After getting to the top of the hill, I saw the Main Campus. An arrangement of edifices in neoclassical design. With how much Reyna had hyped The College’s history I found it easy to swallow the idea of most of them being that antique. I could see the entire campus from the vantage point but counting them all would have been an absolute chore. Their facades were stylized yet functional and gardens large enough to be noticeable from far away. It was a bid to sell people a singular concept. That Seven Star was a prestigious institution.

I got closer, glad that I chose to take the scenic route. I didn’t go out much which made it seem like a vacation. The situation may be grim, but not utterly terrible. It can even be a fresh start.

A bright green sign stopped me. The sort usually seen on roadways. ‘Class F Campus.’ A white arrow painted on the sign indicated another direction. The main road forked into one going to the Main, nice campus and a trail hidden away. Or rather than a fork, the road continued straight on, with the other path shoved aside. An unpaved trail, descending the mountainside. There was no gardening effort because overgrowth creeped in. It urged in me to go back. But I marched on. Using great care to keep my feet grounded.

After a long descent Class F’s hidden campus came into view. And the conditions were…deplorable. The buildings were run-down. Apparently, the architects took inspiration on the attractive shapes of concrete blocks. Big parts of their paint were in the process of peeling. As I ventured inside, I noticed lacking security. The soldiers who manned the checkpoints were missing. It didn’t take long for me to feel unsafe. My civilian clothes caught the attention of the students roaming about. Most of them were delinquents, evidently. That fact was reflected in thick steel bars covering the windows is almost every edifice.

I was the only lacking a uniform, the same design the Student Council members wore. Since they had let me go without hinting where my class was, I had to search around. Eventually, some folks who didn’t look like delinquents helped me find my way. Dead center on the campus was the school building. To my surprise it wasn’t outrageously crappy. A regular school. But compared with the other campus’ architecture, it was a downer. Being fair, I had no right to complain. Studying at an elite school did not stop my tendencies of shutting in and avoiding hard work. These days, I can put on effort. But only that which interests me.

Lucky me, I arrived last. Including the teacher, it appeared as if everyone had been waiting for me to show up. I didn’t know if they had been made aware of my arrival. Whatever the case, I was stared at by the class. It wasn’t a long time since I had set foot on a classroom, but it felt distant.

“E-excuse me.” Moving with my nerves tightly stretched, I found a seat at the back. Where I felt most comfortable. However, the attention placed on me didn’t waver. To this very day, I hold on to the idea that schools…are a hunting ground where introverts are at the bottom of the food chain. Me? Not only was I as introverted as they come, I was borderline antisocial. After the long silence they returned back to gossiping or whatever high schoolers did. Tried to not interrupt them. Not getting chewed into new guy mince meat was my main priority.

"You forgot to introduce yourself. Young social butterfly." Holding an attendance list, the teacher called me out. To describe him, he looked fed up with life. His dress shirt was in dire need of ironing. For holiness’ sake, even the instructors are low grade.

Teacher had called me a social butterfly. But I could only see myself as a sort of roach. The silent type who doesn’t want to be stomped on, so he hides wherever he finds refuge.

Since it was the instructor who told me to introduce, I stood up. “Hello guys. Name’s Christian. I’m a regular nobody.”

"Regular nobodies don’t end up in Class F. Friedd, you and all present, are problem children."

It made sense, judging by the decoration. Steel bars hung outside the windows. Shadows were casted onto the tiled linoleum.

" My name is Alan, your homeroom teacher. And the only teacher this group is getting. Everyone, greet your new classmate."

"Welcome Christian." They chimed. Unnaturally, as if someone had pressed a button.

That was the last time my peers directed their words at me. For the first day. But as I learned later, there was a reasoning to it. All students have to get their psychic diagnostic. After the class ended, Alan escorted me to the infirmary. Following the instructions of the male nurse working there, I crawled inside a machine. Very similar to an MRI scanner. While daydreaming on the chance of my head exploding due to operator, the machine performed averagely. Brain scans and all sort of medical data were showed on TV screens. Something off about the infirmary, it looked proper. Did all this Campus’s budget go into treating wounded students? The thought made me shiver.

“Results say you have a healthy, working brain.” Are you sure about that? “However, you’re highly stressed.” That’s more like me. “Also, results are positive for psychic abilities. Vice-president Otto was right again.”

“As he always is. Have we ever seen him miss the mark?” Said my teacher .

With my eyes rolled, I questioned the nurse. “And where are those psychic powers you people speak of?” The nurse bluntly hit my kneecap. Not the sort of reflex tests a physician applies. Nurse smashed mine in a painful way.

“His amplifier had no reaction…” Alan said.

“Amplifier? I kicked with all my strength as soon as I felt the blow.”

“Correct Professor. There were no observable effects.”

“Why am I being ignored here?”

“Aah, yes. Give it to him Alan.”

“Your Student Identification. Freshly printed. And digital too.”

"A student ID?"

"That, and an ESP booster. So, you may master your abilities without going through a year of training.”

“Isn’t the College supposed to teach me exactly that?”

“No. You are to learn how to use them responsibly. Whether Christian Friedd is allowed to develop proper ESP technique will be decided at the end your studies.”

"This is a diagnostic. Once amplified, natural reflexes manifest ESP power. At least until you learn basic control."

“The lack of reaction rules out the vanguard or specialist roles. Seems he is a support type.”

"Hit harder! I don’t want be a support." Life in the College meant being surrounded by espers. Reyna had beat me badly and I wanted to at least own a respectable ability. If not, it was going to be a horrendous experience. In my experience, nobody appreciated the role of the support class.

They were disappointed. “Can’t walk away from your lot in life.”

My head sunk. Complying with all their instructions was only so I could discover my extraordinary ability.

“I can’t agree to that. The Student Council’s President can lift people in the air and choke them. How will I defend myself?”

“Kid, this isn’t Star Wars. Miss Reyna is President for a reason. She is very capable…And we espers look down on murder. No one’s going to choke you to death.”

As he spoke, some orderlies rushed a bed down the hallway. His nose bled on the pale green sheets. It reminded me the teacher had said death. Fights between Class F’s students must occur often. The nurse left us without notice.

“Don’t overthink it. Patients are a regular sight around here. The staff knows almost all the students’ names. They’ll give him a cold soda, some paracetamol and he’ll be off to studying.”

What is up with this High School?

"It will be fine, really. Now show me what you got. Since you are a support…buff me.”

I already understood what a support role meant. At least for today I paid attention in class. Teams of espers are called triads. They consist of a Vanguard, a Specialist and a

“Tutorial?”

“Just do it. The ID handles it.”

Nothing ever happened. Regardless of how hard I tried. Teach guided me on how to project ESP, so I did everything I could. Great, I’m a defective esper.

“There, no power. Can you return me already?”

“If the Vice-president’s ability and the scientific test say you have ESP. You have it. I believe…there are activation conditions. It’s not usual but it’s plausible. In support types, it tends to manifest as requiring a contract or bond with the target.”

“Does having requirements make ESP more powerful or special?”

He shook his head. Damn it.

“Take note. Your assignment is to find out your ability. Or else you can’t participate fully on my class.”

"Do I really? I'll prefer it if you just assign me the homework you left the others.”

"No, discover your talent first. That is your one and only assignment. And it is graded.” He took out his own ID card. “You should get going. And a recommendation…don’t stay outdoors after the sun goes down.” He specified directions for my student residence. Close by the entrance to the campus.

I hurried to get there before nightfall. But I got interested in the plastic card. My picture, taken without consent and the usual, boring details. Aside from that, numbers and stats were printed on it. The data titled ‘Academic Credit’ grabbed my attention. The number was a hundred, but I had no idea what that meant. Another, residence number matched the one on a certain door plate.

The ground floor…at least one good thing happened today. But how do I enter without a key? The entrance was well protected with metal rods. I had to swipe my ID on an electronic lock, the sort you can find on a hotel. Maybe there’s a roommate. When I flicked the light switch it turned the apartment turned out empty. And it only had a single bed. Cardboard boxes were scattered in many places.

We broke off into our separate ways. I searched which building had been assigned to me. It was one of the student residences by the campus entrance.

I celebrated that the exterior number matched the one on my ID. No need to climb stairs. By swiping my card on an electronic scanner, the door fence with metal bars, opened. I flicked the light switch. Someone cleaned the place before my arrival. Also, there were moving boxes everywhere in single room studio. A standard, small apartment.

The boxes resting atop the bed stored clothing. Some with College’s uniform. But others, held clothes worn…closer to the skin. Even sleepwear. What happened to my clothes? Weren’t the SUVs supposed to carry my belongings? They probable went inside a trash container.

I checked the kitchen. A hot plate next to a minifridge. Cheaply made table with chairs for dining. Placed on the plastic table were more moving boxes. One of them contained kitchen accessories, cutlery, dishes, a pot and a non-stick pan. The other one was more eye-catching. Red lettering spelled SCLAP, printed on the cardboard. A face had a text written on it.

'The Student Committee of Logistics And Produce donates this staple pantry box. Students like you procure foodstuffs according to your Class Tier and Academic Credit. SCLAP performs weekly deliveries to your residence. Following deliveries will not be subsidized. Join SCLAP and feed Seven Star's thriving community. B-class students onwards.

So, I’m not fit to join them. I peeled the packing tape and the contents were disappointing. Rice, sardines, legumes, salt, etc. I stored the salt with great care, in order to not drop it. Imagine if my bad fortuned worsened.

'According to your Class Tier and Academic Credit.' I recalled the text.

Academic Credit. My ID displayed '100' of those. The class tier part was self-explaining. Class F student get the worst pantry. Even though I hadn’t eaten at all, I had no appetite for the box’s contents. I experienced spending the College’s currency by purchasing on a vending machine. Five credits for a biscuit. After showering, I ended that day going to bed. My school life, among the psychics. Began the next day.