"Welcome to Human Transformation," Mrs. Danford greeted me, as I stepped into Dome 1. She looked about thirty years old (although how I was I to tell?) and had long jet-black hair. Her bony frame only amplified the sternness and status she exuded; however, her kind smile had the opposite effect. Esme pulled me to a seat, at one of the desks with the chair attached. The desks were arranged in concentric rings around a lecturing platform. I noticed that many of the seats were empty, probably due to the low attendance of the school. Mrs. Danford, who had been greeting her students at the door, took her place at the podium. While she organized a few papers, I looked around at my classmates. I didn't recognize anyone except Quinto and Fi a few rows back. Felix was nowhere to be seen, even though he had told me this was his weakest subject area.

"Class." Mrs. Danford said the word as if it were its own sentence. "Continue with your celebrity look-alike projects. You will have the rest of the period to complete them. If anyone would like 5% bonus, they may present today instead of next Monday."

The class buzzed quietly and pulled out folders of paper. The sound echoed through the domed room, making a strange lull. Looking up, I saw that the dome was actually created from triangular panes of glass melded together.

"Miss Anyijaverra." Again, Mrs. Danford made no attempt to make the phrase more than a steadfast statement. "You have a lot to catch up on. Perhaps I will give you a brief introduction to the subject while the class works."

With that, the teacher swooped forward and I stood up.

"No, no. Stay where you are."

Sitting down again, Mrs. Danford took a seat perched on the desktop to my left.

"I've heard about you, Anijaverra. My condolences about the accident, and the loss of your memory and family."

I whispered a quiet thank-you, aware that Esme and the other students were eavesdropping.

"Class. You may begin your work," Mrs. Danford said sweetly, and the room began murmuring again. Esme glanced at me, and went to the back of the class to work with Fi and Quinto.

"So. Anyijaverra—"

"It's just Anya," I told her, having grown rather attached to the nickname. Who was I to know what I preferred to be called before the accident?

"Anya, then. How old am I?"

I stopped. It's a trap, I thought. She can't be expecting me to be right. Maybe she's under some disguise, as I had theorized before, and she was really young or really old? I decided to play along.

"I'm not sure, ma'am... maybe twenty?"

Mrs. Danford's eyes sparkled, and she smiled. "Incorrect, Anyijaverra. I am, in fact, 84 years old."

"I would never have known, ma'am," I told her. She beamed.

"This is the magic of human transformation. It may not make my joints less achy, but it sure can remove wrinkles, isn't that so?"

"Absolutely," I said, humouring her.

"And this will be a skill you too will learn. First, though I must know your experience."

"Uh," I began. "I don't have any—"

"Perfect!" Mrs. Danford exclaimed, grabbing my hand. "It's a start."

"I... what is?" I asked. Looking down at my hand, I noticed the bright red nail polish I definitely hadn't applied myself. My hand had become bony and my fingers were longer. It was an exact replica of Mrs. Danford's hand. "Oh. Well, that's all I can do. Copy other people without meaning to."

"Ah, but is that not what Mimicry is? To replicate the world around you? You must have had some training before coming here."

I didn't know what Mrs. Danford meant, but I was flattered.

"You wouldn't understand how many students can't change their bodies at all after weeks in my class."

"But I can't control it," I told her, becoming a bit frustrated with the teacher's praise. "It's annoying."

"As I could imagine. I can give you a few tips, but I must warn you, you'll need to study a lot to catch up to your classmates."

I nodded, anxious for my teacher to teach me something new.

"First, you need to enhance your Direct Mimicry: becoming precisely what you see in front of you. Then, much later, you'll learn Compound Mimicry, which is combining elements from many sources in your mind. Then, you can become any person you want, mimicking the image in your head. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I say.

"Excellent. Now, can you try, say, my hair?"

Concentrating, I tried to make my hair straighter and darker, but it was like trying to grow an extra arm. Mrs. Danford frowned slightly.

"Try to relax," she advised. "Mimicking is very hard when you aren't calm. Imagine that you already have my hair, but you just can't see it yet."

After nearly a full minute of trying, my wavy hair straightened out. Try as I might, it remained its typical chocolate-brown colour.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I really am trying."

"Here. I'll show you," she said. "Here I am, as me. Then..."

I watched in awe as my teacher grew younger and her pale skin darkened. Her straight black hair lifted into brown waves, and suddenly I was staring at, well, me.

"Wha—how?" I breathed. It was so effortless. She simply decided what to be and it happened. Why couldn't I do that? I clenched my fists and imagined myself turning into Mrs. Danford, but nothing happened.

"Mrs. Danford?" a girl with curly red hair called, looking around the room in confusion. As my clone reshaped into the sharp figure of the teacher, the girl's eyes bulged. "Uh. Can you come check this for me?"

Without me trying, my hair curled up into ringlets and became a matching shade of scarlet. Mrs. Danford and I stared at each other: me with embarrassment, her with defeat. So much for being "perfect!" and "having prior training". I could already tell that my Mimicry had a mind of its own. Mrs. Danford stood up and pressed a sheet of paper and a hand mirror on my desk. On it, a girl with chin length blond hair smiled up at me.

"I'll let you work on your own for a little while. Try to mimic her, even just parts of her appearance. I'll help the other students for a while."

Glumly, I watched Mrs. Danford walk away, and tried not to think of how hopeless I was if my teacher had abandoned her own student. I looked down at the smiling girl in the picture, and focused on her wheat-coloured hair.

After twenty minutes of sitting there, I could practically see the girl when I closed my eyes. Still, my reflection was me, not her.

"Alright, class," Mrs. Danford's voice rang out through the dome and she returned to her podium. I saw her face squint just a bit as she saw me in my regular form, but she regained her serious composure immediately. "Does anyone want to present their project today for extra credit?"

Several students raised their hands, Fi included. Mrs. Danford called on Fijanna, and she skipped up to the podium. She flattened her dress and held a poster in front of her, rotating so the entire class could see it.

"My project is about Damyan Birch," she began, gesturing to a photo of a smiling young man. "As you probably all know, he is among the most famous of Mimic actors. He was in Sweepstakes, Jungle Fortress, and Temple of Fortune. His greater-world personas are Brad Trent and Gabriel Anderson, so if you see those names on the credits, it's actually Damyan."

Fi took a breath and continued rattling off facts about this movie star.

"His true form is a sea serpent, which makes him a mythomorph which I personally find very cool. He likes oatmeal, and hiking in the jungle. He attended this academy fourteen years ago, and he is 29 years old," Fi informed us. "Now, appearance. Damyan has luscious black hair and elagonated cheekbones. He has crystal blue eyes, much like myself, and sports a black tracksuit in many press photos."

I looked around, wondering whether this was really what Fi was meant to be talking about for this assignment. Several students had a dreamy look in their eyes, and Mrs. Danford was smiling as she checked off boxes on a clipboard. I supposed that meant the presentation was going well.

"And now the transformation," Fi said curtly, closing her eyes. As I looked on in amazement, her blonde hair retracted into her head, and was replaced with "luscious" black locks. She grew some stubble, and her blue satin dress turned into a black tracksuit. She got taller and more muscular, and when she opened her eyes, she was the spitting image of the man on her poster. The class applauded Fi's successful transformation.

"Thank you!" Fi beamed, still with her usually high-pitched voice. It sounded very strange coming from a man of Damyan Birch's stature.

"Well done, Fijanna," Mrs. Danford said as she walked up to the platform. "Impeccable attention to detail. Perfect score."

Fijanna grinned, and hopped back to her desk, still under her disguise. Several students eyed her with admiration as she passed as if she were really the movie star.

"Who would like to—" A bell rang and cut off the teacher's question before she finished. "Never mind. Class dismissed."

As the students pushed their way towards the exit, Fi fought back in the opposite direction. I looked down and realized my red hair was gone, thankfully.

"Fi!" Esme said, high-fiving Fijanna/Damyan. "That was so good!"

"Thanks!" Fi chirped. "Or should I say... 'thanks,'" she joked, dropping her voice as low as possible and giving finger-guns to Esme, who rolled her eyes.

"Just get the agno," Esme told her. "We're going to be late."

Fi hopped up the steps and located a red stone on the teacher's desk.

"Watch this, Anya," Esme said. "This is an agno."

Fi clutched the gem, and immediately was surrounded by flashing light. Just as I reached up to shield my eyes, it was gone, and so was Damyan Birch. Fi stood there, readjusting her hair which had become quite tousled.

"Bam!" she said. "It's much faster than manually reverting back."

I nodded, still a little bit blinded by the flashing light.

"Let's go," Esme begged. "I don't want to be late for Tongues."

Tongues, it turned out, was not as bizarre as its name. It was the class where Mimics learned languages, as well as vocal techniques like accents, voice changing, and speech patterns. Unlike Human Transformation, I seemed to excel in this area, much to the surprise of my teacher, Mr. Anders. My talent for languages finally seemed useful.

"Alright, everyone," Mr. Anders said. "I need to go get the handout for today. While I'm gone, who can tell our new students what we've been doing all year?"

Students? I turned around, and saw Felix right behind me. We had one class together at least, then.. A few eager classmates raised their hands, Quinto included. Mr. Anders picked him, then left the room.

"Well, it will be hard indeed for these newcomers to catch up, because we've learned more than 17 languages already. I don't suppose you know Kurdish, Anya?" Quinto said with a scowl. He enunciated his words as he spoke. "Can... you... understand... me?"

I stood up. "Yes, yes I can, Quinto. I am just as proficient in Kurdish as you, perhaps even more so. I can assure you I'll have no trouble catching up."

As I sat down, I noticed a few classmates snickering, mostly at Quinto but some directed at me. Esme stifled a laugh, as I realized I'd spoken in Kurdish much louder than I'd intended. It was worth it, though, for the look on Quinto's face.

"Who taught you that?" Felix whispered from behind me.

I shrugged back blankly. He, of all people, should know that I have no answers for this kind of stuff.

Esme turned in her seat. "It's a natural thing for some Mimics. We can all learn languages at a very advanced rate, but some of us are faster learners than others. No one knows so many Tongues on their own though, Anya. Someone must have taught you at some point."

"Alright, class!" Mr. Anders said briskly, as he strolled into the room. "I have your conversational Spanish exams to return to you. I'm very pleased with how you all did. Please remember to go over your adverbs, though."

He handed back papers to everyone. Esme wriggled with delight at her score.

"Today we'll have a quick replication exercise."

Mr. Anders finished handing out the exam scores and walked up to the front of the room. He flicked on a projector, a standard school overhead projector exactly like the ones at St. Bernard's. I don't know why this bothered me so much, it was useful as ever, but to see this familiar equipment in an exotic magical land was jarring.

"Ugh, HDMI won't plug in," he mumbled, fiddling with a cord. "Technical difficulties."

Quinto stood up and rushed to Mr. Ander's side. "Here, try the backup ROM cord," he said. Sure enough, the projector flickered to life and a PowerPoint presentation loaded up.

"Ah! Thank you, Quinto." Mr. Anders dusted off his hands dramatically. "Alright. I'll explain this once more for the newcomers. Your human imitation exercise goes as follows. I will play a video clip from a popular film or documentary, and I will call on someone in the class to mimic the phrase in their best impression possible. You do not have to volunteer, but I need to gain enough material about you to accurately make a grade. If someone doesn't participate enough, their grade can and will reflect that. Understood?"

"He's nice, but you'll want to participate," Esme whispered to me unnecessarily. "He adores guys like Quinto who are always answering."

"Dolphins live in pods of 5-30 in the wild," crooned a woman's voice in an underwater documentary.

"Who would like to go first?" Mr. Anders asked.

Esme's hand shot into the air, and I smiled. Maybe Quinto wasn't the only one sucking up to the teacher.

"Dolphins live in pods of 5-30 in the wild," Esme said in the exact same tone as the narrator. It was so different from her regular voice that I dropped my pencil.

"Good. Anyone else?"

A boy with sandy blonde hair volunteered. As he spoke the line, I watched in amazement as his voice shifted to become feminine and light.

"Excellent, Wiliyam. Here's the next clip."

"Turn to page 394."

A few students giggled as a tall man with greasy black hair appeared on the screen. His voice was just as greasy and monotonous, and I began to doubt whether anyone could imitate that.

"Turn to page 394," someone drawled, nearly identically to the film. It wasn't until I turned around and saw him grinning that I realized it was Felix. My mouth dropped as I realized the sound had come from his mouth. Well, if he could do it...

My hand shot into the air.

"Ah, yes, the amnesiac! Give it a go!" Mr. Anders said, with an Australian accent this time.

I cleared my throat. I'd picked up languages pretty easily, so this couldn't be too different.

"Turn to page 394," I said, trying to make my voice deeper, more indifferent and slimy. It worked, kind of. It wasn't a perfect match, but if someone had told me hours earlier that I could speak in a man's voice, I wouldn't have believed them. Add another thing to the list of stuff I didn't know I had a talent for.

"Hey, you kinda got it," Esme told me after class, patting me on the back. "Your transformations may need some work, but I think you'll ace this class for sure."

"Thanks, but I'd rather be able to shapeshift than do impressions," I sighed. "It's not too useful."

"Cool party trick though," Felix, walking beside us, piped up.

"As if I've gone to any parties," I responded. Thinking of the fancy white dress, I reconsidered. "Well, that I can remember."

"I still think bodily transfiguration is a far more applicable skill," Quinto said, side-eying me. Why was he so stuck-up? He never talked to the others like this.

"See, that's what you THINK, until you're trapped in a room guarded by a Polish henchman," Felix began, smiling at me.

"And he doesn't know English or Kyer," I added. "But he's quite partial to Polish poetry."

"And you happen to have read a book on great Polish wordsmiths in your studies," Felix continued. "So you know a couple sonnets."

"And so you make your voice extremely melodic and relaxing, and start reciting a love ballad." I was smiling now too.

"And luckily, you have perfect Polish pronunciation because of your inherited aptitude for foreign tongues," Esme added.

"So you enchant him into a dazed stupor with your words, and you escape. No bodily transfiguration required!" Felix finished.

Quinto only rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"What is his problem?" Esme asked. "He's not like this normally. Well, kind of."

Felix and I just shrugged uselessly. We all turned our heads at the sound of laughing from the fields.

"What's happening over there?" I asked.

"Extracurriculars!" Esme told me. "Come on, guys, let's go!"