announcing the town. "I haven't been here in so long..." Mom says, but she's not speaking to me. Her eyes are glued on the horizon, where the pale light of the sun is slowly fading. "I never thought I'd be back..."

I squirm in my seat. In all my distaste for the move, I had completely neglected how Mom would feel. She left Woodbury right after graduating high school to go to a university in Chicago. There, she met and fell in love with a man. My father. She stayed in Chicago post-university, marrying Dad and starting a life with him. She probably thought it would last forever.

But then the divorce happened, and she's now going back to the town she left so long ago with nothing from her life but a useless son who does nothing but complain. When you think about that, Mom's really the one who should be complaining. But she never does.

Soon we pass a sign that says, "Welcome to Woodbury, the biggest little town!"

"Is that true?" I ask Mom as we drive past.

She doesn't take her eyes off the road as she asks, "Is what true?"

"The sign. Is Woodbury really the biggest little town?"

"No. It's just a slogan." Figures. Going to boarding school for an entire year wasn't the worst thing in the world, but going to a boarding school while someone plotted to end the world was.

The train car was almost empty as it hurtled down the tracks towards its destination. I sat among its small amount of passengers, trying my best to get some sleep even while I know that the prospect is impossible.

My seat bumped beneath me as the train went over a particularly rough portion of the track. I glanced out the window but saw nothing beyond rolling green meadows. As usual. Since leaving the station in San Francisco, I'd seen nothing but empty fields, save for the rare moments when the train passed through another city.

The latest city being San Diego. That meant there was only one more stop left before we reached my destination. Maybe enough time to get in a quick nap. I had chosen the quietest train car for that very reason. But I found it impossible to sleep. Every time I shut my eyes I just envisioned the conversation with my parents right before departing for the Academy, a conversation that may just be the last time I speak to them for the rest of the year.

I wish it had ended better.

Yelling angrily at them while I stalked out the door, fuming furiously about how they never listened to me...That's not how I wanted things to end. At least I managed to give Lissa a heartfelt goodbye. Maybe she can tell our parents that I hadn't mean everything I said...

But I can't take all the blame for it. After all, they're the ones who sent me off to spend a whole year at a boarding school while they traveled the world on business trips. They could have taken me and Lissa with them, but no. We needed proper education at proper schools. We couldn't possibly get that while constantly on the move, could we?

That was their excuse, at least. I wouldn't be so peeved if they had just let me stay back home and go to school there. I could have stayed with a relative or something. Uncle Craig was always talking about how he could use an assistant to help him organize his antique collection. I was positive that he would have taken me in.

The lights outside the window darkened as the train passed through a tunnel. It fit my mood, alright. I was stewing over the fact that Lissa and I weren't even sent to the same school. Lissa was sent to some all-girls school back in California. Mom thinks it's best for her "moral fiber". Whatever that meant.

I, on the other hand, get to attend the illustrious Consortium Academy in Kerson. I had never even heard of the school before my parents informed me that I was being sent there. Apparently it's some big deal school, and all of it's students have gone on to have highly successful careers. Not that I cared. I hadn't even given any thought to what type of career I wanted, so being sent to such a prestigious school actually worked against me. I'm sure the teachers will be pressuring me about it the entire time.

I sighed, leaning back into my seat.

Later
It began with a dream.

I was nowhere, yet everywhere. The ground beneath me was pure white, formless, shapeless. It was a deep, writhing mist. It hung in the air around me, thick and endless. In every direction it stretched as far as the eye could see.

Where was I? How did I get here? Oddly, I found that the answers didn't matter. Wherever here was, it's where I was meant to be. I don't know why I felt this way. It was just a feeling; a deep, unexplainable feeling.

I stepped forward through the mists, charting a path to some unknown destination. The mists curled across my body, cool to the touch. It was everywhere. Up or down, left or right. No matter where I looked, all I could see was the mist.

A shape appeared in the distance. I squinted to try and get a better look, surprised to find that the mist had begun to dissipate. Forms began to take shape before me. Giant white columns that stretched endlessly into the sky, pillars jutting out from the ground at impossible angles, and giant orbs that hovered off the ground.

It was these orbs that drew my attention. I stepped through the fading mist, approaching the nearest orb. It turned out not to be a orb at all, but more of a bubble...of sorts.

The edges of the bubble looked soft and translucent, constantly changing shape. Sometimes it was large, other times it would suddenly shrink. It was mesmerizing. I moved to touch the bubble, but something held me back.

As I hesitated, I finally took note of the images inside the bubble. They were a flurry of movement, flickering in and out of focus at a rapid pace. Some of the images were familiar to me, like a football stadium and grocery store. Others were completely alien, like a ring of black towers pointing into a crimson sky, or a whale floating down a city street.

What was this orb? Why was it showing me these things? I found myself enthralled by it. I couldn't help but stare into it, trying to discover it's secrets.

I reached out to grab the orb.

The second my hands touched the orb a sharp pain jolted through my fingertips. With a scream I attempted to recoil, only to realize that my hands were inexplicably tied to the orb. Then the orb began to heat up.

My palms began to sweat, then burn. At first it was like when you get too close to a candle and the wind blows the flame against your skin. But then the intensity began to pick up. It became a something more akin to holding your hand against the top of an oven burner. Then it worsened.

Immense pain burned in my hands. Like rusty nails heated in the belly of a volcano. They pressed against the skin of my palms, searing into my flesh. Why hadn't the cube exploded? How could it contain so much heat? I fell to my knees, screaming so loudly that I could not understand how no one had come running to see what was wrong. For its part, the orb just sits there in my hands, all the images gone from its surface. It looked like nothing more than a simple translucent bubble.

Then lights appeared inside.

They danced around in a circular motion, sticking to the center of the cube as their light slowly brightened. I would have been amazed if my hands weren't on fire. Gradually they begin to grow. They grow and grow until they take up the entirety of the orb, transforming it from an empty, translucent surface to a literal ball of light.

The light enveloped my hands and immediately transformed into a brilliant cerulean. I shrieked in pain as the light touched my skin and slid up my arms. It seemed to travel underneath my skin, pulsating brightly as it went, bringing the burning pain with it, stretching from my fingertips to my shoulders.

I tried to move my head, to watch where it went from there. But my head was frozen still, my eyes stuck on the orb of light. My entire body burned now. It felt like I had been been dropped into a furnace turned up at full blast. It was unbearable.

With another flash, the orb began to show images.

Fleeting, quick shots of things I didn't understand. A snowy mountain top. A dank cave. A plain office room. Each image lasted less then a second, yet seemed to burn itself into my mind. A large chamber filled with vast columns. A shiny, metallic building. More images. More intense, blinding pain. A watery pool, glittering with starlight. Then another.

A large, circular chamber. The walls made of a deep, opaque black. In the center of the room stood thirteen spires. No. Not spires. Chairs. Thrones. Each one different from the others, each one carved with unique symbols.

Then the images fade. The lights on the cube went out, reverting back to its translucent form. My hands were released and I slid to the floor with a thump. The burning began to subside, the pain fading.

I rolled up into a ball and began to cry.

I don't know how long I lied there on the cold, white floor. I was conscious only of the receding pain that filled my body and the flashing images that seemed perpetually stuck inside of my brain. The cold mountain...the cave...

What were they?

I couldn't think straight. My head was spinning, my eyes stinging with a mix of sweat and tears. My arms trembled involuntarily, though the pain had almost entirely faded by now. I forced myself to sit up.

"Hunter Haven."

A voice boomed throughout the corridor, louder and more commanding then any I had ever heard before. It was familiar, but at the same time completely unkown. My head throbbed with pain as I looked around the white corridor. The other bubbles float nearby, seemingly unaffected by the light that exploded from the one I touched. Why was that?

"Hunter Haven!"

The voice boomed once more. I panicked, bolting up into a sitting position and spinning my head around, searching the overbearing white room. What is that voice? Where am I? I use my hands to lift myself up and am surprised that I don't feel any pain. How did it dissipate so quickly? I press a trembling hand against my face. "I've gone insane..."

"You're not insane."

For the third time I hear the voice, and for the third time I whip my head around to search for its source. This time, I find it.

Near the bubble that I had touched, perched upon one of the white columns that thrust out of the ground at an impossible angle, sits a small, colorful bird. A parrot.

I stare blankly at it for several long seconds. It stares back. "Yes," I say to myself. I've definitely gone insane."

"I've already told you that you are not insane," The parrot says.

The parrot...I rub a hand over my eyes. I know that parrots could speak, but I was under the impression that they could only repeat things they had heard humans say. Not speak in full sentences and hold conversations!

"It appears you are having difficulty wrapping your head around things," The parrot craned it's head, staring at me with bright eyes. "I am not surprised. Very few accept it straight away."

"I don't know if you were watching, but I nearly had my hands burnt off!" I retort before thinking things through. For some reason, I don't find a talking parrot as unbelievable as I would have just mere minutes ago. Nearly getting sucked into some kind of inter-dimensional bubble would do that to you.

"I was, in fact, watching. And despite what it may have felt like, you were in no danger. Your body was merely...reacting to the arrival of your Gifts."

I blink twice, unsure on how to react to such a statement. "I...You're not making any sense. None of this is making any sense!" It was hard not to believe my original assessment and think myself insane. But that wouldn't really account for my whereabouts right now. Or anything, really.

"I am here to help you, Hunter," The parrots voice has dramatically softened since I first hears it. No longer is it a booming, deep voice, but now it's taken on a gentler, more grandfatherly quality.

That only makes it more creepy.

"Help me? Help me with what?" If this bird was supposed to be helping me, he really wasn't doing a very good job. "If you're so keen on 'helping' me, then why don't you explain to me where we are?"

"We're inside the World-Between-Dreams," The parrot answers promptly.

Oh. Well, okay. That certainly wasn't the response I was expecting, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. Of course I was dreaming! Crazy stuff like hand-melting bubbles and parrots capable of holding full conversations simply didn't exist in the real world.

"So none of this is real then, right?" I tell the parrot. While I myself had never had a lucid dream before, I certainly knew that they existed. "All of this is my imagination? Weird. I never knew my self-conscious was so creative. Or terrifying."

"Incorrect."

"What?" I look up as the parrot fluttered down from the column, landing atop the bubble that still floated mere feet away from me.

"The World-Between-Dreams is not apart of your imagination. It is, in fact, very real. From the World-Between-Dreams, certain people are capable of accessing the dreams of anyone in the vicinity." Right. Yeah, that totally didn't make any sense. The parrot, however, ignored me. "You, Hunter, are what is called a Dream Guardian. Someone who is capable of accessing the World-Between-Dreams, and thus, the dreams of humans."

Transcendence
The doors slowly rumble open, beams of light shining through the cracks. I hold a hand to my head as I peer through. Sunlight?

No. As the doors widen further, I notice for the first time the two figures standing in the doorway. One holds a flashlight. The other has a rifle.

Pointed directly at me.

Going to boarding school for an entire year wasn't the worst thing in the world, but going to a boarding school while someone plotted to end the world was.

The train car was almost empty as it hurtled down the tracks towards its destination. I'm among its small amount of passengers. The other, a dark skinned boy with close-cropped hair, sat in his rickety seat, his head occasionally drooping over as he attempted to thwart off the encroaching threat of sleep.

He wears the same uniform as me; Black leather pants with thin gold lines running down the length sides, a white polyester shirt, and a thick, crimson jacket, embroidered with the Academy patch, a crescent moon shadowed by an upside down cross. He must be a student, just like I am.

My seat bumps beneath me as the train goes over a particularly rough portion of the track. I glance out the window but see nothing beyond rolling green meadows. As usual. Since leaving the station in San Francisco, I've seen nothing but empty fields, save for the rare moments when the train passed through another city.

The latest city being Portland, Oregon. That means there is only one more stop left before we reach my destination. Maybe enough time to get in a quick nap. I had chosen the quietest train car for that very reason. But I find it impossible to sleep. Every time I shut my eyes I just envision the conversation with my parents right before departing for the Academy, a conversation that may just be the last time I speak to them this whole year.

I wish it had ended better.

Yelling angrily at them while I stalk out the door, fuming furiously about how they never listened to me...That's not how I wanted things to end. At least I managed to give Lissa a heartfelt goodbye. Maybe she can tell our parents that I didn't mean everything I said...

But I can't take all the blame for it. After all, they're the ones sending me off to spend a whole year at a boarding school while they travel the world on business trips. They could have taken me and Lissa with, but no. We need proper education at proper schools. We couldn't possibly get that while constantly on the move, could we?

That's their excuse, at least. I wouldn't be so peeved if they had just let me stay back home and go to school there. I could have stayed with a relative or something. Uncle Craig is always talking about how he could use an assistant to help him organize his beer can collection. I'm sure he would have taken me in.

The lights go out as we pass through a tunnel. It fit my mood, alright. I'm stewing over the fact that Lissa and I couldn't even be sent to the same schools. Lissa was sent to some all-girls school back in California. Mom thinks it's best for her "morale fiber". Whatever that means.

Lights suddenly flood in through the windows as the train hurdles pass a station. Fluorescent lights glow a pale lime color, illuminating the metal posts and linoleum floors. I take one long look at the station before it's gone, replaced by impenetrable blackness as the train hurtles away, clunking and screeching as it races down the old, beaten track. Next stop, Consortium Academy.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

My ears pricked in surprise, turning to see that the boy has risen from his slumped position against the train's wall. His dark eyes are orbs of curiosity, his smile slightly lopsided.

"It's impossible to sleep," I answer with a shake of my head.

"I hear that!" The boy laughs and gets up from his seat, swaying unsteadily as he crosses the rocking train floor. "These things are too old and bumpy to catch any winks!" He sits down beside me with a short laugh. He offers me his hand. "Isaac Clawson!"

"Hunter Haven." I clasp his hand and we shake. He has extremely thin lips, with a broad, flat nose and wide, perfectly rounded eyes. Once again I notice our identical uniforms. "You going to Consortium Academy?"

"Oh? So you're heading there too, eh?" His eyes study my face. Probably trying to see if his new classmate matches up.

"My family lives in San Francisco," I say helpfully. Many people see how pale I am and mistake me for a tourist. It's like they can't imagine that some people dislike beaches.

"Ah!" He taps his forehead with his left index finger. "Looks like we're both Californians! I'm from Bootjack."

"What? That's not a real place, right? Please tell me it's not." I can't imagine living in a city with such a name.

"Afraid I can't. It's as real as you and me." Isaac chuckles softly and checks his phone. He must see something he doesn't like because he frowns. Perhaps he's trying to get in contact with a family member? Maybe I should try the same. Last time I called Lissa I got nothing.

"You know much about this school?" He asks as I stare out the window. I think I can see the ocean, just barely on the horizon.

"Nope. I know nothing." And yet my parents still sent me there. Honestly, what were they thinking? I'd rather stay and live with my Grandma then be sent to an out of state school. And Grandma loves to go on long winded tales about how and her sister went shopping last week. Even if you were with then when it happened.

Isaac let's that response sit and we lapse into silence. It doesn't last long, however.

"Those tests were a pain, weren't they?" Isaac is certainly the talkative type. I'd much rather sit here in silence, staring out the window at the eternal meadows then respond, but I know that we'll be in the same school for many months. Getting to know him better will surely benefit me.

"No, I--Wait. What tests?" Now this is something new to me. I hadn't taken any tests, or anything else that might have resembled one. I was just sent off on a train after my parents informed me of my fate. I didn't even get a brochure!

"You...didn't take the tests?" Isaac is taken back by my response. He looks more surprised then I'd thought him capable of. "Then how the heck were you admitted into the school?"

Chapter 3 (Continued)
The principals office is not unlike any I've seen before. The walls are a dark-paneled wood, the floors are highly polished linoleum, smelling slightly of cinnamon. A few potted plants fill the office's corners, and a large wooden desk dominates the room. Behind the desk, sits a man who must be the principal himself. He's a heavyset guy with broad shoulders at least twice the size of mine. His black hair is close-cropped to his head and his eyes are a deep blue. Those eyes seem to bore into me as I awkwardly stand before the desk. I've seen enough of school leadership to recognize the look of those eyes. He's a disciplinarian if I've ever seen one.

"Ah, Mister Cooke, I am so glad that you could join me!" He says with a wave of his hand towards the small stool set before his desk. "Please, sit."

Do I even have a choice? Not really. I sit myself down carefully, not enjoying the way it wobbles under my weight. "Do you know why I called you here?" Principal Rourke asks, carefully steepling his fingers as he leans back in his chair.

"Because it is my first day here at school, sir."

"Wrong!"

My second day at Somnium Academia was the worst day of my life.

I'm awoken from my sleep by the rapid beeping of an alarm clock. I rolled off my bed, arms flailing wildly as I imagined that I was late for school. But then I remembered the events from yesterday and all my panic evaporated. Well, some of it.

I lied on the ground for several long moments, thinking over everything that had happened to me. I still didn't believe that Mr. Biv was telling the truth--why in the world would my Mom sign me up for such a thing?--but there's nothing else I could do but go along with it.

Then I sat up and smashed my head against the bottom of the desk.

Howling with pain, I stumbled around in the room in complete darkness for several minutes before finding the light switch and illuminating the room.

"Damn Mr. Biv," I muttered under my breath as I rubbed my still sore head, wondering if I'd gotten a lump. I bet that maniac knew this would happen!

The alarm clock was still beeping like mad, so I moved to turn it off when I noticed what time it was. 6:05 A.M. Who the hell wakes up this early? Grumbling to myself, I unplugged the whole thing and climbed back into bed, determined to get back to sleep.

Unfortunately, I couldn't succeed. My mind was abuzz with thoughts about my current predicament, and my head still hurt like hell from that bump I took. I lied in bed for ten whole minutes before realizing that I wasn't going to get anywhere. So I rolled back of bed and decided to check just why Mr. Biv wanted his "students" awake at such an early hour.

I noticed a note on the bedstand as I rose. Signed by Mr. Biv, it told me that I had an assortment of clothes picked for me waiting in the wardrobe. Feeling that changing clothes would probably be a good idea--I hated the blue outfit I was currently wearing--I crossed the room and pulled the wardrobe open.

And discovered that it was filled with identical blue outfits.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

Gritting my teeth, I vowed that I would strangle Mr. Biv for this. But for now, I contented myself with changing clothes.

Not that it was much of a change. I threw on a simple blue shirt and a matching pair of shorts before seeing a blue tracksuit and putting that on as well. By the time I was done, I was so blue that you'd be forgiven for thinking that I was trying to get into the Blue Man Group.

Finally dressed, I stepped out of the room and into the hall.

"Ah. I see you've finally woke up!" Dallas is waiting for me outside. Standing across the hall outside his own room, he wears a red tracksuit that is identical to mine in everyway.

"How long have you been awake?" I grumbled, noticing his alert expression and perfectly coiffed hair. What person not only wakes up this early, but does their hair as well?

"About an hour. I like to wake up early for our morning run."

"Our what?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did Mr. Biv expect me to run this early in the day? Hell, I don't like running during the afternoon! Or at all!

"Our morning run. It's a mandatory part of our daily curriculum. Mr. Biv believes that it makes one alert and ready to face the day's challenges. I, for one, agree with him."

"You're both insane!" The amount of nutso on display was almost more than I could handle. I understood how Mr. Biv might think that forcing us to run laps before the sun rose could be funny, but how did these teenagers think that it was okay? This was borderline child abuse!

Dallas only laughed. I think he thought that I was joking. Well, he was sorely mistaken. I had half a mind to punch him just for thinking so. But before I could do anything, he set off down the hall. "Come on. I bet the others are already waiting!"

I had little choice but to follow. He led me down the hallway where our rooms where located, back towards the central lobby full of bright and colorful couches. Corridors ran down from the lobby like spokes on a wheel hub. Dallas swiftly went down one of these and I followed, barely keeping my head straight.

I know that I walked these halls yesterday, but it wasn't for very long and I couldn't remember much of what I saw. I doubt that I could find my way back to the labs where I woke up if my life depended on it.

Dallas never looks back to see if I was still following. For all he knew, I could have stayed back at our rooms. Maybe I should have. I really had no desire to do any sort of running. I got the idea to just head back now, but quickly brushed h it aside. Mr. Biv would just seek me out and force me back.

Besides, I wanted answers and questioning the other students might just get me some.

After a few turns down some similar looking corridors, Dallas lead me down a a wider, more open hallway with stone floors and light pine woodwork. He stopped beside a door at the end. "This is the courtyard. The others should be out here," He said just before pushing the doors open and darting outside.

I followed him out into a courtyard, which was actually pretty cool. It's an enormous expanse, with paths set in stone that go through a grassy area in the center. Several small trees grew there, sitting alongside many topiaries cut into the shape of various animals. A large, elaborate fountain sat in the center of everything, gurgling softly as it spills its water out.

Bright sun, clear blue skies, and glistening ivy gave the building that surrounded the courtyard a glossy glow. In the clipped hedges and pristine landscaping, not one blade of grass looked out of place.

Dallas jogged over to the fountain, where the other three students have assembled. Like Dallas and I, they're dressed in nearly identical tracksuits. The only difference is the color.

"Good morning, Dallas," J.C greets the taller boy as he arrived. The often quiet guy is wearing a burnt orange tracksuit, which matched the color he wore yesterday.

I join the group with less vigor, squinting in the sunlight. Why is it even up? I thought for sure it would be dark for another hour or so.

"Hello, Damian!" Austin is the only one to greet me. The skinny kid looks tired and less than enthusiastic about this whole thing, which made me think that maybe he's the smartest of the bunch.

"Hey." It mutter the word, stretching out my limbs in preparation for this stupid run. Cordelia fixed me with a blank stare. I don't think the girl has said more than a sentence to me yet. Not that I cared.

"Okay guys, listen up!" Dallas draws all our attention and began to tell us the days plan, which I think was mostly for my sake. If what gathered was correct, then these kids did the same things pretty much every day.

Dallas proceeds to give us the run down. Apparently, the courtyard is the running track, and it is five hundred meters in a full lap around. Doing two laps gives you a full kilometer, which is the required quota set by Mr. Biv. Afterwards, we are to retire to the showers, then head to the cafeteria for breakfast.

My attention peaks at that part. I haven't had anything to eat since that terrible meal yesterday. Getting some good grub in me could easily change my mood.

"Everyone ready? Then let's go!"

I hate this day.

The run was pure pain. J.C and Cordelia sprinted out ahead, trying to best one another while Dallas ran shortly behind, screaming at them to stop because this wasn't a race. Austin was pretty far back, unable to keep up with their speed. I lagged way behind even him, barely trying.