Page 6 of Misfit Monsters (Pack of Outcasts #1)

Periwinkle

T wo streams of impressions waft out of the reform division cafeteria to meet me: a jumble of mild but cluttered emotions in various flavors and a flood of savory, spicy, and sweet scents drifting off actual food.

So many beings combined with so much cuisine makes a chaotic smorgasbord. My head is spinning before I’ve even stepped into the vast room.

I study the cafeteria’s layout carefully. The schedule said today’s breakfast theme was “casual hangout.” The tables spread throughout the room can seat anywhere from four to ten beings—no tablecloths, just paper plates and plastic cutlery set out for people to grab.

The students are swiping morsels off platters of sausages, boiled eggs, pancakes, toast, and cut fruit laid on each table. Some of the sweet scent carries from bottles of maple syrup, enticing enough that I lick my lips .

There’s nothing specifying where any of us should sit. The students already eating are chattering away with their companions as if they chose to sit with friends.

Who do I hang out with when I haven’t managed to make friends yet? My first attempt ended with my dormmates setting me up for violent murder.

I can do better with practice, right? Learning how to cheer on my fellow shadowkind should help prepare me for dealing with more fragile humans.

As I debate which group I should join, a slim woman with deep brown skin slips past me.

She tugs at the black spirals of her hair in a nervous gesture, revealing violet scales gleaming on her forearms. We all have one bit of our monstrous selves that we can’t conceal in human form, mine being my oddly colored hair.

Her obvious uncertainty draws my attention with a twinge of sympathy. She meanders over to one of the larger tables, pauses, and then reaches for a plate.

A beefy guy bumps his elbow into her arm. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of her. “Oh, it’s the drip.”

The woman cringes and slinks away, her head low. I march over to join her.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m new here, so I don’t really know what I’m doing. Maybe we can find a table together?”

Both the woman’s face and the emotions trickling off her brighten. She turns toward me, and my gaze catches on her badge—level one, reform division, no harm done to mortals or shadowkind.

Why would anyone be mean to her? They’re not getting very good practice.

Maybe I’ve got this school thing in the bag after all.

The woman glances around and points to a small table near the wall that no one has grabbed yet.

“We can take an empty one if there are at least two of us. Since it’s supposed to be a ‘hang-out,’ the staff want to see us socializing.

Every meal has a different theme like the different ways mortals eat. You’ll get used to it.”

I beam at her. “I’m glad I have someone to explain the rules. I’m Peri. Have you been at the academy long?”

She rubs her face with a flicker of embarrassment. “Several months. I sometimes have… unfortunate reactions that I’m still having trouble controlling. Anyway, I’m Fen. Let’s get some pancakes!”

I feel like I’ve already passed a test. I get to stack fluffy pancakes on my plate and drizzle them with syrup, I’ve made a friend after all, and nobody has died. Wins all around!

Physical food might not sustain me the way it does humans, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t tasty.

I dig into my heap of cakey, syrupy goodness while peering around the cafeteria.

I recognize a few faces from my dorm, but my growly roommate, who hasn’t spoken to me since our first standoff, isn’t among them.

Across the room, another guy jumps on top of one of the tables. Vibrantly red hair flares above his golden-brown face. His wide grin reveals canines narrowed into sharp little fangs.

As the dishes rattle around him, he lets out a whoop and springs into a handstand. “I bet I can eat more eggs upside down than any of you right-side up!”

The students around him either laugh or shake their heads. The fanged guy bounds around on his hands with impressive nimbleness, his legs wheeling in the air.

Fen giggles. “That’s Mirage. He’s always goofing around. He might startle you sometimes, but he isn’t mean about it.”

She says that like lots of other students would be. I guess I’ve already encountered a little of that cruelty.

A woman with a bronze staff badge materializes out of the shadows. She gives the fanged guy—who’s still upside down on the table—a stern look. “Mirage, you know mealtime is for eating , not acrobatics.”

He cocks his head at her, his vivid hair standing on end with his pose. “Don’t humans have fun with their friends? I’m following the theme.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “They don’t like that, not in the middle of breakfast. Get down, now.”

Mirage pushes himself onto one hand and whirls around. For the space of a breath, four more identical figures spin on the table around him.

I blink, my jaw dropping, and the extra Mirages vanish. The real one leaps onto the floor and gives the staff woman a jaunty salute.

He’s too far away for me to taste any emotions seeping out of him. But even though he’s still grinning, I can’t help thinking there’s something tense in his expression.

“He can multiply himself?” I ask Fen.

“He can make you see pretty much whatever he wants. He’s a fox shifter—they’re usually good with illusions.” Fen’s smile stretches wider. “You should have seen, the other day in the gym he?—”

The blare of a horn cuts off her story. All around the room, the other students snap to attention.

Fen fiddles with the cuffs of her sleeves. She glances at me and knits her brow. “I guess you don’t really have to worry. Your hair is your holdover feature, right? A human could dye it that shade, so you don’t have to hide it.”

“I usually keep it covered anyway. When I’m around humans.” I tug up the hood of my jacket. “Why, are they bringing humans in here?”

“Oh, no, definitely not. That was an adapt check. It goes off a few times a day, totally random to keep us on our toes. When you hear the horn, you make sure you’d fit in as a human as quickly as possible. It stops us from getting lazy if there are parts we need to remember to keep hidden.”

Fen glances down at her arms, where her sleeves conceal all of her scales.

“It’s too bad,” I tell her. “Your scales are pretty.”

Her skin is too dark for a blush to show, but her pleased awkwardness tastes like cinnamon toast. “Thank you. I wish they weren’t so low down on my arms so they’d be easier to cover.”

“Maybe someday scales will become a new human fashion trend, and then you won’t have to.”

Fen giggles. “I don’t know about that, but it does seem like with mortals, anything is possible.”

A gurgle of liquid draws my attention. A guy a couple of tables over is pouring himself a glass of orange juice from a pitcher.

Our table is tragically devoid of pitchers.

I spring up, grabbing my plastic cup. “They forgot to put drinks on this table. We can borrow from another one, right? Sharing is a friendly thing to do.”

Fen pushes to her feet too, her dark green eyes glinting. “I’d think so. I am kind of thirsty.”

I set off, but I’ve only made it a few steps when an elegant figure sweeps in front of me with a swish of sleek black hair. “ Excuse me.”

I lurch to get out of her way and set down my foot at an angle that sends a jab of pain lancing up through my ankle. With a stumble, I bump into the nearest chair.

As I grasp the chair to catch my balance, Gloss glowers down her nose at me. “It looks like the newbie is as clumsy on her feet as she is when she’s talking.”

The cluster of students following her titters with laughter. Half the cafeteria seems to be craning their necks to see what’s going on .

My face flushes—and a tingle creeps into my hair.

Gloss covers her mouth with a guffaw she somehow manages to make sound dainty. “Oh, look, she’s glowing with embarrassment. That peachy shine really isn’t a good color on you.”

I yank my hood farther over my luminescent hair, which is definitely not something any human has. “I’m sorry I almost bumped into you.”

“You should watch where you’re going,” Gloss says with a benevolent air, as if she’s doing me a favor by not dropkicking me for my transgression.

The glow of my embarrassment is already fading away, but her gaze flicks to my companion. Her crimson lips curl condescendingly. “You poor things—it’s the hopeless leading the hopeless. Impressive that you’ve found each other so quickly.”

I glance at Fen, who appears to have shrunk in on her already slight frame. Her voice shrinks too. “We were just getting some juice.”

“Oh? I thought you had more than enough liquid in you already, Drip.”

One of Gloss’s friends snorts. “The way she piddles, she should be in puppy school, not here.”

Gloss tsks her tongue. “Look, there she goes again.”

The patter of falling water reaches my ears. It’s coming from the hand that’s dropped to Fen’s side as she hugs her other arm across her waist.

Droplets of murky water dribble off her fingers and plop onto the white-tiled floor. The nearest students wince and move away.

Their reaction only makes the dripping thicken into a steady trickle. Fen squeezes her hand into a fist, but she can’t contain the water leaking off her .

It must be something to do with her powers. This is what she was saying she can’t control.

Gloss provoked her on purpose.

The shame radiating off Fen now chokes me with its vinegar sourness. She was perfectly happy a moment ago.

She shouldn’t have to feel like this.

With a smile that feels fierce, I stare into Gloss’s gleaming amber eyes. “It’s just a little water. Water’s good for everyone. I’m proud to be her friend.”

Gloss rolls her eyes. “We’ll see how far that pride gets you, I suppose.”

She motions to her cluster of followers, and they all sashay off.

“Here.” I take Fen’s cup and hustle to the table where I fill it and mine with juice. When I return, she’s left behind the puddle of marshy water and retreated to her seat.

I sit next to her. “I don’t understand why people say things like that. You didn’t do anything wrong. No one would be here if we didn’t have more to learn.”

Apparently a lot of the other students have amnesia about that fact. Let’s hope it’s temporary.

Fen takes a sip of her juice and lifts her shoulders in a weak shrug.

“It’s okay. Humans aren’t always going to be nice either.

The staff encourage us to hassle each other as long as there’s no real harm done.

It tests our tolerance, gives us practice at holding in our powers even when we’re annoyed or upset.

” She grimaces. “Like you saw, I usually fail that test.”

I let out a dismissive huff. “We’ll figure it out. I’m here because I have trouble keeping my powers in too. We can work on our control together.”

Finally, a glimmer of pleased relief seeps through Fen’s gloom, sweet as a dab of strawberry jam. “You think so? ”

“Absolutely. Everyone knows it’s easier to tackle problems when you’re not alone.”

A streak of red at the corner of my vision catches my attention. Mirage is just loping to the cafeteria door, pausing to swipe a sausage off another student’s plate and provoking an indignant yelp.

A burst of resolve raises my spirits. I can find out what’s going on inside him too.