Myra’s POV
I like school. Most days it smells like crayons and soap and warm bread from the kitchen. There’s a big oak tree that drops leaves shaped like little hands, and when the sun is just right, the swings squeak like mice. I like the morning bell too.. It sounds like a silver spoon tapping a glass. It's nice and shiny.
But today did not feel shiny.
I was walking through the gate with Petal tucked under my arm, she has button eyes and a pink ribbon that always tilts to the left—and I was humming the song daddy hums anytime he makes pancakes for me. Then a mother looked right at me. Not with soft eyes, but harsh ones. Like her face had a knot in it.
She bent to her child and said loud, loud enough for the whole world, “Stay away from that girl. She’s useless, she has no wolf. She i
