Retracing our steps to the auditorium, Opal waved to former classmates and whispered running commentary in my ear.

"She's an angel.  He's an ass, but a harmless one. I'll fill you in later. We're more than doubling our class this year, so I don't know everybody."

I scanned the crowd. "Is it just me, or is everyone good looking here?" In a pinch, our sophomore class could have doubled for a teen drama casting call.

Opal looked me in the eye. Up close, her skin was luminous. "Have you looked in the mirror lately, Moth? Get real; our parents had the chance to create genetic masterpieces. Why would they choose for us to look any other way?" 

It was strange, being lumped into a group of people I didn't know, but Opal's use of the word us was as a whole. Whether or not my classmates turned into friends, we shared an uncommon origin that would shape the next few years for all of us.

An usher stood at the auditorium door and motioned us inside, pointing to a group of seats halfway down the theatre. James and Lily led the way, Opal sauntered down the aisle behind them, and I followed, trailed by Mom and Dad. Ducking into her seat, Opal winked at me and tapped a tall blonde sitting in front of us on the shoulder. Like her parents beside her, she was lean, tan and expensively dressed.

"Yo, Gracie. Ready for round two?"

Leaning back, the blonde exposed an elegant neck, pouting lips, and long-lashed blue eyes. She was a TV prom queen; a mean-girl ringleader; a carefree model in a clothing ad. She was crossing her eyes and pretending to choke herself.

"God, Opes. I'm so not ready for summer to end." Rolling her eyes, she stuck out her tongue. "Good to see you though, babe."

"You too. Hey, meet our new friend." Opal nodded her head at me. "Gracie, this is Marin. She's cool beans."

Gracie slid her gaze over to me and raised a lazy eyebrow as if assessing my friendship potential. "You sure about that, Opes? 'Cause you know I'm picky when it comes to my legumes."

"Her beans are so cool they're frozen." Opal raised an eyebrow back. "Promise."

"Well then, welcome to the club." Flashing a smile, Gracie reached a delicate hand over the back of her seat to give me a high-five. Tattooed along the length of her middle finger, the word "FINE" was spelled out in cursive script. 

As our palms smacked together lightly, a bell chimed three times overhead. The sound distracted me from Gracie's curious tat, setting off a string of sparks behind my eyes each time it rang. Exhaling slowly, I blew the flashes of light away. With practice, my synesthesia was slowly becoming less intrusive.

The theatre grew dim, Gracie tossed a curt salute our way and turned around, resting her head on her mother's tan shoulder. A spotlight flooded the massive stage, illuminating Dean Hawthorne's figure as she stepped out from the wings, her suit perfectly tailored, her dark hair twisted into a classic chignon. Once again, the bottom of her soles flashed a deep red as she strode with confidence to claim the podium.

"Welcome back everyone! It's my absolute pleasure to help usher in such an important day. Three years from now, and for many more following that, I'm sure you'll look back on this morning and realize it was the beginning of something very special." Looking into the crowd, she beamed. Smiling changed the landscape of her face, softening her sharp cheekbones and making her appear a hundred times more approachable.

"The next week will represent a challenging and exciting time for your sophomore class. We're about to embark on a journey of discovery, to pinpoint your gifts and begin tailoring the best education path to fulfil your destiny."

Again with that word. Destiny. My stomach clenched. I didn't need another reminder that my life had been planned with an end goal I knew nothing about. Crossing my arms, I emptied pent up frustration from my lungs into the air. Hearing me sigh, Mom reached out and squeezed my hand.

"I know it's a lot to take in. Everything will be ok, Mare. You'll see." Her whisper tickled my ear and I shivered. Tentatively, I squeezed her fingers back, then sank lower into my chair and focused on the stage.

"For the next week, your sophomore class will have the Mendel grounds to yourselves as we concentrate all resources on your PACK assessments. Once assessments are complete, our campus will get busier. Local freshman will start their first year, intermediate and senior students will return to continue their studies. But for now, it's all about you." The dean paused to smile, her teeth flashed under the spotlight, and the giant LCD screen serving as the stage's backdrop flickered to life.

A fluttering butterfly appeared on screen, its patterned wings a cornucopia of color against a cloudless blue sky. It soared over Mendel's vast grounds, floating over the steel double helix sculpture that shone in the sun, swooping down to land on the school's stone steps. The camera dove in for a closeup of the insect's right wing, and the intricate pattern morphed into an image of the school crest.

"The butterfly is a fitting representation of the transformation you'll soon experience – a change, certainly, but a positive one. Metamorphosis is an important part of your natural progression. It's no wonder Mendel students affectionately dub PACK week, Meta." The dean practically beamed from the podium.

Opal's elbow needled my side as she whispered, "See? Told ya, Moth. I wouldn't steer you wrong." Winking, she gave me a gap-toothed smile.

"Thanks for taking me under your butterfly wing," I whispered back.

The image on the screen snuffed out, and white curling letters scrawled across the black backdrop until a quote appeared:

True leaders don't create followers. They create more leaders.

"I'm incredibly proud to introduce a few of our esteemed faculty assigned to guide our students through this week's proceedings. Thanks to their mentorship, you'll start unlocking your individual gifts sooner than you think."

From the wings, five individuals appeared, each taking a moment to shake the dean's hand before walking across the stage to stand in a horizontal line. The words behind them dissolved and the screen displayed a close-up of their faces, one at a time, as Dean
Hawthorne introduced them.

"It's my pleasure to introduce Dr. Elena Davis, a longtime colleague of mine and dear friend." Dean Hawthorne's voice was animated and her smile bloomed broad as polite applause filled the dark auditorium.

"Welcome to the peanut gallery, Moth." Opal's whisper tickled my ear.

Dressed in cobalt blue with chunky gold jewelry, Dr. Davis's grin was contagious. A close-cropped afro flattered high cheekbones and dark, expressive eyes. She waved energetically at the crowd. Despite my skepticism for all things Mendel, I liked her.

"Dr. Davis has a Ph.D. in clinical neurophysiology with a fellowship in behavioral medicine from Harvard Medical School. She will lead the selection of students for mentoring in our Perception stream."

Momentarily fading to black, the screen zoomed in on the next mentor's face, revealing a willowy blonde wearing a pair of chic black glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her lips were painted deep red, her cheekbones sharp. I figured she was in her mid-forties, though I was pretty sure she was reluctant to admit it.

"Next we have Dr. Annabelle Lemay, the creative genius behind our Artistry program." On the big screen, Dr. Lemay raised a groomed brow.

"Annabelle credits her Masters of Fine Art from the University of Oxford as the catalyst for her acclaimed career as a curator, art dealer and sometimes muse." In response to the dean's words, Dr. Lemay's red lips produced a saucy smile and a communal chuckle rumbled through the crowd. Her hair may have been pulled into a tight bun, but I got the impression she wasn't always so conservatively dressed.

"Aside from her considerable contributions within the fine art community, Dr. Lemay is a classically trained pianist."

Opal's finger poked my arm. "She's good — I've heard her. But I'm better. Just wait for Meta, Moth. I'm gonna blow those fancy glasses right off her face."

I snorted, and Mom elbowed me in the ribs. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to focus on the dean.

"In short, Annabelle's wide range of talent makes her an exceptional leader for students in our Artistry stream." Applause sounded again and Dean Hawthorne paused as the screen projected the third mentor's face.

"Please welcome the head of our Cognition program, Dr. Jake Kelly. For those of you in the know, Jake is co-founder and former CEO of Neuroreign, a leading developer of intelligent prosthetics aiming to reverse paralysis in our lifetime."

The dude standing beside Dr. Lemay was about a head shorter than the statuesque beauty, but what he lacked in height he made up for in personality. Winking at the audience, he flashed a set of perfect teeth. His hair was coiffed and he wore a t-shirt that read Science: it's like magic but real.

"Douche alert." There was Opal again. "Somebody's obviously compensating for being a mega-nerd in high school, don't ya think?"

I stifled a laugh with my palm, avoiding Mom's withering stare as she cleared her throat, a clear sign of her irritation.

"Prior to founding Neuroreign, Dr. Kelly was an experimental genomic researcher at Stanford University, and we're proud to say he worked with our program as a graduate student. Welcome back, Dr. Kelly. We're so pleased you're here." Dean Hawthorne's voice was rich with pride.

I rolled my eyes in the dark. Something about the dean's suited-up, buttoned-down, high-heeled, upper-crust demeanor bugged me. I wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe she just personified a place I didn't choose to be.

"Jake worked under your father when he started the project." Now it was Mom's turn to whisper. "He's a good man, Mare."

I nodded at her and turned back to the screen as it broadcast the final mentor's face. The man standing beside Dr. Kelly dwarfed everyone on stage. His shoulders weren't broad; they were a brick wall. He was a superhero come to life, complete with a chiseled jawline and cleft chin.

"Hawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwt." Opal's voice slithered into my ear and I dug my fingernails into my palms to discourage giggles from escaping my lips.

"And last but not least we have Dr. Mason Nakoa. Mason obtained his Masters in Kinesiology and Rehabilitation Science at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Following his Masters' degree, Dr. Nakoa obtained his Ph.D. in Ergonomics and Biomechanics at NYU."

Dr. Nakoa smiled into the camera and bowed his head with grace. Despite his ripped bod, he seemed humble.

"Mason has worked with rehabilitation teams for some of the nation's top athletes and has helped prepare our country's Olympians for global competition. Highly qualified, focused and empathetic, Dr. Nakoa makes an exceptional leader for our Kinesthesia students."

Too bad I tripped over my own feet. Dr. Nakoa seemed cool but I doubted he'd be teaching me anything.

The Dean cleared her throat. "Our mentors will begin assessments tomorrow morning when Meta officially begins. Drs. Davis, Lemay, Kelly and Nakoa, I know you have some final preparations to arrange. Thank you for joining us."

Waving one last time, Mendel's senior faculty walked into the wings off stage.

The dean paused a moment to look out across the depths of the theatre. I wondered what thoughts lay past her uptight exterior. Were we a passion project to her, or just a unique path to a paycheque? 

"Thank you for this time together. I know everyone has a busy day ahead, moving in and acquainting yourselves with Mendel's campus. Ushers have by now brought your belongings to dorm rooms and keys may be picked up in the atrium downstairs. Take the time you need with your families today; tomorrow your new life begins."

Briskly picking up her notes, she turned to leave the stage and the soles of her high heels flashed red as she walked away. The theatre filled with light and rumbled with conversation as families gathered their things and began streaming into the aisles.

"So it begins, Moth." Opal grabbed my arm and shot me a gap-tooth smile. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

***
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