“But--”
“Now, if you please.” Hawthorne glances at Silas for another moment, expression darkening, but all he says is, “Mr. Aconite, I suggest you go to the cafeteria. Lunch will be over soon and we can’t have anyone going hungry.” He beckons to me and I reluctantly begin to follow.
Over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Silas staring after us. Our eyes meet for a moment before he turns and retreats away down the hall.
Chapter 22
The sound of our footsteps echoing down the hall is deafening. I cast a nervous glance toward Hawthorne, whose expression is stoic. He doesn’t say anything as he leads me back towards the main faculty wing, where a large wooden door with frosted glass paneling leads into an enormous office. If he was going for intimidation when he decorated the place, he succeeded. Against the far wall is a tall oak desk that could easily be a hundred years old. The window shows a view of the area beyond the immediate campus where the dark, quiet forest lurks on the horizon.
“Please have a seat,” Hawthorne says, indicating the chair facing the desk. He takes a seat on the other side and folds his hands on the table, a placid smile on his face.
Slowly I do as I’m told, my heart in my throat and my body suddenly feeling stiff. How much did he hear of my conversation with Silas? I’ve already had detention once, and I haven’t even been here a full term; could this kind of thing be grounds for expulsion? Then what will I do?
As a whirlwind of dreadful possibilities swirls through my mind, I manage to clear my throat and ask in a small voice, “So, what did you want to talk to me about, President Hawthorne?”
He laughs. “Relax. You look like you’re going to faint. You’re not in trouble.” I feel the knot in my stomach relax, if only a little. “To be honest, Millie--can I call you that?” Swallowing, I nod, and he continues. “To be honest, Millie, I’ve wanted to sit down with you for a while, just to get a sense of how you’re settling in.”
“Oh.” I blink, the tension leaving my shoulders. He really didn’t overhear us… did he? I want to believe he didn’t, but there’s a gleam in his eyes that gives me pause.
“Yes,” Hawthorne says. “I think it’s fair to say that you’re a special case, wouldn’t you?”
Clearing my throat again, I nod. “I guess so, yeah.”
“I mentioned when we first met that hybrid shifters are exceedingly rare--so much so that nowadays, people tend to believe they don’t exist… or fear them.” His dark eyes meet mine, and I shrink under his gaze. “I heard about the fight you had with Ms. Ash.”
Damn. Busted. Shifting a little in my seat, I reply, “I, ah… I’m really sorry about that, President Hawthorne. I hadn’t figured out how to control my powers yet. I still don’t--not really. I didn’t want to hurt her, I just… I panicked, and…” I’m babbling, feeling more on edge by the second in spite of Hawthorne’s reassurances. “I’m sorry,” I say again.
“It’s all right, Millie,” Hawthorne says gently. “You’re not the first shifter who’s lost control of their powers. That’s why this school exists, isn’t it?”
Is it? “I guess so.”
“So how are you doing, really?” he asks, leaning forward and giving me a scrutinizing stare. I feel like his eyes are going to bore a hole in my head. “I mean truly--how are you liking it here? Do your classes feel like they’re going well? Has the transition become easier?”
“Yes,” I reply. “I mean, I still wouldn’t say it’s easy, but… I do feel comfortable here. More comfortable than I’ve felt at other schools, actually.”
Hawthorne nods approvingly. “Glad to hear it.” He leans back and crosses his arms. “And you’re making friends?”
I nod. “A few, actually. They’ve… they’ve made it easier. I mean, they’ve helped me learn to transform, they’ve stood up for me…” They make me feel less alone, I want to say, but I don’t think Hawthorne would understand. “They’re a good group,” I finish instead.
“And Mr. Aconite?” Hawthorne asks, his eyes narrowing slightly, almost imperceptibly. “He seems to have taken quite a liking to you.”
My eyes widen, and I feel a blush creeping into my cheeks. “Really?”
Hawthorne chuckles. “Come on, Millie. I was your age once, too. A long time ago. I’ve spent enough time around boys to know how they think. I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” he adds, his expression going stony again.
“What do you mean?”
“Mr. Aconite is…” He steeples his fingers, pursing his lips. “You could say that Mr. Aconite is… troubled. I’m not sure how much he told you about his childhood, but--”
“A bit,” I reply. “He said his parents were paranoid. About humans, I mean.”
“Paranoid is putting it lightly,” Hawthorne replies. “They were conspiracy theorists who thought humans were out to… I don’t know, enslave shifters, or something. Hogwash, obviously.” He gestures around the room, grinning. “I mean, does this look like enslavement to you?”
I give an uneasy laugh. “No, I guess not.” For the first time in a while, I’m reminded of the fact that President Hawthorne is, in fact, human.
“Shifters and the humans who know about their existence have cooperated for hundreds of years,” Hawthorne continues. “We support each other, coexisting as we help strengthen each other. Learn from each other. Is that enslavement?” He shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Shifters are more powerful than humans can ever hope to be,” he muses. “It’s an honor to be able to help your kind assimilate, to study your abilities in a mutually beneficial relationship. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, sure,” I reply.
“It’s views like the ones Mr. Aconite’s parents held that jeopardize the relationship humans and shifters have cultivated for so long,” says President Hawthorne. “Paranoia breeds irrationality, which breeds violence. Mr. Aconite’s parents were violent.”
My eyes
