I’m eyeing a group of older-looking students as we file into the main building when I hear a familiar voice behind me. “Staring’s not polite, you know.” Turning around, I see Hazel sidling up to me, smiling. “Fancy running into you here. Millie, right?”
I nod.
“I was looking for you back there,” she continues. “Didn’t think you’d have changed already. It’s damned difficult to recognize people in these uniforms.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, how are you liking it so far? Are people being nice to you?”
“So far, yeah,” I reply, thinking of Silas. A cluster of students moves to the opposite side of the front room, where a couple of paned glass doors lead into the dining hall. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much food before.At a buffet table on the far wall are heaps of meat, tossed salad, grains, and gravy. Tall bottles full of soda and water stand at one end, with stacks of plates and utensils on the other. I follow Hazel’s lead to the line, almost paralyzed with indecision. Eventually I pile things onto a plate, wondering when I last had a meal that wasn’t microwaved. Keep going at this rate, and you won’t be able to fit into this uniform, I think dryly.
Hazel leads me to one of the long, bench-style dining tables, where a mix of boys and girls are seated. We take a seat side-by-side, and I’m glad to know someone here as I look from one unfamiliar face to the next. “Can I ask you something?” I say, turning to Hazel.
“Sure,” she replies. “Go ahead.”
“What kind of shifter are you?” It’s a question that dawned on me after she left me earlier. “If that’s not, like, a breach of etiquette, or something.”
She laughs her tinkling laugh again. “Hardly. I’m a siren.”
“Like the sirens from Greek mythology?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“A little,” she replies, “although maybe not like you’re picturing. Here,” she adds, leaning in close to me, and I see the tips of her curly hair go briefly from blonde to sea green. “We have scales, too,” Hazel continues, lifting her hand to show me an array of shimmery green scales, much like the ones I saw growing from my own skin back at the warehouse. Quickly she returned to normal, stealing a glance around to make sure no one had caught her shapeshifting, and then turned back to me. “The fun part is the singing, though,” she said in a conspiratorial voice.
“Do sirens really sing?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.
“Sure we do,” she replies. “Although don’t be expecting Adele or anything. It’s more like screeching, really, but it does wonders for getting people to leave us alone. Men, especially. Advanced sirens can lure people to them and seduce them with song. Even to the point of mind control but it takes years of practice, apparently.”
I nod, pursing my lips as I begin to dig into my food. “Speaking of which,” I say, “are all sirens female?”
“That’s where the myth gets it wrong,” Hazel replies, taking a bite out of a heel of bread. “There are plenty of male sirens. Like Landon, here, for instance.” She nods to a boy sitting across the table from us. “He’s a siren. In my class, actually. Landon, this is Millie. She’s new.”
The boy looks up from his food. He’s quite possibly the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen, with softer features and skin of a dark caramel brown. There’s a dusting of freckles across his nose, and his hair is dark, curly, and unkempt. He smiles broadly at me when I meet his black eyes. “Pleasure,” he says, reaching across the table.
I shake his hand, a little amused at the gesture but appreciating the friendliness in his expression. “Landon Thyme. It’s always nice to see a new face around here, especially one as lovely as yours.”
I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks, and Hazel kicks at him under the table. “Come on, Landon.”
“What?” he asks innocently, grinning at her.
“She’s been here for all of a day and you’re already hitting on her!” Hazel retorts, but her tone is light-hearted.
“I was stating a fact,” Landon shoots back, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. “That’s different than hitting on someone.”
Hazel rolls her eyes, turning to me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of shit.”
I chuckle. “He seems okay to me,”
“Checkmate, Hazel,” Landon says, laughing. “Everyone knows I’m the best thing to ever have happened to this school.”
“You know, just because you’re a siren, you don’t have to be so predictable,” Hazel retorts. “Landon’s the biggest player in the school,” she tells me. “Or at least, he seems to think so.”
“I know so,” Landon replies. “But for your sake, Millie,” he adds, making a put-upon face, “I’ll tone it down a little. Don’t want to spook you or anything.”
I shook my head, grinning. I like this guy. “Hazel was just telling me a little about sirens,” I tell Landon. “I’m not really familiar… I mean, like she said, it’s my first day.”
“No classes yet, then?” Landon asks.
“Not yet,” I answer. “I start tomorrow.”
“Nice,” he observes, nodding.
“So what classes do you have on your schedule?” asks Hazel, leaning an elbow on the table. I can feel a surge of nervousness at the question. I guess I should have known it would come sooner or later, but I was still
