Lights #2
The quokka blinks, and then claps in excitement. “What a good idea! Raina will love it. She was thrilled to help with your flashcards when we all stayed at Capital Prep. It was quite educational in terms of what preds are being taught that is…”
“Utter bullshit?” I finish for him, and he ducks his head as he walks down the steps onto the grass. “Yeah, I know. At least this will be fun to work on together rather than annoying, huh?”
Banjo falls in step with me as we navigate the crowds of students filling the green.
This will calm down after a week or two—the freshmen will figure out their schedules and things will relax some.
But on the first day, every college I’ve been to so far has been nightmarish because it’s so packed with people who are in various edgy moods as they move around.
He finally nods, his face as serious as his kind can look.
“Yes, it will be less upsetting. Not that we were upset by helping you, of course. But knowing the… very altered version of things preds are being taught is hard. My family group is living pretty well on the school campuses, especially because of yours. But there are so many prey subjugated with no recourse, Queen Dolly. It is very sad.”
Frowning, I murmur, “I’m sorry, Banjo. I hate that reality.”
“It is what has been for so long that most have given up.” The quokka goes quiet for a moment as we approach the Shird. “I apologize for being a downer when you need to focus on your class. The rumors say Madame Bisonette is quite difficult and very moody.”
Snorting, I shrug. “The nasty bird woman is just one in a long line of avians who piss me off, Banjo. She’s mean to everyone, not just me, so I figure it’s the price I pay to get through my diploma reqs, you know?
And you never have to say sorry for telling the truth; I enjoy talking with all the crew. ”
His face lights up again, and Banjo opens the door so we can enter. “You are a shining star, Queen Dolly. Don’t let anyone steal that sparkle or blacken your kind heart. It would be a travesty.”
Now I’m kinda misty and I have to sit through Bisonette’s ranty teaching style.
Shit.
I exit the history classroom, exhaling a full-body sigh as the silence in the hall surrounds me.
The nasally, spiteful-toned professor was grating on my last nerve, and I can’t imagine why the admin has her teaching something she hates so much.
Bisonette pretty much scoffs at everything she has to teach except really old theater shit from the classical era, and by the time you get into the higher classes, that’s long since been covered.
It’s obvious in the way she snarks about all the various other types of plays, especially musicals, and it makes the class interminable.
Looking around, I see the second of the quokka triplets, Bowser.
I smile as he waves because if you lined them up, they’d look like a time-lapse of the same creature evolving from sweet cherub to badass.
Bowser’s got a faux hawk in his fur and a band-aid over one eyebrow that makes me wonder who the hell he’s been fighting with.
However, his smile is guileless, and he’s rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet like a small, caffeinated bouncer.
“Ready, Queen D?” he asks, and I can tell he’s rehearsed the line—probably in the mirror, possibly while flexing.
Quokkas aren’t very threatening, but Bowser has been working to bulk up since the attacks at Cappie and here last year.
Raina is the one who tipped me off that he might be picking fights with smaller preds who piss him off, and while I want to burst into giggles, I also don’t want one of her men to get hurt.
Except he’s strapped with a criss-cross chest belt of small, sharp as fuck knives under his uniform jacket, and I’m pretty sure he’s willing to use them now.
I grin. “Lead the way. We’re headed right back across the damn green again for my writing class, and then finally, I get to go home for dinner and relaxation.”
The quokka falls in step beside me, and as we traverse the lawn, he keeps up a running commentary about the relative merits of the current cafeteria lineup Raina has planned and the drama in the Prey Staff Consortium.
I let him talk, occasionally tossing in a sarcastic reply or a laugh, and by the time we reach the main academic building, the sense of ambient anxiety that’s lived under my skin since this morning is nearly gone.
My creative writing classroom is on the second floor, right above the admin offices.
I don’t have a great feeling about this, but I don’t want to freak Bowser out.
I’m sure he has duties to attend to, and despite this being a new-to-me professor, I’d prefer not to piss them off by bringing a protector without need.
Bowser gives me a gentle nudge as he looks at me. “You got this, Queen D. Unless you want me to come in and glare at anyone?”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. You go get those pumpkin waffles Raina has leftover. This is just a writing class; it will be fine.”
He nods, giving me one of those salutes before he disappears down the hall.
What I see when I open the door is like a slap in the face that transports me back to my freshman year in an instant.
In the second row, dead center, are the two remaining Heathers—Barrington and Erickson, Pink and Gold—sitting like twin sphinxes guarding a lesser pyramid.
Barrington’s chin is tilted up just enough to suggest disdain for anyone not in her circle, and Heather E.
’s hair is perfectly coiled into a bun, every strand in place except for one that’s been artfully teased loose.
They don’t look at me directly, but I feel it in the prickle at the back of my neck that says they know I’m here.
Motherfucker. I just did not need this at the end of my no good, terrible, very long day.
My assigned seat is two rows behind them, diagonally, and I make a show of getting out my notebook and uncapping my pen without reacting to their presence.
I label the first page with today’s date, a defense mechanism I started back in Apex—if you’re already writing before the mean girls turn, they’re less likely to bother you.
The silence that follows is oppressive as the room fills slowly.
No one speaks above a whisper, as if they’re all waiting for a storm that hasn’t started yet.