Chapter 3

Peter quickly put Micah's arm on his shoulder, struggling to push him onto the nurse's office.

He had to run across the hall of bells, then turn over to the one mile wide field.

Which by the side was a door, which led to the stairs to the nurse office.

Peter did so, with great struggle to keep Micah from falling to the ground.

When he finally reached the stairs, he stumbled onto the nurse's office.

He opened the door weakly, and collapsed Micah to the ground.

"Well, uh—what happened?" the nurse asked. She was a mixed person, with hair that had enlarged braids, and looked very proper in her puffed up uniform.

"He accidentally hurt himself on the swing," Peter lied, not hoping to expose himself as a witness to a fight.

The nurse seemed a bit confused, but decided to proceed.

She quickly clutched her hands onto Micah, carrying him to the bed.

She rushed over to her desk, rummaging through her drawers.

She finally picked up an ice pack, which she then turned to Peter.

"Where was he hurt?"

"Right by the side of his belly."

She touched his ribs, tingling her hands on his side until she finally stopped. "Feels like he bruised himself from a fight."

Peter started to show an expression of panic. "Well, he really hurt himself."

She nodded, returning back to her desk speedily. She rushed through her drawers again until she found a blue bottle.

She got a cup, and poured in the blue substance. "Give this to him, open his mouth and pour," she said to Peter.

He followed the nurse's orders, and opened Micah's mouth uncomfortably.

"And don't tell him," she added.

He skeptically put it in his mouth, leaking a viscous substance left in his mouth.

Suddenly, like a quick heartbeat—his eyes flashed open.

He quickly got up, drenched with sweat, looking around as if he just woke up to a new world.

"Hey, you're back," Peter shouted, but slowly hushed. Micah seemed in a quick panic.

He aggressively jumped from the bed, stumbling onto the table.

The resources soon slid off the table, making a wreckage of noise.

"Wait, calm down!" Peter shouted, running towards him.

He managed to get a strong hold on him, until he was pushed back like a supernatural force.

He felt himself teeter onto the bed, flip over, and land straight on his face.

He felt like he cracked his nose, but no blood was seeping out.

He was glad that he was okay—but he couldn't even think about what happened. He only saw an empty room, with only him and the nurse. "What happened?" he asked, believing he slept for days. The nurse was stumbling on her words, holding and clenching her hand on her chest.

"He just—ran!" she shouted in sputters.

Peter looked at her and back, suddenly running to find Micah.

As he tried to return to the field he couldn't stop thinking of the possibilities.

What happened?

What did I do?

Where did he go?

Did he go into another realm?

The last one was when he was really panicking when he saw he wasn't on the field either.

Where could he be, he asked, weirded out and scared of everything that was happening.

He stared around, tired and weak, trying to figure out where he was.

And where he was running too.

Fortunately, he saw something veer by the corner of his eye.

He saw brown hair, waving around through the bushes.

Micah.

He quickly ran towards the bushes, shouting his name every few seconds.

He came across the bushes, crashing through the twigs in each bush.

He found himself, getting swept under his feet, planting his face on the ground.

"Ahh—" he weakly cried.

Peter's leg was burning, and his eyesight was blurring, but he was able to point out a big hand reaching out.

He grabbed onto it, finally having a clear sight at Micah.

He seemed regular—of course—but his actions weren't.

It was like he had the personality of a werewolf when it was the full moon.

"Micah," Peter rejoiced. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, really."

"Well, you ran behind the bushes after a very weird meltdown."

"Meltdown?"

"Yes, meltdown—how long was it since you ran from there?"

"Just a few minutes ago?"

"Oh," Peter sighed with a sense of relief. "But, why did you run?"

"I was afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Yeah, about what I saw," he said, crumbling into a ball. Peter crept up towards him slowly. "What—did you see?"

"I saw a big face, a very scary one, reaching out a mace from his hand."

"Mace?"

"Yeah, a ball with spiky things, yeah."

Peter was already surprised by the little amount of things he could still see.

"Well, continue."

"I only had this bright green sword, and you by my side, running towards him, ready to fight."

He gave a big sigh, then he continued.

"Then, I saw myself shoot out a blast of lighting, which seemed to crackle on the monster. It started to illuminate, and my vision got blurry, then I woke up."

"Well, was that a sign?" Peter asked, quietly in a striking suspense.

"I don't know, but I want to find out."

"Find out?"

"Yes—I want to know what I was given. Perhaps you could tell me."

Peter stammered remembering what he was told to do.

He could hear her in his mind repetitively saying, Don't tell anyone.

"I don't know," he fibbed—sighing. "I am just as confused as you."