IT Technician class was my kind of place — rows of computers, the faint hum of cooling fans, the clean smell of plastic and metal instead of cloying cologne. This was one room where the wolf in me didn’t want to bolt for the door.
Gabriel was already at the pod when I walked in, sitting at one of the four workstations arranged in a square. He glanced up briefly as I dropped into the chair across from him.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” I logged in, the keyboard clicking under my fingers. “What’s today? More network config or are we still on hardware repair?”
“Hardware, I think.” He smirked faintly. “You’ll be bored in five minutes.”
“I’m never bored if I can take something apart.”
That got a small laugh out of him, and before long we were talking — really talking.
“So, Columbus, Indiana, huh?” Gabriel asked, leaning back in his chair. “That’s… a long way from here.”
“Yeah. New scenery. New… everything.”
“Why here?”
I shrugged. “Parents wanted a change. Figured the ocean was a better backdrop for ignoring me.”
“Ouch.”
“Eh, I’m used to it. What about you? Barnstable lifer?”
“Pretty much. Same house, same streets. Been playing guitar since I was ten.”
“Explains the Trivium cover.”
“You recognized that?”
“I’ve got ears. And taste.”
Our conversation was interrupted when Mr. Harris, the teacher, walked over. He was holding the printer cable like it had personally offended him.
“Alright, folks,” he said, addressing our pod. “I need the four of you to move that laser printer from the back corner up here to my desk. Too many… inappropriate print jobs when I’m not looking.”
I glanced at the others — Gabriel, a short kid named Devin, and a tall but very lanky junior named Matt.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, waving them off. “I got it.”
Devin chuckled. “Uh-huh. Sure you do.”
Matt smirked. “That thing’s like a hundred-sixty pounds, dude.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
I walked to the back corner, crouched by the hulking gray printer, and gripped it on either side. The wolf in me shifted under my skin, muscles coiling and tightening, and then — just like lifting a toaster — I stood up with it in my arms. No grunt, no strain. Just walked it to the front like it weighed nothing.
Mr. Harris blinked. “Uh… thanks.”
I set it gently on the table by his desk, made sure it was lined up with the edge, and walked back to my seat. The room was dead quiet except for the faint hum of the machines. Every pair of eyes followed me.
I sat down, logged back into my computer, and pretended nothing had happened.
Gabriel was still staring at me, his expression caught between surprise and calculation.
“You, uh… work out a lot?” he asked finally.
“Something like that.” I gave him a small, knowing smile.
He didn’t push it, but I could tell he’d filed that moment away. And for the rest of class, I caught him glancing at me every so often — not like he was suspicious, but like he was trying to connect a set of dots he didn’t know existed yet.