Arkin would have made it to his first class, except for the fact that his translator (also known as his "assistant," in an attempt to make the fact that a middle-aged woman would shadow him all day, every day, a little less demeaning) insisted on "ironing out" details with the principal, who though wore a blank expression, was clearly becoming more and more annoyed.

"I understand that." Ms. Darkhome was an intimidating woman, with smart-looking hair and a fervor for old-lady jewelry. Arkin sensed she was a straight forward person, with a short fuse. "This is the best offer you're going to get. Take it or leave it."

When she was especially irritated, her eyebrows climbed high up onto her forehead.

Mrs. Connor frowned, and a short staring contest ignited between the two women. He wasn't even sure what they were arguing about. He thought Mrs. Connor said something about computers, but since he wasn't involved in the conversation, they spoke around him, verbally. He decided he didn't like this woman, especially if she wasn't going to clue him in to things that involved him. "Fine. I accept—for now. But if you expect me to…"

Arkin sighed dramatically and sunk into his chair, looking anywhere to keep his mind active…not that there was much to look at. The woman's office was dark and plain, no family photos on the desk, no school-related posters tacked to the walls, nothing. It was kind of depressing. Finding nothing of interest, he turned back in to the conversation again. Still a bunch of lip-flapping and no solutions.

Not that he was especially excited to get to class, but watching these two go back and forth was getting boring. It wasn't until minutes later that he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Mrs. Connor began signing to him the moment Ms. Darkhome began speaking. "I'm sorry for the delay. Just ironing out some…details. Welcome to Bayville, Mr. Goode," she smiled a most peculiar smile and leaned across the desk to shake his hand, "we are very happy to have you."

What was that about? Arkin signed to Mrs. Connor when they were out of the office.

The woman shrugged helplessly, and signed something to the effect of annoying cow.

He checked over his schedule as they walked down the halls, and at some point classes must have switched over, because the halls were swarming with people. Mrs. Connor told him she would meet him at his second class, and vanished in the sea of people. It was nice to finally be alone.

The school didn't look so bad. It was certainly nicer than his old school, but then, the kids here looked as though they were all upper-middle class, too. Just something about the way they carried themselves.

As he was swapping out books from his locker, suddenly there was someone beside him. At first, he had no idea who this weird kid was grinning at him like a lunatic. Then he remembered it was Kurt, and his cloaking device. It still came as a shock to him that the Kurt he met at the Xavier Institute walked around a regular high school with regular people, and no one was the wiser.

"Hey," Kurt said. "How do you like it so far?"

Arkin's eyes followed a cute girl pass by. He returned the grin. "Not bad."

"Did you find your classes OK?"

Frowning, Arkin didn't understand until Kurt pointed to his schedule.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I have…" he held the crumpled paper up and scanned it. "History next."

"Let me see?" Kurt took the piece of paper. "Hey! We have math together. All right!"

"I hate math," Arkin groaned.

Kurt grinned and clasped him on the shoulder. "Ah, you'll survive. And we have the same lunch hour. It won't be so bad, really."

"I guess—" he realized the crowd was beginning to disperse, and Kurt was looking up at the ceiling.

"Bell," he explained, handing him his schedule back. "OK, see you later, ja?"

"Yeah, see you later."

"Good luck."

History class, thus far, was going pretty well. Mrs. Connor had snagged them two seats in the back, near the door, where Arkin was still able to read lips, and discreetly ask to be filled in on what he couldn't understand. Mrs. Connor was set up next to him, tapping away at her laptop. The one nice thing about having an aid was he always had notes. The downside was he didn't always pay very good attention because of them.

The teacher was kind enough to alert the class that they had a new student, but pushed on with the lesson thereafter, and while a few were probably wondering why he was sitting in the back with a grown woman, most of them didn't seem to notice. After a while, the teacher stopped talking and everyone read several paragraphs from their textbooks. Arkin was a quick reader, and as one of the first few done, he took the opportunity to look around while Mrs. Connor took notes on the chapter.

Some people kept on reading, while others carefully sent and received text messages or blew bubbles with chewing gum. One boy stuck his tongue out, playing with what looked like a freshly pierced tongue. One or two jocks in the middle, from the looks of their jackets. Fairly normal bunch of kids, but none of them looked like someone he would want to hang out with. Then again, he thought, looking over at Mrs. Connor, he doubted many people would approach him with her sitting next to him. Arkin sighed.

The class ended with a short Q and A session where everyone was divided into teams. The idea was neat, but Arkin didn't like the fact that everyone had to participate. The teacher fired off several questions he didn't comprehend at all, because as far as he knew, they had nothing to do with what they had spent the entire class reading about. People were staring as Mrs. Connor signed the questions to him, in case he wasn't grasping everything, and Arkin's face was warm and red.

"What is the capitol of China?"

A girl who sat in front of him raised her hand. The teacher shook his head.

"Anyone? Capitol of China?" his dark eyes scanned the crowd. "Mr. Goode?

Mrs. Connor signed the question to him, although he already understood it, and quickly signed the answer back. "Beijing," she answered for him.

"Beijing. Correct."

And suddenly the people who were staring before were smiling. He still felt like he could stick his face in a bowl of ice cream and melt it, but at least they weren't giving him weird looks anymore. It went on like that for a while, until a team was declared the winner, and then everyone went back to their seats and started packing up.

Judging by how quickly everyone packed their things away, Arkin guessed it was time to get this next class, and if Mrs. Connor hadn't been there to grab his attention, he might have gotten up and strolled out like a jerk. He was thankful for that, at least. All at once every student stood up and filed out the door like a wild stampede, laughing and talking, forgetting all about the weird kid who didn't speak. Arkin was just getting his things together when he noticed a shadow over his desk. It was the teacher, a tall, black, smiling bald man with glasses.

"Was everything okay?" he asked. "I wasn't going too fast, was I? I got the feeling you were a little lost. Is there anything I can do to make things easier? I've never worked with a…I'm sorry, I don't know the correct term."

"Deaf," Mrs. Connor supplied.

"…I've never worked with a deaf student before. How'd I do?"

Arkin shrugged and gave him the OK sign. "Not bad."

The man looked visibly relieved. He seemed very friendly, and eager to please. He was probably very popular with his students.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Mr. Turner." He took and kissed Mrs. Connor's hand.

Arkin tried not to let his discomfort show through.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Turner. We'll see you tomorrow."

Mr. Turner chuckled and held the door open for them. Nice guy, but weird taste in women.

Lunch food was like hospital food, Arkin surmised. No matter how ritzy the place was, the food was all the same: terrible. He and Kurt were sitting at a circular table. Kurt was nice enough to share half his sandwich, since "nobody warned you about the food?"

The rest of his lunch wasn't bad—the mashed potatoes and the French fries, but the…Salisbury steak? Whatever it was, it was chewy and cold and couldn't even pass for pet food.

The lunch room was huge, which was a big plus. More places to sit, and less likelihood of ending up sandwiched between two people who hated you, and across from someone who for reasons unknown became weirdly interested in you. The nicest part was being able to relax. The first few days in an unfamiliar place were always Hell. He was always so apprehensive, and tense, and his butt always ached from sitting so stiffly in the classroom chairs.

"Next time you need to bring your own, though," Kurt said. "I can't bail you out every lunch period."

"Don't worry, I'm not making that mistake again." They both looked at the slab of meat and exchanged grossed out faces.

They chatted a little more when out of nowhere came Kitty, plopping down at their table. "Hi guys! How's—ew, are you actually eating that?"

"No."

"Oh, good…I was going to say, it's been like, nice knowing you."

Arkin finished what was left of the half a sandwich Kurt gave him when he noticed Kitty was waving her hand around in his face like a mad woman. "What!" he grunted, indicating that his mouth was a kind of busy.

She pointed across the room where Mrs. Connor sat, eating her own lunch and reading a novel. "Is that the lady who the school hired to help you out?"

He didn't like the way she worded that…but decided to be nice. "Yeah."

She had a look on her face Arkin didn't quite understand. "She could use a make over."

She was a painfully thin woman with short blonde hair, misty blue eyes, and tiny nose. Her front teeth were crooked, you could hardly notice. Arkin nearly laughed when he realized what she was wearing was eerily similar to what Kitty was, except for her shoes and a knitted jacket.

"…laughing at?"

He wiped the grin from his face, shook his head. "Nothing."

Kitty regarded him a moment longer. "I don't believe you, but I have to go and get ready for cooking class."

"Don't you mean home-ec?"

Kitty frowned and stormed off. "They're two different things!"

Kurt's expression looked strained. "Keetty isn't very, um…well, you'll see."

When they were finished with lunch, Arkin met Mrs. Connor at his next class. It was more or less the same as all his others. He spent most of his time drawing doodles in the corners of his notebook paper, wondering what his family was up to back home.

Kurt's accent kind of died on me. I'm not very good with things like that, sorry.