Static.

“–Just in, the most pressing case of human and weredog rights violations has come to light,” The television notified them weather they wanted to hear it or not,

“Alexander Hawthorne, the headmaster of Hawthornes academy for wolf and wolf-dogs, and his associate Ethan Blackwell have been found guilty and complacent of an unreleased amount of deaths related to or occuring within the academy itself.

Evidence against the Headmaster and His associate had the police locked in the station for answers, an unfortunate kidnapping which resulted in the capture of our crooked man left a teen to be treated in the hospital.

One such trustworthy anonymous call illuminated the whole situation, leaving students displaced with the recent shutdown of the academy. How will the affected students cope? Back to you–”

Sighing, Oakley changes the channel, knitted brows and bitten lips fall to his hands as he digs his elbows into his knees, and his palms into his eyes.

Crossing her arms and folding into herself on the couch, slouched and numb, Noah stares into the coffee table.

It’s quiet and silent that morning. The sun must have known what today meant, because it was still grey and foggy out, lamp lights on as metro buses and city lights lit the streets, but barely anyone was outside this morning.

Today was their first day of school since it had been suspended, and then, within a matter of months, indefinitely stopped, only for their education to be transferred over to another school.

This new school is for humans, as well as wolf-dogs, wolves, and even a couple of other types of mixes.

Their city is a mostly wolf-dog and wolf populated area, so it would be nice to see other species mixes and humans.

Riding the bus to school should be cathartic, but with how he had been thinking, he wouldn’t have a limp if he had just woken up on time to catch the bus; it’s only ironic.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, his brother texting him to ask if he’s made it there yet and detailing his own means of getting there.

William texts him that he’s just got on the bus with the group, and that he’ll let him know when he gets to the school.

Christoff had taken to texting him far more often than before after Will filled him in at Winter’s hospice.

The younger teen refuses to be left out of the loop or leave Will to his own devices again. The grumpy teen wasn’t wrong to strong-arm them into it either.

Another buzz vibrates against his hand as a text comes in.

‘Let me know if anyone messes with you, I’ll personally fuck up their school days.’

Christoff really needs to stop threatening to hurt others for him; he’ll be fine if people don’t like him. It’s not the end of the world.

It’s comforting nonetheless, though concerning when you’re brother is one bad day away from setting someone's house on fire because they looked at you wrong.

So he texts him back.

‘Thank you, but I think I’ll be okay.’

Amused, he laughs softly to himself with one sharp huff of an exhale through his nose for a laugh. Will clicks a button on the side of his phone, and the screen dims to black.

Turning back to the bus, he draws shapes in the foggy windows. Breathing on them, then forming squiggles with his pointer finger. The particular cold humidity of this morning is chilling his fingertips.

From where he sits, his leg bumps into Eveline’s leg idly as the bus shakes. Gently falling into her as the bus rocks.

It’s a slightly longer ride than usual, one that leads them to somewhere new, a different stop than before.

Before they know it, they have to get off. Filing out of the bus to find themselves in front of a no less large school, neither gloomy nor outwardly inviting.

The brick building sat there menacing nonetheless, an affront to their peace but also a building promising new beginnings.

“It won’t bite us, right?” Noah joked, apprehensive and snickering with a heavy heart as she looked between them and back at the building.

“It’s a building. How would it?” Oakley deadpanned retorically, walking faster to be in front of them, almost protectively.

Nothing would start if they didn’t go inside, so Will grabs Eve’s hand and shuffles forward cautiously behind them. She grips his back and picks up her pace.

New hallways and rooms reveal themselves to them, students in classes already, and a couple of others who hang out near lockers turn to them.

“Aren’t they from that murder school that got shut down?” One of them whispered loud enough to be heard, a couple of different groups adopting the topic as they made glances in their direction.

Not really focusing on the census of who’s talking about them, they walk through the hall, searching for a guidance counselor or teacher they can ask for some sort of guidance on what they’re meant to get before class.

“Do you think it’s this room?” Will points at a door with ‘vice principal’ on it. Eve, Noah, and Oakley only shrug, not entirely confident in the layout either.

Just when he turns back to the door, about to knock on it, he hears someone clear their throat.

“Do you guys need some help finding the guidance counselor? He told me you might need help. Unfortunately, class is about to start, but here’s a map you can use,” A bubbly and surprisingly helpful male student, with light brown hair and blue eyes, rattled off as they handed them a map from a stack of books they carry,

“I promise I’ll show you around during lunch, my names Archie Winnow, I sit by the buffet table!”, excitedly talking while waving bye and walking backwards to their class, the nice bird chirped at them before his wings fluttered behind him as he turned a corner.

Okay, so not everyone is just going to gossip at them. Will stares down at the map for a second, mouth agape, the nice guy–Archie–had come as quickly as he left.

Handing the map to Oakley, he shut his mouth, confused and still staring at the spot the boy was standing in before he left.

“Oh, here it is. We just have to go this way.” The tall boy pointed to another corridor after looking up from the map. More walking, and looking around, before they come across the door, a name plate, and a title corresponding to the one they’re looking for.

From inside the door, hushed talking could be heard. “The poor kids, their headmaster was doing all of that, and they had no idea…” A sweet and feminine voice made hushed coos.

Does no one in this school have any sense of what’s around them, or when they should keep things to themselves?

Noah knocks on the door, cutting the voices off before they have to listen any longer. Affirmative voices and the rushed clacking of shoes open the door.

“Oh, welcome, you must be the transfer students? You can get help with anything you might need from here,” another voice, male and meaning well, brought their attention.

“Your schedules and books are right here. Good thing you guys have a sponsor; otherwise, those books would be a hefty fee.” The man tried to joke to get them to warm up to him.

Not entirely sure how to feel with all the new people their meeting, they just stare at him.

Clearing his voice with a cough, the nice-so-far counceller pushed the books toward them.

“Class is starting around now, so hurry and don’t be late.” The woman spoke again, handing them pieces of paper with printing on them, their schedules.

“Thank you, miss…?” Eveline asked, likely wanting to collect names. “Florence.” The woman answered, turning back to her table. Satisfied, Eveline nodded as she catalogued her in her mind.

Grabbing their books and papers, one after the other, they step out of the room, braving the halls coated in awkward silence and eyes that observe them from afar.

Did no one tell them it’s rude to stare? Will forgot to feel self-conscious in the patronizingly sympathetic glances toward his limping form.

He’d roll his eyes if he didn’t feel slightly endeared by the mostly well-meaning students, who scold others who stare.

Eveline walks closer to William, almost shielding a portion of his body from view; whatever the action is meant to do, it’s comforting.

Some of the students tell others to leave them alone, while others like to be nosy, whether it’s one or the other, they hear every conversation as they find their first-period classroom.

Some of them split up, Noah and Eveline having classes by themselves, with Oakley and Will having the same first period.

Dramatically making a joke about mourning everyone's presence, Noah fake cries as she hesitantly is pushed in the direction of her class by Oakley.

Her happy face drops as soon as she feels she’s alone, guard up. He has a feeling they all do that when they’re by themselves. It’s hard not to become guarded after everything.

Seeming far less welcoming when they aren’t together, for their own safety, who’s to know if some friend you’ve known for a while had something to do with the throw-up-inducing murder tape you found in an unsuspecting teddy bear.

So they had unknowingly hardened, despite their attempts not to, to come off the same as always. Whether others noticed or not, they said nothing, a testament to how much they thought they knew them in the first place.