“I would like for you to know a little about me. So when I call your name you may ask me any question that comes to your mind.” Jeremie said looking down at the student roster, “Brenda Sallir”

A girl with amber brown hair that fell past her shoulders stood up, “how old are you, professor?”

Jeremie had anticipated this question. He knew that his hair had wide streaks of grey, the wrinkles on his face were deep, and he looked five times older than he really was.  And he knew the answer would surprise his students. “I am 28. I sat in those seats that you are sitting in only 12 and a half years ago.” Seeing the disbelieving looks in his students eyes he decided to back up his case. “There is a plaque with my name on it dated twelve and a half years ago. Randy Kalliar!”

A boy with dark skin and dread locks stood. A deep voice asked, “Did you ever do anything exiting here? Because truthfully you seem like the kind of guy that would sit in his room studying.”

Jeremie smiled at this. “Let’s see here; I skipped class, broke curfew, I smuggled a girl into the school, left campus, and almost blew up the school. Is that enough excitement for you Randy? Suesan Orir-“

Jeremie was interrupted by a tall girl. The black hair, and hard expression, reminded Jeremie of Yumi. “My name isn’t Suesan, its Chi. Its my parents fault that I have such a stupid name. Any way, are you married?”

Jeremie’s heart faltered. His smile faded, this was the only question that he had feared. Jeremie paused for a second, before answering or rather he avoided the question. “I am afraid that I will not answer that question. But I will say this search as you might all you will find on my past social life is cryptic and puzzling. My advise, stay away from it. Deven Bowmen!”

Jeremie continued down the roster. This process was repeated each of the three other classes that he would teach.  In his second class a very short student asked him if he liked cheese. Eren Pripe was his name his short blond hair grew unevenly and his closed were obviously too big for him, but some how they suited him. In his third class a boy named Nat Cirer asked no question at all. He sat there in a black shirt and jeans. His dark hair was held in a pony-tail.

But when Jeremie was sitting in his room with a cup of coffee something tugged at his mind. A girl in his last class of the day. She was small and frail, she sat alone in the bake of the class. Her name was Grace Sharron.

But what was it that bugged Jeremie? It wasn’t the way she acted or the way she spoke. Really the only thing unusual about her was her hair. Though Jeremie had trained him self not to judge people by their appearance there was a horrible felling in his mind. This was a feature that he had seen on only two other people in all of his life.

She had pink hair. Pink hair, only slightly darker then Aelita’s. She had asked a unremarkable question but in her quiet, soft voice it sounded new and strange. She had asked him his first name. Pushing darker thoughts out of his mind he got up. Jeremie washed his mug and placed it on the counter of one of the schools teacher dorms. Then he decided to take another walk around the campus.