Page 92 of Prey It By Ear

It’s a good plan, so I nod. “Pick the ones you trust completely—no one who’ll talk to Midori or trade it for favors. If this guy is a plant, I don’t want to get someone fired over a misstep, nor do I want anyone to get hurt. We don’t know what kind of heat he’s packing, you know?”

My raccoon friend grins, a flash of canines that means she appreciates the way I do things. “Two of the emus have clean records and don’t give a fuck about the Council. I’ll vet the rest myself. Also, the Captain said you should check your bag after your next class. We’ve left a surprise inside.”

I groan. “He better not have sent me gross stuff, Raina. I don’t eat things like dehydrated octopus jerky, and it’ll stink up my stuff.”

“Not food this time, Dolly. But you really are missing out by not trying his various treats. They’re quite good, and you’d like the protein. Not everything that’s good for you smells tasty, you know.”

The grass is slick from last night’s dew, and there’s a hummingbird working the air as we stroll across the quad. I dodge yet another cluster of first-year students as we make a beeline for the Shird. It’s still crowded, but the first week isn’t over yet, so they haven’t thinned out quite yet. Halfway there, I pause and turn to Raina. “Can I ask one more favor?”

She lifts her brow, waiting with a smile.

“I need someone to check on Rufus and Cori. They’ve stopped texting, and I know Cori’s supposed to be focusing on the uniforms for the Games, but it worries me. Rufus never goes silent, and even if they have tough schedules, I’m just—I don’t like it.”

Raina gives me a fond expression. “I’ll make sure someone checks in today. I’d bet they’re just swamped like you, though. You have all been given such crazy schedules this year that it’s preventing you from seeing one another. I understand how that might be concerning, but you don’t need to spiral. I’m sure.”

“I’m not spiraling; I’m just catastrophizing,” I admit as I give her an embarrassed look. “It’s a completely distinct thing, you know.”

My friend laughs, but it’s softer now. We reach the doors to the Shird, and she opens them to let me in. “I’m going up with you; I don’t enjoy imagining what could happen if we don’t escort you door-to-door.”

I nod, trying to ignore the way my chest feels like it’s shrinking in on itself because so many people care about me so much. “Thanks, Raina. You’re the best.”

She offers a tiny salute and then steps inside with me, scanning the crowd for any threats before we head for the elevator again. Only after she checks do I slip inside, my bag thumping against my hip and my mind already shifting to what comes next.

Hopefully, nothing that ruins my decent day so far—otherwise, I’m going to riot.

Hip-hop class lets out with a bang, as it always does—with the smell of sweat and the wobbly adrenaline rush that says you’ve sweat out every molecule of bad mood. All I want now is a cold drink and to sit down. I’m the first one out because there’s no point sticking around for the post-class drama. In the hallway, Banjo is standing at parade rest, his jacket zipped up enough to hide the fact that he’s probably carrying more knives than should be legal on a school campus.

“Queen Dolly!” he says, and there’s this micro-bounce in his stance like he’s restraining himself from saluting. “It sounded like class was intense today. Were you able to execute all your moves correctly? Was Hanson too tough? We are supposed to let the Captain and Raina know if any professor is behaving badly.”

I shrug my bag higher on my shoulder, the wet fabric pulling at my skin. “Nobody died or passed out, so I guess it was okay. Hanson only called me a try-hard once. I’m considering this one a win. Thanks for asking.”

The quokka grins, the pink at the tip of his nose wrinkling up. “You are the most impressive queen this crew has ever served. May I escort you to Diplomacy now?”

His offer is rhetorical—Banjo’s already matched my pace, angling so his body creates a clear path through the knot of students loitering in the lobby. His head stays on a swivel, scanning every face for threat or mischief, and it’s honestly comforting to know he’d throw himself in front of a bus or a bored Heather if the need arose. Not a single one of the crew gives a shit about the size difference between themselves and the enemies—no, they are ready to rumble every single time they come to get me.

“Raina told me you have your class with the Heather canines today, yes?” he says, keeping his voice pitched low. “I wish we could do more to assist you, but they are from such powerful families. Only very specific little pranks are within our grasp. But we do what we can to ruin their day from the background.”

I had no idea, but it sounds like something the Captain and perhaps one of my more mischievous suitors devised.

It’s a straight shot across the quad to the building where Diplomacy is once we’re out of the Shird, but the foot traffic is heavier now. Banjo has to step up the guard duty, making sure nobody brushes my arm or steps on my shoes. He even body-blocks a wandering avian shifter who’s not paying attention, gently but firmly shoving him aside with a friendly ‘excuse you, sir’. His polite rebuff catches the idiot askance, and once we’re clear of the bumbler, I giggle.

The rest of the walk is uneventful, and we head into the building without having to deal with other preds. I pause in the vestibule, and Banjo uses the opportunity to check the sight lines up and down the hallway to the elevator. When he’s satisfied, he looks at me with another quokka smile before we push the button to get in.

“Do you want me to come into the classroom with you?” he asks, and for a second I think he’s joking, but he isn’t. There’s a genuine worry in his voice—like if he lets me out of his sight, the world will eat me alive.

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. The Heathers are never late, but neither am I. If anything goes weird before the professor gets there, I’ll hit the app and you’ll have the entire crew in the building before anyone can accomplish much.”

He seems to be proud of my trust because his chest puffs up a little. “Understood, Queen Dolly. The Captain said Kirby will meet you here afterward, so your walk to your practicum is safe. I believe Mr. Fitz will retrieve you for the stadium practice.”

Of course he will… It's his favorite thing to watch.

We get out when the lift dings and Banjo points at the door to the lecture hall, his face all business now. “I will wait here until you are safely inside.”

I step to the door and peek inside the classroom. It’s lit like a sports arena, the whiteboards glaring, and rows of tiered desks already filling with bodies. My bullies are there, front and center, their matching blouses and synchronized hair flips a parody of pred unity. I stifle a sigh and press my hand to the door handle, feeling the cheap metal vibrate under my fingers.

Banjo stands behind me, just close enough for support but not crowding me. “Text if you need me. The Captain will know it is a genuine emergency if you use the code word.”

I glance over my shoulder. “What’s the codeword? No one told me there was a code word.”