I woke up the next morning covered in a cold sweat. Apparently, my mentality of ignoring my problems didn't transfer over to my dreams, where Leo had asked me about the deal again and had shot me before I could answer.

I tried to shake off the feeling of dread by quickly entering the bathroom across the hallway to take a cold shower. As the water ran down my back, I tried to mentally prepare myself for the day.

My uncle was still asleep, thankfully, crashing down from whatever high he had last night. I quietly snuck a piece of bread and some jam from the fridge before slinging my bag over my shoulder and making my way out.

I don't know why I bothered with school. My uncle sure as hell didn't plan on letting me go to college. And even if I did, I might just be strong-armed by Leo and his boss into joining the hollow points.

I sighed again. No matter how positive I might be, there was no mental gymnastics I could do that would turn my life into rainbows and sunshine.

I made it just in time to hurry to my locker and get my modern history textbook. Just I turned away from my locker, someone slammed me face-first into it.

"Hey, ass-wipe!" a cheery sounding voice called from my back.

I cringed at the terrible nickname before turning to see Owen. He was a towering hunk of muscle and blond hair, with a smirk permanently etched onto his pretty face.

"Got my assignment?"

"Yes. Here." I reached into my bag and gave him back the crumpled piece of paper that used to be his assignment sheet that I had now filled with my neat handwriting.

"Thanks." He replied, before leaning forward and letting his hand into my backpack, taking my perfect copy instead, and crumpling his and tossing it back to me.

I wanted to tear the paper and scream, but I kept quiet and headed into class, trying to breathe slowly to keep my rage under control.

■

Modern history was one of the most boring or most interesting subjects the school offered, depending on who you asked. While the class covered meta humans and superheroes-the most interesting and amazing topics in the school curriculum, the school system had still managed to find a way to make it mind-numbingly boring.

Mr. Gunderson began his class in the way he always did.

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"Good morning. Please turn your books to page two hundred and seven, so we can continue our discussion about the impact of meta-humans in the military."

As he began to read a passage out loud, my brain began to wander to better places. What torture would Owen and his friends inflict today? I hoped that they had forgotten about the little game of punching me in the back whenever I sat down.

My attention was brought back to the class when Mr. Gunderson started to ask questions. By this point, most of the class were either sleeping with their eyes open or just sleeping. The only person who was still awake was Omar, the kid who was most likely to become valedictorian.

The only part of the class I loved were the questions, where Mr. Gunderson finally went off script and asked and answered things that were actually interesting.

"Now, time to see how much you've read in your free time. Can anyone tell me the name of a meta-human that used their powers to take control of a slice of territory?"

My hand shot up just barely before Omar's.

"The Wolf King."

"Yes. Excellent, Mr. Avery. The Wolf King, or Człowiek-wilk as the locals call him, was a child who was kidnapped in his sleep from his family and forced to become a child soldier in a civil war in his country. During his first skirmish, the man later known as The Night Fang fired an RPG at the enemy. He missed, and his shot hit a tree instead. The tree is reported to have fallen on three men from the opposing side. The resulting trauma of seeing three men crushed to death by his hands made him trigger and gain the ability to turn into a monster similar to the werewolves from his native folklore."

"Since we're on a roll, let me ask you another question. Why did Night Fang gain the ability to shape-shift instead of, say- gain the ability to fly? "

Omar started to answer even before my hand was up.

"One of the most popular children's rhymes in the region was about a Wolfman who ate bad children. It is speculated that in order to center himself, Night Fang either recited the rhyme or imagined someone like his mother singing it to him."

"Correct. While not always the case, most meta-humans seem to get powers or abilities that match their thoughts and mental state during the trigger. Night fang probably also thought that he had become a monster after seeing the men he killed, which may have contributed to him gaining a shifter ability."

Mr. Gunderson grinned. "Now that we're all properly awake, time to hear about this week's assignment."

The class collectively groaned.

"The assignment is a questionnaire about the wolf king to be submitted tomorrow."

The class groaned again.

Mr. Gunderson paid no mind to the groaning and continued." Collect your sheet from Omar at the end of the day. Class dismissed."

Just as I was rushing out the class to avoid Owen, Mr. Gunderson called out to me.

"Mr. Avery, I'd like to see you in my office."

I froze, wondering if I had stolen something from him or had forgotten to turn in an assignment.

I nodded and made my way to Mr. Gunderson's office. While most teachers had a common staff room, Mr. Gunderson was given a separate one, because of both his age and the fact that he had a PhD.

However, since the school didn't have many rooms, his "office" was just an old supply closet.

I made myself at home in the chair he had opposite to his plastic desk.

He came in and flopped down on his leather armchair.

"Am I in trouble?"

He laughed. "Guilty conscience? Rest assured, you've done nothing wrong, and your work in my class has been exemplary."

"So why am I here?"

"I need someone to fill in for me at the ceremony to honor the wards."