Page 5 of The First Year

Roxy shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“If you feel it, it matters. Ready to see your room?”

“I am.”

Her room was as sparse as the rest of ours. Black bedding. Metal single bed. One lamp. One desk. One chair. A closet. A bathroom. Luxury living at its best.

“It’s so cozy,” she said, not trying to contain her laugh. She pushed past me and tried to take the bags.

“I’ll put them on the desk. Our rooms are all the same.”

“Oh?” she asked. “Been in a lot of girls’ rooms, have we?”

My turn to blush. Heat pushed into my cheeks, and I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to keep reaching out for her. She was clearly ill, suffering from some effects of her bite and what she’d been through. Not to mention, there was a lot of mental shit to work out. Probably hadn’t hit her yet.

I hoped someone would be there for her when it did. The nightmares were the worst.

“I have been in no girl’s room. For the record, girls don’t really like me.”

“Their loss,” I heard her mumble under her breath. Roxy was a breath of fresh air.

“Well, I’d better get back to class. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

She reached out to shake my hand, saying thank you. My body tingled in all the right and wrong places as our skin made contact. I watched her look down at my arm and then with her other hand, she grazed her fingers over my scars. There were many. Maybe that was why girls didn’t like me, even though I tried to keep them covered up. “Sometime, you can tell me the story of these.”

“Not something anyone wants to hear.” I jerked at my sleeves, pulling them down to the wrist. “Take care, Roxy. Feel better. Oh, and uniforms are in the closet.”

Chapter Four

Roxy

My classes didn’t start until the next day, Odin mentioned during the tour. They gave us a full day to settle in—more like regret our life choices.

I had to make the best of it, but that was hard when I didn’t know what I was anymore. I was a shifter. But bitten by a vampire. A former soldier. A present student?

An orphan.

That one still stung.

There were times like this that one of my mom’s hugs would come in handy.

But there was no one here to comfort me but myself. Had been that way for a long time. Aunt Jessie wasn’t a touchy-feely aunt. She took on the role of wicked stepmother, but both my real parents were gone.

Vampires killed them, ironically enough.

I sighed. A pity party was not on the agenda. Not today or any day that I could foresee.

“Uniforms are in the closet, huh? Let’s see what those look like.”

I’d seen some other students, but they were in shorts and T-shirts with Summer Ridge written across the chest. They looked more like physical education uniforms than ones you would wear in a classroom setting but, then again, this place didn’t follow the norms.

“Oh, that’s classy. Bloody red for the win.” I had thrown open the closet to see ruby-red uniforms. Jackets. Sweater vests. Skirts not made for climbing stairs. Stockings right out of the nineties.

Who thought this was a good idea?

“What in the world?” I tugged on the fabric, hoping it was at least soft. It was not. It was scratchy, and would make me want to scratch myself right to death.

At least that would keep me awake.

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