Unwillingly, Jocelyn stepped through the doorway of the Crooked House with Kema, not knowing what to expect. The second they entered into the house they were greeted by two more of Gerhmaine’s students.

One was a male Cymerian. He reminded Jocelyn of a younger version of Jaks, sharing the same long face and dimples as he smiled.

Their eyes were different, though. While Jaks’ were hard and pensive, this Cymerian’s were care-free, as if he didn’t have a single worry on his mind.

He brushed back his short, well-groomed hair and licked his pale blue lips.

“And who do we have here?” he asked.

“Hey, look! Kema is holding her hand,” the Dromedian standing next to him said.

Usually, it was difficult for Jocelyn to tell Dromedian’s apart, but this one she could right away. The color of his skin was that of human flesh, instead of the typical orange or blue shades she was used to.

“So she is, Goran,” the Cymerian said. “So she is.” His grin was filled with mischief.

“I…” Goran, the Dromedian began.

“I’m not done speaking,” the Cymerian interrupted him.

“Sorry…I…I wasn’t thinking, Tryps.” Goran stammered. He spoke with a lack of confidence and he refused to look at anyone as he talked.

Tryps brushed aside the apology. “Stop, you sound pathetic. Disappear already.”

Goran nodded and did just that. He simply vanished.

Tryps turned his attention to Kema. “So, what did you learn from the new girl?” he asked.

Kema shook her head. “What makes you think I learned anything?”

“Because you always do,” Tryps replied, “How about a name at least.”

Jocelyn interrupted their conversation. “I’m standing right here, you know. If you want to know my name, all you have to do is ask.”

There was a moment of silence between the three.

“Okay. What is your name then, human wench?” Tryps finally asked.

Well that was rude.

“Jocelyn,” she answered, holding her anger in check.

“Beautiful, I’m Tryps,” he said. “Now tell me, do you find me attractive?”

Jocelyn was rendered speechless by his question. This guy was arrogant. She hated arrogance.

“No,” Jocelyn stated.

Tryps turned to Kema and raised a brow, as if wanting verification.

“She speaks the truth,” Kema said.

Tryps seemed disappointed. “Well, no matter, after a little taste of your skin, you’ll find me irresistible,” he said as he stuck his long, wormy tongue out.

Jocelyn was now appalled. “You’re disgusting,” she stated.

He flicked his tongue. “You’ll be singing a different tune eventually.”

It was Faria who chimed in from the top of the long, winding staircase. “You’ve been here a little less than a year and you’re already flaunting your abilities, Tryps?” she laughed.

Sticking out his tongue and being vulgar were considered abilities?

“Was I speaking to you?” Tryps asked Faria.

“Hey, new blood,” Faria said, tilting her head towards Jocelyn. “You know how Gerhmaine mentioned I cut our last fresh recruit? It was Tryps.”

Suddenly, Faria didn’t seem so bad.

“Show her the scar, Tryps,” Faria said. “Let her see what I do to fresh meat that annoys the shit out of me.”

“All I need is a taste of your skin,” Tryps threatened her.

“And all I need is to cut out your tongue,” Faria retaliated. “And then we can have ourselves a party.”

Kema turned her attention back to Jocelyn.

“You’ve met Faria already,” she continued her introductions, “And Goran is the one who’s currently hiding from you.”

“I’m not hiding.” From the proximity of his voice, Goran was nearby, though he was nowhere to be seen.

“Cowering, then,” Kema said.

“Great,” Jocelyn said, sarcastically. “It’s great meeting all of you, really. Now, can you please let go of my hand?”

Kema blinked and Jocelyn felt her grip loosen.

She immediately pulled her hand back and inspected it.

“You’re an interesting one,” Kema said. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“Tell what?”

Kema took one step forward and whispered into her ear, “All your skeletons, of course.”

Jocelyn was still confused. “My what now?”

“Each of us here has been abandoned at one point or another. Don’t worry, you’re not alone.”

How did Kema know she’d been abandoned?

Jocelyn felt as if the matter inside her head had reached full capacity and her skull was one new idea away from exploding. Everything was happening so damn fast.

The last thing she needed at this moment was to start thinking about her mom. That only led to severe depression.

Goran suddenly reappeared in between Jocelyn and Kema. “Hey, want to see what I’ve learned?”

“No,” Jocelyn shook her head. They were all mad as a hatter. “I need some space, from all of you.”

“You still haven’t met Wynter or Cecelia yet,” Kema said.

“And I don’t want to,” Jocelyn snapped.

“I worked really hard on this thing I want to show you,” Goran said pitifully.

Jocelyn shook her head. “Just get away from me, all of you.”

“Geez, what did you say to her Kema?” Faria asked. “And Gerhmaine was worried I’d stir up shit with introductions?”

“You’re all nuts,” Jocelyn said.

It was the truth. Kema wanted to hold hands their first meeting and then somehow managed to dig into Jocelyn’s past; Tryps wanted to lick her; Faria wanted to cut her; and Goran wanted to show her lord only knows what.

Now, more than ever, Jocelyn missed home.

She was always lonely, but this time what she bore was a different kind of loneliness. She felt as if she were swimming in a sea of nothing with no land—no hope—in sight. One could only tread for so long before they drowned.

All these dark emotions overwhelmed her and immediately she bolted through the entrance of the Crooked House, ignoring Kema’s cries urging her to come back.

Outside, Jocelyn kept running and only when she reached the edge of the cliff, overlooking the ocean, did she stop.

She stood there for a moment, listening to the sounds of her breath intertwined with the chorus of the waves, crashing against the rocks over and over again. The ocean’s alluring blue waters were calling out to her, beckoning for her to fall into its salty embrace.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There were worse ways to go.

“There are monsters in the ocean, you know.” The voice that spoke to her was soft and seemed unsure of his words.

Jocelyn turned around to see a boy her age—though age was relative when it came to aliens—with black, wavy hair and large eyes that reflected the colors of the ocean. His skin was white silk and he wore a tattered shirt that seemed one size too large, and pants one size too small. He was Asrai, but there was something uniquely different about him. Jocelyn didn’t know astrobiology well enough to pinpoint what it was.

“I…” Jocelyn began, but found herself short of words.

“You were thinking about walking into it,” the boy said, as he turned his gaze towards the ocean. “I’ve thought about it quite often too. It’s the monsters calling.”

“Monsters?” Jocelyn asked.

“Sure.” He didn’t seem to blink.

“Who are you?”

“I’m just someone who’s here.” He paused. “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s here as well.”

“Do you know where ‘here’ is?”

“Gerhmaine mentioned—”

He was quick to cut her off. “There’s much Gerhmaine can’t see,” the boy said. “But then again there’s much that I can’t see either. I suppose we can always look on the bright side.” Jocelyn waited for the boy to continue, but it seemed like he was done speaking.

“And what is the bright side?”

He ignored Jocelyn’s question and for the first time since they began conversing, he blinked.

“You’re very strange,” Jocelyn said.

“Sorry. Speaking to people has never been one of my strengths.”

“And what is?”

“Surviving, I suppose. Though people survive as a means to live and I’m not sure if what I’m doing is exactly ‘living.’”

The more the boy spoke, the more questions Jocelyn had. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here?” he asked, dodging yet another question.

“I was brought here.”

“To do what?”

Jocelyn thought about it for a moment. “To tell you the truth, I don’t fully know. Gerhmaine says it’s to learn magic and to show up Octava’s students.”

“Magic.” He said the word with finality.

“I’m starting to discover that magic isn’t just pulling a rabbit out of a hat, or sawing a woman in half.”

“Why would you do either?”

That was a good question. “Are you like the rest of those crazies in there? Are you going to try to cut me or lick me or hold my hand as part of your introduction?”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m probably worse than all of them in there.”

“In terms of your magical ability?”

“In terms of being crazy.”

“But you do know magic,” Jocelyn stated.

He nodded. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“So what can you do?”

Instead of answering her question, the boy walked passed her, his wide eyes scoping the ocean. He sat down at the edge of the cliff and crossed his legs.

This conversation was getting more frustrating by the second.

“Wynter,” he finally said. “My name is Wynter.”

She didn’t recall asking for his name, but in hindsight, it was something she should have done.

“Jocelyn,” she offered hers in return. “So what kind of magic do you know, Wynter?”

He pressed his index finger against his lips and made a hushing sound.

“You’ll wake the monsters,” he whispered.

“Are there seriously monsters—”

“Shut up.”

Jocelyn was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Shut up and listen.”

She sighed. “What am I listening to?”

“They’re snoring. Can’t you hear them?”

All Jocelyn heard were the sounds of waves.

“No,” she said. “I can’t hear anything.”

Wynter turned his head towards her and smiled ever so slightly. “Then perhaps someone has killed them all already.”