by Rachel Jonas
She held one up, making a face like someone had hidden week-old cheese somewhere in our room. The entire thing was constructed of a strange material I couldn’t quite place—somewhere between leather and spandex. They were mostly black, but dark blue embellishments on the sleeves and down the sides of the legs were, apparently, meant to serve as decoration. And right in the center of the chest, a Damascus Facility emblem in white—the outline of a hexagon with letters and symbols.
“Nope. No way. I’m not doing it,” Beth protested.
I laughed, pointing out the word at the top of the letter inside the box.
Mandatory.
She growled—the cranky teenager variety, not that of an angry wolf. The sound was followed by a cyclone of damp, blonde hair when she spun and stormed off to change from her towel, into one of our newly gifted outfits.
I changed too, while she was gone, yawning every step of the way. I hadn’t slept well and finally gave up trying around five. Getting to sleep after the conversation with Nick, the explosion between him and Liam that followed, was nearly impossible. It might have helped a little to confide in Beth, but it was never far from my mind that she was Nick’s friend before she was mine.
So, I held it in, not knowing when or if it would ever blow over.
While I was up staring at the ceiling, the rest of the world slept. So, I showered to get it out the way, and now I had to shimmy out of the jeans I thought I was wearing today and into one of the suits.
As soon as I got my arms in, Beth stomped out of the bathroom and turned her back to me, pointing at the zipper. “Please?”
I did hers and then turned for her to fix mine too. We stood there, face-to-face, trying not to laugh.
“Evie … if you’re any kind of a friend, you’ll kill me now.”
I shook her by the shoulders. “Look at the bright side; everyone’s gonna look like superhero rejects. Not just us.”
She smiled again, tugging the shoulder of her suit as she contorted her body in strange ways. “Freakin’ thing’s riding up already! No way I’ll make it ‘til the end of the day.”
I dug down in the box and pulled out two pairs of black shoes and handed her a set with a cheeky grin. “Here, twin.”
She stuck her tongue out when she smiled, slipping the shoes on before we stepped out into the hall. I was right; everyone had them on. And we all looked equally pissed about the fashion choice someone made for us. Wetsuits, that’s what they looked like.
The entire walk to our first training session, we were serenaded by the lovely sound of grumbling teenagers. I held the map that was given to us with the welcome packages we received when our luggage was delivered last night. We were given our schedules and a directory to help us find our way around. Beth’s schedule mirrored mine and I was too happy for words when I realized we’d be together all day.
We followed the designated twists and turns until we reached the main pod hub. It was a large circle with hallways coming off it like spokes, just like the sleeping quarters pod. Each hallway was marked by a shape this time instead of colors. My eyes scanned the wall until I found a large octagon-engraved plate that marked where we needed to go.
“This way,” I said, pointing.
Beth was excited about today, but me? Not so much. Nervous was more like it. She was made for this, while I felt like a fish out of water.
The room we approached was huge, about the size of the gym at Seaton Prep. We stepped inside and observed. Large, navy-blue mats lined gray-tiled floors—five to be exact. The outskirts of the room were lined with steel bleachers stacked only three rows high. On them, other kids had found a place to sit while three instructors stood front and center. Each had their hands locked behind their backs and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d peg them as military.
Maybe that was exactly what they were.
I planted myself right beside Beth and there were fifty or more of us here by the time the steady flow of bodies finally began to slow. At the sound of a three-toned bell, one of the instructors made his way to the door we entered through and shut it. You could have heard a pin drop as he joined the other two in the center of the room once more.
“Good morning, young shifters,” boomed a deep, foreboding voice. The one who spoke looked like a living, breathing action figure—complete with arm muscles the size of my head, and a t-shirt so small you couldn’t tell me it wasn’t made for a toddler.
The other guy wasn’t far behind him in size. Even the female instructor—small as she may have been—was clearly in better shape than people I’d seen who practically lived in the gym.
Watching them, I wiped sweat from my brow. Beth caught me and had to hold in a laugh.
“Breathe, woman,” she whispered before turning back to the instructors.
I missed my cue to respond to the greeting, but I listened intently when the big guy went on.
“All right, name’s Dallas, and just as an overview of what we’ll be doing here today, let me start by listing all the things this class is not.”
He paced while explaining in a no-nonsense, southern monotone that reminded me of a drill sergeant. I was now positive he had a background in military. Even the way his voice carried across the large room with no need for a mic or megaphone was further proof.
“Number one: this class is not ‘What am I? 101’. While we understand and are sensitive to the fact that most of you are clueless about your abilities, this is not a history class. Blame your moms and dads for your ignorance. We certainly do,” he said casually. “It’s not our job to hold your hand through figuring all this crap out. So, save any questions that fall into this category for another instructor, because I assure you, the three of us don’t want to hear it.”
Beth and I looked at one another with wide eyes.
“Number two: This class is not your runway. You will, I repeat, will sweat if I’ve got anything to do with it. So, ladies, no makeup. There will be no prizes handed out at the end of our sessions for best smoky eye or winged eyeliner or whatever the heck it’s called. When you’re in this room, we want you focused on honing your physical abilities only,” he said with about the most disinterested expression I’d ever seen. “Hair pulled back in ponytails, nails trimmed, mind focused. Understood?”
“Understood,” we echoed in response.
“Number three: This class is not a counselling session. Look around you.”
At his words, all our heads swiveled.
“And more importantly, take a whiff around you. Hopefully, your neighbor has showered this morning, because what you should be smelling beneath that Irish Spring and Teen Spirit is either the scent of a lycan or a dragon. Now, I know I just said this ain’t history class, but I’m gonna make an exception for myself this one time. No, our kind have not always gotten along, but we will not tolerate interspecies drama,” he said flatly.
“I myself am a dragon,” he explained. “But Kas and Martinez here, are lycans. However … they love and adore me to the moon and back,” he joked, actually cracking a smile when he exaggerated a little. “And, as I’m sure you can see, it has very little to do with my soft, chewy exterior. My comrades and I get along because we’re civilized. Ain’t that right, Kas?”
The brown-skinned man standing in formation beside him gave a quick nod. “Civilized as can be, Sir.”
“How bout’ you, Martinez. Am I soft and chewy?” Dallas asked.
Martinez’s posture didn’t shift when she shook her head. “About as soft and chewy as a brick sandwich, Sir.”
Dallas liked her answer. The grin he gave made it clear. “But I’m willing to bet money you’ll agree that we’re civilized.”
“Always, Sir.” Martinez said back.
I smiled. They were definitely hardnoses, but they didn’t seem so bad.
…Yet.
“So, there you have it. If the three of us can make this work, you all have no excuse. Which brings us to number four on our list: this class is not the nursery. We will
tolerate zero excuses and even less whining. Understood?”
“Understood,” we repeated once more.
“And in closing I will add that, when addressing any one of the three of us standing before you today, there is to be a ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’ at the end of that statement. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The sound of our obedience made him smile again. This time, it was a big one that seemed out of place on such a serious face. “Then I think we’ll get along just fine.”
Beth leaned in to whisper. “I kind of like this guy.”
Of course she did. He was tough and a little scary. Just like her.
“On your feet.” This time it was Martinez who addressed us.
We rose and filed out of the bleachers, standing where she gestured for us to line up. She walked past each one and her nostrils flared a bit as she identified our species. So far, there was only one other dragon singled out and she was directed toward the last mat to stand alone. Martinez continued down the line and eventually came to Beth. She did the sniffing thing before pointing her toward Dallas. Beth’s face lit up right away, seeing as how she now idolized the man.
She ran off with a whispered, “Sweet!”
And then Martinez came to me. She sniffed, narrowed her eyes, then sniffed again. When she backed off, she smiled a bit. “Well aren’t you interesting.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant or how to feel about it.
Some of the kids who hadn’t been told where to go yet were starting to stare. I felt their eyes on me and I heard a few trying to catch my scent too. One girl down the line seemed particularly annoyed that my being different had slowed things down.
“We’ve got a hybrid,” Martinez yelled out, getting Dallas and Kas’s attention. Both walked over and I clasped my hands in front of me. “Her dragon presents much stronger than her wolf, but … she’s definitely both.”
“Well, what have we here?” Dallas said with a curious grin.
“Proof that, sometimes, my people can share a bed with yours without being set on fire, I guess,” Kas replied suggestively, laughing when Martinez did.
But Dallas didn’t join them. As I fidgeted, trying to pretend not to care that they were discussing me like I wasn’t even standing here, his eyes softened.
“Lay off. Kid’s comin’ with me,” he decided. Before taking me over to his area, he asked a question. “Can you fight?”
I shook my head. “No, Sir,” I said at first, but then remembered that wasn’t entirely true. “Well … not really.” Suddenly nervous when I realized how quiet it got, I explained. “Some of us had a run-in with a few mutts not too long ago. Things got crazy, and I … I had to take one of them down on my own.”
That feeling was never far from memory—how powerful I felt for that split second when I ripped that things heart from its chest, still beating. He was huge, twice my size, but I was somehow able to come out on top.
Did I think I could do that again? Absolutely not, but it seemed worth mentioning.
That goofy grin on Dallas’ face widened and a heavy hand came down on my shoulder. “You hear that, Kas? Got ourselves a mutt wrangler.”
I smiled at his choice of words, and then followed him to a mat. Beth was in his group, too. We stood side by side as the other shifters were assigned an instructor. As luck would have it, the girl who’d given me the stink eye for the holdup was with us too. Even now, she kept giving me attitude with every glance. I noticed one of the kids from the Gold Sector standing nearby—Errol, the one with permanent bedhead. He nodded, acknowledging Beth and I.
With us separated into three groups, Dallas addressed us with that loud, booming voice of his.
“All right, listen up. I need you all to make quick work of finding a partner. And for those already linking elbows with your besties, be aware that this is not a friendly exercise. So, unless you and your buddy have an affinity for punching one another in the face, might I suggest you expand your search.”
Beth frowned when Dallas made the announcement and immediately started searching for someone to pair up with other than me. She pointed at Errol.
“You,” she said, prompting him to look around, making sure he was the one she spoke to. “Can you take a punch?”
The question made a macho laugh slip from his mouth when Beth challenged him. “From you? All day. But I’m not gonna hit a girl. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
The back and forth between the two made Dallas stop what he was doing to listen, trying not to smile as Beth stepped up, toe-to-toe with Errol.
Her looks were deceiving. On the outside, she had the appearance of the sweet, innocent girl-next-door. However, I knew for a fact she was a force to be reckoned with.
“You made a huge mistake calling attention to yourself,” Beth warned, grinning as she perched both hands on her hips.
Errol looked her up and down, partially to size her up as his opponent, partially because I think he liked what he saw. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Beth moved in closer, nearly whispering her response. “Because now they’re all gonna see you get taken down by a girl.”
Poor Errol didn’t have time to brace himself before Beth tackled him. Somehow, she swept him right off his feet and before any of us could even flinch, she had him on the ground. She hovered above him with both his wrists pinned to the mat.
“You know, I think you were right about the fight not being fair,” she laughed. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re about to get your butt handed to you.”
Even with the wind knocked out of him, Errol was grinning like someone just told him he didn’t have to wear these ridiculous suits. Apparently, he was a glutton for pain and was suddenly smitten by my friend, the blonde brute. And when she offered him a hand to help him up, I wondered if the feeling wasn’t mutual.
While watching Beth, I somehow missed my chance to find a decent partner and was left with the attitude on two legs. Her dark, cropped hair was too short for a ponytail, so it was held behind both ears with bobby pins. A neat part right down the middle reminded me of the librarian at my school in Chicago and I was suddenly curious to see how strong she was. I kept thinking she was too neat and tidy for this class. No, she didn’t wear any makeup to highlight her green eyes or cheekbones, but she still looked like she’d never broken a sweat a day in her life.
So, was her look deceiving like Beth’s? Or was she a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of girl, like me? I guess we’d find out soon enough.
She stared down her nose at me and I felt trapped, wavering between ignoring her and introducing myself to see if I was imagining that she had an issue. In the end, I went with introducing myself.
My hand jutted out between us and she eyed it without words. “Hi, I’m Evie,” I said with a smile. It seemed like a friendly enough gesture to me, but you’d never guess it looking at her face.
It took a little longer to respond than it should have, but, eventually, she grabbed my hand for a quick second.
“Sasha,” she said flatly.
I nodded, committing that to memory before turning my attention toward Dallas again when he spoke.
“Ok, for today, we’ll just be going over some basic self-defense maneuvers, so relax and listen closely. There is to be no shifting, no growling, none of that,” he enforced. “All I want right at this moment is for you and your partner to decide who’s gonna be the attacker this time around and who’s gonna be the victim.”
My mouth opened, but before I could ask Sasha if she had a preference, she chose her role.
“Attacker,” she blurted.
I blinked at her, but said nothing.
“Once you’ve got that sorted out,” Dallas went on, “the attacker is to lunge at the victim full force and I’ll be watching both parties to get a baseline reading. The idea is to measure where each of you are offensively and defensively so I know what I’m up against. Is all that clear?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” our g
roup called out in unison.
He nodded. “Very well then. At the sound of my whistle, attackers attack.”
The next second, without any further warning, the whistle blew and my back became one with the matt that was once beneath my feet. Sasha’s weight covered me until she could lift herself. And, instead of offering her hand to help me up like Beth had done with Errol, all I got from my partner was a cold smile.
“Guess you didn’t learn much when you went up against those mutts, huh, Mutt Wrangler?” As she taunted me, the look on her face told me exactly what she was thinking. To her, I was pathetic. I was nothing.
Furious, I pressed my fists into the blue cushion and stood again. Dallas had his whistle in his mouth and held his hand in the air while we all got into position for a second time. Once everyone was ready, he blew it again.
I felt heat coursing through my veins and my limbs filled with electricity as I prepared to withstand the oncoming collision. Sasha lunged just like before. But unlike before, I was ready for her. My feet were firmly planted and nothing could move me.
Or, at least … that’s what I thought.
Wind burst from my lungs when I hit the mat with a loud thud. Before, I didn’t get what people meant when they said they saw stars after a hard collision, but I understood it now.
The ringing in my ears made it impossible to think. The room spun and I thought I’d black out. I was vaguely aware of Sasha lifting her weight off me again before walking away without the customary, sportsmanlike hand I would’ve offered her. Slowly but surely, the swooshing inside my head stopped and a familiar face hovered over me—Beth. She walked all the way over to help me up when my partner failed to do so. Once I was on my feet, she held on to make sure I wouldn’t fall again, and before walking away, she whispered a few supportive words.
“If she does it again, we’re taking her down after class.”
A tuft of blonde hair whisked back to the other side of the room, leaving me to stare at Sasha for the third time as she readied herself for Dallas’ whistle. Beth’s words tumbled around inside my head and, while I appreciated her having my back, rage began to build in the center of my chest. I could feel it. I’d never been one to tend toward violence, but I wanted to hurt this girl.