Westerhelm Private School for Social Integration. The media refers to it as just "Westerhelm"-there really isn't anything else worth mentioning in that part of town- and any other outsiders call it "That school with the odd people". The state gives the school plenty of funding, they get new students every other semester, and the students are of many ages but all diagnosed with some condition that nobody really knows what entails, except it impairs the victim's ability to behave with others so seriously that somebody had to found a whole school just for fixing that. That's about all the public knows, and most of the money from the state goes towards keeping it that way. The truth is that Westerhelm doesn't take students of just one conditions. All their students are what the public would refer to as supernatural beings, there to learn how to blend with the rest of the population. Not all supernatural creatures have the possibility or need to go to such a school, but the ones that do really need the guidance. The school takes in everyone from newborn Vampires to Changelings, and it's all controlled by the government... Our story, though, is about a werewolf and a cambion. Today is their big day, their first day of school. Wish them luck. -------------- Jerry followed his father up to the gates of the school, looking back at the driver in the car he had just gotten out of. Franklin had been his favorite playmate, and now he probably wouldn't see him in a long time. His father would come by every week to check on him, but he would come alone. The women didn't live with the pack, so Jerry didn't know his mother. She probably wasn't very fun though, since she liked Father. Father was dull and serious. And strong and solid too, especially now as Jerry walked straight into his back while trying to wave down to Franklin. His father had stopped, and presented his hand to a human-smelling man while taking a deep breath. Jerry looked away, knowing this meant that he was going to do his serious business-things again. Jerry hoped he could get out of these stiff formal clothes once he had moved in. Franklin said so too, a 15 year old werewolf shouldn't have to be caged inside his father's work clothes. The young cub stopped worrying about his clothes though, as he saw more adults with kids approaching. Friends! Playmates! And of his own size too. Grappling Franklin was way too hard, and finding Franklin in hide and seek was way too easy.