The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Nine

"Just pretty, huh?" Malcolm chose to go with her nonchalance and glanced down at his watch. "Hmm. I wanted to show you the stadium where we do the battle magic games, but it'll have to wait. I'm pretty sure the dean is steaming, wondering where we are."

Malcolm waved her toward the hallway, heading back to where they'd originally come from. A twinge of regret filled Naomi at the idea of leaving. She went anyway, knowing the entrance exam was unavoidable. Her stroll through academic possibilities was over as she returned to reality. Dismay and hope ran through her equally as she walked toward this next step, prepared to meet her fate.

***

A few more agonizing steps later, and they arrived at the dean's office. When Naomi entered, a new receptionist greeted her with a smile. She seemed nicer than Mrs. Tinkle and had a slightly better name too: Mrs. Rothman. With a tight, brown bun and bright smile, the petite woman had a cheerful glow.

"Prince Malcolm!" the woman exclaimed. "How may I help you?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Rothman. I've brought along a prospective student. She's here to meet with Dean Wellington about taking the entrance exam."

"Well, isn't that wonderful!" Mrs. Rothman gushed.

Yes. She was much nicer than Mrs. Tinkle.

"Um, I guess?" Naomi said, lacking the woman's enthusiasm.

"Please have a seat, Naomi. I'll let her know you're here, and I'm sure she'll be out in a moment," the receptionist added.

"This is where I'll have to leave you. I've missed half the school day as it is," Malcolm said.

Naomi hummed understandingly, but it didn't matter. He was the prince. He could skip class whenever he liked.

"Thank you for bringing me here. I appreciate it." Naomi settled for civility since Malcolm had taken the time to ease her worry. They wouldn't become friends any time soon, but politeness was possible.

"You're welcome, and...good luck," Malcolm said as he walked to the door. With one last wave, he was gone. Figgis and Sam quickly followed him.

Naomi suddenly felt cold. Their tour had kept everything light. Now she would soon have to take on this dreaded exam and the dean of the entire school.

Naomi's mind raced as she sunk into the nearest chair. While Naomi had promised she wouldn't let her new challenges faze her, her leg began to shake. Her anxiety was reaching a high when suddenly the dean's door swung open.

The woman waltzed in like a model, her impressive high heels striking the floor in a quick sashay. She looked the part too. With a dark brown complexion, glimmering amber eyes, and thick, wavy hair any woman would envy, the dean didn't look like the quintessential headmistress. Instead, she was middle-aged and drop-dead gorgeous. The only thing that suggested a life in academia were her stereotypical square glasses.

"Naomi Cliffton?" she asked.

Her eyes swept the room until they settled on Naomi. The woman confidently strode toward her. When she stopped in front of Naomi, she looked at her pointedly. Naomi realized the woman expected her to rise from her chair to greet her. She rushed to stand up.

"Y-yes, that's me." Naomi held out her hand for the dean to shake.

She didn't.

"I'm Dean Wellington. Nice to meet you," she said, although her cold tone displayed an opposite sentiment. "Please step into my office."

Dean Wellington didn't wait for Naomi's response. She stormed back toward her office, expecting her to follow. Naomi moved as swiftly as her legs could carry her. The moment she stepped through, the dean waved a hand. The door to her office slammed shut, the loud thud sounding like a guillotine.