ISABELLA
The top was black, zip-front, with the academy logo in gold, long sleeves, and a mandarin collar.
But the bottom was just a tiny pleated skirt, shorter than my wolf’s sense of shame.
“It’s got its charm.”
“Thera, have you no shame?” I snapped, throwing the clothes onto the wooden bench.
“That Miska really wants to make a fool out of me. This is at least two sizes smaller than my size,” I growled, frustrated, but a whistle blew outside and the instructor was already there.
“So we’re skipping the very first class? What if we get in trouble and they kick us out?” Thera wrinkled her nose, thinking.
“We’re not skipping, and it’s not our fault. This is the outfit they gave us, so we’re wearing it. We’ll snitch to the instructor if we have to.”
I grabbed the miniskirt and yanked
