Premonition

 This might be the story with the most views, but I posted it a while ago.  I feel like my writing style has changed (and improved?) alot scince I wrote this.  You guys should check out Genetic Bloodlust or Schoolgirls and Soldiers.  ________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER ONE

I sighed for the third time in what must have been a minute. It didn't feel like a minute, but that's because in math class time showed a nastier side to its humor, slowing down to a crawl. For the third time in what must have been a minute I dragged my wandering thoughts back to the Algebra II final in front of me. Focus. Consent-

"Times up! Pencils down people! Turn in your finals and put your stuff away"

I blinked. Damn. I looked up at the energetic substitute, who'd was randomly snatch pencils out of students scribbling away franticaly. Amazing how much energy he could have. He danced around, his corpulence maneuvering obnoxiously around the class as sweat beaded his brow and formed rings around his armpits. It was the last day of school, the beginning of summer, and the thermometers were already well over a hundred.

Even though the windows were wide open, the air in the room was so stuffy and thick that even sound choked up and doubled over, wheezing for its life. Everyone was groggy and sluggish, their brains fried after the exam. Most of the girls who had brought skirts in an attempt to beat the heat where having trouble staying in their slippery sweat lathered chairs. I was startled out of my foggy observations by the substitute, who had decided to cover my exam with his big, meaty, sweaty, slimy, nasty, fat hands.

"How many times do I have to say this!" he said, taking my exam and closing it, "Pencils down, time's up!"

He moved on, saying the exact same thing to the next kid. I scowled, allowing my pencil to roll away from my slimy fingers. He'd left a giant sweatmark on my test.  I slouched back in my seat.

Time. One minute it pretended to be having a heart attack, and the next it hopped onto a cherry red sports car and left you with an unfinished exam. I sat still for a while, allowing my brain to cool down as I waited for the bell to signal the end of the school year. The seconds ticked by. The sweat bled through my shirt. Heat pressed its humid underbelly against the school building, seeping through the walls and permeating the class. It wormed its way around, carresing us lazily with its warm moist sides like a worm through mud.

Everyones eyes where on the clock.  The class was an oven, and it was set for one minute.  With every passing second our bodies melted against the seats and our minds slowly and inevitably fried.  Thirty seconds passed. It was a race between our sanity and the timer. What would hold our longer? I let my head fall back, the buzzing in my forehead signaling the beginning of a headache. And then the bell rang and the time was up, our minds intact. Silence flooded the classroom, our sudden freedom jolting us out of our heat induced trance. For a fleeting instant the class understood the profound relief of the innocent whose death sentence has been called off.

Then the euphoric moment passed and my eyesight was distorted by a flurry of slick and slimy limbs desperately trying to exit the class. I waited for the doorway to get unplugged before I stood up. I shrugged on my backpack and braced myself for the congested halls of Manhattan High school. Weaving my way through the traffic was always interesting. There was always someone who had passed out these days, usually from drinking too many energy drinks. Today the main event happened to be a catfight between two gangster looking chicks I didn't know. I steered clear of the fight, eager to reach the bathroom for a water break. I dodged and ducked through the crowd, wincing involuntarily as I rubbed elbows and traded sweat.

Thankfully, the bathroom was mostly empty. I stumbled in, savoring the extra legroom. I made my way to the sink and turned on the faucet, the mere sound of running water relieving some of the pent up stress. Leaning up against the sink I could feel my shoulders getting lighter, my breath getting deeper. Someone coughed, the noise bouncing around the cold, tiled walls of the bleak and uniformed bathroom. I slid my hands into the stream, cupping and then bringing the water to my face. It slipped through my fingers and swirled around the drain, showing me my sweat one final time before disappearing forever. The last student in the bathroom trudged out, letting in a blast of noise from the halls beyond. I straightened and the youth in the mirror in front of me did the same. He studied me, searching for...what? Something different? Something new? Perhaps for something the water had uncovered? What I saw was a seventeen-year-old teenager, born and raised in San Fransisco, California. He was a lean, solid, middle-sized kid, with light brown skin tanned to a healthy bronze. My gaze wandered from his hazel colored eyes and water streaked face to his shock of short spiky white hair, the source of nicknames like "uncle" and "old man".