I wake up to my dad yelling, my nose itching, and my head pounding. "Ella!" My dad calls up the stairs as I bury my nose back into the pillow, wishing desperately to go back to sleep. "You'll be late on your first day of school!" I roll my eyes, So? "Ella!" pause "ELLA! I'm not going to drive you if you're late."
Yeah, right, that's what you said the last time.
I roll out of bed only to trip on a cardboard moving box partly full of unpacked clothes, part one of the seemingly endless piles of boxes I have yet to unpack. Now-rumpled clothes spilling everywhere, I lay there for a moment, not really wanting to move. Do I have to really get up? I ask myself. Maybe I can just lay here and go back to sleep for a few more hours, but then Dad yells up the stairs again, this time I hear something about bacon. Bacon? I experimentally sniff the air for the scent of deliciously fried pig. Inhaling, my mouth starts to water, bacon... but I also end up inhaling some fur. I start coughing, my eyes watering, stupid dog allergy.
Sneezing, I heave myself out of the wreckage that I have, somehow, been able to wreak in a mere five minutes of being awake. Glancing in the mirror mounted on my wall; one of the few things that is completely unpacked, I start at my reflection; instead of my normal, disheveled, five foot two self, a large wolf-like canine with tan and black markings stares back.
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I'm a werewolf.
Sort of.
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After genuinely getting lost in the unfamiliar building, I finally regain my bearings and sit in homeroom on the first day at Edison Junior High (or, E.J.H.). Nerves rendering my unable to sit still, I tap my foot on the floor nervously, scanning the classroom- assessing who was a threat and who was harmless. I am so wrapped up in my personal cloud of silent freaking out, I forget to keep an ear on the teacher. So when Mr Odiosis (Yes, I'm serious- my teacher's name means boring, in latin) calls my name, I jump, then immediately curse myself.
"Yes?" I look up, trying not to act like a cornered dog. Thankfully, instead of asking anything, he simply calls the next name on his list. Of course, I mentally berate myself, he was just taking roll. He's a teacher, it's what they do.
As I breathe a sigh of relief, I catch a whiff of an odd smell, coppery and rich like blood, but sweet and acidic like... well, almost like pineapples. Hmm, strange. Although I'm not sure why, the scent makes me edgy, as if purposely trying my already shot nerves. As I glance around apprehensively, The door bangs open with a loud crash, breaking the monotony of Mr. Odiosis's roll call and making me jump a solid foot in the air.
As the rest of the class stares blankly in the general direction of the teacher, I turn to stare at the boy who walks through the door. With his scruffy, wind-blown blond hair and athletic build, he was every inch the popular soccer boy.
At the front of the classroom, Mr. O stops talking to stare at him, "Stephen Carne, you're late."
"Sorry, I missed the bus!" The boy, Stephen apparently, grins mischievously and pushes his scruffy blond hair out of his eyes. I get the feeling that he's fairly popular-I can almost feel the waves of adoration coming off the class and funneling towards him like he's a popularity magnet.
As he glances lazily around the room for an empty chair, slinging off his backpack, his blue eyes settle on me. When our eyes meet, my vision doubles and for a split second, I could swear there's a bat in his place.
I shake my head to clear my vision and once I can see straight again, I study him a second time, although this time he remains as-is. I could, possibly, just be seeing things, but I don't think so. What exactly had I seen? As I continue to ponder this, I notice that a strange smell hangs around him, like blood and mangoes. Why does he smell like mangoes? Either something is seriously wrong with my nose, or there is a kid in our class who looks like a bat, and smells like blood and mangoes. What the heck?
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As I think about this, probably staring at him awkwardly, the bell rings, and everyone runs off to their next class. Not wanting to be late as well as confused, I exit the classroom on the tail end of the stampede and walk down an apparently empty hallway, lost in thought. Reaching a corner in the hallway, I turned, only to feel a hand on my shoulder.
Surprised, I instinctively whirled around, my fist already in motion before I registered the person's face.
"Hey!" The kid from homeroom, Stephen, winced in pain as he rubbed the red mark on his cheekbone. "Do you always punch people when they try to ask you a question?"
I didn't really see a suitable response, as it didn't really have a good answer, so I just glared at him from under my dark half-curtain of hair.
"Jeez, I just wanted to ask where you moved from." Stephen remarked with the air of an offended cat.
" Bronx, British Columbia, near Vancouver. Why?" You may have noticed by now that being sociable was not one of my strong suits, but being suspicious? Definitely.
He shrugged noncommittally, "No reason. Just out of curiosity, who dominates it?"
Dominates it? I raise my eyebrows, "What do you mean, 'who dominates it'? It's not a dictatorship."
Steve nods meaningfully, "I see, kitsunes then? No wonder you moved- that must have been rough."
Now well and thoroughly confused, I have no clue what he was talking about, "Kitsunes? What are you talking about?"
He tilts his head, "Sorry, I just assumed that a werewolf like yourself would be relieved to have moved away from a city dominated by a different Kind of shifter."
A memory is triggered at the base of my skull; Christine, a not-quite-yet friend had mentioned a type of fox-shapeshifters called... something that started with a K. At the time, I had thought it sounded like kitties, but kitsunes make more sense. "Wait, why did you say I was a werewolf?" I ask, instantly on guard.
"Oh, sorry. I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Steve Carne; Vampire, star soccer player, and local Kind representative. Well, aside from Christine, but you've probably already met her." He grins, like I was supposed to understand.
"Look, Mango-boy, I don't know what you want or why you care, so leave me alone and let me get to class."
Whirling around, I stalk off towards class. Someone needed to explain a whole lot more to me.
YOU ARE READING
Mythfits
FantasíaIn a small town in South Dakota, two teens, like most others their age, are feeling out of place. However, their situation is a bit different; Ella Mason is an anti-social, independent werecoywolf with an allergy to dogs, a deep mistrust of strange...