How Bizarre
Delores
The door to Rockland’s office clicks behind me, and it’s the exact hollow, echoey thunk I hear in my nightmares—a noise I’d like to never associate with my frazzled psyche again.
There’s a reason every villain in every cheap drama movie slams a big wooden door right before they fire you or dissolve your trust fund, and it’s because nothing says ‘fuck you’ like the finality of a heavy door snapping shut.
And she definitely wants to say that every time I open my mouth, but my companions being present holds it off.
Outside the office, the corridor is empty except for the anxiety that always follows me out of these sessions, and Raina, who followed me out with her crossbow and a look of practiced casualness.
Her uniform is pressed within an inch of its synthetic life.
She makes the bodyguard thing feel both invisible and omnipresent at once, which is a real skill when you’re a raccoon in a school where most predators prefer to pretend the prey types aren’t even breathing air.
“Well, that didn’t go too badly,” Raina says, falling into step with me. “She’s treading carefully since we put witnesses in the office with you. Plus, she’s so distracted, and it’s very odd that it keeps her from really paying attention to your answers.”
“No kidding! She wasn’t even all the way there, you know?
The witch spent the whole time typing at a million miles an hour and only looked at me when she could sigh and squint simultaneously.
There wasn’t even an attempt at subtlety today—just random questions, then back to her laptop as if it was the most interesting entity in the room. ”
Raina hums, but the edge in it says she’s storing every detail for later reporting. “Distracted Rockland is the lesser evil, at least. But I agree that it’s worrisome that she’s not even listening when she forced this to get ideas out of you. What in the world could she be so obsessed with?”
“I don’t know,” I say ruefully. “She’s not even pretending to hate me directly anymore, and I’d almost prefer the screaming. At least it was honest, you know? And I was a lot less anxious about what could be going on when she was targeting me.”
We hit the elevator and Raina pushes the button for the main floor, her crossbow resting gently against the tile as she waits.
I notice she’s checking every reflective surface for shadows or tails—her security consciousness is never off duty.
The elevator dings, and as we step in, she leans close and mutters, “When enemies are quiet like that, it means they are working on something bigger. No one that aggressive gives up the sport for nothing.”
I chew on that, letting the elevator’s brutal lime cleaner and metal-smell fill my head for a second. There’s nothing I can do about it, so I shrug. “Guess I’ll have to wait for her to take the shot, then,” I deadpan, “and when it happens, I’ll duck as fast as I can.”
Raina snorts. “We’ll be there when it happens.
However, now that we’re past that, I have a message from the Captain.
The request your glorious gargoyle made went out on today’s preymail dispatch, so the puffin elder should see it by the end of the week.
Also, Banjo’s picking you up after hip-hop to walk you to Diplomacy, so you’ll be covered then. ”
My brain is two steps behind, still tumbling over the fact that Rockland is being so non-aggressive and what it might mean.
“Raina,” I say, “am I the only one who’s getting weird vibes about that Sterling guy?
Have you heard anything from the prey staff?
That class is one that really sets my teeth on edge because we can’t find anything about him. ”
She leans against the wall and fixes me with her shiny black gaze.
“It’s not just the family wondering, Dolly.
Our staff likes to know what professors prefer when we clean up their rooms and handle their clothing and such.
That gentleman does not send his clothes out.
His room was still as clean as a bleach bottle when one of the maids went in before, but I didn’t think much of it.
It’s very odd for what seems to be a bachelor professor with an unconnected name who ended up at one of the schools. ”
The elevator doors open to the main hallway, and we walk in step toward the quad. I squint up at the row of windows and then check the time. If I don’t book it, I’ll be late to hip-hop, which would be a travesty for more than one reason.
Raina follows my line of thought and adds, “But if you like, I can ask around the staff quarters on the non-residential side. The ostriches and emus do all the cleaning, but they stick together. I can see if any of them will watch out for clues left in Sterling’s room, like if he leaves anything in his trash.
They can watch his office and the break rooms, too. ”
It’s a good plan, so I nod. “Pick the ones you trust completely—no one who’ll talk to Midori or trade it for favors. If this guy is a plant, I don’t want to get someone fired over a misstep, nor do I want anyone to get hurt. We don’t know what kind of heat he’s packing, you know?”
My raccoon friend grins, a flash of canines that means she appreciates the way I do things. “Two of the emus have clean records and don’t give a fuck about the Council. I’ll vet the rest myself. Also, the Captain said you should check your bag after your next class. We’ve left a surprise inside.”
I groan. “He better not have sent me gross stuff, Raina. I don’t eat things like dehydrated octopus jerky, and it’ll stink up my stuff.”
“Not food this time, Dolly. But you really are missing out by not trying his various treats. They’re quite good, and you’d like the protein. Not everything that’s good for you smells tasty, you know.”
The grass is slick from last night’s dew, and there’s a hummingbird working the air as we stroll across the quad.
I dodge yet another cluster of first-year students as we make a beeline for the Shird.
It’s still crowded, but the first week isn’t over yet, so they haven’t thinned out quite yet.
Halfway there, I pause and turn to Raina. “Can I ask one more favor?”
She lifts her brow, waiting with a smile.
“I need someone to check on Rufus and Cori. They’ve stopped texting, and I know Cori’s supposed to be focusing on the uniforms for the Games, but it worries me. Rufus never goes silent, and even if they have tough schedules, I’m just—I don’t like it.”
Raina gives me a fond expression. “I’ll make sure someone checks in today.
I’d bet they’re just swamped like you, though.
You have all been given such crazy schedules this year that it’s preventing you from seeing one another.
I understand how that might be concerning, but you don’t need to spiral. I’m sure.”
“I’m not spiraling; I’m just catastrophizing,” I admit as I give her an embarrassed look. “It’s a completely distinct thing, you know.”
My friend laughs, but it’s softer now. We reach the doors to the Shird, and she opens them to let me in. “I’m going up with you; I don’t enjoy imagining what could happen if we don’t escort you door-to-door.”
I nod, trying to ignore the way my chest feels like it’s shrinking in on itself because so many people care about me so much. “Thanks, Raina. You’re the best.”
She offers a tiny salute and then steps inside with me, scanning the crowd for any threats before we head for the elevator again. Only after she checks do I slip inside, my bag thumping against my hip and my mind already shifting to what comes next.
Hopefully, nothing that ruins my decent day so far—otherwise, I’m going to riot.
Hip-hop class lets out with a bang, as it always does—with the smell of sweat and the wobbly adrenaline rush that says you’ve sweat out every molecule of bad mood.
All I want now is a cold drink and to sit down.
I’m the first one out because there’s no point sticking around for the post-class drama.
In the hallway, Banjo is standing at parade rest, his jacket zipped up enough to hide the fact that he’s probably carrying more knives than should be legal on a school campus.
“Queen Dolly!” he says, and there’s this micro-bounce in his stance like he’s restraining himself from saluting.
“It sounded like class was intense today. Were you able to execute all your moves correctly? Was Hanson too tough? We are supposed to let the Captain and Raina know if any professor is behaving badly.”
I shrug my bag higher on my shoulder, the wet fabric pulling at my skin. “Nobody died or passed out, so I guess it was okay. Hanson only called me a try-hard once. I’m considering this one a win. Thanks for asking.”
The quokka grins, the pink at the tip of his nose wrinkling up. “You are the most impressive queen this crew has ever served. May I escort you to Diplomacy now?”
His offer is rhetorical—Banjo’s already matched my pace, angling so his body creates a clear path through the knot of students loitering in the lobby.
His head stays on a swivel, scanning every face for threat or mischief, and it’s honestly comforting to know he’d throw himself in front of a bus or a bored Heather if the need arose.
Not a single one of the crew gives a shit about the size difference between themselves and the enemies—no, they are ready to rumble every single time they come to get me.
“Raina told me you have your class with the Heather canines today, yes?” he says, keeping his voice pitched low.
“I wish we could do more to assist you, but they are from such powerful families. Only very specific little pranks are within our grasp. But we do what we can to ruin their day from the background.”
I had no idea, but it sounds like something the Captain and perhaps one of my more mischievous suitors devised.
It’s a straight shot across the quad to the building where Diplomacy is once we’re out of the Shird, but the foot traffic is heavier now.
Banjo has to step up the guard duty, making sure nobody brushes my arm or steps on my shoes.
He even body-blocks a wandering avian shifter who’s not paying attention, gently but firmly shoving him aside with a friendly ‘excuse you, sir’.
His polite rebuff catches the idiot askance, and once we’re clear of the bumbler, I giggle.
The rest of the walk is uneventful, and we head into the building without having to deal with other preds.
I pause in the vestibule, and Banjo uses the opportunity to check the sight lines up and down the hallway to the elevator.
When he’s satisfied, he looks at me with another quokka smile before we push the button to get in.
“Do you want me to come into the classroom with you?” he asks, and for a second I think he’s joking, but he isn’t. There’s a genuine worry in his voice—like if he lets me out of his sight, the world will eat me alive.
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. The Heathers are never late, but neither am I. If anything goes weird before the professor gets there, I’ll hit the app and you’ll have the entire crew in the building before anyone can accomplish much.”
He seems to be proud of my trust because his chest puffs up a little. “Understood, Queen Dolly. The Captain said Kirby will meet you here afterward, so your walk to your practicum is safe. I believe Mr. Fitz will retrieve you for the stadium practice.”
Of course he will… It's his favorite thing to watch.
We get out when the lift dings and Banjo points at the door to the lecture hall, his face all business now. “I will wait here until you are safely inside.”
I step to the door and peek inside the classroom.
It’s lit like a sports arena, the whiteboards glaring, and rows of tiered desks already filling with bodies.
My bullies are there, front and center, their matching blouses and synchronized hair flips a parody of pred unity.
I stifle a sigh and press my hand to the door handle, feeling the cheap metal vibrate under my fingers.
Banjo stands behind me, just close enough for support but not crowding me. “Text if you need me. The Captain will know it is a genuine emergency if you use the code word.”
I glance over my shoulder. “What’s the codeword? No one told me there was a code word.”
He flashes a cheeky smile. “Do not forget our special code word. If you say ‘plank’, we will know it is so urgent that everyone should drop what they are doing to come. It is the one the crew uses with one another, but I believe telling you is okay.”
It’s so weird and on-brand that I laugh, and he beams at me. I nod once, push the door open, and step into the frigid, echoing expanse of the lecture room.
I don’t look back, but I know Banjo’s eyes are on me until the door closes.
It’s good to be the queen, I guess, but I’d rather be a normal pred without a bunch of assholes stalking me.