Dilyla watched the scene with slight amusment. Mixing the normal with the strange in this school was hilarious.
Expecially with the teachers.
What's happening? The thought hit Dilyla hard. Youch, and she thought the guy she found on the Watcher equiptment was powerful.
Seems like this place is starting to gain quite a bunch of powerful students. Dilyla sighed then walked of, this crowded area was giving her a headache.
Mind powers aren't fun, she thought to her self. She hated how all those books made mind powers seem easy. Some of them made them seem painful but usually it was just a smidget of what you really felt.
I mean imagine it. If you had a million voices around you making random comments about movies, shopping, clothes, makeup, hair, football, last weeks homework that had been missed.
God, I mean how could you deal with that? Dilyla went straight to her next class, Science. This was one of the classes where the teacher actually knew the truth about the school.
The few teachers that didn't know couldn't see anything. Most of the students had powers and then the rest were excelled gifted students. No, normal people in this school.
Most of the Gifted students were science excelled ones brought in to help the school progress there research.
Yawn, boring much. Dilyla thought so. She went into the class and went to the back of the room sitting at a vacant desk.
The teacher didn't utter a word dispite Dilyla's lateness and disruption. Non of them never did. Not even the normal ones.
She pulls up her hood, sticks in her earphones not having to hear to know what the teacher is talking about.
She closes her eyes but merely rests them. When the bell goes Dilyla remains in her seat for five minute before standing up and leaving avoiding the rush and stream of students.
A fight seems to be happening in the hall involving powers and you can tell who the adverage people are or the ones who haven't discovered there powers cause they don't give the scene one glance.
Dilyla shakes her head as one of the boys slams the others head into the row of lockers.
She pulls the strap of her rucksack further up her shoulder then heads off down the corridor but not quick enough to avoid the painful and angry thoughts of the boy getting beat up.
It will stop soon, she thinks, the trainers will turn up and break it up. And just like Dilyla thought one comes rushing out a classroom clearly angry and breaks up the fight using air control.
"Stop it boys" the trainer shouts. Dilyla ignores the rest turning the volume up on her ipod, sliding on her glasses and heading down the corridor for Maths.