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The trial that Ford is going to miss if he doesn’t get here soon…
The lawn around the stage and starting line continues to fill with students and faculty, but there’s still no sign of Ford and the stressed out feeling coming from him gets worse. I’m about to excuse myself to the bathroom and run to check on Ford instead when I suddenly catch sight of him jogging down the hill from Lupine.
He looks okay—gorgeous, actually, in a blue Lupine jersey that makes his gray eyes look almost silver—but his vibes are still off. Something happened with him this morning, but I have no way of asking what it was until the trial is over.
I try to catch his attention, just for a second, hoping I can read more in his eyes than his guarded expression, but he doesn’t look my way. He’s sticking to the script and ignoring me completely in public.
That should give me comfort, I guess, but it doesn’t.
In fact, that “something’s wrong” feeling gets even snarlier as the director of Student Life climbs onstage to speak to the assembly. “Good morning, everyone,” he says, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. “First of all, I have a message from President Benoit. She’s so sorry she can’t be here this morning to applaud you for pushing through with the trial, in spite of your grief over your recent loss. She’s proud of all of you and can’t wait to celebrate with the new members of the student body when she returns.”
He clears his throat, forcing a brighter note into his tone as he adds, “But now, I’m sure you’re all ready to hear what you’ll be doing today. So, without further ado, here’s Natalie Manger to open the board’s envelope for Trial Number One.”
Natalie steps forward from the line of teachers and administrators at the back of the stage, accepting the microphone with a smile. “Thank you, George.” She slides a finger under the flap of the envelope in her hand. “And thank you to all of the amazing future students gathered here today. You are all brave, bold, and fully capable of triumphing against any obstacle. Remember that as you get started today. Your mindset is every bit as important as your physical prowess. Believe in yourself and good things will follow.”
“Yeah, yeah, read the trial already,” Layla mumbles, echoing my thoughts.
I have more patience for Natalie’s feel-good routine than I used to, but we’re dying out here. The curiosity feels like a heavy rag held over my mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe.
She slides a piece of cardstock from the envelope, hesitating only a fraction of a second before she reads, “Today’s Trial will be the Shore to Seawall Challenge. You’ll cross the water to the seawall in your shifter form and complete the obstacle course from the seawall to the top of cliffs in your human form. Anyone deviating from this mandate will be disqualified and removed from campus before sundown tonight. You may now follow your counselors down to the beach.”
Natalie’s haunted gaze finds mine in the crowd, and I can instantly see how sorry she is.
And how hopeless.
She isn’t even going to try to advocate for me with the board or the other teachers. Not because she doesn’t care, but because she knows it’s a lost cause. Once the trial is set, there is no negotiation or modification possible. A student has to follow the rules and sink or swim on their own.
I lift my chin, embracing the rush of rage mixed with pleasure that comes from knowing Beck hates me so much that he pulled strings with his daddy to get me kicked out before the competition even starts. That has to be at least part of this since I’m the only shifter without an animal form…as far as they know.
Isn’t he going to be surprised?
They all will.
The thought sends a sweet, coppery taste rushing through my mouth. I only realize it’s from my teeth digging into my own skin when Layla whispers, “Stop biting yourself, woman. You have blood on your lip.”
I suck my lips in, licking away the blood, and working to keep my expression as impassive as possible as we start after Catherine and the other counselors. I can feel Natalie’s gaze on me, silently wondering what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t look her way.
I keep my head held high and my gaze fixed on the golden glow in the sky.
In just a few minutes, I’ll be glowing, too, and flying straight into the sun as it rises. As we’re arranged in three lines on the beach—first wave, second wave, and third—I close my eyes and lift my chin, soaking in the warm rays. I let the sea spray on my skin and the salty kelp scent in my nose remind me of my best girlhood days, running free on our island, knowing in my bones I was in harmony with nature in all its wild beauty.
I tune in to the easy flow of my breath and let the tension melt from my muscles.
By the time the buzzer sounds, signaling it’s time for the first wave, including Ford, to head for the water, I’m already starting to glow. I watch him shift and race to the sea with complete confidence that he’s got this, a faith that’s confirmed as he quickly pulls ahead of every other shifter in the water, including Beck, who’s been bragging since we got here about the swimming scholarship he could have scored if he’d gone to a human school.
As if we all couldn’t beat a human at sports almost any day of the week. EvenIcan swim faster than a human and I was locked in a cage for most of the past two years.
But I’m not going to dwell on that now. Now, I’m all happy thoughts and peace and getting ready to melt into my fancy new feathers.
Layla grabs my hand, giving it a tight squeeze, that I return, silently assuring her that we’ve got this.
And then the signal comes for the second wave, and I sparkle into the air.
That’s what it feels like, like dissolving into fizzy glitter and coming back together as magic. It’s magic to pump my wings and soar into the air as easily as walking up a hill, a magic I can feel rippling through the crowd still on shore below as they gasp and point my way.
I can only hear them for a few seconds, however. Soon, I’m too far from shore to hear anything but the crash of the waves on the cliffs to my left and the softer splashes from the swimmers below. I glance down, spotting Ford still at the front of the pack as I soar over his location, but Beck is closing in quick.
Too quick.
