Surviving Specter High: Werewolves 101

4 ~ Thrown to the Wolves

The school bell rang, and that was the moment I knew I was doomed. Students flew, galloped, and ran on all fours in every direction, so I struggled to maintain my balance. At one point, a satyr accidentally stomped on my foot with his hoof, and the pain was unreal.

"Owww! Geez!" I hopped up and down on one foot and sat down on a nearby bench. The red mark of a horseshoe formed on my skin.

"Hey!" a familiar perky voice called out to me.

Still wincing in pain, I looked up and saw Herb in a leprechaun hoodie. He darted through the crowd with ease and looked down at me with big green eyes.

"Woah, are you okay?"

"No, a goat stepped on my foot," I mumbled.

"Yeah, that happened to me on the first day, too."

"Shouldn't they be outside or something? Like, in a pasture?"

"Don't say that out loud. They're pretty sensitive. And so are the werewolves, even though they act tough."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, anyway, my name's Millie. Sorry for passing out yesterday."

He then sat down beside me. "It's alright. I can't imagine how shocked you were. Honestly, I thought you were some kind of transfer student or something."

"Well, I was supposed to go to Frostlake High, but I coded in the wrong school ID. It's a long story," I sighed. "Anyway, I need to get to class. I'll be late."

"You won't get in trouble for being a little late. You are new. And human," he laughed. "But anyway, what's your first class?

"I don't know. Paranormal History or something."

"Oh, yeah. I'll show you the way. C'mon." He hopped up, and his feet left the ground as he began to hover down the hallway like a butterfly.

I still couldn't believe this was happening, but I followed him while trying to keep the weight off my sore foot. Along the way, we passed portraits of what looked like every headmaster before Headmaster Lupus. The oldest painting depicted a pale man in a lavish suit with a silken ascot. His hair was darker than a moonless night, and his eyes glowed with an icy sheen. Also, I could have sworn that he had fangs . . . just like a vampire.

Before I knew it, Herb stopped at a door, so I quickly copied to avoid knocking into him.

"Here's your class," he mentioned. "I'll be across the hall in math. If you need any help, just tell me."

I smiled, grateful to have someone who was so helpful. "Thank you."

"No problem." He then zoomed away at the speed of a hummingbird.

Thankfully, the lecture hadn't begun yet, so I shyly ambled into the room. Of course, I was the last one to arrive—so every single eye was boring into me. The attention made me feel uncomfortable, so I shifted my gaze.

The class was full of werewolves, fairies, satyrs, and . . . really scary teenagers with a ghostly complexion. They had skin as shiny as a porcelain doll, and their eyes were about as creepy as the hobo clown figurines that my aunt collected for fun. Most of them were dressed in black, so they must have been the goth kids. But they didn't have wings, or hooves, or tails. And they looked way too freaky to be human.

"Alright, class," the small, wrinkly teacher rasped. He leaned on a rickety cane and had shriveled moth wings. "We got a new student. Just make sure nobody bites her, okay? Now, as you may know, 'dis girl collapsed from pure shock last night. So, do be gentle with 'dis one. She's human."