A Werewolf Cinderella Story (Teacher/Student) (EDITING)

Chapter 2

We continued talking about the dance. I pointed out how cheesy the theme sounded, although it doesn't sound too bad compared to the other themes we've had. This is the first, however, that doesn't seem to scream "WE'RE WEREWOLVES!"

Then she basically told me that I'm going no matter what. With that, I gave her a stern look.

"You do remember that I'm a new wolf and still shifting, right? How I'm still going through the changes every night at midnight?" I raised my eyebrow at her while she had a thoughtful look on her face.

The thing with werewolves is that we begin turning when we're roughly around 16 years old. We change nightly at 12 o'clock sharp, ranging from two to four weeks prior to our 16th birthday. For guys, though, it seemed to happen around the age of 15. I've heard it's because the guys need more training than we do since they are going to be more aggressive and will have a mate to protect. Though we females aren't weak, the elders just seem to be more wary and I guess it's just the way things have happened since the beginning of time. It hurts a lot at first, but so far I've gone though it for almost a week, so my body is slowly adjusting.

Her eyes suddenly got a glint of excitement. I could already tell that she was starting to scheme something in that interesting head of hers. She looked at me with a huge grin. This should be an interesting, or at least a semi-decent plan, I thought to myself.

"Okay, so you turn when the clock strikes twelve..." she began muttering to herself for a few seconds and then looked directly in my eyes. "Then it's settled! We can still go to the ball, but we just need to make sure you're out of there by...11:30? Does that sound like it'll leave enough time for getting home and then getting ready to shift?"

I thought about it for a few seconds before nodding. It sounds like a good plan. I just hope it works.

The bell rang, signaling it was time for me to head to math class. Great....just what I wanna do, head off to my favorite class subject ever. Can you sense my sarcasm? Because if you haven't noticed, I hate it with a passion.

I was close to my class, but I needed to get my math book from my locker. I looked at Shelly, who was looking at me, and then we both looked down at where our lockers are located. Sadly, the "Senior Hall," as it's called was currently packed with mates making out or just groups of people hanging around. The funny thing about it is that even though it's called the "senior hall," even freshman can get lockers in there, so it's pointless to call it such. I decided that if I tried going through the herd of people crowding the hall, I'd just wind up being late. Shelly seemed to have come to the same conclusion since we both shook our heads and hugged each other.

"We'll talk more about our plans in Gym, right?" Shelly asked, not looking so happy now. Then again, I can't blame her. Her first class was chemistry with one of the worst teachers ever.

"Sounds good, yeah," I said with a nod.

The warning bell suddenly rang, making both of us jump apart before being shoved back into each other countless times due to the kids currently trying to hurry to class. With a wave to Shelly, I was joining them, shoving my way through people while getting dirty looks. After what seemed like forever, I finally was in front of my class. With a sigh I walked in, heading over to my seat and sitting down.

Mrs. Kingsley, my math teacher, put a worksheet on the overhead for us to work on for the class period while she, I'm assuming, was writing e-mails to students' parents saying bad things about them. She was a cranky, middle-aged lady that seemed to enjoy getting kids in trouble. She was even shorter than me, probably around five foot even, and has curly, shoulder length, dark red hair with mocha brown eyes framed by some wrinkles.