Chapter 5

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Windermere Form Room is small, smells of mould and teenage sweat, and has seventeen kids who have all known each other since nursery with the exception of Simone. Everyone still considered Simone the new girl even though she'd been at the school for over two years. The room has a dark yellow tinge from the arched Victorian windows not letting enough light in and a pipe drips into a bucket behind Tessa. She drums her fingers in time with the drips.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

In the rear corner she sits staring out the window. She studies three men in suits and ties crossing the schoolyard and into the new block (actually built in the early 70s) where Walter will be in Form. What if one of them is the new wolf? Was it the man with the mauve tie and matching socks? Or the one with toupee clinging for dear life against wind? Or the one drinking a Starbucks looking like he wanted the world to swallow him whole? He's definitely not from around here, the nearest Starbucks is fifteen miles away in the town.

What if they smell Walter in there and decide to fight for the territory. Her knee started to bounce. What if there was more than one, but they didn't notice? An entire pack could be looming in the woods somewhere waiting for the full moon to rise to take their territory. They shouldn't have been so stupid to assume there was only one wolf.

"What is wrong with you?" Snapped Simone turning in her seat, her glare more heated than an alpha wolf's could ever be. Her topaz eyes flashed over like she was trying to find a fault in Tessa's code. She jerked a finger at Keri who was pouring herself over a map spread across their table, chewing on a piece of her hair. It made Tessa's toes curl. She'd forgotten about her other problem. "I've been up all night dealing with this sone ranting and raving about finding the monster of Layman's Way Hills. If I have to deal with you turning crazy I am packing it in and going back to London."

"Sorry," Mumbled Tessa ducking her head. "Just nervous you know what Mrs Monroe is like, she is bound to give us a test first thing on a Monday."

"You know Simone," A cocky voice accompanied an eclipsing shadow over them. Jerome stood over them, smelling of too much Lynx Aftershave. "You can always come hang out with me if you are finished being with these losers. It's admirable you stayed this long."

"Jerome," Simone's voice was sickly sweet, with enough sugar to make a child sick. Then her voice darkened to the pits of hell. "No one gets to call them losers, but me. If I hear you call them losers again I'll never go behind the bike sheds with you again."

"Whatever," He jutted his chin in the air, his features remarkably pug-like. "Tell your brother to watch his back Tessa, I'm coming for his place on the first rugby team."

"Your delusional." Tessa rolled her eyes watching Jerome as he slid into the table adjacent to her. "I can't believe you date that guy."

"I don't date him, I occasionally make out with him when I'm lonely. Dating would imply civility between the two of us."

"If you're that lonely you should convince your dad to buy you a dog or something."

She hears Mr Ratliffe prowling down the corridor, his footsteps echo and she picks up a second much quieter set with him. So quite in fact she can barely detect them, as if the person has trained themselves to walk like a ghost. However, she does not pay it much mind, instead she returns her gaze to the courtyard where three strangers are waving their arms in a debate. The one with the ghastly tie is jabbing his finger in toupees face while Starbucks scowls at them both. Around her the class have spied Mr Ratliffe through the window and are diving for their seats. Everyone knew Mr Ratliffe enjoyed giving detentions first thing on a Monday as if it could make up for these kids stealing his youth. And his hair.

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