Page 8 of Renegade

Blaze

Waiting for my meeting with the dean of discipline, I tried some of the relaxation tips I’d gotten from the school counselor. One of the ways they tried to help us was by teaching us how to channel anger and other negative emotions into “healthier” ones. Unfortunately, I found most of it to be nonsense, since I couldn’t think of a time when I had been angry or sad or upset when it was not merited. And I refused to suppress any legitimate feelings and pretend they didn’t exist.

On the other hand, I did not object to using techniques that helped me avoid striking out in ways that the people in charge here would consider inappropriate. I promised my brother I would be a “paragon of virtue” in an effort to be returned to the Urban Academy. It seemed I spent most of my waking hours here trying not to get in trouble instead of just going to class and learning. The actual classes followed the same curriculum as the other school, so there was no lack of opportunity to gain an education. But nobody in their right mind wanted their diploma to read The Urban Rehabilitation Academy.

It didn’t bode well that I had been summoned to this meeting on the first day of classes. At least it was the first day for everyone but the freshmen who had one extra day before beginning. They would be subjected to orientation, although the girl seated near Adan and me, busy filling out forms, should have been in the auditorium at this point with the rest of them. She must have gotten in late or even been admitted at the last minute. What had she done to land here with us?

Her hair hung in waves, and her jeans and tank top were a last vestige of the freedom she’d enjoy until she had to uniform up tomorrow like the rest of us.

“Cute,” Adan muttered, gaze fixed on her. “Wonder what her story is?”

“Don’t know.” I shouldn’t even be looking at a freshman, but something about her drew my attention in a way no other student—no other female had. “But I plan to find out.”

“Blaze?” The dean opened his door and stood aside. “I’m ready for you.”

“I’ll bet he is,” Adan muttered, but his smile offered little comfort. “Catch you later on.”

I lifted a hand in farewell before stepping into my least favorite place in the world. “What did I do this time?”

He closed the door behind us and moved to sit behind his desk. “You tell me.”

Oh hell. This guy watched too many videos where the cops got people to confess. Such a human trick. “Nothing that I’m aware of. You’ll have to clue me in.”

“Come on, Blaze. You know nothing gets past me.”

Completely untrue. Despite the terrible list of rules, students here made getting things “past” the dean and other authorities their job one. And many, including my suite mates and I, were very good at that job.

If I hadn’t been constantly accused of things I didn’t even do, I’d probably try not to get away with things. My promise to my brother came back to me. If I was going to keep it, I’d have to change my ways. But the fact was, I couldn’t think of a thing I’d done lately that the dean was likely to have found out about.

“I just got back from my parents’ home, and unless they’ve complained about how much cake I ate, my conscience is clear.” It always was because I didn’t do things I considered wrong, but that didn’t mean they weren’t against the rules.

“You’re going to try to tell me you had nothing to do with the missing items from the administrator’s office?”

“I’m nottryingto tell you anything. If there’s been a theft,it’s news to me.”

“You and those friends of yours are always behind the shenanigans around here. If it wasn’t you, it was one of them.”

“Sounds like a fishing expedition to me.” My anger was surpassing those counselor-approved breathing exercises. “You have no reason to blame me or Casimir or Adan. Whatever disappeared, if anything did, you’re looking for a scapegoat. And I refuse to be that for you anymore. I’ve allowed you to get me angry enough to do things you actually could go after me for in the past, but that’s over.

“Now, unless you have proof that I’ve done something wrong, I have to get to class.”

“You’re in an awful hurry for someone who is claiming innocence.”

The counselor had never specifically recommended counting, but my mother had. She’d told me in confidence that when Dad was having a tirade, it was count to one hundred in her head or say things that would only feed his rant. And very early in their marriage, she’d decided not to feed it if possible.

Left to himself, he would eventually run down and generally feel bad for having lost his temper, but as an alpha, he felt his responsibility to the pack down to his bones. And sometimes it made those bones cranky. According to Mom anyway. Probably the only reason she put up with him on days like that. She also cared deeply for the members of the pack. People who didn’t know better sometimes claimed that my parents just lounged around all day enjoying their wealth, but nothing could be further from the truth. They worked hard for their people and never withheld any kind of assistance.

I preferred to count backward.

Ninety-nine, ninety-eight… The dean’s lips were moving, but my focus was on the numbers moving past my mental screen. Each one lit up in turn, glowing numerals that kept mefrom telling him what I really thought about his behavior and accusations. Finally, as I got close to twenty, he stopped and sat back.

“So, I can go?” Once, I’d have worried that I’d missed something important, but I got over that my first semester here.

“As long as we understand one another.”

Sure. Of course we did. He liked to listen to himself talk—and could do without it.

Chapter Nine

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