MILLICENT
The headmaster’s office was colder than I imagined. Not cold like winter wind or AC chill. Cold like a funeral home. Like the walls had soaked in too much silence, like even the air didn’t want to breathe around here.
I stood by the door, waiting with my arms crossed over my chest like they could shield me from the way my heart kept pounding even though I was pretending to be unfazed.
I expected... what? Wooden panels maybe, bookshelves filled with books, a grandfather clock ticking ominously in the background. What I got instead was marble. Sleek, white marble floors so clean they shined back a warped version of me.
The walls were lined with awards, accolades, and photos of wolves I didn’t recognize. Old ones, serious ones, ones with dead eyes and medals on their chests.
