I turn shakily and go back to trying to open my locker, but another noise distracts me. I glance over my shoulder. Someone is standing over by the sink. I don’t want to deal with anyone else. I’ve had enough of people for today.
But then he turns, and I know him.
“Owen!” I gasp hoarsely. This is the first time I’ve seen him since last year. Since he was changed.
Owen hears me and turns, and my throat constricts.
The last time I saw him he was in a hospital bed in bandages after his run-in with a lycanthrope … and with a pang, I realize that he looked better then.
He’s pale, almost sickly-looking, and his blonde hair has grown shaggy and unkempt. He has long, jagged scars running down his face, covering almost all of it. The full moon must have waned if he’s in his human form, but he still hasn’t been in class.
The fact that he’s here at all … it’s a small miracle. Not that I believe in such things.
“Owen, where’ve you been?” I can’t bring myself to be angry at him the same way I’ve been with Piers and Bennett. Well, and Sawyer. But somehow, that anger is different from all the rest.
Owen covers his face immediately and turns away. “Don’t look at me.”
“Owen, please,” I say, taking a step toward him. I reach out towards him, but he only shrinks away.
“Don’t look!”
His shoulders shake. Is he crying?
“I’ve been worried about you.” I cross the room, hoping to close the distance between us, but he scurries away, toward the door.
“I’m hideous,” he gasps out, hovering near the door. “Please, just—just forget you ever saw me. Don’t look—don’t!” he shouts as I take another step towards him, and he bolts through the door.
I rush after him, throwing the door open after him, but he’s gone; disappeared into the surrounding forest.
I take a deep breath and walk back into the locker room. It’s been a hell of a day.
Chapter Four
That is not the last I hear about my little outburst.
I stand still and impassive while Professor Davies yells at me, but I’m too numb to reply. It isn’t that I regret what I did. I should be ashamed or something, but I’m not.
Piers had it coming. He got what he deserved. We’re not even yet, but I count it as a small victory.
When she finally gets around to telling me what exactly my detention is—mucking out menagerie stalls—I just nod and walk off. Too much has happened for me to feel like arguing.
Erin and Luiza catch up to me as I walk back toward the school. They must have been waiting this whole time. I’m sure they heard some of what Professor Davies said during her tirade, but I’m not even embarrassed.
“Avery, that was insane,” Erin says softly, as soon as she’s at my side.
I nod, still not ready to speak.
“Are you coming to dinner?” she asks.
I shake my head, and Erin and Luiza share a glance, but neither of them argues. They let me walk away as we enter the school. Still dressed in my PW gear, I go straight down to the menagerie.
There are two professors there to greet me—Rodriguez and Jaxton. Jaxton is a soft-spoken man bearing many scars from years of working with monsters, while Rodriguez is younger and still smooth-skinned. That won’t last long. They give me some coveralls and take me to the worst stalls they possibly can. Neither of them asks me about what I did or why I did it. They don’t seem to care—In fact, they seem gleeful at having the help.
Every stall and habitat they take me to is absolutely filthy, with piss and shit everywhere. It’s like they left it that way on purpose, waiting for some wayward student needing punishment. Sometimes I have to wear a gas mask, since some of the monsters I’m cleaning up after secrete poison or have toxic bodily fluids.
I lose myself in the labor. Every now and then I check in with my own feelings. Do I regret jumping on Piers like that? No, no I don’t. He shouldn’t have said that my parents deserved to die. But you insulted his father, a voice chimes in the back of my head. I shrug it off. I told the truth about Mason Dagher. It’s not my fault Piers’ father is a coward, and a liar, and a possible murderer.
There are no clocks in the habitats of the menagerie. I have no sense of how long each stall takes me. I grow used to the rancid smell of shit, to the burning of my nostrils every time I enter a habitat. Occasionally I pass by crew members, actual staff being paid to do the work I’m doing for free. They all smile at me. I guess they’re grateful that I’m doing the worst of it.