"It's 2015, Dania. We're juniors," I said as condescendingly as I could, "Your GPA is all that matters right now."

Dania swiped at me with an open hand in disbelief that I was mocking her.

"It is," she rebutted, "If you can't get it together now, you're never gonna pull through."

"Shut up," I laughed rudely, "I'm where I need to be. Don't worry."

My best friend rolled her eyes at me. She knew deep down that she was worrying about nothing because she was valedictorian and no one came close to her.

"She's not wrong, though," Stacey butted in, "She could fall—"

"She won't though," Grady sided with me, "I believe in you."

She reached out very deliberately for Dania's hand and reassured her.

"Well, am I the only one worried about Sabine?" Daniela asked after not having spoken during all of lunch, "You know, how she hasn't come to school for the past week?"

"She's fine," Grady waved the bad thoughts away.

"Okay, because I think there's more going on," Daniela was always the most concerned about anything.

Stacey nodded in agreement.

As usual, we couldn't keep on one topic. The conversation landed on other things, but I wasn't paying attention.

I was watching an ugly thing unravel.

On the other side of the cafeteria, Quentin—some big burly guy that nobody, nobody, really liked—was harassing a kid named Jozeey.

Jozeey. He insisted everyone call him that instead of José, and it had to be that spelling.

The poor kid sat at Quentin's table every day but only because he was too shy to sit anywhere else. Plus, it was actually Jozeey's table. He always sat there first and then Quentin and his goons sat next to him.

Then the big idiot laid his hands on Jozeey's shoulders and started to shake him. Nobody seemed to notice. Jozeey didn't do anything to make him get away.

"Quentin, stop it! You're hurting him!" I yelled. People looked.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" he let go of Jozeey. He put on his backpack and started walking over to our table.

Nobody really knew what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened before here at our high school. We were the smart school. I actually didn't have a clue how Quentin made it this far at Victory.

"Looks like none of these little bitches are willing to back you up!" he laughed dryly.

"Record this," I whispered to Dania as I stood up and walked to Dania's side of the table to confront Quentin.

"Oh, so you want to fight, fag?" he spat, "Come at me!"

I didn't do anything.

"Quentin, I think I speak for everyone here when I ask you politely, more politely than you deserve," I added, "to please leave. Consider not showing your face around here for a while."

I could see his friends George and Fred grinning at that. Jozeey was aghast.

"Who do you think you're talking to, co—"

"Don't be ugly," I interrupted him.

He reached into his backpack and I didn't realize what he brought out, even when everyone started screaming. It must have given the illusion of brave stupidity.

"Shut up!" Quentin hollered and pointed the gun around, really causing everyone to yell more.

Obviously people had called police already, but who was to stop this jerk in the meantime?

He fired a round into the air, but the bullet hit the ceiling panel and dropped dust all over him.

That's when I felt my body tremor. Only, it wasn't just me, this was an earthquake. People screamed more as everything shook. The whole situation got a whole lot worse because we were in Houston, nowhere near any major tremor zones.

Could this be me? I thought, Can I stop it?

But I couldn't. The tremor went on past the one minute mark and it kept going. I focused my rage on Quentin and tackled him as he now stood with his knees bent in fear of the quake. We were on the floor and the tremor stopped, but he was still shaking. I heard something buzzing harshly in my ear. Nothing was making any sense. My sight trembled madly, and nausea came over me. The buzzing was complemented by a blinding white light and I realized that I couldn't feel anything anymore.

A few seconds later, when I came to my senses and the light dimmed, I found myself in what seemed to be a city. Only, the problem was, the buildings were taller than any skyscraper I had ever seen, and instead of cars, hovercraft whirred at high speeds in the street.

I realized I was standing on a sidewalk and I was obstructing the pedestrian traffic. People bustled past me in annoyance and only some of them were humanoid. Most of them didn't even look human.

I caught a glimpse of a reptilian humanoid ambling past me with a wide gait, muttering to himself. Moments later a short, stout, six legged alien creature ran past me spouting bubbles from its suction-cupped fingertips. I was taken aback. To be honest, I was terrified.

A human woman with short hair saw my expression and I guess she knew something was wrong because she stopped in her tracks and began speaking. Only, of course, it was not English. Or any other language I recognized, for that matter. She walked towards me—she had only been a few feet away from me as it was—and I stepped back, right onto the street.