• Here come the Siren and the Incubus, multiple pairs of eyes following their every move. There's Mr. Sandman, yawning loudly as he schleps down the hall. Over there is the class Werewolf, his bulky frame taking up most of the passageway. Next to him is the Pixie, as short as she is mischevious. The Vampires sit in the corner, black bangs hanging in front of their pale faces. The Mermaid's hair is still wet as she steps off the bus. I only swing my backpack onto my shoulders. Sometimes I feel like the only normal one in this band of freaks.