Cape Cod Regional Technical High smelled faintly of sawdust and cafeteria coffee \u2014 an odd mix that somehow worked. The main hallway was a low thrum of chatter and slamming lockers as I followed my schedule to the far end, where my assigned homeroom was tucked away behind the carpentry shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The door was open, and most of the class was already inside. A cluster of kids lounged near the back corner, their laughter sharp in that way that told you someone was the punchline. I stepped in, scanning for my seat, and that\u2019s when I saw him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gabriel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Same boy from outside, same hooded sweatshirt, black guitar case now leaning against his desk. He was slouched in his chair, long legs stretched out, arms folded. His head was tilted just enough that I caught a glimpse of his eyes \u2014 deep blue, like the ocean right before a storm. The same color as mine. Except his didn\u2019t have the dark wolf ring<\/em> circling the iris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We were the same height, I realized \u2014 both standing at a solid 6\u20193\u201d \u2014 but that\u2019s where the similarity ended. He was thin, wiry, built like a runner who\u2019d skipped too many meals. I, on the other hand, carried the kind of muscle you didn\u2019t get from gym class. The kind that came from shifting \u2014 over and over, year after year \u2014 and snapping back into human form with the wolf still humming in your blood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey, guitar boy.\u201d One of the kids from the back \u2014 a broad-shouldered junior with a letterman jacket \u2014 flicked the edge of Gabriel\u2019s hood. \u201cPlay us something that doesn\u2019t suck for once.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gabriel didn\u2019t look up. \u201cNot in the mood,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The second one leaned over his desk, grinning. \u201cAw, c\u2019mon. What\u2019s the matter? Strings break again? Or are you just scared we\u2019ll laugh harder this time?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Something in Gabriel\u2019s jaw tightened. Not fear. Annoyance. He\u2019d heard this before \u2014 probably every day since freshman year. The bullies looked comfortable in it, like they\u2019d been doing this long enough to know there wouldn\u2019t be consequences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was already moving before I\u2019d thought it through. My shadow fell over their little circle, and when the first one turned toward me, I let the wolf bleed into my gaze \u2014 not enough for fangs or claws, just enough for my eyes to go colder, sharper. Predatory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you back off,\u201d I said, my voice low and steady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The letterman jacket kid gave a laugh, the kind people give when they\u2019re not sure if they should be afraid yet. \u201cAnd who the hell are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSomeone who doesn\u2019t like repeating himself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He took half a step back without realizing it. The second one\u2019s smirk faltered. Predators recognized predators, even if they didn\u2019t understand what they were seeing. A few beats of tense silence passed before they muttered something under their breath and retreated to the other side of the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I straightened, glancing down at Gabriel. He was looking at me now, those blue eyes sharp and searching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2026Thanks,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I gave a single nod, sliding into the empty seat behind him. Neither of us spoke again before the teacher walked in, but I could feel his attention flicker back toward me once or twice. Like he\u2019d noticed something he couldn\u2019t quite name \u2014 the same way I had with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wolf in me was certain: this wasn\u2019t going to be the last time we ended up on the same side.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cape Cod Regional Technical High smelled faintly of sawdust and cafeteria coffee \u2014 an odd mix that somehow worked. The main hallway was a low thrum of chatter and slamming lockers as I followed my schedule to the far end, where my assigned homeroom was tucked away behind the carpentry shop. The door was open, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-high-school-life"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13\/revisions\/14"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/threewerewolves.com\/firstsemester\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}