Gwynn arrived on the school grounds. Small pockets of students clung together in clumps, seeking shelter in each other's company. Were they seeking shelter from the current chill or the threat of something worse?

No one gave Gwynn a second glimpse. There were no whisperings, no fingers pointed. He moved through the halls, through his classes, like the phantom he had always been.

Lunchtime.

Nothing obvious about the cafeteria had changed, but it felt like a sinister energy undulated beneath the surface. Gwynn found his way to his seat. It still stood empty. Had it been sitting here waiting for him all this time? Would it still stand empty when he'd left this place behind?

He scanned the cafeteria for Sophia. He'd spent all morning watching for her. Laughter drew his attention to the far corner where Eric Haze held court with his cronies. Gwynn's arm throbbed— partially due to how hard he clenched his fist. Gwynn was halfway to their table before being aware he'd even stood up.

He reached the table. Why was he here? Did he hope for some form of apology? Would Eric be remorseful? Would he tell Gwynn where to find Sophia?

All hopes shattered with the grin on Haze's face. Still the hyena.

"Gwynn! Hey, how's it going?"

Haze stood up and put his arm around Gwynn's shoulders. Gwynn's fist gripped so hard— only the glove prevented him drawing blood.

"You all remember our man Gwynn, right? The AH–MAAAAAH–zing exploding boy?"

The others didn't know how to act. But when their lord and master belly laughed, they all soon joined in. Haze turned his malevolent eyes on Gwynn.

"Hey buddy, didn't I tell you Halloween would be a blast?"

Eric flew to the ground, his nose a fountain of blood. In horror, Gwynn realized he had drawn back his fist to deliver another blow. Confusion, maybe even fear, had Eric's cronies paralyzed. A tangible silence gripped the cafeteria. No one stirred. Their faces were a mixture of confusion and shock. Had the quiet loner revealed his true nature?

One face he didn't recognize. It wore an expression different from the others. Her long, straight brown hair framed a pale, heart–shaped face. Unlike the others, she showed no confusion. Her dark almond shaped eyes held determination and a readiness to act. His insides churned in ice. A huge shadow enveloped him. He tried to block the image from his mind, instead focusing on the dumbfounded Eric.

Something went wrong with his vision; Eric appeared blurry. At one moment, he was solid, the next, a phantom duplicate image appeared. The two images moved out of sync with each other. While the solid Eric sat on the ground avoiding eye contact with Gwynn, the ghostly image locked its eyes on him. But the ghost had catlike eyes, and as it opened its mouth, a series of long teeth descended. The ghost tensed, and then it leaped at him. He threw his arms in front of his face to protect himself. When nothing happened, he lowered his arms to see Eric still sitting on the ground.

The eyes of the cafeteria weighed on him. The silence gave way to hushed murmurings. The girl he didn't know, the one tensing for a fight, appeared as confused as everyone else. Gwynn's right arm throbbed, a sharp hammer and nail pain pounded on his temples. Phantom Echoes of everyone in the cafeteria appeared. The solid versions remained seated. Some of their ghostly counterparts laughed, while others growled and prepared to pounce and devour. Only the girl remained free of an echo. No ghost image of her moved or acted in ways opposite of Gwynn's world.

His stomach lurched, and he ran from the cafeteria, slamming hard into the doors, throwing them aside and fell into the closest washroom where his stomach gave a violent heave.

He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. He stared at the keypad for a while. "Should I? Shouldn't I?" He didn't want Jaimie to worry, didn't want her to hear what he had done. He didn't want to admit she'd been right. He should've stayed home. He slid the phone back into his pocket and moved to the sink. The acrid taste of sick burned the back of his throat.

Cold water cleansed and soothed his mouth. Clean, simple, and pure. He splashed some on his face, hoping it would wash away whatever illness caused his head to sting and his arm to throb. Soon, he admitted defeat. No amount of cold water could soothe the burning of his flesh or quell the deep aches.

A shadow moved.

He caught a brief glimpse from the corner of his eye. A hulking mass shifted from the wall and passed behind him. He took a hesitant glance in the mirror, but nothing was there except for his own, mad–looking, face. He made a slow three–sixty, and again, the shadow moved. It never remained in his direct vision where he could get a clear look. A bead of cold sweat burned down his neck. He threw himself against the wall so he could view the whole washroom. He saw nothing else.

Gwynn shut his eyes tight. He counted, opened his eyes, and returned to the sink. He tried to muster a sane and steady look in his eyes as he confronted the haggard young man in the mirror. "It's a dream or stress. Some leftover thing from when I got hurt." He ran his hands down over his face. "Maybe I need my eyes checked." No one offered a different opinion.

Gwynn groaned and shuffled out the door, colliding with an innocent passerby in the process.

"I'm sorry. I, I'm really sorry," Gwynn said.

Intense dark almond shaped eyes probed him. Gwynn took several awkward steps back. The girl said nothing, just continued walking down the hall, hesitating a moment to give Gwynn the same glare he saw in the cafeteria. A chill ran down his back.

He started down the hall, moving away from the chaos of the cafeteria. He had two choices, leave school, go home and hope the whole thing blew over. Or go to the office and face the consequences. He played the options in his mind for a few minutes. What would Jaimie have him do? There was only one choice. Gwynn made his way to the office.