The world was crumbling around Ethan, piece by piece.

Three days had passed since Jordan's machine had transformed her, and the aftermath was unfolding in ways she couldn't have imagined. What had started as a desperate attempt to hide from her parents while Jordan tried to fix his mistake had evolved into something far worse.

She sat on Jordan's bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror across the room. The vermillion-haired girl staring back was still a stranger—still an intruder in her life—but now she was an intruder with nowhere else to go.

"You're sure they meant it?" Jordan asked for the third time, sitting beside her with an awkward distance between them. "Maybe if you went back and—"

"They meant it," Ethan cut him off, her voice flat.

The memory was still raw, like an open wound. She had tried to hide what happened from her parents, sneaking into the house when they were at church. But she hadn't even been in her room for more than a couple hours when her parents arrived home early. The look on her mother's face when she first saw Ethan—shock morphing into confusion, then horror—would be burned into Ethan's memory forever.

What followed was worse. Her father's cold condemnation. Both parents treating her like something alien, dangerous—the very word "mutant" whispered like a curse. The ultimatum: leave or they would call the authorities. Their certainty that their son was gone, replaced by this... abomination.

"Only because you were my son am I not contacting the DPA," her father had said, his voice chillingly final as he watched her gather her belongings.

"But your dad works for the DPA," Ethan said now, looking at Jordan. "What if my parents change their minds? What if they call them?"

Jordan ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. "He's just in administration. He's not... I don't think he'd..." He trailed off, then squared his shoulders. "Look, I've been working on another prototype. This one might work better. I've been analyzing the quantum field fluctuations from the first device, and if I can reverse the polarity—"

"You've been saying that for days," Ethan interrupted again, too exhausted for false hope. Each attempt had resulted in different, sometimes alarming devices that bore no resemblance to the original machine. "Nothing works the same way twice. Have you figured out why yet?"

Jordan's expression fell. "No. It's like... I can see how to build things, but only once. After that, my brain just moves on to the next idea." He hesitated. "I think I might be a Devisor. Like, a real one. The kind they talk about on the news sometimes."

Ethan didn't respond. The label made sense—the one-shot inventions, the brilliant but unrepeatable designs, the increasingly strange creations filling Jordan's basement workshop. Under different circumstances, it might have been exciting. Now it just meant another complication.

She stood abruptly and paced to the window, looking out at the dusk settling over Jordan's neighborhood. A news report played quietly on Jordan's tablet, the announcer's voice grave as she described increasing tensions at a mutant rights rally downtown. The footage showed signs with harsh slogans: "KEEP AMERICA HUMAN" and "REGISTER ALL MUTANTS."

"Turn that off," Ethan said, hugging herself.

Jordan complied, but the damage was done. The reality of their situation hung in the air between them. Two teenagers with emerging powers in a world increasingly hostile to their kind.

"At least the teleporting thing hasn't happened again," Jordan offered, trying to sound positive.

As if on cue, the pencil on his desk vanished with a soft pop and reappeared on the floor in front of Ethan.

"You had to say something," she muttered, bending to pick it up. Another manifestation of powers she didn't understand and couldn't control.

Their heads turned simultaneously at the sound of the front door opening. Jordan's father was home from work.

"We should tell him," Jordan said quietly. "He might know what to do."

Ethan's first instinct was to refuse—to hide, to deny, to pretend this wasn't happening. But the weight of the past few days pressed down on her. She had no home to return to. No way to explain her sudden transformation to anyone else. And Jordan's increasingly erratic inventions weren't producing any solutions.

"Fine," she said finally. "But if he reaches for a phone to call anyone—"

"He won't," Jordan assured her, though uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

________________________________________

William Williams was an imposing figure, his tall frame and serious demeanor enhanced by the crisp government ID badge still clipped to his suit jacket. He sat behind his home office desk, fingers steepled in front of him as he listened to their halting explanation. His expression remained carefully neutral throughout, though his eyes widened slightly at the mention of the teleportation incidents.

When they finished, he was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and deliberately unpinned his DPA badge from his jacket, placing it face-down on the desk.

"Let me be absolutely clear," he said, his voice measured. "This conversation is not happening in any official capacity."

Ethan tensed, ready to bolt, but Jordan placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

"Dad, we need help," he said simply.

Mr. Williams sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "I suspected something was wrong when I noticed the power surges in the basement. And the... unusual components you've been ordering online." He fixed Jordan with a stern look. "But this? This goes beyond tinkering, son."

"I know. I didn't mean to—"

"Intent doesn't matter here. Results do." Mr. Williams turned his attention to Ethan. "And your parents have disowned you? Because of this?"

Ethan nodded, not trusting her voice.

"Typical," he muttered. "The last thing we need is more kids on the streets." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "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, anxiety rising.

"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."

"But you work for them—" Jordan began.

"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."

Ethan felt sick. "So what do we do now? I can't go home. Jordan can't fix this. And I keep having these teleportation incidents. I can't control it."

Mr. Williams was quiet for a moment, clearly weighing options. "There's a school," he said finally. "Whateley Academy. It's designed for young people with... unusual abilities. Like yours."

"A school for freaks, you mean," Ethan said bitterly.

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

Hope flickered faintly in Ethan's chest. "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 looked between them. "I think you both should go."

"Both of us?" Jordan asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"Yes." Mr. Williams nodded slowly. "Your Devisor abilities are clearly manifesting. And after what's happened..." He sighed again. "I need to make some calls tonight. I have contacts who might be able to help expedite admissions, off the books."

"How soon could we go?" Ethan asked, desperate for any solution.

"As soon as I can arrange it. A week, maybe two. The sooner the better." His expression grew serious. "These things tend to... escalate without proper guidance."

The conversation continued for another hour, discussing logistics and contingencies. Mr. Williams explained that he would arrange for a cover story, something that would satisfy Jordan's school without raising suspicions. As for Ethan, with her parents effectively washing their hands of her, there were fewer complications, though the thought brought a fresh wave of pain.

Eventually, Mr. Williams excused himself to make calls, leaving Ethan and Jordan alone in the living room.

"Whateley Academy," Jordan said, testing the name. "I've never heard of it."

"Me neither." Ethan stared blankly at the wall, mind racing 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 didn't respond. 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.

________________________________________

The next few days passed in a haze of anxiety and preparation. Jordan's father worked tirelessly, making calls and arrangements, pulling strings with contacts he only vaguely described. Jordan himself retreated frequently to his underground workshop, emerging with increasingly bizarre gadgets that he insisted might help Ethan, though none did.

Ethan spent most of her time in Jordan's room, avoiding mirrors and trying to adjust to her new body's movements and proportions. The random teleportation incidents continued, usually triggered by stress or strong emotions. A coffee mug would vanish from the table and reappear on the floor. A book would disappear from a shelf and materialize in a different room. Nothing dangerous, nothing dramatic—but each incident was a reminder of how little control she had over her new reality.

Five days after her parents had thrown her out, Ethan sat cross-legged on Jordan's bed, attempting the breathing exercises she'd found online for controlling anxiety. Through the partially open door, she could hear voices downstairs—Jordan's father and someone else, their tones formal but not unfriendly.

Jordan burst into the room, his expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "They're here," he whispered. "Representatives from Whateley. Dad says to come down."

Ethan's heart raced. "Already? I thought we had more time."

"They want to interview us before finalizing the arrangements." Jordan hesitated. "Are you okay?"

"No," Ethan answered honestly, rising to her feet. "But what choice do I have?"

Downstairs, two individuals waited in the living room with Mr. Williams. The first was a tall, slender woman with silver-streaked hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. Beside her stood a younger man with an athletic build, his casual stance belied by the alert way he scanned the room.

"Ethan, Jordan," Mr. Williams said formally, "these are representatives from Whateley Academy. Dr. Samantha Weller, Dean of Students, and Mr. Terrance Cooper, Recruitment Liaison."

"Please, call me Sam," the woman said with a warm smile that seemed calculated to put them at ease. "And this is Terry. We're here to discuss your potential enrollment at Whateley."

Over the next two hours, they were interviewed separately and together. The questions were probing but not invasive: details about their power manifestations, their family situations, their academic backgrounds. Dr. Weller seemed particularly interested in Ethan's teleportation incidents and Jordan's one-shot invention ability.

"Whateley was designed precisely for students like you," she explained as they all reconvened in the living room. "Young people with emerging abilities who need a safe environment to learn control and understanding."

"Can they change me back?" Ethan asked directly, cutting through the diplomatic language.

Dr. Weller and Mr. Cooper exchanged a brief glance.

"Whateley has the most advanced resources for researching and addressing transformation cases," Dr. Weller answered carefully. "While I can't promise specific outcomes, you'll have access to experts in dimensional physics, reality manipulation, and quantum mechanics—all fields potentially relevant to your situation."

It wasn't the definitive "yes" Ethan had hoped for, but it was more promising than anything else they'd heard.

"And what about me?" Jordan asked. "My parents aren't kicking me out. Why should I go?"

Mr. Cooper spoke up for the first time, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Devisor abilities like yours can be challenging to manage without proper guidance. The technical knowledge at Whateley is unparalleled, and you'll have the opportunity to work with others who share similar gifts."

"Besides," Dr. Weller added, "having a familiar face can make the transition easier for both of you."

The meeting concluded with practical arrangements. Whateley would expedite their enrollment, claiming vacancies due to recent transfers. Mr. Williams would handle the paperwork and create a cover story for Jordan's sudden change of schools. For Ethan, with no parental involvement, the process was simultaneously simpler and more complicated—legal guardianship temporarily assigned to the Academy itself.

As Dr. Weller and Mr. Cooper prepared to leave, Ethan gathered her courage to ask one final question.

"Is it... are there others like me there? People who changed?"

Dr. Weller's expression softened with genuine compassion. "Whateley's student body includes individuals with every imaginable variation of power manifestation, including many who have undergone physical transformations. Some more dramatic than yours." She placed a gentle hand on Ethan's shoulder. "You won't be alone, I promise you that."

After they departed, Mr. Williams outlined the next steps. They had five days to prepare. Five days until they would leave behind everything familiar for an uncertain future at a school they'd never heard of before today.

Ethan retreated to Jordan's room, needing space to process. She sat by the window, watching darkness settle over the neighborhood, wondering what Whateley Academy would really be like. Would it be the solution she desperately needed, or just another painful adjustment to a life spiraling beyond her control?

The soft pop of another unintentional teleportation—this time a pillow from the bed to the floor—answered her with maddening ambiguity.

Five days. And then everything would change again.

But maybe, just maybe, this change would lead her back to herself.

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

End of Chapter 03.5 (And LAST flashback!!!)

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.