I storm into the boy's dorm, completely flustered. I've been shedding feathers behind me for the past five minutes or so, and have already left quite a trail through the school. I yank open the door of the room I'm assigned to (and share with about twelve other people) with a scowl. Cole is sitting on his bed reading a book, and the only other person there is Tom, a really creepy half-demon, who is inspecting his reflection in a mirror, like he always does.

Cole doesn't even look up before saying, "Hey, Griff. So-you have three super important things you need to tell me, and the last one you didn't even realise you wanted to tell me until I said this. Go ahead-I'm listening." I blink in surprise.

Psychic friends.

"Er-" His random psychic moment caught me by surprise and I take a few seconds to respond. "Did you hear about the war?!" I exclaim, and he nods. "Everyone has. You had Interdimensional History last; I'm surprised you hadn't heard about it before then." He glances up at me from his book with a bland look. I shrug. "One: people don't generally talk to me, two: I thought the stuff I had heard was just rumors." I drop my books on the slightly too-small bed I've slept in for as long as I can remember (it's the one in the corner-the best spot) and sit down on it with a dramatic whoomph. "Next thing you want to tell me?" He says, face bored as usual, though I know he's interested in what I have to tell him.

"Kelsie randomly started talking to me today and said she wanted to be my friend, so I asked her why she did all of a sudden, and she literally said "'Cos you're cute," and walked away." I throw my hands up into the air. "I hardly even know her! What do I do?!" An evil smirk spreads across Cole's face. "Ooooooh, she likes you. Although, how anyone could think you're cute is a mystery to me, Feathers." He snorts at the look of death I'm giving him and his creepy sharp-toothed grin gets wider. I wonder if he learned that from me. I hope not.

Tom suddenly pipes up from the other side of the room in his oddly echoey voice. "Kelsie's really nice," He says, inspecting his fangs in his mirror. "If she likes you and you don't like her back, you had better not be mean to her." I raise an eyebrow. "Do you like her?" Tom blushes and immediately turns away, lashing his Devil's tail. "No," he says defensively. "She's just a nice person and doesn't deserve for an overgrown chicken like you getting mad at her and saying something mean, is all."

I ignore the chicken comment and roll my eyes.

(He definitely likes her.)

Cole acts like he forgot there was even a third thing and appears like he's started reading his book again. I breathe a sigh of relief and start to hunt through my stack of books for a piece of paper to draw on so I can relax.

"Third thing." He says after a few seconds, and I groan inwardly. "Tell me, Griff."

I sigh dramatically and stand up, knowing he'll never leave me alone if I don't tell him. "You know that stupid list you keep in your head? The one you call the 'Griff is a weirdo' list that I have always hated with a passion?" Cole nods, looking up at me with that creepy little smile again. "How could I forget?" He says sweetly, his awful little grin starting to legitimately scare me.

What, is it pick on Griff day or something? I wonder.

"Well, get ready to add another bullet point to it." I grump. Cole raises an eyebrow and I irritably take off my shirt and turn around, pointing to the purplish bumps growing from each vertebrae of my spine that are so obviously going to be spikes one day. They've been there for a few weeks now, and have gotten to the point where they're getting too obvious to hide anymore, and make it really uncomfortable to sleep on my back. I already have feathers, I don't need spikes, too.

"You're growing spines up your back?" Cole says, legitimately puzzled. "I mean, I know you're a quarter roc and a quarter human, but now you're growing spines on top of it all? How many different species of ancestors do you even have?" I shrug, relieved to have gotten rid of some weight on my chest and relieved to be able to air out my feathers at last. They're always too warm underneath a shirt in a cramped, sweaty classroom and it's really uncomfortable.

Tom appears by Cole's bed (he can teleport) and scares the living daylights out of me. My feathers fluff right up again as I jump in surprise.

"Cool," He says, walking over and inspecting the purply, half-inch spikes growing from my spine. I frown at him. "No, it's not cool it's freaking me out," I say, and Tom shrugs. "That depends on your attitude. If I were you, I would totally love having epic spikes all up my back." He rubs his knuckles along his own spine and sighs, obviously wishing he had spikes, finally going back to inspecting himself in his handheld mirror vainly. He carries that mirror with him everywhere (he's the most narcissistic person I know). I put my shirt back on irritably. "You're half demon-you want to be scary. I, on the other hand, don't want to be." I growl, itching my feathers. Tom shrugs, teleporting back to his side of the room with no more input.

He smells like dead people and wears a ton of disgusting cologne on top of it all the time. It's gross, and I'm always happier when he's far, far away from me.

"It's ridiculous that we've been close to war for all these years and they haven't told us," Cole says, putting his book down thoughtfully and spinning around until his feet are on the floor and he's facing me. I frown, suddenly nervous that Cole can hear what's literally screaming in my head. I nod.

The thoughts I had been suppressing start to come back. My stomach twists at the thought I might be one of the enemy and I decide I don't want to be around my friends at the moment. Out of nowhere, my feathers itch like mad, my skin crawls, and I need time to think and be alone. The dinner bell rings and I breathe a sigh of relief. I tell Cole I'm gonna take a shower, wanting to avoid him and Ayla for the time being.

"You're gonna miss dinner," He points out, and I shrug. "I'm not hungry," I say, reaching under my bed for a clean pair of clothes (yes, I keep my clean clothes there-don't judge). "That's a first," He comments blandly. I don't respond.

I storm over to the bathroom. Each room has a bathroom all to themselves, and my bed is only about four feet from the door, which is convenient, but also awful. Cole is silent as he leaves the room, and I can tell he's trying to figure out what my problem is-probably with his psychic powers. I feel myself getting mad at his snooping and slam the bathroom door behind me.

"Calm down, you overgrown chicken!" Tom shouts through the door, laughing evilly, before he too leaves the dorm. I lean against the door and sigh, closing my eyes and trying to organize my thoughts. I know the chance of my mom being one of them is so small, it's nearly nothing, but that doesn't mean I can't still worry like crazy. I open my eyes and look at my hands, wondering if I'll ever use them to hurt someone like my mom did. My feathers fluff worriedly at the thought, and I clench my hands into fists and force myself to put those kinds of things out of my head.

I look around the small but nicely furnished bathroom, trying to distract myself. There's a shower in one corner, a toilet in the other, and a large sink and mirror by the door. There's also a small door that opens on a small compartment where clean towels are kept, and another small door with a chute to throw dirty towels down. I sigh and rub my face with my hands, my skin still crawling, and decide I'll shower like I said I would.

The hot water feels wonderful, especially on my itching feathers. I can feel myself relaxing slightly, and the horrible crawling feeling fades; I stand with my eyes closed and just let the steamy water rinse away my anxiety. I shower for what feels like ages (but is really only a few minutes) and just think about all the crazy stuff that's ever happened to me.

There's a lot of crazy stuff to think about.

After my shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and stare at myself in the mirror for a lack of anything better to do. My reflection stares blankly back at me, my wet hair already starting to stick back up like feathers. Same old olive skin, red eyes, beaklike nose, and fluffy mop of cream-colored hair as always, but a horrible and unfamiliar voice in my head keeps telling me I'm not what is seen on the surface, that there's a monster in there who's gonna be like his mom one day. It's probably just my anxiety getting to me, but I can't shake the feeling that it's right.

You're like your mom, it whispers, you're one of the enemy-one of The Everything. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, swallowing a horrible feeling and forcing myself to remind myself of just how many different species have spines up their backs or red eyes or both. It's just a coincidence, I think to myself. I've never had ink come from my skin, and I'm awful at magic when they're supposed to have insanely powerful magic. It's just a horrible, awful coincidence-it doesn't mean anything.

But it does, the voice says, no longer a whisper but suddenly strong in my head. A shiver runs up my spine and I feel my heart skip a beat. Oh, it does, Griffin. It means Everything.

I let out a shocked cry and open my eyes, backpedaling wildly and grabbing two handfuls of my hair. I'm gasping for breath and my feathers spread all the way up my neck and all the way down my back, tufts of them even poke from my elbows. I wince and let go of my head, realising I have talons again and that they're incredibly sharp.

I take deep breaths and pace in circles, nearly frantic, wondering if I've gone insane. Normal people don't hear malicious female voices in their heads after realising their mom could be one of the enemy in an interdimensional war. That never happens to normal people, lucky them, but it apparently happens to me.

I realise Cole will soon be coming back to the dorm to probably check on me, being the mother hen that he is, and throw on my clothes as I prepare to leave. I don't want him to see me so freaked out and ask me what's wrong, because I don't want to tell him, because I don't want to reveal my secret fear of being one of the enemy or tell him about the voice that was suddenly in my head.

I open the bathroom door, releasing a cloud of steam into the room. I pull on my shoes, throw my dirty clothes under my bed, and speedwalk out of the dorm and down the hallway. I head for the courtyard, hoping the chilly autumn air outside will clear my muddled thoughts. I don't see anyone in the halls because they're all at dinner still, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I open the doors to the courtyard without having to explain to anyone why I'm not at dinner.

A rush of cool, autumn air hits me and tugs at my feathers, sharp against my damp skin. I walk through the yellowing grass towards a huge old pine tree at the far end of the courtyard, still scared but at least happy to be outside. Slowly, my feathers fall off and my talons become normal hands again. A brown leaf skitters over the grass towards me and I kick it away, lost in thought.

Was it my imagination? I wonder. Was I so anxious about everything that I've started hearing voices? If that really happened, I should probably go to the infirmary so the nurse can help me get it together.

... But it felt so real.

It felt like there was really another person speaking in my head; a bad person to be sure, judging from the malicious voice and the fact that they were telling me terrible things, but a person all the same. She couldn't have been fake, but then again how could she be real? Is it a cruel prank some idiot decided to play on me? I swear under my breath in Swedish.

My breath steams in the air and I frown.

Why can't I be like other people and just not care? I wonder.