44. High Hopes
High Hopes
Delores
By the time I clear the double doors of the guidance wing, my calves are trembling with that post-tap, pre-collapse tremor that says I’ll be walking on noodle legs for the rest of the day.
A faint, hickey-bright ring is still glimmering faintly on my shoulder; it isn’t a wound, not anymore, but the soft, reddish mark is impressive.
I keep one hand jammed in the pocket of my sweats as I power-walk past the office windows, not because I’m self-conscious but because I want to get as much distance as possible between me and the cold, fermented cheese stench of Rockland’s office.
That woman, even on her least atrocious behavior, is like being locked in with the worst C-list villain in every movie ever made.
Percy walks beside me, whistling. Since he’s a skunk, in theory he should have been able to overrule any environmental odor, but he couldn’t release his scent to combat her insane perfume.
It would have just mingled with it and made it more vomit-worthy in the small office.
Besides, he was more focused on stroking the matte black barrel of the large rifle he’s carrying with a slow, almost lewd affection.
It freaked Rockland out, and every time, he flashed me a sly, side-eye grin, like this was the best morning he’s had in weeks.
That threat and whatever my asshat counselor spent the entire session dealing with that led to her glaring at her phone and speed-typing angry emails, was a blessing.
I have no idea what was bothering her, but every so often she would remember her official role as guidance counselor, glance at me with the sad, rainbow-hair mess and rattle off a question that made no sense.
“Did I help, Miss Dolly?” The skunk signs his question, making sure I see it clearly so I can answer.
I grin as I nod and do my best to respond accurately. I’m still learning, but I think I got it right. “Yes. You were perfect.”
“Good. I do not like that woman, but I am honored to be of service to you. Your family is very important to our crew.”
“We consider you part of our ambush, Percy. You’re all our dear friends.”
As we move across the campus to the Shird, I notice all the still-rushing newbies and the flood of upper-level students emerging from the dorms. It’s day two, so the crowds are thick, but they’ll thin out soon enough.
Once people figure out where they’re going and how much time they need, it always does, no matter what school I’m at.
Percy hops up the steps with me, completely ignoring the weird looks all the preds give him as he holds the front door open to let me walk inside.
We grab the elevator, taking it to the dance studio floor, and when we get to my hip-hop room, he bobs his brows.
The hip-hop studio is a barn-shaped room with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one side and rubberized matting underfoot.
The professor is already there and I clock her with a suspicious look as we enter.
Vera Hanson is a skinny, rat-faced feline of a smaller species.
She’s staring at the students as they enter with the bearing of a drill sergeant, and I get a bad feeling about how this class is going to go.
Not only do I have another fucking ‘Society’ family person teaching, but she seems to have a giant plank up her ass despite running a dance discipline that’s all about being loose.
Even when I’m having a good day, I just can’t win.
Once there are sufficient witnesses, Percy gives me a salute and heads out so I can stretch.
The class doesn’t get long to warm our muscles before the damn cat is lining us up to teach a very quick, very complex set of steps.
Within minutes my thighs are on fire and I’m sweating so hard my socks feel squishy and gross.
The bite mark on my neck is now pulsing in time with my heartbeat, as every muscle in my body screams. I’d complain, but honestly, the workout is addictive, as if it’s burning off the last crumbs of Rockland’s office with each leap and landing.
The only time I let myself stop is when I catch my reflection in the mirror and realize how wild I look—hair in a rainbow snarl, shirt clinging to me, and the shimmer of sweat covering my exposed skin.
It makes me feel, for a second, like a real person who is surviving on her own terms despite all the odds stacked against her.
I like that, and even though I dislike this woman instinctively, I throw myself into her class as if it’s going to save my sanity.
That works so well that I’m surprised when class ends abruptly; the hour goes way faster than I realized.
I limp to the bench and collapse to strip off my socks and shoes for replacements from my bag, every part of me hot and jelly-soft.
Once I’m toweled off and re-shoed, I take a long drink from my big water bottle and snarf down a small something-or-other bar Chessie sent along.
My body needs the extra energy, and though eating it makes me feel burbly, I know I have to do it.
Being a shifter with a secret magic side takes up a lot of my calories, and if I don’t watch it, I will have serious issues.
As soon as my stomach settles, I get up, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head for the door.
A moment later, Fitz rounds the corner of the hall, yet again looking like he’s been awake for four days.
It might be his style now, but I don’t mind.
His hair is in a state that defies classification, and his t-shirt reads ‘Have you tried turning it on and off?’ in letters that look like they were written by an ancient computer.
He sees me, grins with all his teeth, and launches into a high-speed monologue before he even stops walking.
“Baby Girl! You survived the session with the corpse gobbler and look unscathed, which means I win the bet with Felix. I got your messages, and I've already started working on that Hanson chick’s background. Also, I patched the thing with your alarm app, so it sends an automatic threat assessment to all the Captain’s security team and us and your two friends, plus Zhenga.
I decided with new professors we have no info on, it’s probably better that the alarm just pings everyone.
I added a feature where a second push will also email your badger lawyer so he can start working, too. ”
I blink, looking at him with wide eyes. “Uh…. Okay. Did you maybe get into the energy stuff again? You know Chessie said that if you mix that with coffee it will do weird things…”
“Hell, yes, I did! I needed the fuel for Rockland and for this.” He grins crazily and offers his arm so we can start walking.
“After I finished the morning class, I dove right into all the stuff I just said. I also organized a bunch of shit that came in boxes the crew checked before I left to come get you.”
Oh, boy. I don’t know what was in the boxes, but whoever it’s for is going to lose their mind at whatever hyped-up filing system he just started.
“We’ll stroll since you had two tough physical things, okay?” he says. “You did a hard thing this morning, and I’m supposed to keep you un-obliterated until at least noon. My apprehension is about the mystery professor we’re headed for—I’m not thrilled about that shit at all.”
The corridor is crowded, but with Fitz running interference, nobody gets too close.
I don’t talk about Rockland because there’s nothing to say that can’t be summed up by saying she can fuck off.
I also don’t mention the way my heart rate goes up every time I see my reflection and remember the shimmering bruise, even when some asshole makes under their breath comments about it.
Instead, I listen to Fitz recount more of his early morning activities and prank plans for Aubrey.
I like that he doesn’t force me to focus on the bad shit and just fills the silence with normal stuff.
When we get to the next building, he holds the door and gives me a sidelong glance. “You got this, Baby Girl. A regular lecture class is going to be a cakewalk compared to your artsy, physical sessions. All you have to do is take notes, study, and all that normal junk. No worries, right?”
“Unless the professor is predisposed to hate me without a reason,” I reply with a frown. “Most regular classes since I started college are led by shitheads who torture me every chance they get. I don’t have high hopes, Fitzy.”
He grins. “If so, I’ll hunt the dumbass down and figure out what piece of them I want for your collection.
They’re not safe from me, and I guarantee that grumpy dragon is going to make me look like a reasonable fella now that he put that mark on you.
Dragons are very weird about mates, Frenchie says.
Notice no one ever fucks with the gargoyle? There’s a reason.”
I take a second to brace myself before we stop at the door to my lecture hall, giving him a half-smile. “Well, that should be interesting. I figured people left Rennie alone because he’s sneaky and smart and terrifying in his shifted form, especially when he’s in a snit.”
“Maybe, but ask him about the time the new grounds staff at Apex ruined one of his gardens before you got there. It’s a good story and until I knew those two secret-keeping fuckers were mated, I never got why it went down like that. Now, of course, I do.”
Chuckling, I lean in to kiss him lightly before I go in. “I will. Now shoo so I can get settled. I’ll see you later, right?”
“Banjo is picking you up, but you definitely won’t be able to miss me for long. Knock ‘em dead, Baby Girl.”
At least now I have something fun to look forward to besides dinner when I get home.