Volume I: The Lost Boys

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Though Enola can admire Deion’s enthusiasm to help, she was expecting to do this by herself with the help of her rodent friends. It’s more efficient that way and makes sure no one else goes missing. Still, it can’t hurt. Once the ever-passionate Deion moves away out of earshot, Enola decides to speak to Angelina more personably.

"Hey, I know you’re really worried. I get it. I really do. However, I’m confident Mr. Sleepy is okay. Cats are resourceful and intelligent, even the lazier ones. It will be okay. This may sound like a stupid question but how are you doing?"

Enola watches as Angelina scurries off in sadness. Although she was trying to be helpful, she can appreciate how worried she must be as well as how unusual it’d be for someone who’s barely an acquaintance to come up to her and offer support when they’re feeling particularly vulnerable. At least Deion left so Angelina could have some breathing room.

As she turns, Enola becomes aware of the situation occurring between her fellow teammates and the so-called popular kids. She sucks on her teeth in annoyance, wanting so badly to conjure a small plague of rats to humble them. It wouldn’t be too difficult. She can already sense several of them in the walls as it is. There’s even the mice in the science lab that she could call upon. However, she can’t expose herself. She doesn’t even want her teammates to know that she’s actually Vermite, and so to use her powers in such a grand fashion would give her away. Not only that, but it might also endanger her rodent friends, especially if there’s a panic. Instead, she tries to opt for something more subtle.

She reopens her locker and sticks her head inside, appearing to be grabbing books. In actuality, she closes her eyes to attune to the presence of a single rodent. She opens her eyes to now see what looks like the inside of her backpack. Looking at her hands reveals little rodent paws, and popping her head out of the backpack shows herself concentrating in her locker. She is looking through Skipper, a small field mouse that lives just outside of her own home. She goaded this little one with some processed cheese from her packed lunch this morning. After that, Skipper joined her for a little adventure.

"Alright little guy," she communicates to the mouse through her extended senses. "Time to make your debut. Be careful, okay? Now let’s see how brave these popular girls really are."

The mouse then stealthily moves out of the locker, along the wall, and right beneath Stacy’s feet.