Chameleon:  A person who is able to alter his or her talent at will
to duplicate other talents.  This can include, but is not limited to,
duplicating the talents of a medusa, a tool, a green, a mirror, a were,
or any other talent that the chameleon may come in contact with.
   There are two kinds of chameleons known to exist.  One, referred to
as a mimic, can only take a single ability for a limited period of time.
They have to touch the other talent to gain that ability, but if they
use their normal talent or touch another talent, they lose the ability
to use the first talent that they had.  This is the most common form of
chameleon talent known.
   The second kind of chameleon is rarer.  Instead of having a limited
ability, they are able to learn talents at will, and use them then they
choose to.  A true chameleon can be a skinner, a tool and a medusa
whenever they wish to, switching abilities by thought.  They do not lose
an ability when they switch, but like an encyclopedia have the knowledge
of that ability residing within them.  This talent rarely shows up
beyond a D.

  Scenery flashed outside the bus window but I paid little attention to
it.  Nor did I pay attention to the fellow passengers on board.
Instead, my attention was on the small sheet of paper in my hand, all of
the information I could find on chameleons.

   What little there was I reread once again.  If what Ms. Watson said
is right, and from the way I had been feeling ever since that day last
week, I was the latter sort.  Like learning a story, I was able to learn
a person's talent and then use it as I wanted to.  There was no limit to
the number or kinds of talents I could learn, Ms. Watson reminded me.

   I didn't know what to make of it.  All of this happened so quickly
that left me feeling off balance, like I was standing on the edge of a
cliff, and the ledge crumbling underneath my feet.  Part of me was
frightened by all the changes, but another deeper part of me was excited
by the prospects.  To be able to do all those things had brought back my
old dreams, imaginary times that I thought I had long outgrown.

   The dreams were the most disturbing part, and yet, I wanted them
again.  I had one the night before I left home for my new school.  I
found myself in a forest, with tall trees around me.  Someone was close
by, and I watched them become a wolf and lope off into the woods.  A
shiver passed through me, and I found myself on four legs, chasing after
them in a game of animal tag.  It was so much fun that when I woke up I
was disappointed at the fact that it wasn't real.

   The other thing in my lap was the pamphlet for the Stevenson
Transformation Academy.  Of the four that Ms. Watson recommended, I was
split between that one and the North River Body Academy.  But the scenic
view of the mountains drew me to Stevenson, located outside of Durango,
Colorado.  'A wide vista for the education and enlightenment of those
with unusual and unique talents' their brochure claimed.  I couldn't
complain about the classes, as they listed classes that I could never
have gotten at Storm Lake High.

   Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing, that buried part of me kept
saying.

--

   Sleeping on a bus isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but
I didn't notice.  Maybe my body had shifted slightly to make it more
tolerable, or maybe the excitement and fear of travelling made me more
tired, but whatever the reason I felt more relaxed when the bus pulled
into the station.  We had arrived at 4am in the morning, so I was
disappointed that I couldn't see any mountains outside the windows.

   Stepping off the bus, I saw a young lady with a small sign that read
"Martin".  I walked over to her and smiled.

   "I'm Kyle Martin."

   She smiled in return.  "I'm Ms. Coutier.  I'll be taking you to the
academy, and I'll likely be one of your teachers.  Are your bags off the
bus?"

   I glanced back, and sighed.  I had three large bags, filled with
most all of my clothing and some personal items.  "They're here," I
said, turning back to her.  But before I could say anything else, two
men picked up the bags and placed them into the back of a blue SUV.  Ms.
Coutier began walking towards the car, and I followed behind.

   "Feel free to sit in the front seat," she told me.  "It'll make
talking a little easier as we drive to the school."  She buckled up and
I did the same, and we took off into the darkness.

   As she drove down the streets, she kept up a constant conversation.
"We usually get one or two students that come in just before the school
actually starts up," she said, "so don't worry about missing anything.
The classes tend to be a lot more involved than what you'd get at your
old school, so I hope you're ready to do a lot of work.  As for your
talent, you'll get plenty of opportunities to learn how to use it.
We've worked hard to make a variety of mini-systems so that if you
wanted to learn about being a lion, we have a small veldt, or a lake for
taking aquatic forms."

   "How much do you know about me?" I asked, taking a break in the
conversational deluge.  Ms. Coutier grinned, and continued on as she
turned off the main road onto a smaller paved road.

   "We were informed about you by Ms. Watson, as you already knew.  All
of us on the staff are excited at the prospect of teaching you and I'm
glad that you have a hunger for learning already."  The way she said
things made me think that, like Ms. Watson, she was reading my thoughts.
Which would make her at least a B, maybe an A.

   "Oh, I am an A," she instantly replied, confirming my hunch.  "And
don't worry, we usually don't do this except when there's a need.
You've lived a pretty isolated life, and coming into this environment's
going to be a major change.  We're going to help out as much as
possible, and, well, you'll meet a pretty wide range of others like
yourself.  Not exactly like yourself, you're our only chameleon.  But
there's a number of unusual talents there, and I think you'll find out
you share a lot of traits with them."

   She drove through an old iron gate, two dim lights glowing on each
side.  A stone wall went off into the distance in each direction, and
Ms. Coutier nodded at my notice.

   "The wall is more for show, since most all of the students could go
around it easily enough.  But there are sensors that spot any sort of
movement past it, and we can see what you're doing.  And if you're
caught outside the wall without authorization you'll be reprimanded, or
even suspended."

   I nodded slowly.  "Just like sneaking off of campus to go to
McDonalds for lunch."

   "Pretty much."  We pulled up to a large building, and she parked in
an open space.  "We'll have someone get your bags up to your room," she
said as she got out of the car.  "Right now, we have to get your
schedule finalized, and that means meeting Mr. Thompson."  She pointed
towards the double doors.  "Just go up the stairs, turn right, and he'll
be in the second office on the left."

--

   I felt like I was caught in a tornado.  The next few hours found me
going from office to office, building to building.  I met teachers,
counselors, administrators, all in a flurry of papers to be signed,
taken elsewhere and signed again.  Finally as the afternoon wore on, the
rapid pace slowed to something I could handle.

   Clutching a binder filled with papers, maps, pamphlets and notes, I
walked with another member of the staff down a sidewalk through a tree-
lined park.  "That's your dorm ahead," the young man said.  "Boulder
Hall.  Each of the dorms are named after cities in Colorado," he added.
"You'll be in room 211.  You should have a magnetic card in your binder,
you slip the card in the reader and press your thumb to the metal, and
it'll unlock the door."