Page 17 of The First Year

“There are actually some waxed bags at the end of the line you can use.” I glanced at my watch. “But you’d better get your coffee so we can move. Class starts soon, and according to your schedule, it’s not one of the close rooms.”

“I can skip the coffee.” She chewed on her lip. “I don’t mind.”

“We have time for that.” I took her arm and guided her to the large coffee urns. “We don’t have fancy coffee here, but it’s not terrible.”

She held one of the carboard to-go cups under the spout and pushed down on the handle, letting the rich brew pour free. “It smells very good.”

“I actually like it better than a lot of the ones at coffeehouses—at least to my memory.”

“Urban Academy has coffee carts that also sell pastry for a quick snack on the go.” She twisted her lips in a grimace. “I didn’t appreciate it while I was there.”

“You’re not the only person from Urban Academy, but there aren’t many. Usually, people don’t end up in battle unless their individual pack is attacked or something similar. Even then, families keep them in school if they can.”

“My parents are dead, and my aunt doesn’t give a f—darn about anyone but herself. I am surprised she even remembered me long enough to send me to war. She said I was recruited.”

“Doesn’t usually work that way.” But families were unpredictable, and mine wasn’t much better. I hadn’t thought that until the battle that sent me here, though. “Anyway, we’ll have other opportunities to talk. Your classroom is right up ahead. I’ll walk you in and introduce you to the instructor.”

“No need for that.” The girl she’d been chatting with at dinner, Desi, poked her head out of the door and grabbed Roxy’s free hand. “I’ll take care of it. You can get to your class before you get any more demerits. You have about a minute and a half.”

Which was not enough time to argue. I probably could have said I was completing an assignment for admin, but it was easier just to hand Roxy her bag, tell her I’d see her later, and sprint off into the sunset.

Chapter Fourteen

Roxy

“Now you’re spending time with Sol?” Desi led me toward the front of the room. “I thought you were hanging with Odin.”

Had I even told her that? I wasn’t sure. “Odin helped me out yesterday, and the office assigned Sol to get me started this morning.”

“That just leaves Evander, then.” Desi approached a big wooden desk on a platform. Behind it sat a man wearing a black jacket and slacks, his gray shirt open at the throat. Dark hair matched his clothing, but his eyes were steely and seemed to cut right through me.

“And who have we here, Miss Desi?” he asked, folding his hands on the desk. All right, we wouldn’t be shaking hands. I never planned on it anyway, but it still made his point. “Oh, wait.” He shuffled papers on his desk and nodded. “Ah, yes. Roxy Swifthunt. You have been recovering from your injuries and just arrived…yesterday?”

“Yes.” I cleared my throat, the words hard to get past the giant lump that had formed since I walked in here. “Yes, Mr…”

“Haley. I moderate homeroom for your class and also teach shifter history with an emphasis on wartimes.”

“I think I’ve had enough of war. Am I signed up for the history class?” I probably should have known the answer to that, but I was so busy worrying about getting places it never occurred to me to wonder what the actual classes were. Maybe that was partly because I had little faith in them being useful or interesting to me. The fact that history was all about wars confirmed that.

“You are, and maybe if you’d understood how battles worked, you wouldn’t be here.”

The hair on the back of my neck lifted in outrage. How dare he accuse me of causing my own injury. “Maybe if we’d had more training, I wouldn’t be here,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “Maybe if we even know the reason for the war we were thrust into.”

Before I began to speak, there had been a low hum of conversation within the room, but as the last words left my lips, silence descended.

Mr. Haley’s eyes burned brighter, and his jaw shape broadened. What the? “Miss Swifthunt, if you want to get along in this school, you’ll learn not to make waves or smart remarks. Now, take your seat.”

“If you’ll tell me—” Desi’s elbow in my ribs shut me down.

“I’ll show her where to sit, Mr. Haley.” She towed me toward a pair of empty desks in the back of the room and pushed me down into the nearest one. A severe stare warned me not to say anything more.

There were only about twenty students in the room, but the teacher took attendance as if he couldn’t tell who might be missing, before going over some more announcement and then giving a lesson on rules.

He went over everything I’d been told so far as well as another dozen or so concerning dining room behavior, how to address staff, and other things. Was everyone else new here, too/ Desi wasn’t… Flicking glances around the room, I spotted the other students hiding yawns and staring past the teacher’s head. None of them appeared to be listening at all.

Goddess. Did that mean we would be barraged with this sort of lecture every morning? Every few minutes, I was reminded of why I didn’t like it here.

After our reminder of all the rules, Mr. Haley pulled down a map and launched into the promised war history lecture. Considering the level of PTSD I was experiencing, it had me ready to climb out of my skin, and I decided to stop by admin and see if I could get out of this class while I still had some of my mind left.

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