Page 13 of Misfit Monsters
A gentle sort of respect that feels strangely different from the panicked variety I’m used to.
I’ve seen how Gloss operates. The snow wraith might not have fangs of her own, but she makes sure her targets are eaten alive one way or another. This bit of fluff doesn’t stand a chance.
I don’t want her in my room. But if she’s going to insiston staying for now, I can at least do my best to stop anyone from going out of their way to hurt her.
Staying in the shadows, I stretch out along the edge of the rug, making a barrier between the door and her. Still keeping a careful distance from her myself.
She might not have figured it out yet, but no matter how vicious Gloss gets… the being here who’s most likely to hurt her is me.
5
Periwinkle
Two streams of impressions waft out of the reform division cafeteria to meet me: a jumble of mild but cluttered emotions in various flavors and a flood of savory, spicy, and sweet scents drifting off actual food.
So many beings combined with so much cuisine makes a chaotic smorgasbord. My head is spinning before I’ve even stepped into the vast room.
I study the cafeteria’s layout carefully. The schedule said today’s breakfast theme was “casual hangout.” The tables spread throughout the room can seat anywhere from four to ten beings—no tablecloths, just paper plates and plastic cutlery set out for people to grab.
The students are swiping morsels off platters of sausages, boiled eggs, pancakes, toast, and cut fruit laid on each table. Some of the sweet scent carries from bottles of maple syrup, enticing enough that I lick my lips.
There’s nothing specifying where any of us should sit. The students already eating are chattering away with their companions as if they chose to sit with friends.
Who do I hang out with when I haven’t managed to make friends yet? My first attempt ended with my dormmates setting me up for violent murder.
I can do better with practice, right? Learning how to cheer on my fellow shadowkind should help prepare me for dealing with more fragile humans.
As I debate which group I should join, a slim woman with deep brown skin slips past me. She tugs at the black spirals of her hair in a nervous gesture, revealing violet scales gleaming on her forearms. We all have one bit of our monstrous selves that we can’t conceal in human form, mine being my oddly colored hair.
Her obvious uncertainty draws my attention with a twinge of sympathy. She meanders over to one of the larger tables, pauses, and then reaches for a plate.
A beefy guy bumps his elbow into her arm. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of her. “Oh, it’s the drip.”
The woman cringes and slinks away, her head low. I march over to join her.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m new here, so I don’t really know what I’m doing. Maybe we can find a table together?”
Both the woman’s face and the emotions trickling off her brighten. She turns toward me, and my gaze catches on her badge—level one, reform division, no harm done to mortals or shadowkind.
Why would anyone be mean to her?They’renot getting very good practice.
Maybe I’ve got this school thing in the bag after all.
The woman glances around and points to a small table near the wall that no one has grabbed yet. “We can take anempty one if there are at least two of us. Since it’s supposed to be a ‘hang-out,’ the staff want to see us socializing. Every meal has a different theme like the different ways mortals eat. You’ll get used to it.”
I beam at her. “I’m glad I have someone to explain the rules. I’m Peri. Have you been at the academy long?”
She rubs her face with a flicker of embarrassment. “Several months. I sometimes have… unfortunate reactions that I’m still having trouble controlling. Anyway, I’m Fen. Let’s get some pancakes!”
I feel like I’ve already passed a test. I get to stack fluffy pancakes on my plate and drizzle them with syrup, I’ve made a friend after all, and nobody has died. Wins all around!
Physical food might not sustain me the way it does humans, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t tasty. I dig into my heap of cakey, syrupy goodness while peering around the cafeteria. I recognize a few faces from my dorm, but my growly roommate, who hasn’t spoken to me since our first standoff, isn’t among them.
Across the room, another guy jumps on top of one of the tables. Vibrantly red hair flares above his golden-brown face. His wide grin reveals canines narrowed into sharp little fangs.
As the dishes rattle around him, he lets out a whoop and springs into a handstand. “I bet I can eat more eggs upside down than any of you right-side up!”
The students around him either laugh or shake their heads. The fanged guy bounds around on his hands with impressive nimbleness, his legs wheeling in the air.
