Legacy of the Claw by C. R. Grey Page A

homeroom, and wondered what he’d done to Taylor to have been called here. The boys turned to him, white-faced and surprised. They huddled against the giant gears that powered the clock, as far away from the door that led to the open-air ledge as possible.
    â€œAre you going to do it?” the boy from his homeroom asked, wide-eyed.
    â€œWhy not?” Bailey said with a shrug, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. In reality, his heart was hammering. He ducked under a low-hanging gear and stepped through the clockface door out onto the ledge.
    Immediately, everything around him seemed to fall silent. He couldn’t hear the turning gears behind him or the murmuring students or even the ominous ticking of the clock itself. All he could see were the vast, dark grounds of Fairmount and the buildings with ribbons of mist curled around them. He could smell the river nearby, just vaguely, and for a moment, he felt a completely unexpected sensation: happiness.
    He inched farther out on the ledge. A shot of adrenaline raced through his body and he realized he was shaking—no, more like
buzzing
. Below him, Taylor was standing with his arms crossed.
    I’m not afraid; not of you, not of anything, Bailey thought
.
    But he couldn’t help his hands shaking as he looked down. The ground looked impossibly far away. His legs began to wobble, and Bailey forced himself to breathe deeply. Just one little jump. Easy. Nothing to be afraid of.
    Before he could change his mind, he crouched into a runner’s stance, sucked in a breath, and leapt.
    He fell for what seemed like whole minutes. Bailey could feel the wind whipping in his ears, and the strange heaviness of his body dropping through thin air. Time eased as the ground spiraled closer, as though he were dropping in slow motion.
    And then he could see the rope just a few feet below him, and he reached out blindly. He felt the rope in his hands, and then the quick jolt of his body changing direction. Suddenly, instead of falling, he was swinging around the flagpole—suspended, flying! He’d never felt anything so wonderful before; he found himself laughing as the rope swung him around the pole.
    He wondered if this is how it was for everyone else when, just by clearing their minds, they could see what an animal saw, or think the way an animal thought. For once, soaring above the grass, Bailey thought he knew what it must be like to feel
bigger
, to be something
other
than just Bailey Walker, freak.
    As he hit the ground, he was a new person—a stronger person. Even the burning in his hands from clutching the rope felt good. The other Year Ones were peering out of the clockface, clapping and whooping at the sight of Taylor’s shocked expression.
    â€œWho’s Animas Chicken now?” he said, grinning.
    But Taylor didn’t answer. He was wide-eyed and backing up slowly, as if Bailey had a contagious disease. “Ants!” he cursed. “Run!”
    Bailey watched, confused, as the Scavage players began to scatter across the lawn, back toward the dorms. What had he done wrong?
    â€œYoung man!” a voice trumpeted out from behind him.
    Bailey looked toward the assembly hall and felt his stomach dive to his toes. Tremelo, his Homeroom teacher, was walking swiftly toward him, his red fox trotting swiftly at his side.
    Just my luck, he thought to himself. The only one to jump—the only one to get caught.
    It was too late to make a dash for cover—Tremelo was already upon him. Besides, Bailey’s legs were still so shaky from the leap that he really wasn’t convinced he could walk just yet. Bailey scanned the lawn for Hal, but there was no sign of him. At least he had gotten away.
    â€œA decent performance, but I hope you know that you could be expelled from this academy for less,” Tremelo said, stopping in front of Bailey. He reached into his pocket and took out a small silver flask. He lifted it to his lips and