Page 36 of Legacy Wolf: Semester One (Legacy Wolf #1)

BARDOUL

My alarm pulled me from my dream too soon.

Or at least that was my theory about how nightmares worked. You let it go all the way through without waking up and you were in the clear—no memory whatsoever. But if you woke up either from fear or having to pee, that thing sat with you all day.

This was going to be one of those kinds of days.

It was such a dumb dream too. There were no aliens coming to invade or otherworldly serial killers taking down Phoenix House using green fog.

No, in my dream I went about my days at Sombertooth, and every day fewer people saw me until I was suddenly completely invisible.

I woke up needing to feel my body and know that I wasn’t vanishing.

I wasn’t a guy who wanted to stand out. If anything, I worked each day to blend in.

Being the scholarship kid was both amazing thanks to the education I was getting and horrific thanks to the bullying that accompanied it.

At least now I was starting to build some solid friendships, friendships with people who didn’t see me as less-than because of my family’s lack of money.

“Mika and Sasha,” I whispered. “Why are you haunting me?”

They weren’t, not in the traditional way people thought of haunting, with white sheets and entities floating through walls.

But knowing they’d been here and then they died was hitting me hard.

I didn’t know Mika well, so it had nothing to do with the loss of a close friend, and everything to do with the fact both Mika and Sasha were expendable.

And maybe that was unfair. Maybe their departure hurt people so badly it kept them from speaking about their passing because they couldn’t bear it, like Mika’s former roommate, Kendric.

Only it didn’t feel that way, and it sure didn’t sit in my head that way.

And worse than that? I’d felt expendable even before Mika’s death and us ferreting out that Sasha had died.

And that right there was the larger issue at hand; I was worried that I could easily be the next Mika or Sasha.

I climbed out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. I needed to be at work in less than half an hour if I was going to help get set up for breakfast and earn my way. I didn’t mind getting up at the butt crack of dawn. It meant that I could have the shower first.

I headed into work at super speed. As embarrassing as it was for me to admit, Channon had been walking me to classes lately. For all I knew, people were starting to suspect we were an item. We weren’t, not even close. But the optics were there.

With three minutes to spare, I went straight to the time clock.

I’d worked other jobs before coming to school here, most simultaneously, but this was the only one that had actually stamped time cards.

Even the mom-and-pop ice cream store used an app.

It was weird, as Sombertooth used up-to-date technology in other areas.

“It’s French toast stick day,” Reba said, grabbing her card.

Like me she was a scholarship student, but unlike me, she was graduating at the end of the semester. She’d been working this gig since freshman year and never wanted to move. I could see why. Out of the options available, this was one of the better ones— consistent hours and no working in the rain.

“You know what that means.” She rolled her eyes.

“Stickiness abound?” It was true. The syrup always got everywhere on French toast stick day, more than pancake, waffle, and regular French toast combined.

“So very much so. At least we are hourly.” She shrugged. “Thirty seconds.” She pointed to the time clock. We were to clock in during our exact start time. Why? Because Stye, the manager, had his own ideas on what being punctual meant and early wasn’t one of them.

As soon as the clock ticked over, she stamped hers and I did mine. We were the first two of the student workers for the day, so we had the fun of wiping all the silverware. I didn’t understand why we did it. Who cared if there were spots on the stupid things?

Only I knew the answer—people like Atticus cared, and there were plenty of them. It still felt like a waste of our time, especially with so much more to be done. But it wasn’t my money being wasted—that honor belonged to the tuition students, not that they knew it.

“How’d you end up doing on that history exam?” Reba asked.

She was just making small talk as she worked.

I knew this. And yet it still felt like a direct hit.

I had bombed it, bombed it so hard that I feared there would be no coming back from it.

My professor said that it would be fine, and it would be if all I needed was a passing grade.

Only I needed a lot more than that. My scholarships were based on my family being poor—something I couldn’t control—and my grades being high.

I didn’t just need to pass. If only it were that simple.

“I had shit sleep the night before.” The nightmares kept coming that night and woke me each and every time. I barely made it to the test awake. It was surprising I managed to get my name on the paper. And who knew, maybe I didn’t. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That sucks. At least there’s time to bring your grade up.” She put her container down and grabbed another to work on. I was barely halfway through my knives, the easiest of all to “polish.”

There was time, but opportunities were a different thing. My history class wasn’t one with a bunch of grades to make each one less stressful. If only it were. And with a limited number, each one counted—a lot.

“Yeah. That’s true.” I wasn’t getting into the fact I’d considered leaving Sombertooth.

Not once, either. I’d thought about calling it quits and going home a few times.

I was here for a reason, to get a good education, one my family could never afford without the scholarship.

Allowing myself to get so freaked out about the past that I couldn’t function wasn’t the way to accomplish my goals.

Rawling

I was really beginning to worry about Bardoul. He wasn’t himself lately. This morning he dropped trays in the dining hall multiple times and looked like he’d had a nanosecond of sleep.

And then there was his always needing to be with someone. Bardoul didn’t walk anywhere alone with the exception of work, and even then, only the morning shift. I’d seen him in a group with random people on his way to the dinner shift.

His uneasiness regarding Mika’s death was compounded by Sasha’s, even though the latter had happened years ago. It was almost as though he expected to be the next victim.

“I’m concerned about Bardoul,” Jack said, relieving me of the job of bringing it up.

“You and me both. He’s so strung out.” Channon was with us as we made our way back from dinner. “He even asked me to walk him to classes, and I don’t mind, but he used to be more independent,” he noted. “He may be worried about tuition.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and we stopped and faced him.

“But he has a scholarship.” It didn’t make sense.

“Who’s worried about tuition?” It was Bardoul who’d snuck up on us unnoticed. “Are you talking about me?”

“I thought you had a shift tonight.” Channon put a hand on his friend’s shoulder as I studied Bardoul’s bloodshot eyes.

“Apparently I worked too many hours yesterday. They sent me away, and here I am.”

I was glad for his explanation because I was worried he’d skipped out on his kitchen duties.

“You are, and yes, we were talking about you.” Jack took in a large breath. “You don’t seem like you lately, and we’re worried.”

His jaw dropped, and he looked at each of us before speaking. “I failed a test. Half my scholarship is based on academic performance and messing up like that freaked me out. It’s no big deal. Once I get my grades back where they need to be, I’ll be fine,”

I didn’t quite believe him. This felt more than a bad grade on a history test. But then again, I wasn’t here on scholarship. While having money could suck—though the likes of Atticus would never see it as a disadvantage—it was a different kind of pressure than what Bardoul was going through.

Part of me just wanted to write a check for his schooling so he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

The funds in the secret bank account were just sitting there.

Something stopped me, though, a tiny little voice in the back of my head.

Throwing money at my friends wasn’t the solution, although if it came to Bardoul staying or leaving, I’d make sure he could stay.

He deserved to be here more than I did, considering I wasn’t a shifter.