Gale sat rigid in the hard plastic chair, his finger pinching at his own thigh to keep him awake while waiting for an answer from the man in front of him. The damn clock ticking away behind him made each second feel much longer than it should’ve been.

Principal Harris sat behind a desk across from him, squinting at the monitor and occasionally scrolling the mouse. The scent of the steaming coffee mug beside the keyboard wafted at Gale. He didn’t think that he’d be able to smell such a pleasant scent ever again.

“Your birth certificate says 2042.” Harris squinted at the monitor to the side. “That makes you twenty-seven, Mr. Hathie.”

“I know how it looks, but…” Gale paused. What could he say at this point? Sorry, I accidentally fell through a rift and spent months fighting monsters in another dimension only to find out 10 years passed on Earth. “There’s been a mistake.”

Harris opened another folder, double clicking on a file that said 2059-2060_andrew_thomson_highschool_attendance.pdf.

“Your last recorded attendance was 2059. Then nothing. No transfers, no withdrawals. Quite lucky your records even survived the ’65 migration.”

“I can explain…” Gale said. “My parents?”

“Mr. Hathie,” Harris rubbed his eyes. “Right now, I’m looking at someone who’s 28 on paper claiming to be 18 who missed half a year. And now you’re mentioning your parents who’re not here. Can you understand what I’m saying?”

Of course he understands what he’s saying. Where are his goddamn parents to push him to get a G.E.D? Facing corrupted knights and garbage truck sized beasts were so much easier. At least those you can hack away at. But bureaucracy looked to be even scarier and meaner than any of those.

“There were… complications,” Gale said. “In the orphanage. A misunderstanding in the system.”

“Then let’s take a look at the orphanage,” Harris opened another PDF. “West Heights Home. You stayed there from 2052 to 2059. Then you ran away. No other records other than that.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything’s complicated, Mr. Hathie. But rules exist for a reason. We can’t enrol someone who’s legally an adult in high school.”

Gale leaned forward. “But I need to finish my education. I can’t just give up now.”

“Let me be clear,” Harris said. “You look extremely young for 28 and someone who ran away. Your test scores during your time in high school were… passable. But I have rules to follow.”

“With your scores, passing the G.E.D exam wouldn’t be a problem. Why do you still want to return to high school?” Harris’s eyes went to his side to look at Gale.

“What if I can’t?” Gale said. “I missed the last semester of school, and I need structure to learn those things, not self study.”

Harris removed his glasses. He picked up the glass fabric and polished his glasses. “Mr. Hathie, in my 40 years of education, I’ve never had a case like yours. You look impossibly young, enough so that you could tell me that you travelled from 2059 just yesterday, and I might believe it. Your grades are completely passable, so you could get a high school diploma next week.”

But I did just come back from 2059 just a couple of weeks ago!

“I just want to finish what I started,” Gale said.

“Noble goal. Wrong approach.” Harris put his glasses back on. “We have alternatives. Adult education programs. Accelerated G.E.D courses. Even direct college admission via tests.”

Gale stopped shaking his legs. “I need structure. Routine. A chance to…”

To be normal. Maybe even make friends, he didn’t say.

“What you need is a path forward, not backward.” Harris pulled up another screen. “The Yorkdale Adult Learning Centre has an excellent program for adults looking to get their G.E.Ds.”

“That’s not…” Gale gave up. He just wanted to feel the normal that he didn’t get. Was that so hard to ask for?

“Or there’s the Excellence Academy for Continuing Education. Private institution, flexible scheduling. They specialize in… unique cases.”

“Unique?”

“Students who don’t fit the traditional model. Whatever it may be.” Harris said. “Though they might ask questions I’m politely avoiding.”

It’s obvious Harris didn’t believe a single word Gale said. Before the Eclipsed, he probably also wouldn’t believe himself. According to the data, there were no clerical errors, except for the running away part. His appearance did change slightly. He was a growing boy after all. But he didn’t even have facial hair, though dad never did get facial hair. Weird. The birth certificate was also a problem that proved he was an adult. Heck, he didn’t even know he had it. No wonder mom and dad took him back to Canada. He was born here!

“Mr. Hathie, are you there?” Harris snapped his fingers.

Gale snapped his head back up. “Yup! I’m right here. Definitely right here in this time period.”

“As I was saying, Mr. Hathie. I can’t enroll someone who is legally 28 into high school. That has a whole lot of legal issues. The school board would shut it down immediately.”

“Even if-“

“Even if you look seventeen.” Harris said. “I’m trying to help, Mr. Hathie. But I need you to work with me.”

Gale stared at his hands. Callused from holding the bone hilt and then the weber blade. Not even that. It was rough from surviving in a forest. It wasn’t the hands of a normal 18 year old, that’s for sure.

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“If you want routine, enroll in an Adult Learning Centre. Then you can get guidance from the centre after you’ve finished your courses.”

“That simple?”

“Nothing’s simple about your situation.” Harris pulled up his email, skimming through his contacts. “But it’s a start. A legal one. The adult learning centre has a new session starting next week,” Harris said. “I can make a call, expedite your application.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Gale looked back down at his hands. “And my records?”

“Lost in the system migration, as far as anyone’s concerned.” Harris opened a contact and copied the email address. “Sometimes bureaucratic errors work in our favour. Please do let me know your choice on this matter, Mr. Hathie.”

“Can I make a choice later? I need to think about it,” Gale said.

“Think about it,” Harris said, extending a business card. “Call me when you decide. But just remember, you can’t go backwards, Mr. Hathie. No matter how much you might want to.”

Upon taking the card, Gale suddenly felt he was in another alien world right after coming back from one. For all its downsides, the orphanage and high school weren’t such harsh places. It was a shelter for those that haven’t yet been introduced to… whatever this is.

“One week,” Harris said. “That’s how long I can hold the adult learning centre spot. After that…”

He left the sentence unfinished, but Gale understood. Time moved forward, even for those who’d lost years to rifts. People move on. No one cares about one single person’s situation.

Walking out of the principal’s office, he felt the eyes poking at him from students at the school’s entrance hall. The hall looked different from before. The tiles on the floor were now replaced by fancy bricks. Walls on either side were wider. The metal doors at the front were replaced by glass doors with shiny metal that held them in place. Benches lined one side of the wall, and students gathered around those while eating and talking at the same time.

In one of those benches, Emmerson sat, focused on the phone in front of him while sticking his tongue out to the side. The screen reflected off his glasses, showing colourful fruits being sliced up while they fell.

“So, that went well?” Emmerson asked without looking up. The sound of fruit being sliced went over the ambient chatter of the students at this close distance.

Gale dropped onto the bench beside him, letting his head fall backwards against the wall. “They won’t take me.”

“Age thing?”

“Age thing.”

Emmerson nodded, still focused on his game. “System’s not built for people like us. Never has been.”

“People like us?”

“Ehh, you know what I mean.” Emmerson missed a bunch of fruits, and the screen showed game over. “Try explaining a ten-year time skip to the Service Ontario. Or an insurance company. Or a bank. I’ll tell you something. I once had to argue with a barista about my birthday because their rewards program wouldn’t accept the date.”

Gale watched a group of students hurry past, laughing, talking to one another without a care in the world outside of theirs. “I just want to finish school.”

“You want to finish it all being the normal way?” Emmerson’s eyebrows rose. “Bud. That ship sailed when you got rifted. Nothing’s normal after that.”

“It could be,” Gale said.

“Could it?” Emmerson leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You’ve seen what’s out there. You fought it yourself. Changed because of it. You really think you can just pretend that none of that stuff happened?”

Gale’s fingers brushed against his pocket where the storage box sat. “My parents always said stay low, blend in, survive.”

“Yeah, yeah, heard that multiple times literally from you. But there’s a difference between staying low and burying your head in the sand.”

“But I’m trying not to anymore. Otherwise, why would I be in that principal’s office asking him to take me in like I’m a 28 year old weirdo.” Gale sighed.

“You aren’t normal anymore. Stop trying to be.” Emmerson waved at the whole hallway and the students that passed by. “This? It’s a fantasy. A nice one, sure, but still a fantasy. Our world, the real world, doesn’t fit into neat little boxes like high school diplomas and college applications.”

Students continued to mill around them, some heading to class, others to their breaks or lunch. The students just a couple of benches beside them whispered to each other about the guy beside him. Breath of the Void told him of their plans to meet at a nearby cafe later after school. That cafe probably opened during his 10 year limbo.

“Look,” Emmerson continued, “I get it. You want what they have. Or at least experience it. Simple problems. Simple solutions. But we’re different.”

“I don’t want anything to do with the Path,” Gale said. “Not yet.”

“Look, buddy. The Path will tell you everything on your orientation if that’s what you really wanna know, but you gotta sign the contract first. That’s how companies work in the real world. Your real age may be 18, but look, companies don’t care about that. A contract is binding, legally and literally. They need to know they can trust you before-“

“Before what? Why everything I thought I knew about the world turned out to be a lie?” Gale glared at the man beside him.

Emmerson sighed. “You think it’s easy for me? Living in both worlds? I teach new recruits how to control their powers by day and night, then have to remember to act powerless when I grab coffee or groceries. It’s exhausting.”

“Then why do it?” Gale asked.

“Because that’s the deal. We get power, but we also get responsibility. Can’t have one without the other.”

“The Excellence Adult Learning Centre won’t work,” Gale whispered. “Too many questions.”

“And Excellence Academy is basically a Path recruitment centre,” Emmerson said. “They’d spot what you are in seconds.”

“What am I?” Gale said. “Even I don’t know.”

“You’re an Awakened. That’s enough for now. The rest…” Emmerson said. “It comes with time.”

“Time.” Gale laughed. “I’ve lost enough of that already.”

“Maybe. But rushing into things won’t help either.” Emmerson pulled out his phone again, checking the time. “The Path has reasons for keeping secrets. Hell, even that principal in there has reasons for following his rules.”

“And I’m just supposed to accept that? Play along?”

“For now? Yeah.” Emmerson opened another app and started scrolling through short videos of cats and dogs. “Stay low doesn’t mean stay weak. It means stay smart. Learn everything you can and how to do it effectively, but of course, do it carefully. Do you think staying alone in this kinda world is staying smart? Hell no.”

That’s what the knight said too. The tide? He didn’t really care. But making a pool in the woods where no one is invited? That wouldn’t be so fun alone. A couple of friends to share it with wouldn’t be so bad.

“The system isn’t built for people like us,” Emmerson repeated. “So, in the past, we built our own systems. Found our own ways. But we do it smart, and we do it carefully.”

A bell rang, sending students scurrying to their next classes. Soon the halls would be empty except for them; two people who didn’t quite belong in this world of schedules and homework and normal problems.

Gale stood up. The windows of the wall showed students funneling into the door and into their seats. There was already a piece of paper on all of the tables, and the board even said ‘Pop Quiz’. It looked like a math test. Normal human activities, normal problems that he wanted to be a part of.

Activating Breath of the Void, he saw more of what was happening that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye.

A girl in the back row radiated faint traces of energy. Not like his own essence, but more familiar to what Ollie gave off. The numbers on the girl’s paper rearranged themselves whenever she blinked. She probably wasn’t even aware she was doing it.

Another student’s pen leaked with the same familiar energy. On that table, there were tens of pens in a cup. What did he need that many pens for? That question became obvious enough. The pen bent sideways as he wrote numbers on the paper.

“Oh, you noticed them too?” Emmerson said.

“They don’t know, do they?” Gale watched the first girl frown at her paper. “What they are. Just like me before. Ms. Molly even said it was because I hit my head.”

“Some never will. Others…” Emmerson said. “Well, that’s part of what we do. Find them. Help them understand. Before they figure it out the hard way.”

The hard way like he had. Those multiple things that happened around him that he’d noticed. Just keep your head down until you’re 18, Ms. Molly said. Well, he did, and what did that give him?

“Look, buddy. You got my number on your phone. If you wanna talk about options, we can talk, and not just the ones that fit on official paperwork. Let’s move before we stick out like a sore thumb.” Emmerson stood, stretching his arms, and began walking towards the school’s entrance door.

Gale followed suit. Emmerson was probably right about everything. He didn’t fit in with this normal life. He never did. The kids always bullied him for being different. There was no difference between back then and now.

But so what? He’s human too. He deserves what the other kids had too.

Emmerson opened the door to his car with blacked out tinted windows. “Come on, get in. I’ll drive you home. The least I could do.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep