Sly as a Fox {Book One}

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Resistance

noun

-the refusal to accept or comply with something; the attempt to prevent something by action or argument

-the slowing or stopping effect exerted by one material thing on another

-the ability not to be affected by something, especially adversely

The last bell of the day rang out and I had to restrain myself from bolting out of the bus lot like normal. Hiking my backpack up higher on my shoulder, I paraded out from the classroom as the frenzy to get out of this hellhole ensued in the hallways. Nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with the students around me with no way to see above their heads, I eventually found my locker. I had no sooner unlocked it and was starting to put away my history book when Serena's blonde hair entered the corner of my vision like a ray of sunshine.

Switching out my notebooks for what I would need for homework tonight, I asked her, "How's your leg?" Humans stereotyped shifters as a whole and thought we had super-healing, and while we did heal  considerably faster than they did, it was nothing like the magical "wound-closing before your eyes" kind of healing like they assumed it was.

I heard her smacking gum again and I rounded on her with a hard glare, all concern for her well-being forgotten, before she showed me her palms in surrender and squeaked out, "It's bubblegum, I swear!"

I huffed air out from my nostrils, but relented for the time being. I didn't have much mental strength after another long day at school to gripe about the catnip situation yet. "Whatever," I grumbled as I carelessly threw crumbled papers into my locker to deal with later. "Where's Kyle? I've gotta get to detention." It was my last day of  detention in a three week string and I didn't want to be late and receive another detention; that would be redundant, even for me.

"I don't know," she said over the roar of voices, "probably geeking out after his computer class." Kyle was somehow both a jock and a nerd, being an integral player of the soccer team and the co-founder of the computer science club. He knew exactly what he wanted to go school for when he graduated and had a promising future whereas I was just trying to make it day-by-day without flunking phasing skills class.

I shut my locker and clicked the lock back into place, the special slur someone carved into the metal earlier this year still taunting me. The school was supposed to replace my locker door weeks ago, but that was yet to be seen. "Rojee" was one of the worst words you could say to a Volpe and though it carried serious consequences should a student say it, those consequences rarely came to fruition. The lovely person who did this to my locker was never caught, though I had a fairly good hunch it was someone who was being protected by one of the faculty members. Seeing as though many of the more privileged Lupo families made generous donations at the school's fundraisers, it would more beneficial to stay on their good side than to pointlessly defend the nobody Volpe girl.

It was only a word, but to have to be greeted by this word every day in a place where I already felt unsafe bothered me more than I would ever admit.

It was perhaps because of this persistent feeling of being unsafe that I found myself in trouble so often. I was always on edge and ready for a confrontation, so when one presented itself, I reacted harshly. It  wasn't that I wanted people to be afraid of me, as many already were because of my species, but I wanted people to know that they shouldn't  mess with me. The majority of the student population was more than happy to abide by my threats, but there were still a few who were willing to call my bluff; the Lupo girl in the bathroom a few weeks ago being a perfect example of this.