I Just Kidnapped My Twin Alpha Mates

Chapter Two (Part Two): Headaches and Epipens

Author's Note: Hi, ya'll. Journey felt inadequate next to Tiger's masterful satire in the ridiculous version of this book, so Journey thought they'd step up their game and publish a new chapter. Fight us, haters. Our egos are steel. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Let me just preface this with the fact that I despise high school. The (shudder) aura of learning, the practically unbreathable mess of hormones floating around in the air, the rancid state of bathroom stalls...Why do you think I started taking online school in the first place? (And no, to answer Elliot's reproachful looks, passing over innate magical abilities and the threat of persecution based therein). Werewolf highschools are a thousand times worse. First of all, in the winter time, everything smells like a mix of wet dog and bleach. Next, the study rooms are always covered in hair, so that when teachers tell students to 'take a walk' they have places to jump around and destroy in werewolf form.  Most importantly, werewolf schools are geared up with hundreds of sniffing noses waiting, just waiting, to tear the guts out of raven shifters like me. 

I, myself, could never go to such a school for an extended period of time.  I would like to keep my eyeballs inside  my head, thank you very much. So as you can imagine,  I was most definitely unenthused to step through the doors of WolfGlenn Highschool (I know. Werewolves have no creativity. Passing over that) with a teacher's note clasped in my hands for extra help. I'd shot a quick email off to my archeology professor earlier that day, asking for a bit of advice on my paper. He, in turn, had invited me to get help with the other, non collegiate students, at his high school classroom. Checkmark there. 

So there I was, standing just outside the doors, fingering the input into my ear from Elliot's console. "Just relax," he whispered. "And stop twisting it. You're going to break the speakers here in the sound room, and I'm not paying for your funeral when our landlord kills you."

I could just imagine him sitting there, feet propped up next to the sound board, sipping at a juice box with his pinkie lifted, a jumbo bag of half eaten Cheeto puffs to his right, and a book on proton theory spread in his lap. I wish I was back there with him, not sneaking into a dog infested high school, trying to steal something of unknown but certainly dangerous magical value from my professor. 

"Wish me luck."  I scanned the printed id form against the electronic lock. 

"Welcome, Ellie Snider." The thing beeped. 

Good to know that my fake identity making skills were still up to snuff. I pushed the doors open, and began to walk through the halls. Five steps in, and I'd already dodged three wads of gum. Of all the teenage idiots in this world... To be honest, I was one, but hey, at least I was doing something for the greater good, ie, my own pocket's benefit. One hand slid down my wrists to fiddle with the silver bracelets all lined up and ready to go. One just plain, to burn werewolf's should someone ask too many questions, a few tried and tested charms for clouds of smoke, quick disaperences, and acid rain, a few more experimental ones that I really hoped I didn't have to try. 

My arm rung with every steps like the liberty bell on fire alert. I slid some to the other wrists, hoping to look a little bit less like a crazy person. I didn't want to draw any unnessesary attention to myself unless I really had to. 

The rooms appeared to be going in descending order, with the floor number first. 102 would be at the back of the school, nearest to the emergency exits to the gym. Elliot had lent me a floor plan before visiting. The lockers rose around me in maze like rows, alternating red, white, and orange. Pack colors. Lovely. What a way to feel welcomed. I'm tempted to run through the hallways and bang my bracelets against the row, letting sparks fly and the whole thing to explode in a giant mushroom cloud.   Needless to say, I constrained that particular urge.