A Second Generation Whateley Academy Tale
Dorms of Our Lives
By Wasamon and Souffle Girl
with the assistance of the usual suspects
––Saturday, September 17th
Whateley Academy campus on a weekend morning had a sort of energy to it that was as unmistakable as it was difficult to define. Fiorella Persico, Calliope to most and Cally to her friends, could practically taste it. The fact that this gustatory response was somehow being processed via her ears was just one more thing to add to the list of oddities which was her life.
The sounds rushed in, laden with perfumed accents of excitement and vim as the student body awoke a little later than usual to a day without classroom obligations – for most, at least – and was not shy about expressing those emotions. To an empath such as herself, it was a heady rush, and she was hardly surprised to see one of her lab buddies – Heartfinder, from the junior high division – walking along slowly and with a glazed expression on her face. The rest of the eighth-grade contingent was helping her along to breakfast.
Calliope herself had been up for almost two hours at this point, thanks to her roommate Erica's adherence to the euphemistically benign-sounding morning exercise routine, so she'd had time to acclimate. And it wasn't as if this was even the first weekend she'd experienced here. But as the summer season swung to a close and the school year loomed ahead, somehow everyone found the energy for a few more days of craziness and fun before the cold set in.