The pair stood in the middle of the brightly decorated room.  It was more suited to a child, instead of the fourteen-year-old who actually inhabited the room.  It was clear that the room was long overdue for a renovation, one that would ensure the fuscia pink walls, decorated with pictures of daisies and wildflowers would be replaced with something more mature.  Something fit for a teenager.

The man fidgeted nervously in his spot.  Beside him, the woman was infinitely calmer, though there was an undercurrent of worry in the pit of her stomach, one she was trying very hard to hide.  It had been a stressful few days for the pair and this was the climax their endeavour had been leading towards.  Now that it was here, neither of them were sure what to expect.  This was especially due to the fact that their target was virtually unknown.  Of course, they'd kept tabs on her over the years.  How could they not?  Given her lineage, she was all but guaranteed to be perfect for what they were going to propose.  Still, because of her lineage, she'd had to be kept quite separate from this world of theirs as she'd grown up and now it was time to bring her back into it.

But only if she wanted to.

The man checked his watch.  It was half-past four.  The girl was bound to be home any time now from band practice.  They had her routine down to a science.  As long as there were no variables unaccounted for, she would be home in exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds.

A deep breath exhaled from the woman's lips.  The man glanced over at her.  "Are you ready for this?"

She shook her head, brown hair falling into her eyes.  She made no move to push it back.  "Not in the slightest.  You?"

"No."  His eyes drifted to the pink walls.  Not for the first time, he wondered if this was really their only option.  Wondered if they were making the right call. 

"I'm just wondering if we're doing the right thing," she mused, as if reading his thoughts.  The woman's eyes slid over the few photographs on the girl's dresser.  They roamed over the little ivory desk in the corner and the stacks upon stacks of books that littered the room, both on the tall bookcase and on the floor in heaping piles. 

"It's for the best," he said finally, though there was doubt in his voice.  "And for her own protection.  You know as well as I do the danger she's in.  Even if she says no, we'll have to post a guard unit of some sort on her.  It wouldn't do well to leave her unprotected."

The woman nodded and said, with a suddenly grim voice, "I know.  And it's what they would have wanted for her."

"Her scores were exemplary," the man continued, trying to convince the both of them.  "The highest we've seen in years."

"She's definitely her parents' child, then."

"Without a doubt."

The front door downstairs opened and closed with a barely audible click.  The footsteps that climbed the staircase to the second floor were almost imperceptible.  The pair shared a look.  His was almost resting on pride.  The girl was untrained and yet she moved with a stealth and quietness that rarely appeared in any of their students for several months after training began. 

For a moment, everything was impossibly still, and then the doorknob spun open and a young girl walked into the room.  She was pretty little thing with long, slightly curled golden hair.  She was of medium height and slim with very little muscle but, with a few month of intense training, the man was certain that she would be strong and solid.

He appraised her with an eye that was akin to scout spotting an athlete.  The woman stared at her with a different kind of eye, noticing how that she moved with a grace that was so like her mother's.  Which was not to mention the fact that the girl was almost an exact replica of her mother, except for the bright blue eyes, which were entirely her father's. 

The girl didn't notice the pair at first, too busy rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes hidden beneath her glasses.  She dropped her backpack on the ground at the door and, with a precision that was much to exact to be a one-time occurrence, kicked the door shut behind her in a single fluid motion.

The woman's heart clenched in her chest.  The girl had been crying recently, it was only too obvious, but as she looked up and noticed them, she saw that it was not sadness hidden in her gaze but rather acute anger.  These weren't tears of unhappiness but rather frustration.  The look vanished all too quickly, though, replaced immediately by fear.  She opened her mouth—preparing, no doubt, to scream—but she was cut off before she could even let out so much as a whisper. 

"Relax, Melanie," the man said and when her eyes flicked to his, he too was overcome with a wave of nostalgia.  His old friend's eyes stared back at him, but younger and wide and afraid.  "We are not here to hurt you."

For half-a-second, it looked as if she were contemplating whether or not to scream.  In the end, she backed up, placed her hand on the doorknob, and whispered, "How do you know my name?"

The look in her eyes now was fierce.  She was viewing them as adversaries, no doubt.  People who had come to harm her in some way, like the people in crime television shows.  It was clear that Melanie was getting ready for a fight, preparing to scream and run at a moment's notice.

If she accepted their offer, the man thought, she would likely never flee from a fight again.

"My name is Brent Grimes and this is Miss Rachel Trotter," he indicated the woman by his side.  "We've come to talk with you."

"Why?  What do you want?" Her voice wasn't as quiet as before. 

"A few weeks ago," Rachel cut in, "you partook in an extracurricular test at school and scored high results.  Very high results."

Melanie blinked, clearly confused, and then she narrowed her eyes distrustfully.  It sounded impossible to her, Brent guessed.  And it was.  The entire situation, from the very beginning, long before Melanie Clarke had even been a thought in the back of someone's head, was impossible.

"So, you're here because I aced a test?  Seriously?"

Brent laughed, a soft chuckle.  "Not quite, child.  Your results only furthered our interest in you.  We've actually been monitoring your progress for quite some time now."  He did not mention that it was not her academia they'd been keeping an eye on but rather the girl herself.  In all reality, he cared very little for her actual test scores.  They meant next to nothing to him.

"If you don't tell me what this is about in the next ten seconds, I'm calling the cops."  The girl's fingers brushed down against the side pocket of her jeans where the edge of a dark cellphone was just barely peeking out.

Rachel held up her hands.  "We mean you no harm, Melanie.  We've come to offer you a place at our school in England.  It's very prestigious and only the most special students are admitted."

"And you want me."  It wasn't a question.  Melanie looked very much like she did not believe a word she was being told.

"Yes," Rachel answered anyways.  "Very much so."

"I don't understand."

"This must be very overwhelming for you," Brent said.  He took a half-step towards her.  She watched him with a guarded expression, not giving anything away.  He'd seen that look before too, on another face that looked so similar to hers but that had just barely been starting to show the passages of time.

Warily, she asked, "What's the name of your school?"

"Golden Oaks Academy for Exceptional Young Students," he answered immediately.

"I've never heard of it."

"No," he replied, "you wouldn't have.  You see, Melanie, Oaks is a very secretive school.  It is a great academy and the graduates of our programs go off to do exceptional things.  Our admission is recruitment-based only and your education will be completely free of charge."

The girl's eyes lightened slightly, interested, but there was still much suspicion.  Rachel wasn't surprised.  The way Brent was selling it made it sound as if they were trying to con the poor girl into a kidnapping.  Of course, that belief was only going to intensify when he brought up the next point.

"I'd have to discuss all of this with my parents," she asked.  She still hadn't moved from her spot against the door.  "Do you have a pamphlet for me to show them?"

"No," Brent told her.  "We don't.  Because there is one downfall to our program."

"And what is that?"

"It is strictly need-to-know based and the only ones in the loop on what goes on inside the walls of Golden Oaks are the students and the staff.  That's it."

Melanie's eyes brightened with understanding and with that newfound comprehension came an acute look of trepidation.  "So, what you're saying is that I would leave for your school without my parents' knowledge or their consent because they aren't allowed to know what's going on.  Correct?"

Rachel nodded, dread lacing her movements.  "Yes.  That is correct."

"That's insane.  You're insane."

Brent lowered his eyes to meet hers.  "I know what you're thinking and, yes, you are right to be cautious of what we're offering you.  Most students are.  But before you refuse our offer, I'd like to impart upon you exactly what you would be learning with us.  However, there's one thing you must understand, Miss Clarke."

"And what's that?"  The girl cocked her head to the side, staring at him with an unnerving gaze.

"When we leave today, this opportunity leaves with us."