by D. R. Perry
“Sucks to your almanac. They don’t matter one bit in this case.” I grabbed a notebook and flipped it open to a blank page. I wrote Bobby’s name at the top on the left side, then drew a line down the middle of the page and wrote the words “other bear shifters” on the right.
“Okay, so think of the other bear shifters you know. Tell me some of the places they’re from.” I held the pen, ready to jot down whatever Blaine said.
“Well, Oliver’s from Montana.” Blaine tapped a finger for each guy he named. “Kyle’s from right around here, grew up with Josh. Dave’s from Maine. Paul and Lyle are from Vancouver. Jeannie’s from Boston. That’s all I can think of off the top of my head.”
“Okay, how are those different?” I finished the list of places on the right, then jotted one word on the left. After I turned the notebook around, I waited for Blaine’s jaw to drop in amazement at my genius. I only had to count to three.
“Tiamat’s scales, it’s not about the local temperature, it’s what the bear’s used to.” Blaine closed his mouth. He turned a little green, then huffed a tiny wisp of smoke out his nose. “Bobby’s lived in the Deep South all his life; same for his entire family for generations. He told me that the day I met him. What a lame mistake.”
“What are you majoring in, Blaine?”
“Huh? Oh, Extrahuman Anthropology, with a concentration in Ancient Shifter Cultures.” He ran a hand through his hair, eliciting a collective feminine sigh from a table of girls.
“So of course, almanacs would be the first thing on your mind for the weather.” I still wasn’t in much of a mood for smiling, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to fake one at an embarrassed dragon shifter. “They’re always telling me to think of the patient first and then the things affecting him. Anyway, I could still be wrong about this.”
“Wrong about what?” Bobby pushed the book out of the way and put a plate of savory-smelling fried goodness in front of me. My mouth watered. Now I felt like smiling, so I did. It came out a lot wider and brighter than I’d intended.
“She figured out why you want to hibernate and all the other bear shifters here don’t.” Blaine leaned back and stretched his legs out again.
“Maybe.” I bit into a crispy French fry. “It’s just a theory, but check it out.” I handed the notebook to Bobby and picked up a piece of battered cod. It was the perfect temperature, just under what would burn my tongue. Crispy heaven.
“So it’s just because I never had a real winter?” Bobby didn’t sit, opting to shift his weight from one foot to the other.
“Probably, but not for certain.” I reached for a napkin to wipe my hands but opted for another piece of fish instead. “Still doesn’t tell us what to do about it.”
“Well, that’s where I think maybe I can help.” Blaine eased the biggest of the books from the bottom of the stack out of the pile. “This one here wasn’t available the other day. Librarian said it was on loan to an alum.” He held it up.
“Aboriginal Shifter Migration in North America?” Bobby stifled yet another yawn. I wondered if we should Netflix a loud action movie or something later on.
“Yeah. This book’s about how Native American shifters coped with traveling across the continent in pre-colonization days. It’s all based on artifacts and oral history research. That’s my wheelhouse.” Blaine patted the book like he was burping a baby. “I’ll look specifically for stuff about south-to-north migration. Bear shifters back then must have dealt with that somehow. Maybe there’s something you can try, Bobby.”
“Make sure and—” I stopped trying to talk around the mouthful of delicious food, not wanting to rush my meal.
“I know, Frampton.” Blaine’s mouth made a little chagrined tilt. “I’ll share what I find. For now, you and Bobby should go find something to do. I have a way to read extra fast, but it’s definitely not something I want to do in the city. Thank goodness there’s room for my dragon at India Point Park.”
“Wait.” I’d finally swallowed my fries. “What should I do if he starts falling asleep?”
“You seem to have handled that just fine so far.” Blaine tucked the book into his backpack and stood up. “You’re smart. You’ll think of something.”
I watched Blaine wink at Bobby, then turned my attention to the almost empty plate of fish and chips in front of me. Bobby stretched again, letting out a full yawn this time. I pushed the empty plate out of the way, sliding it over to make room for another book. My hand was halfway to the stack when I stopped to use a napkin. Returning greasy books to the library would only make me more enemies.
“I'll skim part of this book before we go.” I picked up the medium-length volume about general hibernation. “It won’t take more than a few minutes since it probably only has a few chapters we need.”
“Okay.” He just stood there, looking over my right shoulder.
“Um, I’m not sure I can do this with you being all loom-y, Tremain.” I tried not to glance back at him, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks at his nearness. Blaine might be right that I had no friends because I was too forward, pushy, and competitive. At least now I could use those qualities to help someone for a change.
“Okay.” He stepped back. “They had cookies. Want some?”
“Sure.” I hadn’t much liked the cookies in the dining hall. None of them were anywhere near as good as the hermits and snicker-doodles my mother made. Homesickness and culture shock hadn’t helped my chances of starting over here. But I didn’t have time for Emo woolgathering. I opened the book and found the chapters I wanted.
I’d finished reading before Bobby was back with the cookies. Grabbing the notebook, I jotted down a few details we might need later. A tug at my sleeve almost made me jump right out of my skin.
“Hi, Lynn.” A girl in flowing black garments with black curls framing her face and tumbling down her back sat down, crossing her arms on the table. I stared at her face, trying to remind myself where I knew her from.
“Wait, I’ve almost got it.” Her name and identity were right on the tip of my tongue. I scrunched up my face. “M. Definitely something with the letter M.”
“Yes!” The girl smiled, her eyes brightening. “Maddie. Your roommate.”
“Remind me again why I always forget you.” I hated that. I didn’t forget in our room, of course. All her stuff was there, and there were signs on the door and over my desk to remind me.
“It’s a thing that runs in my family. Umbral affinity.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“Right, you’re a Magus.” I put the notebook down, trying my hardest to be polite. I had to live with this girl, so I tried to relax around her. It was easy since she was the serious type. I had no idea whether she genuinely liked me unless she was around. It had to suck more to be the girl everyone forgets than to be the one people always remembered. Maybe I didn’t have it so bad with the foot-in-mouth syndrome of doom after all.
“Uh-huh.” She twiddled her thumbs. “Anyway, I’m going home tonight. My exams are done except the paper, and that gets turned in by e-mail. Just dropped by to remind you and say goodbye until spring.”
“Okay, Maddie. Thanks.” I smirked, unable to help myself. “I’d like to say I’ll never forget you, but...” I shrugged. She even giggled. “I think I might transfer back home, though.”
“Wait, what?” Maddie actually looked upset. “Why?”
“I’m not making any friends here. My big mean mouth gets me in trouble no matter where I take it.” I wanted to look away but knew I’d forget she was there if I did. “Might as well go to school back home in Wisconsin where I don’t have my hopes up all the time.”
“Well, I think your mouth is funny.” Maddie put both hands over mine. “Wait, that came out wrong. You’re funny. You always crack me up, anyway. And you’re not mean-spirited, just sarcastic.”
“Thanks.” It figured; the one person who didn’t think I was annoying was literally invisible for all intents and purposes. At least, I’d managed not to pi
ss one person off during my time here. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that today.”
“Actually, I do.” She sighed. “And that was what you said to me the last time we chatted about this.”
“When was that, Maddie?”
“Last night.” She smirked. “Don’t worry, I’m used to reruns from everyone but my immediate family. They never forget I exist. You remember me better than most, probably because you’re so smart. I’m almost afraid to stay here for Inter-session, but I really need that course for my major.”
“Jeez, Maddie.” I might have looked worried because I was. The longer I spent talking to her, the more I remembered. She was good company, and a decent person besides. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “My mom’s out of the country. She said she’s hired a guy to design an amulet that’ll make people remember me for all the class hours plus a little extra. It’s expensive but less than having to take the class over again.”
“I’d stay too and take that terminology course if I was sure I wouldn't transfer.”
“Do they even offer your major at schools back in Wisconsin?”
“Yeah, one school, but they’re not as prestigious as the one here.” I smiled . “This is the only Extrahuman Ivy-League school in the United States, and the only one in the world that accepts humans for a major in anything like health care for Extrahumans.”
“Did you finish all the paperwork?” Maddie pulled at some lace edging her sleeve.
“Just the stuff here.” I felt my cheeks get hot and my middle get cold. It was more than a little embarrassing, knowing this perfectly nice person had a case of the glums because of me. “The school in Wisconsin needs my signature in person. Until I sign that, nothing’s final.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll miss you.” Maddie got up. “I have a train to catch.”
“Vermont, right?” It was a little sad, saying goodbye to her like this when we both knew I’d forget her once she was out of sight.
“Yeah!” She smiled brightly. “You remembered. Thanks, Lynn. You’ve been a great roommate, and a good friend.”
“Same here, Maddie,” I smiled back, trying not to look as down as I felt. “Whoever takes my spot in the room is getting the better half of the deal.”
She hoisted a duffel bag over her shoulder, gave me a grin, and tilted her hand twice before turning around. I watched her leave the building, then looked down at the notes I’d scrawled for Bobby. When I looked up again, he was back with a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk, and he put them on the table between us and smiled. I had the feeling I’d just forgotten something important.
“Who were you talking to?” Bobby picked up what looked like a chocolate chip cookie.
“What do you mean?” I scratched my head. “Was I talking to someone?”
“No?” Bobby sniffed. “I smell human, jasmine, and a trace of myrrh, like the kind you burn on a charcoal briquette. A Magus of some kind?”
“I dunno,” I said, shrugging. “I think I remember knowing a Magus who burned myrrh that way, but it seems like a long time ago.”
“Weird.” Bobby chewed his mouthful of cookie thoughtfully.
“Anyway, the information I got.” I picked up one cookie. “You want to avoid bed. Like, don’t lie down if you can help it. Sit in chairs, on the floor, stand up. You still might fall asleep, but it will be much easier for someone to wake you up again.” I went back to skimming, unclear on why I’d stopped in the first place.
“Stay vertical, got it.” Bobby crunched cookies, smiling with his mouth closed. “What else?”
“Avoid caves. That one sounds easy, but to be on the safe side, keep out of anything that might resemble one.” I grimaced, thinking about the dug-out sidewalks until I realized Bobby’s head and shoulders were higher than the sides. “That trolley tunnel over on Thayer’s one example. So’s most of Water Place Park.”
“Hmm.” Bobby swallowed his cookies “Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard.” He gulped down the milk from one glass and pushed the other across to me. “Is that all?”
“Nope. One more thing, super important. Don’t shift, no matter what. Stay in your human shape, or else your train is headed for the Hibernation Station.” I looked up at him, staring directly into his eyes. I had to get him to focus on what I was saying, which was much more important than the way his blue eyes threatened to weaken my knees. “Bobby, pay attention.”
“Um, sure. I’m paying attention.” He blinked a few times, and the tension between us cleared. “Why can’t I shift?”
“Because the number one thing on the list for a Southern-climate bear right now is sleep with a capital ‘S,’ understand?” I turned the book around and put it on the table, then pointed at a paragraph that talked about how hibernating shifters always slept in animal form. “If you fall asleep in bear form, you. Will. Not. Wake. Up. Until. Spring.”
“Okay, Lynn.” He winced. “No need to stab that poor book to death with your finger. I get it. No bear form, no matter what.”
“Do dragon shifters need to sleep like humans and other shifters?” I pressed my lips together, feeling inadequate. “I’m not very familiar with them yet.”
“Blaine can pull an all-nighter without getting all punchy and weird like most people. Don’t know whether that’s just his family line or what, though.”
“Do you have any nocturnal shifter buddies here? Maybe a vampire friend?”
“Not exactly a friend, but Blaine knows of one vampire. There’s an owl shifter in one of my classes, too, but she’s on some crazy pills that make her diurnal so she can attend day classes.”
“Ask that vampire what there is to do at night to keep you awake. I'll need sleep in order to help you actually pass the exam, and Blaine’s already been up from what I gathered. Looks like he’s doing it again tonight, too.” I got up. It was my turn to stretch and then bring the empty trays back.
“Okay.” He furrowed his brow at the uneaten cookie sitting on a napkin in front of my seat. I saw him add two more, then demolish the rest on the plate. It was going to be a long weekend.
Chapter Five
Bobby
“What do you mean, you don’t think you have a roommate?” Everything about Lynn confused me, but this was ridiculous. “I mean, you either have one, or you don’t.”
“I mean exactly what I said.” Her grumble carried easily to my sensitive ears even though she walked in front of me. “I don’t think I do, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. We go to a college for the strange and unusual. Things aren’t as absolute as you might have had to deal with before, Tremain.”
“Now hold on, Lynn.” She did, so fast I plowed into her and knocked her into the nearest snowbank. “Jeez, sorry.” I ran a hand over my face and held the other one out to her.
“I don’t need a werebear to rescue me from snow. Just tell me why I had to stop if he was going to run into me.” She sat up, shaking snow off her sleeves and mittens. “You think this is funny?” She held out her soggy outerwear.
“No.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, then planted them. I’d finally had enough. “I just wanted to tell you to stop calling me Tremain.”
“Can’t handle my snark, huh?” She stood up, brushing off the seat of her pants as I watched, fascinated by the high color indignation gave her cheeks. “Or maybe this is a jock-versus-nerd thing? Only playing nice for your grade? Thought you’d get back at me by knocking me over?" Lynn snorted. "I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Close your mouth and open your ears, Lynn. Let something from outside a book get through to that big brain of yours.” I stared her right in the eyes, something that always got my kid brothers to shut up and listen. “You think I’m bullying you? All those extra books, teaming up with an arrogant dragon to figure out my malfunction, and implying you’ll stay up with me half the weekend. All that right there says you’re going above and beyond, helping me. You love Extrahumans so much that y
ou're studying how to fix us when we get hurt. You thank the helper ghosts at the library, and you’re not even a Medium, for Pete’s sake. You’re witty, brainy, and kind enough to help the guy almost everyone else is laughing at behind his back. So what if you’re mouthy, too?”
The pink on Lynn’s cheeks went scarlet. I could smell the threat of tears on her, making me wonder whether anyone besides her blood family ever said anything like that where she could hear it. She blinked a few times, and the tear smell faded. Even though she’d already stood up, she grabbed the hand I still held out to her. It felt good, and strangely tingly through the wet glove.
“I’m sorry for accusing you like that.” Lynn didn’t cut her eyes away when she apologized like too many other people had lately around me. “I’m just not used to having anyone like you around. You know, someone who acts decent and means it. It won’t happen again.”
“I didn’t need any apologies, but I’ll accept one, anyway.” The whole anyone-like-me thing confused me, but now wasn’t the time to ask about it. Letting go of her hand, I opened my arms. My family hugged things out. The way Lynn paled told me hers didn’t. “That’s okay too. As long as you call me Bobby instead of doing this last-name crap.”
“Fine, Bobby.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, let’s head to my room and solve the Schrödinger’s roommate mystery.”
“Never a dull moment at Providence Paranormal College, huh?” I chuckled.
“That’s one thing I actually like here.” Her feet crunched in the snow as I followed her. I yawned; the effect of having to defend Lynn to herself had worn off and I was sleepy again. Finally inside the lobby, she wouldn’t let me sit while waiting for the elevator. She reminded me of Mom before Dad’s accident, when she used to help him train. Taskmaster Tammy was what he always called her. Now, he just called her when he needed help to get into and out of his wheelchair. I stepped into the elevator after Lynn.