The bedroom door slammed with such force that the framed diploma on the wall tilted sideways. Ethan didn't bother to fix it. She collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling she'd gazed at for the past seventeen years of her life. The same ceiling, the same room, but everything else had changed.

More than a day had passed since Jordan's machine had transformed her. She had spent it hiding in Jordan's basement, watching his increasingly desperate attempts to reverse the transformation. Ethan had needed to get away, to be surrounded by something familiar, something that still felt like her old self. So when Jordan had suggested they take a break and reconvene tomorrow, Ethan had seized the opportunity to return home.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Jordan had asked as they stood at the corner of Ethan's street. "My dad won't be back until tomorrow evening, but you could still stay with me."

"I just need some time alone," Ethan had replied. "In my own space."

She'd managed to get into the house while her parents were at their weekly church meeting. The plan was simple: hide in her room, pretend to be sick if they knocked, and figure out next steps after some time to think.

The sound of the front door opening downstairs sent a jolt through her. Voices drifted up—her parents returning earlier than expected. Ethan froze, listening to their movements. The refrigerator door opening and closing. Footsteps on the stairs.

A knock at her bedroom door. "Ethan? Are you home?" Her mother's voice.

"Yeah, Mom," she called back, trying to deepen her voice and failing miserably. "Not feeling well. Think I'm coming down with something."

A pause. "You sound strange. Let me in."

"It's just a sore throat. I'm really tired—"

"Ethan Ryan Anderson, open this door right now."

Panic rising, Ethan scrambled for options. There were none. With trembling hands, she opened the door.

Her mother's expression shifted from concern to confusion to shock in the span of three seconds. "Who are you?" she demanded, stepping back. "Where's my son?"

"Mom, it's me," Ethan said, hating how high her voice sounded. "I can explain."

Her mother's face drained of color. "John!" she called downstairs. "John, come up here right now!"

What followed was twenty minutes of chaos. Her father's stunned disbelief. Her mother's accusations that this was some kind of trick. Ethan's fumbling attempts to explain about Jordan's machine, about the transformation, about the small objects that occasionally disappeared and reappeared when she got upset.

"Demons," her father finally said, his voice cold and certain. "This is demonic."

"It's not demons, Dad. It's technology. Or mutation. I think I might be—"

"A mutant," her mother cut in, her voice barely above a whisper. "One of those... things they warn about at church."

"What do you mean?"

"The government has been experimenting with this... with these abominations for years," her father said. "We've heard the sermons. Read the pamphlets."

Ethan stared at them in disbelief. "You can't seriously believe that."

"I believe my son has been corrupted," her father replied, his expression hardening. "By what, I'm not entirely sure. But whatever you are, you're not staying in this house."

"Dad, it's still me. I'm still your kid."

"My son wouldn't allow himself to be turned into..." he gestured vaguely at Ethan's body, unable to even articulate what he was seeing. "This is unnatural. Against God's will."

Ethan felt something crack inside her chest. Not a dramatic shattering, but a small, painful fissure. "So that's it? You're kicking me out?"

"You have one hour to pack your things," her father said, not meeting her eyes. "Only because I believe somewhere inside that... form... is my son. Otherwise, I would be calling the authorities."

"John," her mother began, uncertainty crossing her face.

"No, Margaret. We've discussed this. We know what to do if something like this happened."

"You've discussed what to do if I got turned into a girl?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"If you became one of them," her father corrected. "A mutant. Or whatever this is."

The small crack widened. Ethan had always known her parents were religious, conservative even, but this level of preparedness for rejecting their own child had never crossed her mind.

"Fine," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'll go."

Her mother stepped forward hesitantly. "Where will you go?"

"Jordan's, I guess. His father works for the Department of Paranormal Affairs. He might know what to do."

Her father's face darkened further. "Williams. I should have known. Working for that government agency that handles all those mutant freaks. No wonder his son is mixed up in this."

Ethan began grabbing clothes from her dresser, though most wouldn't fit her new form properly. She stuffed them into a duffel bag along with her laptop, phone charger, and the few mementos she couldn't bear to leave behind.

Neither parent offered to help. They stood in the doorway watching, as if afraid to enter the same space she occupied. When Ethan finished packing, she faced them one last time.

"I didn't ask for this," she said quietly. "I didn't want it. But I'm still me."

Her father's expression didn't soften. "The son I raised would have fought against this corruption, not embraced it."

"Embraced it?" Ethan's voice rose despite her efforts to stay calm. "You think I wanted this? That I chose this?"

"Everyone has choices," her father replied. "And you've made yours."

The words hung in the air between them, a final judgment. Ethan shouldered her bag and walked past them, down the stairs that had once felt like home, and out the front door. She didn't look back.

Night was falling as she walked the eight blocks to Jordan's house, the weight of the bag nothing compared to the heaviness in her chest. The crack had spread, but instead of collapse, Ethan felt a strange numbness setting in. It was almost a relief.

Jordan's father arrived home the following evening, a tall man with a serious expression and the same dark skin as his son. Ethan had spent the intervening twenty-four hours alternating between hiding in Jordan's basement room and helping him attempt to recreate aspects of the machine that had transformed her. Jordan had been uncharacteristically quiet, guilt evident in his every interaction.

William Williams—a name that had always struck Ethan as redundant—sat across from them at the kitchen table, his government ID badge still clipped to his suit jacket pocket. His face remained impassive as they explained what had happened, though his eyes widened slightly at the mention of the teleportation incidents.

"Let me get this straight," he said when they finished. "Jordan built a machine to create a girlfriend—"

"Not exactly—" Jordan began.

"—which instead transformed Ethan into a female form with some sort of teleporting abilities."

"That's the short version," Ethan confirmed.

Mr. Williams pinched the bridge of his nose. "And your parents kicked you out?"

Ethan nodded, the wound still fresh enough that she didn't trust herself to speak about it.

"I see." He was quiet for a moment. "Jordan, what you did was incredibly reckless. The implications alone... do you have any idea what kind of attention this could bring?"

Jordan stared at the table. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't think it would work like this."

"That's the problem, isn't it? You didn't think." He sighed heavily. "But what's done is done."

He glanced at his DPA badge and purposefully removed it, placing it face-down on the table. His voice lowered. "The first thing we need to do is make sure this stays quiet. The DPA would classify both of you as persons of interest immediately. Jordan for creating the device, you for the transformation and these teleportation manifestations."

"Is that bad?" Ethan asked.

"It could be," Mr. Williams said grimly. "The political climate around mutants has been deteriorating. Registration would be mandatory, and there would likely be testing, monitoring. They might even separate you for what they'd call 'specialized assessment.' The DPA isn't what it used to be."

Jordan looked up in alarm. "But you work for them—"

"Which is exactly why I know what they're capable of," his father cut in. "There are good people there, but the organization as a whole views new manifestations as potential threats first, people second."

"So what do we do now?" Ethan asked, hope cautiously rising. "Can you help change me back?"

Mr. Williams studied her carefully. "The DPA has resources, but nothing that could safely reverse this kind of transformation without understanding exactly how it happened. And since Jordan's machine was damaged in the process..."

"So I'm stuck like this?" The numbness that had protected Ethan began to crack, panic seeping through.

"For now," Mr. Williams said. "But I know people who might be able to help. Specialists in these matters, outside the government."

"What kind of specialists?"

"There's a school," he explained. "Whateley Academy. It's designed for young people with... unusual abilities. Like yours."

Ethan exchanged a glance with Jordan. "A school for freaks, you mean."

"A school for mutants and others with paranormal traits," Mr. Williams corrected. "They have the world's leading experts in powers research, including transformation cases."

"And they might be able to change me back?"

"It's possible. At the very least, they can help you understand and control these new abilities." He leaned forward. "Ethan, I know this isn't what you wanted. But Whateley is your best option right now."

"What about Jordan?" Ethan asked, suddenly realizing the implications. "He made the machine. He has abilities too."

Mr. Williams looked at his son. "Yes, I suspected as much. I think Jordan should go as well."

"To the same school?" Jordan asked, perking up slightly.

"Yes. I'll need to make some calls tonight. I have a few contacts who might be able to help expedite admissions, off the books." He rubbed his temples. "It won't be easy, but it's better than the alternative. The DPA would never let either of you attend—they'd want to study you themselves."

"How soon could we go?" Ethan asked.

"As soon as I can arrange it. A week, maybe two. The sooner the better. These things tend to... escalate without proper guidance." Mr. Williams stood, straightening his tie. "I'll need to make some calls now. In the meantime, Ethan, you're welcome to stay here until we figure things out."

As he left the room, Ethan and Jordan sat in stunned silence.

"Whateley Academy," Jordan finally said. "I've never heard of it."

"Me neither." Ethan's mind raced with questions and fears. "What if they can't change me back?"

Jordan hesitated. "Would it be so terrible? I mean, if you had to stay like this?"

Ethan shot him a sharp look. "Yes, it would. This isn't me, Jordan. This isn't who I am."

"I know, I'm sorry." Jordan looked genuinely contrite. "I just... I want you to be prepared for all possibilities."

Ethan leaned back in her chair, exhaustion washing over her. She'd lost her home, her parents, and potentially her identity in the span of a few days. Now she was being shipped off to some mysterious school for "people like her"—a category she'd never imagined belonging to.

"One week," she said, more to herself than to Jordan. "One week, and then everything changes again."

But everything had already changed. Ethan could feel it in the way her body moved, in the occasional tingling sensation that preceded objects vanishing, in the reflection that still startled her every time she passed a mirror. The question wasn't whether things would change, but whether she could ever get back what she'd lost.

If there were answers to be found, they waited at Whateley Academy. It wasn't much to hold onto, but for now, it would have to be enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End of Chapter 02.5

Hey All!

SO, this is 2 big things for me.

My First attempt at the wonderful Whateley Academy Universe!
AND
My First Contest Entry!

There will be 10 chapters in total for my entry plus 3 flashback chapters.
I will release them daily or so (so as not to overwhelm the front page)

Likely I will be continuing this series, and no my other series are not on pause. I did slow down on them just a little bit while I go this one pounded out. But they are not put to the side.

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Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

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TTFN Everyone.