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FOUR | JINGLE BELLS

Fifth period has me scrambling back up the stairs to a class just three doors down from Mr. Hale's room. The oak door is still open when I get there, but it's so close to the end of the hall that this part of the floor seems almost eerily quiet. I half-expect the room to be empty when I reach it. The normally florescent lighting is dim and the lack of windows only adds to the effect as I reach the class. This is supposed to be another knock-off class. An easy A since I know Latin is a dead language and no teacher has ever taken the course seriously from what I've heard in my other schools.

My feet stop when I see Salvē! is written on the board in the front of the class followed by a slew of what I assume to be Latin instructions written in bright chalk. Am I in the right class? This should be a beginners course, not for intermediate students. I look around at the humans already seated or getting settled around me. This is weird. No one's talking to each other like I normally see in beginner language classes. No goofing around. I pull out my schedule from my pocket and double check the room number printed and the one on the tiny plaque outside the door. Yerp. Same number. Did the councilor make a mistake?

"No dawdling, Ms. Holland." A sweet voice calls from the desk pushed into the corner of the room. A little woman is perched on the top of the desk, her brown almond eyes are trained on a newspaper she's reading. Her hair is done in a tight bun at the back of her head, little multi-colored ribbons with tiny bells at the ends jingle softly when she looks up at me. She looks like she could be a movie star, no more than twenty years old by human standards. But when I suck in a surprised breath at the way her eyes capture mine, I can smell something sickly sweet and bitter. She's not human. But she's also no Wolven. How is she in the Azure Pack? How is that even possible? "There's a seat at the back if you want it." She adds, voice calms and warm, like we're old friends. I stare at her for another second before moving towards her, schedule in hand for her to sign.

"Um, Ms. Jin?" I ask tentatively, still a little thrown off by her strange appearance. She's not human, that's for sure. When I'm right in front of her, I dare to sniff again, catching the unmistakable scent of over-ripe tangerines and blood. My stomach churns nervously at the heady, and oddly familiar scent, a little staccato tap-tap-tap begins to lance through my head, and I choose to breathe through my mouth. What the hell is she? And how did she know my name?

"Yes, dear." She doesn't say it like a question...but as if she's answering my mental question. Now I'm thoroughly freaked out. "Relax, Scarlett. You're in the right class." She signs the schedule and passes it back to me. "And all of your instructors were made aware that you would be here today for classes. In any case, we've started learning Latin phrases this week. Unfortunately for you, today is pop-quiz day." She gestures to the board.

"I haven't started reading the material," I admit to her slowly, re-folding the schedule and tucking it back into my pocket.

"It's alright, the pop-quiz is just an icebreaker and an example of any future pop-quizzes I may give in the semester." She reaches behind herself to pull a little stack of paper from the corner of her desk. "This is your orientation packet for the course. I've included the syllabus, a few worksheets for practice, a little cheat-sheet of common phrases I gave to the class on the first day, and your schedule for tutoring." She pushes the stack into my hands and I gape at her.

"T-tutoring?" I stutter. She's crazy. That's the only logical explanation. Or maybe I've gone crazy? Maybe the separation from the Reinier Pack has finally driven me nuts.

"Yes, tutoring. I take my role very seriously, dear. If I feel like anyone is slacking or falling behind, I assign mandatory tutoring. Or if they think just because this is an elective, that they can slack off." She practically echoes my earlier thoughts and I feel my face shut down. My mind goes blank and I feel my eyes narrow at her assessingly. She's not human. Not Wolven... I've never met anything other than the two species, but old memories of stories Grandmother told me when I was little float back into my mind. A bitter taste fills my mouth and that little headache from earlier becomes more insistent the more I try to sort through the hazy memories.

"Hm." Is all I can say when she just continues to watch me impassively. Her eyes are wise for someone her age, and I don't think my first conclusion about her age is accurate. But what the hell is she?

"Take your seat, dear. We'll talk more during your tutoring session tomorrow evening." Ms. Jin reaches out before I can step back and pats my cheek gently with icy fingers. I fight as gasp of shock and settle for gritting my teeth against the sudden coolness, flinching a little at her touch. It's like she's dead or something. "Just do your best on the quiz." She adds as an after thought and I feel myself nod at her words. I'm too shell-shocked to be thinking properly as I take the seat she'd indicated in the back of the class.

There's another in the interior of the room, but I prefer the one I take - far away from the strange teacher and her desk. The one in the far corner, but along the same wall as the door. As I settle down a my desk and take out a loose sheet of paper to write what I guess are the translations to the Latin on the board, my headache begins to ebb. I begin to write out the phrases, leaving space for my best guess at their translations beneath each line. My other language classes from previous schools were French and Spanish. I'm not fluent in either of them, but I paid enough attention in both to know that Latin is rooted somewhere in there.

"Alright. Time's up." Ms. Jin calls across the room and I hear an assortment of clattering writing utensils as the humans around the room seem to let out a collective sigh. I drop my own pen and wiggle my fingers soundlessly, nervously over the page. Most of the phrases are what I guess to be greets or common phrases used in everyday life like carpe diem, the others I just guessed at. "Everyone pass your papers forward and the first person in each row put the quizzes in the box." She pulls out a wire basket and sets it on her desk before hopping off of the wooden surface. "Now, let's review what we've learned this week." She proceeds to have us all repeat after her, phrases in English and their Latin translations. The rest of the period is a review for the humans, but I silently take notes in an empty notebook, writing everything out phonetically to get the right pronunciations.

Everyone's riveted as Ms. Jin teaches - and so am I. For a class I thought would be a snooze-fest, the content is actually interesting. Before I know it, the bell rings, breaking the spell.

"Okay, that's it. Everyone have a good evening and make sure you study!" Ms. Jin calls as the class visibly relaxes and people around me rise to gather their things. I collect my stuff and file out with everyone before Ms. Jin has the chance to call me back. It's not until I'm halfway down the hall that I realize, not once, did I hear those bells in Ms. Jin's hair jingle after I sat down.

My headache has faded by the time I get to my next class. American History really is a snooze-fest, though. Mr. Banaby has this mono-toned voice that instantly switches my brain into wandering mode. Again, I'm alone in a sea of humans, and I have some time to my own thoughts while the teacher goes on about the beginnings of our country's history. But as I sit there, in a class with a row of windows on the ground-level of the school, I can't seem to focus on anything in particular. My thoughts drift over the last few years of school before the bell rings yet again, dismissing the class..

"Ms. Holland, sing the F major scale for us." Mrs. Jones calls out to me once I've managed to find a spot on the risers in the center of the choir room. I nod and clear my throat as rows of eyes turn to stare at me. I ignore the creepy-crawly feel of their gazes as I begin singing on a ta up and down the scale, then the piano accompanies me into a full on octave-search. My voice is soft and I know my range, but this instructor seems bent on breaking my voice as she forces me to not only sing five more scales but an entire solo before stopping me. "Fine. You can stay - you can read music, right?" Her huffy, overly dramatic voice is grating on my nerves.

"Yes, ma'am." I nod impassively at the woman, but on the inside I'm about ready to burst with annoyance while the Wolven part of me wants to rip out her throat. I've been taking choir as an elective since I started having the option in middle school. Of course, I can read music.

"Darine," Mrs. Jones gestures at the girl next to me before turning to the rest of the class, bossily ordering everyone to start singing warm-up scales. Darine's a soft spoken girl with soft blue-green eyes and washed-out blonde hair.

"Here," She pushes half of a black binder with sheet music at me and promptly turns bright red when I offer her a little smile of thanks.

Mrs. Jones may be the most annoying person I've met in this town, but I have to give her serious props when it comes to her skills as a choir director. Five minutes into the most amazing song I've ever heard, she's made more than six corrections on other member's pitches and made the sound go from beautiful to unearthly. The swell and falls of the piece are phenomenal - nearly tear worthy - enough so it has my wolf completely entranced for rest of the period.

"I'll make you copies of the sheet music tonight." Darine tells me quietly after the bell dismisses us. Mrs. Jones is talking with one off the guys by her office about the upcoming performance for the Halloween dance and I almost miss Darine's words.

"Hm? Oh, thanks." I force out another little smile and she nods back to me, eyes averted. "You okay?" I ask her after a second, confused at her shiftiness when we're just about the last of the students on the risers.

"Mhm," She mumbles, but keeps casting sidelong glances at the guy talking with Mrs. Jones. I smirk, detecting the slightest change in her human scent as she sneaks another peek at the guy.

"You should go talk to him." I tell her, feeling the slightest hint of envy at the mundaneness of having a crush. Something I've never really been able to act on when I've been running all these years. Darine's head whips back to meet my eyes.

"Oh, God, I couldn't!" She pales, her blue-green eyes going wide at the mere thought. It's like a switch has gone off between us and we've been friends forever. Just two friends talking about a guy. It's a closeness I haven't felt in seven years.

"Why not?" I ask, nudging her lightly as we descend the risers.

"He's just so..." She bites her lip, tucking her binder close to her body as we shuffle out the door. "I could never!" She shakes her head admittedly.

"Take it from a girl who knows" I tell her quietly as we merge with the general student population, leaving the confinement of the music department. "If the guy's worth it in your eyes and you don't even try to talk to him, you'll regret it for the rest of your life when - and I do mean when - some other girl comes along." It's advice I would have given to Paris, I'm sure. A little grain of wisdom I know from my years of keeping humans and other Wolven at a distance.

"It's Scarlett, right?" She stops just by the main staircase and I pause beside her, nodding. "I'm Darine Blithe," She holds her hand out to me and I can't hide a smile as I take it and shake her hand firmly. "We're gonna be great friends." She tells me matter-of-factly. I let out a surprised laugh at her frankness and find myself nodding, ignoring the red flag of my mom's number one rule in the back of my head.

"Yeah, I think we will." I release her hand and she gives me a little, crooked smile before waving a little.

"I got American History, but I'll see you tomorrow, Scarlett." She says and I nod.

"See you, Darine." I turn towards the west-facing hall that leads to the gymnasium as Darine begins her trek up the stairs. Huh, first day and I've already broken mom's number one rule. That's gotta be a record.

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