I sat in the nurses office, an ice pack pressed tightly against my now bruised cheek. Across from me by about ten feet sat Oliver, a wad of tissues pressed against his nose. His head was titled back against the wall and he elected to watch me carefully from that angle. Even now, within the confines of the nurses offices he couldn't even bother to try and act civil.

I sighed quietly and dropped my hand into my lap. My face was throbbing and the freezing cold ice was not helping with the pain. It was making it worse if anything. Besides, the pain would be gone shortly due to the wondrous miracle of regenerative healing.

"What's your problem," Oliver questioned suddenly, his face scrunched up in annoyance. I could barely believe my own ears. My problem? What about his problem? Where did he go off thinking that he could ask me that and not himself.

The incredulous anger must have shown on my face because he held up a hand. "I don't mean it like that. You're over there huffing and puffing and its starting to get on my nerves."

I shook my head, "Yeah, well, you get on my nerves too so let's call it even."

"Fuck you," he said through a chuckle as he brought down his wad of tissues. From here I could plainly see the red staining the white paper. It gave me a smug sense of satisfaction.

I looked up at him and nodded, "Yeah, fuck you too." I didn't understand what he thought was so funny but the best thing to do was just ignore it. Ignore it and try not to look at him too much.

It was silent for another moment, uncomfortably so. I could hear the sound of his heart beating steadily - faster than a humans, around 135 BPM - and it was no doubt he could hear mine too. Suddenly, I wished Murphy and Eva were here. They would make this awkward silence a little less awkward with jokes or with their ability to nag at him under any circumstance. Too bad though, they were Vampires and blood didn't sit well with them. Obviously. Pretty much as soon as Oliver's nose started bleeding, 90% of the Vamps in the cafeteria were watching us hungrily with dilated pupils and salivating mouths.

I moved my jaw around, wincing slightly at the ever so slowly subsiding pain. My cheek was red and swollen, I could see at least that much through the tiny makeup mirror sitting open on the nurses paper littered desk. If I was lucky the swelling would be gone by the time free period came around.

Absent mindedly, I picked up one of the papers on the nurses desk, a curious expression crossing my face. Reading over it, I quickly realized it was my own medical sheet. It hurt a little to know that my medical records were not important enough to keep put away.

The words on the page were standard. My name; Ethan Tobias Creek, my height; 5'10", my weight; 184 Ibs. All of it was on there. Even my blood type. It wasn't until my eyes found my specie labelling did I frown. Half Canine - Half Daemon. It wasn't anything new, it just sucked to see it written so plainly. It was like a little thing that shouted, "You aren't normal" right at my face.

Sighing once more, I sat the paper back down and looked back to the wulf sitting in front of me. Surprisingly, I found the other staring at me rather intently, like he was debating on whether or not he should try shoving my head in a toilet or something.

"What," I hissed, my lips drawing up in an involuntary sneer.

Oliver just shook his head, ignoring the reaction. "You know. What exactly are you?" He paused for a moment before continuing, "I mean, I see the Demon part which is bad enough but I can't figure out the rest."

Okay, kinda rude. Actually, really rude. But hell, at this point I was beginning to think that it was a trait that was genetically infused with most wulves.

"Wulf," I said begrudgingly, knowing he'd find a way to get the information whether I told him or not. He nodded silently and looked closer at me, probably looking for the wulf traits I carried. Not that they were hard to find. I had the muscle mass of one - or at least damn near it - and the tell tale dark brown hair that most wulves had. It wasn't often you saw a Demon that looked like he stuck the top of his head in mud.

When he found what he was looking for, or so I guessed, he simply looked away, once again disinterested in me. A tenseness in my limbs seemed to fade now that I was no longer under the scrutinizing gaze as if I was a potential meal. Maybe I was.

We both sat in silence for a moment longer before the nurse came bustling back into the room, a clipboard in hand. She made her way to the desk and tossed it down before looking at the two teens sitting miserably in her office.

"So, I hope you two know that I'm going to have to tell the VP about this," she reminded as if he didn't already know. News got around fast and a fight between a Wulf and some random half-blood wouldn't go unspoken.

"Yeah," I mumbled, tossing the ice pack - which had long since melted into nothing but water - into the trash bin. I looked up at the woman and gave a tight-lipped smile when she returned sympathetically. She was middle-aged, maybe in her late 30's, a blond-haired head resting on top of a thin and short frame. She was human, if the steady and slow beat of her heart had anything to say about it. If not, the rosey hue of her cheeks definitely did.

My attention snapped around to Oliver who cleared his throat as he stood. "Ah, about that, I've got places to be so maybe later. You know, important history test and all." Prick.

The nurse went to object but he was already out of the room by the time any noise could even escape her through her thin lips. With an annoyed side, she looks to me and shook her head.

"Just go ahead and go to class, Ethan. I'll just chalk it down as an accident this time." She dropped into the swivel chair behind your desk. Her next words where in a low mumble, "Not like he'd get in trouble anyways." The statement made a frown play at the edges of my lips. It was true. If I was lucky, I'd be the one to get a stern talking too, if not, I'd get suspended or some other unfitting punishment while Woodfield went scot-free.

With a sigh, I stood and left the room, already planning on heading to my next class.

_________              ______             _________

"What do we know about The Shift?" Mr.Bralbury's voice rang out across the classroom loud and clear, making me wince. It's like half of the time these teachers forget that they don't need to yell to be heard by a bunch of kids with freaky hearing.

Someone speaks up from the back of the classroom and I have to fight the urge to whip my head around at the sound.

"It's when the mutts have their little coming of age." Demon. It's easy to hear the sound of malice in those words.

Mr.Balbury sighs but nods all the same. "Minus the derogatory term, yes, you are quite correct." He turns and writes something down on the board. I don't bother to read it. Instead, I put my head down and imagine I'm able somewhere else. Like a beach, or any where really. Strip club, home, the Gulf of Mexico. Any of those were fine.

He continues. "There are a number of things about shifting that young wulves go through. It's a natural phenomenon that cannot be helped." I fought back a gag at the words. He spoke them like he was giving a coming of age talk about the birds and the bees and how you should always wrap it before you tap it. He went on, sounding as thoroughly bored as the rest of the class, "As you know, the process is. . ." He tried to think of the right word, "Painful."

He gestured to a kid in the front row and motioned for him to stand and come up to the front of the room. With a groan of distaste, the kid did just that.

"When going through the first shift, a number of things happen." He reaches up and points to the kids jaw, ignoring the seething glare he earned from the action. "The bones along the jawline elongate and some even break to form the shape of a snout. The same goes for the nose." He moves his hand to indicate the bridge of the kids nose. "If lucky, the wulfs bones will heal shortly after the shift has run it's course, leaving no trace, but some do have permanent damage due to incorrect setting of the bone." Well, that's just splendid. Who would have thought breaking your skull could possibly have long lasting effects.

He motioned for the kid to go back to his seat - which he did all too happily.

"Now, some people with wulf blood do not go through The Shift. Typically those who share blood and DNA with another species." He tries to keep his eyes from sliding to me but it's all too obvious that it isn't working. Taking a deep breath, he moves on.  "The shared DNA strands make it nearly impossible for the creature to shift, it's sort of like a fight between genes in which the Wulf loses." He really does look at me now, his upcoming question evident in the way his jaw seemed to tighten and his expression grew vaguely reluctant.

"Ethan," he said, his voice almost apologetic. "Do tell us, have you experienced The Shift yet?"

Almost immediately all eyes were on me, their stares piercing into my back as I tried to suppress the urge to make too unsavory of a face at Mr.Balbury.

"No," I said simply, my stomach churning. As if being targeted by other students wasn't bad enough, now I had to deal with teachers indirectly serving me as sacrifice to their hungry maws.

He nodded as if I'd given him all the hidden secrets of the universe. "Exactly, having the blood of two species is result of this." He walked over, peering curiously at me. "Tell me, have you ever felt the urge to shift?" Did he mean the urge I got sometimes to wolf down (no pun intended) raw meat or the ungodly amount of pure adrenaline that raced through me during random moments throughout the full moon? Nope. No clue what he was talking about.

"No." The words came out exactly the same as before, quiet and uninterested.

With a raised eyebrow, Mr.Balbury poked a little bit more. "None? Nothing at all? Not even the urge to hunt?"

"Nope."

"Nothing?"

He was getting on my nerves, I could feel the tick of the muscles in my jaw as I clenched my teeth together, trying to suppress the urge to grind them together. "Nothing at all," I said as confirmation, considering he just couldn't seem to get that I wasn't going to give him a different answer.

"Oh course he wouldn't B-Dog! The mongrel doesn't have half the instincts that a real Wulf has, he's just a half-assed experiment that his parents didn't put down soon enough." And there it was, the insult I'd been waiting for since Mr.Balbury had singled me out. A chorus of laughter rang out around the room and I instinctually bared my teeth at the sound of the voice. Sometimes I wished I could just take a swing at one of these assholes just to get a taste of revenge. Instead, I just sat quietly, trying to hold back the growl that threatened to climb up my throat.

When I looked back to Mr.Balbury, his face was beet red and I could see that he was on the verge of snapping. It was the first time that I’d seen a full-blooded Wulf get mad about someone like me getting made fun of. Or maybe it was just that the authority in the room had been taken from him.

“Everyone,” he said, his voice like steel as he addressed the thoroughly amused room, “I will not say it again. I will not hear such words spoken in my class. Ever. If I do hear them, I will address you personally and I will ensure that you feel as bad as the ones you talk about in ill tone.” The chatter around the room seemed to come to an abrupt stop and the dark-haired man looked at me with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

I shrugged, the pencil scratched desk suddenly so much more interesting to me. “It’s not that big of a deal.” It really was but hell, what could I do? I was just a half-blood with an affinity for being made fun of.

_________              ______             _________

Do you ever find yourself in a state of mind where you feel as if you are just floating around inside of your own body?  That’s how I feel right now as I stand at the bathroom sink, water dripping steadily down my face as I stare at myself in the mirror. It was quiet around me, even the sound of students outside in the hallways had faded to the occasional patter of footsteps of people walking around, probably skipping class like I was.

The mirror in front of me reflected my own sorry reflection at me. If you just glanced at me from a distance you would think I was a Demon, the light grey of my skin enough to show that. Upon closer inspection though, you could tell I wasn’t just one thing. I had green eyes, the color one that closely resembled forest moss - a thing most Demon’s don’t have. The color was like a slap across the face when you compared them in contrast to my complexion. I brushed a strand of short and messy brown hair out of my face, flashing a forced smile at myself.

The teeth in my mouth were sharp and white, though they more or less resembled a normal human’s if you didn’t look too hard. A mixture between the sharp canines of a dog and the pointed molars of a Demon. To say the least, if I were to bite someone, it would hurt like hell.

The smile I put on drifted away and I shook my head, using my shirt to wipe away the streaks of half-dry water on my face. Sometimes I wondered if I wasn’t. . . me, if I would be happier with my whole life in general. Actually, I didn’t have to wonder. I knew I’d be happier.

It wasn’t like I particularly hated my life. I loved a lot of things in it; Mom, Murphy and Eva, even my Dad in some form, even if he wasn’t really even in my life. If I didn’t have my set of friends and family, I don’t think I’d want to live at all. Food too. Food was something loved a lot. The rain, the sun - definitely not the snow. Too cold.

Still though, it was inconvenient to be a half-blood and that would never change - no matter how many things I happened to love.

My thoughts were snapped away from myself by a low and guttural growl. At first - as I looked frantically around the bathroom, the hair on the back of my neck standing up - I thought I was imagining it. What really convinced me that I wasn’t was the sound of footsteps. Something was different about them though. They were heavy, like someone was struggling to stay upright as they moved. Briefly, I debated hiding in a bathroom stall. A wimp move but if whoever this was, was some drunk kid, I doubt anything would stop them from throwing a few punches at me and I didn’t favor attacking someone under the influence.

Before I could act on my mind’s suggestion though, the door to the bathroom swung open and in stumbled a face I really wished I didn’t have to see any more.

"Jesus Christ," I groaned to myself before I could stop myself. In front of me with his shoulder pressed firmly against the now closed bathroom door was Oliver. Just looking at him, all slouched against the door frame, his breath coming out in heaves made my face throb.

I went to say something - something vulgar and probably not meant for the ears of children - but stopped myself short, my eyebrows knitting in confusion. Why exactly did this dude look like he’d run a marathon and then some? I took a good look at him this time, ignoring the creeping headache that was threatening me.

He was pale, deathly so, and his iris' were practically black. His normally dark brown hair was slicked back with sweat, making it look black. Something about the way he stood was off too; his shoulder was resting against the bathroom door as if it was the only thing that kept him from collapsing on the nasty bathroom floor and beneath his muscular frame, his legs shook.

“Okay,” I began, taking a breath as I stepped forward slightly, stopping short when he flashed his sharp teeth at me, a snarl ripping through them. Immediately I backpedaled. I didn’t fancy losing an arm and I was confident that I couldn’t grow one back even if I wished with a cherry on top. Oddly enough though, the growl didn’t come from a place of aggression, it came from something deep within him, something akin to fear.

Something like regret flashed across his face as he took a shaky step towards me, his hand reaching out slowly. “Wait, I’m sorry.” Okay, so that was a first. I had to hold back a genuine look of startled surprise as I moved towards him. “Please help me,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice wavering slightly.

“What’s wrong? Do you have food poisoning or something? Drug withdraws? I don’t know what’s happening.” I really didn’t know what was wrong with him and the annoyed and offended look he shot me really didn’t help.

“I don't do drugs, idiot.”

I sighed and slung his arm over my shoulders carefully, “Unfortunate. Sadly though, that doesn’t answer my question.” He’s heavy and surprisingly so. While he was muscular, he wasn’t exactly built like a bus, maybe a truck, but not a bus. I think maybe the weight may have come from the fact he was hanging off of me like dead weight, his body barely supporting itself.

“I can walk on my own,” he protested, trying feebly to pull away from me. I simply rolled my eyes and tightened my grip on his waist.

“I don’t care what you can and can’t do. Now stop avoiding my damn question so I can help you.” He was silent after that. I could see in his face that he was debating on answering me but when I neither let him nor the subject go, he seemed to deflate.

He pressed closer, his legs wobbling underneath him. “I’m-” he paused and I heard him swallow thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing with uncertainty. “The Shift. I’m resisting it.”

And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.