Page 8 of Conner's Luna

"Your experiment was ruined. Apparently, by a slip of a very clumsy hand," he says loudly enough that the two girls can overhear him. I watch them as their mouths twist in displeasure, but not in guilt.

"Do you want me to do it again?" I ask him, feeling awful. My stomach is starting to hurt and my head aches. The cold is settling in as if Dean Sancieo brought the winter chill with her.

"Not necessary. You did it perfectly. I was watching," Professor Stansen says shortly.

With those words, the two girls grimace at each other. My shoulders slump, in relief and defeat. I'm thankful that Professor Stansen isn't fooled by those petty, cruel girls, but I'm also just so tired of feeling alone and unwanted here. My body is starting to shiver, and I still have to go to Statistics.

As the other students file out, I clean up the rest of the ruined experiment. Professor Stansen approaches me again and I brace myself for more sympathy. Internally, I wail and gnash my teeth. I wasn't raised to be a victim, to whine and pout when things weren't going my way. Cancer didn't care when it took my mother. Blaming others never gets you far in life.

He clears his throat. "I was wondering, Bailey. Well... I couldn't help but overhear." I fight down my blush as humiliation wells up. "You need some volunteering hours? I happen to have a colleague who is working on some genetic profiling. His lab is over an hour away, so I'm not sure if it would work with your schedule and I know that genetics isn't your concentration-"

"I'll do it!" I blurt out. Relief nearly sends me crashing to my knees. "It's not connected to the university?" I ask for clarification, not caring if it makes me sound paranoid. Heck, I am paranoid.

Professor Stansen offers me a small smile. "It is not," he confirms. He slides a business card over to me. "I'll let him know you're interested but send him an email. Don't bother to call. He never answers his phone or checks his messages."

"I will," I promise. I hold the card in both hands as if it's the Holy Grail.

Professor Stansen's smile grows. "Good. Let me know how it goes, OK?"

I nod gratefully. Now I just need to make sure I keep my scholarship for the rest of the year. I drag myself out of class, careful to look both ways for bullies. I don't see any of Trey's people lurking, so I hurry down the hallway. Halfway there I start to feel dizzy. I stop a few times, leaning against the wall for a moment before I pause again at the glass doors. The glass feels like ice against my forehead.

"I can't skip Stats," I mumble to myself.

"You may have to, Princess. You look like shit."

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Conner

"Are you gonna pass out?" I force the words out. I don't even know why I walked over to her, just... she really does look like shit. It pisses me off. What if dickhead has picked up the bullying to new levels? I walk closer and inhale. She smells... sour, but no blood.

"Go 'way, Conner," she mumbles. She doesn't budge, but I watch her face turn slightly green as she swallows convulsively.

"Shit, princess, what the fuck happened to you?" I snap at her. She looks even worse than she did a few seconds ago. Is she in pain? My fingers twitch with the sudden urge to help her. She helped me, right? Fucking favors.

I haven't been able to get her voice outta my head.

"Stop cursing so much, pottymouth," she mutters. She turns around and glares half-heartedly at me.

Her eyes are slightly red and glassy, her pale face has blotches of high color on the cheeks. She is swimming in an oversized sweatshirt. I get even more suspicious.

"Aren't you fucking hot?" I ignore her comment about my language. She's not my mom.

She smirks, "aw, you think I'm cute," she slurs, blinking.

"Princess?" My hands raise up to catch her when she sways.

"Cold, I'm really cold," she says. She takes a step and nearly goes down.

"Shit! Bailey!" I grab her before she falls.

"Conner," she whimpers. I feel panic rise. Did I hurt her by grabbing her?

I scoop her up into my arms and start walking out of the building. I'll take her back to the house, just to see what the hell happened to her. "My tummy hurts," she gasps as I carry her outside.

A chill slides down my spine. My wolf curls his lip at the thought of the little human with the siren's voice having bruises like we do. "Let's get you home then you're gonna show me your bruises," I tell her.

"Bruises?" she murmurs.

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