Page 26 of Shattered Illusion

“Bailey. But how the hell would they know that’s where I came from?” Fuck. I didn’t think it wasthatobvious.

She shrugs a pointed shoulder. “You didn’t know what dead flesh looked like.”

Ugh.

The lull in our conversation is all she needs to start plowing into her own plate. She gives no fuck as she stuffs her cheeks full of food before continuing. “So inquiring minds want to know.” She points at herself with her fork. “What are you?”

Fuckity fuck sticks. I knew this question would come up eventually, whether from a professor or one of the other students, but did it have to be on day one?

With the lie Axel, Thaddeus, and Jasper have concocted on my tongue, I open my mouth to tell her, but a bell rings through the room, making everyone groan.

Saved by the bell. Literally.

“Shit. Time for class. We’ll finish this discussion later. See ya, Bailey.”

I don’t even get a chance to reply before she’s on her feet and moving toward the door. She shoves guys larger than her out of the way, exerting the shifter strength she seems to have an abundance of.

Not wanting to be late to my first class of the day, I leave my plate on the table and hightail it out, remembering the exact hallway Thaddeus showed me where my classroom is. The bell sounds right when I slip through the door labeled 213 and quickly find an empty seat in the back, not wanting to be the center of attention as thenew girl.

Horns, wings, and fur are on full display by all the different students in the class. And while I was maybe hoping to see a friendly face—well, Marion, since she’s literally the only non-professor I know—there isn’t one. Everyone is new to me, and luckily, they ignore my existence.

“Happy Monday morning, everyone,” a tinkling-like voice sings as she literally floats into the class from the door. Shit. Maybe wings wouldn’t be so bad if I could just, ya know, fly everywhere. I snort, covering it up with a cough. Such a freaking lazy thing to think. “Did you all have a good weekend?” Thereare several murmurings, and while she chats with a few of them about what they did, I take the time to study the professor.

If I had to guess by sight alone, I would say she is probably about five-nine, with a very feminine figure. Lavender hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, showcasing the same pointed ears as Thaddeus, with a slightly lighter purple skin tone. Wide mint green eyes are expressive as she flashes white teeth when she smiles at whoever she’s speaking to. Translucent wings sprout from her back, delicate like the ones a butterfly has. She’s dressed in the basic jeans and T-shirt combo as most everyone else, and a sensible pair of shoes rest on her feet.

“That reminds me,” the teacher giggles, drawing me out of my perusal. “We have a new student.” I mentally groan, sliding down further in my seat. Nothing says ‘newbie’ like the teacher making you get up and tell everyone about yourself. I’ll pass, thank you very much. “Bailey Foss just joined us from the human sector a few days ago.”

“Matthews,” I mutter, not ready to go by my birth parent’s name.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asks softly, almost like she’s speaking to a child.

With a huff, I sit up straighter, gritting my teeth. “My last name is Matthews.” Every eye in the room turns my way, making my neck prickle with unease.

The professor furrows perfectly plucked purple brows before her expression smooths out. “Okay. Bailey Matthews. I’m Professor Izzicle, and I’ll be instructing you on the history of, well, us,” she giggles, obviously having repeated that line more than once. She’s the only one who laughs, though. No one else is even slightly amused. “Let’s get started. Please pull out your tablets and go to page 183 in your History textbook app.”

Freaking finally everyone turns back toward the front of the room as they dig into their bags and place their tablets on theirdesks. My cheeks burn as I realize I came to class empty-handed except for my coffee cup. The professor starts droning on about the history of paranormals as I slouch down in my chair, hoping no one notices my lack of preparedness this morning. Hopefully, there will be time to make a quick pit stop between classes to grab my bag.

While some of the history the professor talks about is fascinating, most is a bore. Maybe if I had my tablet, it would be easier to keep up with everything she’s saying. Instead, my mind drifts off to thoughts of Axel and how his days have been since I saw him on Friday. I’ve wanted to text him since he’s the one I’m most familiar with besides Thaddeus, but that just screams desperation.

And I’m anything but. Desperate, that is. Even though his one kiss rocked my freaking world. But it’s not like he’s tried to contact me, either. So maybe it was just aplease don’t fry my asspity kiss. But he wanted to kiss me before that, so that has to mean something. Right?

Before I even realize it, the bell rings once again, telling me that I’ve been in my head the last thirty minutes of class. Oops. I’ll have to pay better attention on Wednesday if I want to learn anything. Oh, and I’ll have to remember my shit, too.

The classroom starts to clear out as I jump to my feet, grab my coffee cup, and head straight for the door. If I remember the schedule correctly, I have ten minutes in between classes, and I should be able get to my room and back again before the bell rings.

The hallways are jam-packed with the other students pushing and shoving their way through others to get to their next assigned class. It continues that way until I reach the door that hides the stairwell to the faculty wing.

A quick peek over my shoulder tells me that no one is paying attention to my movements, and I duck into the stairs, makingsure the door closes behind me. My footfalls echo loudly as I stomp up steps, finally reaching my floor. The hallway is devoid of faculty, of everyone, really. The only sounds are my breaths as I jog down the hall toward my room.

Slipping my key from my pocket, I unlock my door, finding my black leather bag sitting next to it right inside the entryway. I mentally face-palm myself. How the hell did I forget it when it was right freaking there?

Not bothering to go inside, I reach around and relock the door, grabbing my bag before it shuts behind me. As much as I’d rather go inside and hide away until the end of the day, I know I can’t miss any classes.

Thaddeus showing me around yesterday really works to my benefit since I know exactly where I’m going for this class, too. And at least I’m more prepared for Spells and Potions. Even though I don’t have a damn clue what we’re going to be learning. It’s hard to be excited about it since I know the others are probably lightyears ahead of me.

The bell rings right as I pass through the doorway of my class into what feels like another world. Instead of the regular desks like my history class, tables big enough for two are spaced out around the room with small versions of cauldrons in front of every chair. Shelves line the walls, each one full of jars that either shimmer, glimmer, or just sit there with somethin—ewwww is that a frog?

Why, oh why, did I not realize that we would be using obscure things to make potions? I shudder as I find an empty chair, not bothering to say hello to my tablemate. All I can even think about is that dang frog waiting to be killed in a jar. This is so not my thing. Hell, I freaked out back in high school—in the human sector—when they wanted us to dissect fetal pigs.

---