Surviving Specter High: Werewolves 101

3 ~ I Did ... What?!

The gentle breeze coursing through the window brushed my senses. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find myself in what looked like a clinic. An elegant ceiling light with tulip-shaped glass shades illuminated the room. The baby-blue damask wallpaper really made the place look like a Victorian manor.

. . . Wait, this wasn't a dream? I quickly sat up and was nearly blinded by the sunshine pouring into the room. The birds of the morning chirped with more glee than ever—which was the complete opposite of my situation! Kylie was probably worried sick about me. By now, she had probably contacted my parents, Aunt Christie, and maybe even the police!

This was bad.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're awake!" a motherly voice cooed.

A little old lady with sagging cheeks and wrinkled wings was sitting at my bedside in a pink rococo chair. I couldn't believe it. It wasn't a dream. The nurse was dressed exactly like my fairy godmother.

"The boys must have taken quite a shock when they saw you!" she teeheed as she reached for a teapot. "I hope they weren't lewd in your presence. I know their mothers, you know. Care for a cup of tea? Or do you need something with a little more kick to it?"

I gasped in horror. "I'm underage!"

"Oh, I meant chili peppers, dear. What kind of lady do you think I am?"

Chili pepper tea? These people were crazy. Finally, I mustered up enough courage to ask, "Where am I?"

"The infirmary, dear. But don't worry, I kicked the dogs out first. Huehue! They all insisted on carrying you here together."

Dogs . . .? I could vaguely remember a boy on all fours who appeared to be playing "fetch."

"No, where am I?"

"Oh, you mean here?" She extended her arms theatrically. "Well, pardon me, I thought you knew. Welcome to Specter High, where all your dreams come true!"

Dreams come true? "But I didn't wish upon star!"

"Oh, that's a funny one! Huehue. I must tell it to my dear old husband. He's writing a book, you know, on human humor. It's quite hilarious."

I didn't think it was that funny myself . . . but I decided not to insult her. A headache started to form, so I clutched my forehead. "No—this has to be some kind of mistake. I was supposed to go to Frostlake High, but this cranky woman in a Vegas tank top picked me up in a gypsy bus."

"Oh, you mean Madame Sherrie?" she tweeted as she poured black tea into a pink cup. "She's actually quite a dear. She's helped my dear Reginald with his book many times. Her sense of humor is quite bawdy if I do say so myself. Huehue!"

. . . I didn't even want to know. Clearly, this lady was too air-headed to answer any of my questions. "Is there anyone else I can talk to? Like a headmaster?"

"Oh, dear. Where are my manners? Yes, Headmaster Lupus has been waiting eagerly to speak with you. The students should be in their dorms, so why don't I take you to see him myself?"

Lupus? What kind of name was that? Nevertheless, I reluctantly nodded and followed her out of the clinic. She led me down a corridor with walls of lavender damask and mahogany paneling. An exotic crimson runner carpeted the hardwood flood. This place looked like an all-girls finishing school from the 1800s.

"This is a school?" I muttered.

"Upon my word, I thought you knew. Or do you just make it a habit of getting on strange buses?"

Why was she avoiding the question? Hopefully, this Lupus guy would give me answers. At the end of the hallway was a burnished door that matched the rich shade of the half-paneled walls. The nurse opened the door for me, and I entered the office to find a walnut desk with intricate legs and elegant trim. A burly man with . . . brown dog ears and fur on his face was sitting in a kingly chair.