The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Thirty-Two

Naomi leaned against a pillar, stealthily talking to her dad on her new ringer. It was the end of the school day, and she'd wanted to catch up with him. Ringers weren't usually allowed, but she was trying to get away with it by being in one of the more secluded hallways.

"You won the competition? That's my girl!" Her father crowed into the ringer.

"No, Papa." Naomi rolled her eyes. "The first step in the contest. We passed, not won the whole thing."

"Oh..." he said, sounding relatively disappointed.

"I'm sure we'll do well in this next round too. Malcolm is over the moon."

"Prince Malcolm?"

"Well, yeah."

"It's just you called him Malcolm. I don't think they'd like you getting that familiar with him, Naomi."

She flinched at her father's words. If only he knew.

"You're right. I'll be careful."

At the sharp click-clacking of high heels, Naomi froze. The sound was familiar. Dean Wellington had the tendency to wear extremely high stilettos, marching down the halls as she went by. As Naomi glanced around the pillar, she saw the stern headmistress was about to walk past. Naomi ducked into a different hall, offering her father a quick good-bye and hanging up.

Looking for a different exit, Naomi found in this particular corridor, the nearest classroom's door was cracked ajar. From inside, Naomi heard the high-pitched whine of Alicia's voice.

"I don't understand why he wants to go," she wailed.

"Me neither. Malcolm's got bad taste in music," the other person, Gia, replied.

"Can you believe it? Some heavy sonic music festival downtown, and he's determined to go. I refused to go with him. Who wants their ears to bleed?"

"But Roland's going with him, right?"

"Yeah, they're sneaking out tonight."

"I hope they don't get caught."

"He's the frickin' prince, Gia. What can they do? I may not get this certain interest of his, but otherwise, my man's too powerful to be tied down by the rules."

Snotty laughter followed the girl's poor joke, and then there was the subtle shuffle of footsteps.

Naomi whipped back toward her original hallway, and as far away from the scene of the crime as she could get.

Malcolm was sneaking out? Again?

Did that fool learn nothing from their fun time during the Unity Festival?

"Idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot," Naomi fumed as she made it back to her room. Lark jumped when she banged the door open.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Prince Nimrod is what's wrong with me," Naomi said, throwing her bag down on her bed. She paced, muttering to herself. "Thinks he can get away with it again...what a dumb little...and I'll be damned if—"

"Naomi! What is going on?"

Naomi regained control of her emotions long enough to recite what she'd overheard.

"What an idiot!" Lark echoed, climbing on the "Malcolm's a Moron" train.

"Exactly!" Naomi said, and she began to pace again.

"But you know what this means, don't you?" her roommate asked, stopping her in her tracks. Lark's expression turned wicked. "We have a concert to go to."