Page 15

Delores

My first week at Apex is little more than halfway over, but I’m still meeting obstacles at every turn. Monday I had to deal with the gruff Professor Felix, the last-minute audition, and my work study with the oddly attractive book dragon. On Tuesday, I attended classes in the Shird with Cori and Rufus, but afterward, I stayed cloistered in my room, snacking on vending machine fare, and memorizing all the secret prey information the infirmary staff shared with us. There are days I won’t be able to depend on my friends to protect me, and I can’t let Fitz see me as a weak little girl.

He’s already doing far more for me than he should have to.

Yesterday, I had an annoying class before I stumbled into the resident gargoyle’s haven. He’s different from the others, but something about Professor Renard intrigues me. Since I don’t have as many classes today, I have time to find food to squirrel away to take back to my room for tonight—anything to make attempting the cafeteria again unnecessary.

I may have to order some provisions on Amazon, to be honest, and learn how to cook. The dining hall is beautiful, but with the Heathers and their followers circling it, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe going in there alone. It’s too enclosed, and I’m too easy a target when I don’t have backup.

I can’t ask Cori and Rufus to babysit me.

A quick stop at the mirror has me checking my high ponytail, and my gaze drops to the Apex Academy issued black sweatsuit. The email Professor Sarabhai sent Monday evening said we would focus on ballet, jazz, and tap in the first semester. I don’t have the correct shoes yet, but I got them ordered. I can dance barefoot until they arrive if I have to, but I cobbled together tights, booty shorts, and a sports bra to wear. I won’t look fancy, but I’ll survive.

Sighing, I stuff my uniform into my bag on top of my stupid, school-issued kitten heels before loosely tying my preferred combat boots. It’s not cold yet, so I can head over to the gym in my dance gear without worrying about freezing my cottontail off.

Eventually, I’ll have to get the right attire, but if I play my cards right, I can get Lucille to send it. She’s due to check in with the Headmistress within the next few days—if I know her, and I do—so once she hears that I’m competing against some of her rivals’ kids in dance wearing nothing but booty shorts, the floodgates will open. I just have to play to her obsession with image and a veritable cornucopia of gear will arrive, lickety-split.

If not, I’ll figure it out. Luc paid me well this summer, and I’ve been saving as much as possible to help support myself if my parents ever decide to cut me off completely. So far, I’m only annoying them with my ‘plebeian rebellions’, but there may come a time when they strike back.

I have to be ready to make it on my own.

Picking up my bag, I open my phone, looking at the newly installed map app carefully. If I take the east stairs to the west lobby, and exit from the fire door that’s never armed, I should pop out right by the side door to the Leonidas Gym offices. Fitz hangs in Felix’s office there, and if I text him, he’ll be at the window in a nanosecond to watch me enter the Leo safely. That covers my journey to dance in the morning. All I need to do is remember how Clarice told me to get from the gym to the library, and from there to the Shird to meet Cori and Rufus.

After that, I’m home free, except for Shifter History.

That’s a future Dolly problem.

Maybe my friends can advise me on the history professor, to help mitigate the fact absolutely none of my allies will be with me in that course.

Hera, help me. I’m going to need all the advice I can get.

“I suppose you can convince me to allow you to continue with this class, Ms. Drew. If you acquire the attire and equipment by next Thursday,” Professor Sarabhai adds, looking over her elegant shoulder at me, as if I’m contaminating her studio with my non-compliant clothing.

This isn’t the hill to die on today, so I simply nod. “Yes, Professor. I’ll make certain I have everything I need next week. Thank you.”

She stalks off, leaving me to finish packing up my bag. I made certain to take as long as possible after class, allowing the older students to head for the locker room before me. Neither Cori nor Rufus are in this section of the class, and it surprised me when I found myself amongst mostly second and third-year students, rather than beginners. That means there isn’t a Heather in sight, so once the rest of the girls are gone, I can try to slink in and change before I head to the Shird.

Fitz doesn’t have a class during this block, and I know he’s here somewhere. Professor Sarabhai had to kick him out of the room when we lined up at the barre to stretch, and even though he snarled, the cobra didn’t back down. She may not like me very much, but she’s a tough old bitch, and didn’t want someone creeping on her class, regardless of who it was.

I have the feeling few people stand up to my erstwhile stalker and live to tell the tale.

Pushing the door to the locker room open, I step inside and head for the benches. I would never be stupid enough to leave my belongings in a space I can’t control, but I do need privacy to strip off my sweaty clothes and freshen up. After a quick sweep around the banks of lockers to make sure I don’t see anyone lurking, I set my bag down and begin.

Keeping my hair in the ponytail so it doesn’t get wet, I peel off my sports bra and booty shorts and head to the showers to rinse off quickly. It might make me late, but since Professor Chess seems to be absent every time I’m in the Shird, I might get lucky and still get to my costuming class with him before he does.

When I return to the lockers, my mouth drops open.

For the love of Dionysus’ wine breath!

My bag is on the bench, but every piece of clothing is missing—my uniform, heels, and knee socks, even my stinky dance clothes, are completely gone. Panicking, I zip around the room, nose twitching as I look for clues. All I can smell is a... civet and a bearcat.

Motherfucker! Those bitches were in my dance class.

How did they hide in here and why, in Hades’ name, would they take my clothes? Neither of them even glanced in my direction during the class. Hell, no one did save the Professor. What am I going to do? I can’t stalk across campus in the buff, and I definitely won’t make it back to my room without clothes, either.

Taking a slow, deep breath, I work to calm my racing heart as the bunny flickers over my skin again. Instead of tears, rage wells up in my gut. This has to be a half-baked Pink plan. She loves old 80s and 90s bully girl movies, and she’s always trying to pull outrageous stunts to get people’s attention. I swear, if her daddy looked at her as anything but a meal ticket, she might like herself enough to let people see who she really is. Strike that—the real her is a conniving, scheming, attention-grabber with serious self-image issues. No one wants to be friends with someone who so clearly hates themselves as much as she does.

Which brings me back to my current problem: a buck-naked run across campus to my room for new clothes or a calculated play so I don’t burn a bridge with the hottie cheetah I’ve been waiting to see all week by being late to his class.

Duh, Dolly. Plan B for the fucking win.

I pull my phone out of the hidden compartment at the bottom of my gym bag, my fingers trailing over the ‘Fuck ‘Em Up, Sis’ list I stashed there with it. I was paranoid enough to hide the two things I can't live without from anyone who wanted to make trouble. I wish I’d thought to hide my damn clothes somewhere as well, but lesson learned. Fishing around in my bag, I locate a pen and unfold the piece of paper, storing the sins I’m owed penance for.

Fuck ‘Em Up, Sis List

Lucille (existing, shaming me, throwing goddamned glasses)

Bruno (everything, including threatening to send me to Bloodstone, fists, plus Bruiser)

Todd (lying, cheating, hunting me, shitty sex)

Gold (nicknaming me DD, “run rabbit”, being a twat, dosing me)

Pink (videos, sleazy dad, ordering my execution)

Purple (liar, behavior on stripper bus, hypocrite)

Silver (follower, didn’t help me)

Chaz, Chad, Brett (not knowing my name, hunting me, stripper bus)

With a level of rage that’s almost frightening, I add a few more to my list:

The dingoes who hunted me at the cafeteria (find out exactly who they were)

The civet and the bearcat from dance class who stole my clothes (names to follow)

The fuckers who pissed in my dorm room (all the above are suspect)

Anyone else who gets in my damn way.

I frown down at my list. I haven’t crossed any names off yet—in fact, I’ve only added more. You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs, though, and I’m bound to run across more people who deserve my wrath as I navigate this nightmare. I take a picture of the paper, just in case it ever gets discovered and destroyed, and fold it carefully before slipping it back into the secret compartment.

Now, it’s time to execute Plan B.

Tapping the first contact on my favorites list, I wait for the call to connect. Fitz answers in less than two rings, and I chew my lip as he goes through his usual flirty banter before I interject. “Um, Fitz? I have a problem.” My lips curve as he suggests a solution that will not help me get dressed—the opposite, in fact. “See, that’s the thing. I’m already naked and—NO! I don’t need that, what I need is clothes. Some bitches swiped mine while I showered and I can’t be late for Professor Chess’ class…”

An angry growl rumbles over the line, and before I can finish my sentence, he’s hung up. I’m pretty sure that means he’s on his way, but while I’m waiting, I’ll see if I can at least find a way to?—

“Open up, Baby Girl!”

Sweet baby Hermes, that was fast.

I walk over to the door, cracking it enough to glare suspiciously through the slit. “How did you get here so fast? Did you even bring me any clothes?”

“Of course I did!” he huffs, not-so-subtly attempting to wedge himself through the cracked door. “You think I’m going to ignore your request to get in my pants?”

Opening the door a little further, I snatch the pile he’s holding, ignoring his protests when I shut myself in for privacy. His black Apex sweatpants are baggy on me, so I tug the strings tight and roll the waist on my hips. The same goes for the white tee, which I have to knot at my waist before covering myself with the giant zip hoodie. I’m not sure if the tennis shoes he brought will fit, but I plop onto a bench and give them a whirl, anyway.

I’ll be damned.

Fitz and I have almost the same size feet. Mine are big as hell and Lucille always complained I was disproportionate. She was rumored to have considered trying to bind them when I was a child. I don’t know who stopped her, but luck has to go my way at least once in a blue moon, right? I leave the laces loose and tuck the sweats in, knowing I look like a reject from a Run DMC video, but, hey—at least I’m not naked. Grabbing my phone and near-empty gym bag, I walk over to the door and pull it open, coming nose to nose with my tiger savior.

“Thank you, Fitz. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here. I don’t think I’m ready for a naked walk to the Tower, even if it would show whoever pulled this shit that they can’t shame me.”

Fitz’s hooded gaze sweeps over my baggy outfit, and a low growl rumbles in his chest. Only this time, it has a different tone. “As tempting as it is to watch you take a naked stride of pride across campus, I do like seeing you in my clothes...”

My nose scrunches as I flush under his gaze, feeling my body heat as he watches me. I have to get out of here before I do something stupid. I’m standing in the gym, completely commando, with a professor’s clothes on, and I definitely need to go before someone notices how close we are.

Okay, Dolly, get a grip on yourself.

“I have to get to set design, but um... I’ll see you later?”

“You bet,” he chuckles, and despite his promise sounding a bit like a threat, I warm all the same. Once again, I’m surprised by how comfortable I am with an actual Khan having me in their sights, but I’m not going to question it.

Before I round the corner, a wolfish whistle pierces the air, causing me to glance back over my shoulder. “What can I say?” he shrugs with faux innocence. “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn and head out of the Leo, toward whatever challenge awaits me next.