"Welcome to Conversion Academy."

                The words hung heavy in the air. Of course I'd heard the rumors about this school, but it was effective and some parents were desperate to get a handle on their child.

                "It's too early in the morning for this," I said at last. "Unless you have a few shots of vodka to help me swallow this all down, just stop talking."

                Beckett shrugged, the spark in his eyes gone. "Now you know."

                The door opened and Mr. Sternberg came back into the room. I forced my attention away from Beckett and onto our teacher.

                "Pass your homework up," he said.

                Kids dug a paper out and passed it up the rows. Mr. Sternberg walked along and snatched the papers out of kids' hands, tossing them on his desk when he was done.

                "Fagan, stop leaning in the chair! Sit with good posture!" Mr. Sternberg snapped.

                "Aw Sternberg, I'm not hurting anyone by leaning back," Fagan said.

                Mr. Sternberg stormed over and I watched in surprise as he kicked the chair. Fagan spilled out onto the floor as the chair toppled over, but he managed to catch himself on his arm and land in a neat position.

                He moved to push himself away, but Mr. Sternberg was faster. He grabbed the back of Fagan's maroon vest and yanked him to his feet. He righted the chair and slammed Fagan down onto it, grabbing the back of Fagan's neck and shoving his head down.

                "When I tell you to do something, you do it," Mr. Sternberg snarled.

                "His neck bent isn't good posture," Beckett said.

                "You're on thin ice, Beckett," Mr. Sternberg said, narrowing his eyes at Beckett.

                "Aren't I always?" Beckett didn't seem troubled by the threat.

                Mr. Sternberg released Fagan and went back to the front of the room. He snatched a ruler off his desk and lightly slapped it against his palm.

                "Are you going to teach, or just stand there glaring?" Tessa said after a moment of silence.

                "I have no patience for you lot anymore," Mr. Sternberg said. "This is your last warning for the day."

                "Oh, wow, we actually got a warning this time," Fagan said in surprise.

                Beckett sighed. "And there it goes."

                Sure enough, Mr. Sternberg was already moving down the row toward Fagan. Fagan noticed and let out a groan.

                "Shit. Staple my mouth shut while you're at it, Sternberg," he said, tilting his face.

                Mr. Sternberg struck Fagan in the face with the ruler. My eyes widened as the slapping sound echoed through the room.

                "Oh shit," I said in surprise.

                Mr. Sternberg turned and pointed the ruler at me threateningly. "Watch your language in my class or you'll be next."

                "Oh sugar," I amended.

                Fagan was rubbing his cheek where the ruler had struck. There was a red mark streaking across his skin.

                My eyes shot to the bruises on Beckett and I realized that they were in a similar shape to Fagan's new injury. Shit, just how intense was this place?

                It's not like I expected a pacifist school, but wasn't hitting kids illegal? How the hell could this guy get away with it?

                Mr. Sternberg went over and whacked another kid that was whispering to her neighbor. She glared up at him defiantly, only giving a slight wince when the ruler cracked down on the back of her hand.

                Mr. Sternberg stormed back up to the front of the room and began his lesson, aggressively yelling about whatever the topic was. My mind slipped away from that, trying to assess the current situation.

                Crazy abusive teacher, okay. Their behavior and Beckett's bruises told me this was a pretty common occurrence, at least in Mr. Sternberg's class. Were the other teachers like this? Was the headmaster aware?

                And how was this guy getting away with it? Surely someone had to have told their parents what he was doing. Suing Mr. Sternberg might actually get you enough to cover half the price of tuition here.

                I looked down at my hand, which had medical tape skillfully wrapped around my palm and the base of my middle finger. Great, just what I needed, more hand injuries.

                The class went by slowly, students on edge, waiting for the next blow. Another boy was hit when Mr. Sternberg spotted him doodling in his notebook instead of paying attention. But other than that, the rest of the class escaped unharmed.

                As the class ended and kids hurried out in the hallway, I gathered my stuff and took off. I looked around until I spotted Fagan, Beckett, and Tessa standing together. I made my way over to them.

                "Thought you didn't need friends?" Beckett said, noticing me as I approached.

                "I don't. But I need answers," I said. "Abuse common here?"

                "Well, at least he's not stupid," Beckett said.

                I gestured to the bruises on his face. "Clearly you are if you pissed off an abusive teacher multiple times."

                Fagan laughed. "Oh, I like this one."

                "Don't bother bitching about it. No security cameras in the rooms to catch them, cell phones get destroyed, audio recordings aren't enough to prove anything," Beckett said, as if he'd gone through this a million times. "Parents don't believe students, especially Maroons. Even if they do, they keep quiet about it as long as it means their brat gets fixed."

                "Fantastic," I said, checking my schedule for my next class. "Are all the teachers like this?"

                "Take a wild guess," Tessa said.

                "Well, this place is a ray of sunshine," I said.

                "Keep your head down and stay out of our way," Beckett said before walking off.

                "Pleasant friend you got there," I said.

                "That was him being nice," Tessa said with a shrug before taking off after him.

                Fagan just grinned before following his friends. I went down the hall and into my next class, unsurprised to see those three already sitting at desks. The classes here were so small they probably kept the same kids together throughout the day so teachers could focus on them.

                I checked the schedule for this teacher's name. Some guy named Mr. Miller.

                I put my schedule back in my pocket and waited by the front of the room since I didn't know where to sit. Kids were moving around the room, taking their seats and talking with their friends.

                It's not that I wanted to be that edgy "I don't need friends" guy. It's just that I couldn't afford to get in any more trouble, and these kids were troublemakers. Surely there were some kids here with good hearts who just made dumb mistakes, but I couldn't risk it. If I picked the wrong friends, my future was done for. It would be lonely, but I could endure a few months of school without friends if it meant not ruining my whole damn life.

                A man walked into the room and eyed me. "Where's your uniform?"

                "Probably setting itself on fire," I said. "Mr. Redfield said I get a pass on it for today."

                "You're the new boy? Brendon?" he said.

                "Unless you have two new boys with strikingly similar names, I'm Brennan," I said.

                "Don't give me your sass." His expression darkened. "Go sit at that empty desk there and keep your mouth shut during class."

                I took his advice, sitting down and keeping quiet as he started class. Like Mr. Sternberg, Mr. Miller kept a ruler ready to strike in his hand.

                I noticed that kids kept shooting looks at Beckett. But Beckett ignored them, keeping his attention on our teacher as he took notes.

                Huh, so the moody guy had some kind of reputation around here. Fagan had said this was Beckett's territory, whatever that meant.

                He didn't seem overly threatening. He just seemed...average, actually. Average height, average looks, average Constance Academy uniform. He was put together in a way that didn't draw attention, but his eyes were sharp.

                Well, hopefully he'd at least amuse me in class. If I had to go the next several months with no friends, I at least wanted a little entertainment from time to time.

                The class passed with only several students being yelled at and no one getting smacked around. I went to my third class, leaning against the wall as I waited for the teacher, a man named Mr. Sudlow according to my schedule.

                I watched the students file in, recognizing most of them already from the two previous classes. None had made an effort to talk to me, and I was grateful for that. But I wasn't grateful for the way some of them would look from me to Beckett, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

                Mr. Sudlow came barging into the room, bad mood in full swing. He had a water bottle clutched in his hand that was probably filled with vodka to help him booze away the reality of being a teacher.

                His eyes landed on me. "Where is your uniform?"

                "You mean this isn't it?" I said in surprise, gesturing to my jeans and T-shirt.

                His whacked me in the head with the water bottle, surprising me. How fucking rude.

                "The other teachers just told me to shut up," I grumbled, rubbing my head.

                "I'm not the other teachers," he snapped.

                "You're not like other teachers. You're a cool teacher," I said, not even surprised when he whacked me with the water bottle again. "Ow, yea, got it. Just tell me where to sit and I'll have the uniform on bright and early tomorrow, chief."

                He gestured to an empty desk and I scurried away to take my seat before he hit me again. He dropped his stuff onto his desk and snatched up a ruler, moving to the front of the room and writing something on the board.

                "If I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear!" was written on the board. Mr. Sudlow spun to face the class, who quickly quieted down.

                His eyes scanned the room before coming to rest on Tessa. "Tessa, what is that quote from?"

                "Frankenstein," she said.

                Mr. Sudlow nodded. "I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of your birth," he quoted, looking down at the lesson plan in his hands.

                He gathered a stack of papers off his desk and began passing them out. "Work on these silently. Whatever isn't finished in class is homework. No talking and if I see a cell phone I'll throw it out the window."

                Wow, what an uplifting man.

                I took the paper and passed the stack along behind me. I bent my head and worked on the paper, trying to remind myself to just keep my mouth shut and stay out of trouble here. Mouthing off would just make them hate me, and if they hated me, they'd look for more reasons to send me to the headmaster's office. One trip there and this was all over for me.

                The class passed quietly, with Mr. Sudlow keeping eyes on us the entire time. When we were finally released, everyone hurried out of there.

                I followed the steam of kids out of the building and towards the dining hall, digging my I.D. out of the manila envelope in my bag. This was a weird change for me.

                My original school had nine periods, including lunch. My next school had a similar nine period structure. But Constance Academy had three morning classes, a lunch period, and then three afternoon classes. The classes ran longer, but man, was I going to get sick of spending so much time every day with these teachers.

                I swiped my I.D. once I was in the dining hall, grabbing a plate and piling a little food on it. I searched around until I found a small table in the back corner, taking my seat and popping my earphones in.

                Yes, I was that lonely loser at lunch now. But for today, at least, I could bear it. It gave me a chance to observe the place.

                One thing I noticed very quickly was that the colors weren't mingling. Blues sat together and Maroons sat together but they didn't mix in with each other. A table was all of one color.

                There were a few loners like me, mostly Maroons. They didn't seem bothered to be eating alone, though.

                I checked my phone but had no new messages, not that I was exactly expecting any. Ted was only going to contact me when he had to.

                I looked up again and noticed Beckett's group. The three sat at a small table together, Fagan chatting away and Beckett looking, surprise, annoyed. I swear that kid had three emotions; annoyed, angry, and impassive.

                Tessa nudged him and said something, which he nodded to. They pulled out their notebooks and began to go over whatever was written in them. Fagan carried on talking like they weren't ignoring him.

                What a strange group. Yet everyone in our class had acted like they were waiting for Beckett to do something. The bruises on his face announced that he wasn't a passive student, but he hadn't done anything exactly rebellious today.

                I paused and pulled the manila envelope out, shaking out the keys to my dorm room. I pulled out the slip of paper that went with them, which announced which dorm I lived in and what room was mine.

                But it conveniently lacked a roommate's name.

                Oh, great. That meant I either didn't have one or they just hadn't bothered to slap it on there.

                I'd made it to lunch without getting shanked, but something told me I wouldn't last all day. They probably stuck Maroons together in the dorms.

                "Please," I mumbled to my keys, gripping them in my hands. "Please, god, don't let me be rooming with a murderer. Or if I am, let him kill me fast."

                I hooked one of the keys on my I.D. and put the spare back in the envelope, stuffing it into my backpack. Great, I hadn't even thought about the fact that I'd have to deal with a roommate.

                If they were Maroon, I couldn't let myself befriend them. But I also had to get them to like me enough not to torture me to death in the middle of the night.

                It was only lunch, and this place was already taking its toll on me. Shit. This was going to be one hell of a school year.