Animage Academy: The Shifter School Down Under Year One Read online

  Animage Academy

  The Shifter School Down Under

  Qatarina & Ora Wanders

  Copyright © 2021 by Qatarina & Ora Wanders

  Wandering Words Media

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Anwuacha Dandy Samuel and Dorcia Beland

  Cover design by Ryn Katryn Digital Art

  Dedicated to all our Australian, African, Indian, Korean, Japanese, and European friends who helped us bring these characters to life.

  Authors’ Note

  As wanderers, we have traveled to a lot of places and met a lot of people. The people and locations in this story are indeed based on those we have met in our travels. All the characters come from different cultures, and we have drawn upon details based on extensive research as well as information learned and shared from their real-life counterparts. All this with permission, of course.

  Please know we have respect for all cultures, and if any character details come across as disrespectful, it is absolutely not intended.

  This story—even though it takes place in a fantasy setting—addresses many real-life issues like bullying, gaslighting, and bigotry. This is especially present in a teenager’s world. The goal here is to speak to these very real issues, but with a different fictional twist. Instead of the students being teased and hated on for their race, gender identity/sexual orientation, or upbringing, they are segregated by shifter species and status on the food chain.

  The cultural differences play a big part here as the students—predator and prey alike—experience all kinds of conflict before they can achieve unity.

  The elite rule classroom, but find out what really makes them elite…

  Qat & Ora

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  31. Epilogue

  Also by Qatarina & Ora Wanders

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Where the heck was her other shoe? They were both right beside her bed last night before she turned in, and now she was staring at one naked foot.

  “Mom, it’s not in the closet!”

  Ava could swear she heard her mother cuss. She wasn’t sure, but that sounded suspiciously like “Dammit!” Then her mother yelled back, “I meant the hallway closet!”

  “Oh,” Ava muttered and shuffled out of her room. Buster spotted her immediately and began to bark. Well, she couldn’t really call that barking—short little squeaks rather. He lunged his entire twelve pounds on her, nearly knocking Ava down on her butt because she couldn’t balance her weight evenly wearing only one shoe. Stupid little pug.

  “Hey, Boy…” she cooed, ruffling his tawny, fluffy ears.

  His little pink tongue snaked out, covering her face in saliva.

  “Ew, Buster, you’re so gross! Wait, did you steal my shoe again?”

  The dog appeared decidedly innocent, his chocolate brown eyes daring her to doubt his honesty. She plopped him down on the floor and moved on to the hallway closet. She could hear her mother clattering in the kitchen.

  Ava didn’t have the extra energy to search for anything that wasn’t already in the bag. Lying awake all night would do that to a person. For weeks, she’d prepared, alternating between excitement and utter debilitating terror. Then, two weeks ago, it arrived in the mail.

  Her mother, Lucy, who was just as excited, couldn’t wait as she tore the puffed-up envelope open. Leave it to the oldest shifter academy to use an old-style scroll, crossed with a red ribbon and sealed with a crested griffin head.

  “What does it say?” her mother had asked, peeking over her shoulder at the letter.

  Ava had taken her precious time unwrapping the scroll, biting off the seal with her teeth, drawing the ribbon loose…

  “Well?” her mother had prompted when she couldn’t take Ava’s silence anymore.

  “I got in,” Ava had whispered, disbelief pumping through her.

  “What? You did?” Then pride replaced the astonishment in Lucy’s voice. “Oh, my baby, of course you did!”

  Then Ava was swept into a hug that still hurt her ribs.

  She rifled through the closet, shifting piles of coats and hats. Yep, there it was, the other half of the only sensible pair of shoes she had: black high-top Converse. The rest were tottering heels her mother insisted were appropriate for a “classy woman.” She snickered—there was nothing remotely classy about her this morning, not unless she counted her bird-nest hair and the dried drool across her face.

  “Found it!” she yelled back. With Buster yipping at her feet, Ava made her way toward her bedroom. She checked the hallway mirror: no, that was no classy woman staring back at her. She rubbed at the dark circles beneath her eyes as though that would get them off, but she was pretty sure she merely made them darker.

  As she trudged the rest of the way to her room, she resisted the urge to sink down on the hardwood floors, cuddle Buster, and just cry.

  She knew she should be happy about today, and earlier she was. Ava had run around their small apartment, gathering the stuff she needed and even a bunch of other things that were absolutely useless. She’d thrown them with gusto into the open suitcase on her bed.

  “You’ve got to hurry! The portal only stays open for a short time, Sweetie.” Her mom peeped into her doorway. “Uh, did an earthquake hit your room?!” she shrieked, opening the door fully.

  “Mom! You’re supposed to knock!” Ava contested, miffed but unfazed by her unacceptable mess.

  “Ava? What have you been doing? Not packing, evidently.”

  Instead of answering, Ava let the waterfall of tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back pour out.

  Her mother froze in the doorway, obviously not expecting this. “Oh, Sweetie…”

  “Mom, I can’t seem to get anything right.” Ava sniffled between breaths. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to take or leave behind. I mean, what should I take to the best school on the planet? What if they hate me on sight? What if I don’t make any friends? What if I flunk all my classes? Why did they even accept my application, Mom, why? I could hardly be considered a real shifter! I’m definitely not like the others.”

  Lucy stared at her daughter, speechless. This had to be the first time Ava had doubted herself since she was born. Was this coming from her daughter, who didn’t shed a single tear on the first day of kindergarten? This was unfamiliar territory for her as a mother—how was she supposed to console a sniveling teenager?

  Carefully, Lucy stepped through the piles of clothes on the floor, and she plonked down on her daughter’s be
d, opened her arms, and Ava fell into them, shoulders quivering.

  “Mom, what if I mess this up? I don’t even think I’m really supposed to be there. What if it’s all a mistake?”

  “Hey, listen to me, Ava, you are the best, most talented shifter I know.”

  Ava wiped her nose and peered up at her mother through long lashes. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re my mother….”

  “What? No! Tell me, who has had straight A’s throughout high school?”

  “I did,” Ava muttered.

  “Okay, who won all the track championships?”

  A little smile peeked through. “I did.”

  “That’s right, and who’s phone won’t stop ringing and beeping?” Lucy rolled her eyes as she said it.

  “Mine…”

  “Exactly. I’ve never seen anyone who worked harder at being the best at everything. People are drawn to you like a magnet, and I can bet anything it will be the same at your new school. You’ll show them just how likable you are.”

  “But, Mom, this is different.”

  “It is not, they are shifters, too, with the same abilities—” Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Super cool abilities. Way cooler than mine.” Ava mumbled the last few words.

  Lucy’s brows creased worriedly. Ava knew that expression all too well.

  Uh oh. This was worse than Ava had thought, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t even more concerned now. Ava had always been reasonably confident and comfortable in her own skin, sure. More so than other girls she knew, but now, even her own mother looked worried about her and her abilities (or lack thereof).

  Before Ava’s thoughts could spiral further, Lucy interrupted them. “You are special, too, Sweetie. If you don’t know that, eventually, you will realize it. The school wouldn’t have accepted you otherwise.” Lucy pecked Ava lightly on her forehead and stood from the bed. “Okay, now that that’s all cleared up”—she ignored the death stare Ava tossed at her—“I can help you get ready. Seriously, we don’t have much time before the portal closes, and it won’t open for another month. So chop chop.”

  Ava raised an eyebrow. “Chop…chop?”

  “It means hurry up—common phrase.”

  “Yeah, about a million years ago.”

  Lucy shook her head, picking up an open box.

  Less than an hour later, the room was tidy, her suitcase packed, her cream carpet visible again, her bed made, and her closet emptied.

  “You still have time for a quick shower, and I’ll get your breakfast ready,” Lucy offered.

  “And I’ll get ready for social suicide,” Ava grumbled as she slinked over to the bathroom and slammed the door. Her mother could say whatever she wanted, but, at the end of the day, she—Ava—would be the one thrown to the wolves—literally.

  2

  “You’re special.” Ava mimicked her mom’s voice as she stepped out of her shower, picked up a dry towel, and wiped the steam off her mirror. Staring at her reflection, Ava groaned. She knew she wasn’t bad looking, but she was no beauty queen. She was skinny, pale, and awkward with her lanky limbs. Not many curves either. Not requiring much work, her cascading brown hair did its own thing, and curled under naturally at the tips. She wasn’t a fan of the drab dirt-brown color, though. Her eyes were deep turquoise—very feline. She caressed her cheekbones—they completed her heart-shaped face, down to her pouty, full lips.

  Sure, she could be much worse off, and she’d be blind not to notice all the times boys fell over themselves trying to get her attention. But she had no idea what they saw in her.

  “Ava? Are you dying in there?”

  Her mom was also a drama queen. That’s where Ava got it from.

  “Be right there.” She yanked her button-down Oxford shirt off the hanger on the back of her door and stuffed her arms into it as fast as she could, trying to cuff the sleeves up to her elbows as she simultaneously pulled on her jeans. It didn’t work. She tumbled over instead.

  “Gah!” she grunted out as she reassembled herself into a standing position, finished securing her jeans, and returned to cuffing her shirt sleeves as she made her way to her sneakers. It was too hot to be wearing a long-sleeve shirt, but Ava was used to it by now. She always kept her arms covered to hide her shifter mark.

  Every shifter develops a shifter mark on his or her upper right arm during adolescence: a solid black silhouette shape of whatever animal they shift into. All young shifters wait anxiously to find out what theirs will be. And Ava’s came as no surprise—a tabby cat, just like her mother. Lucy wore hers proudly, unashamed of what she was. But for Ava it was a different story. Especially because she was still only sixteen. Adult shifters could pass off their marks as tattoos. She couldn’t, so she had been hiding hers since it showed up three years earlier.

  She met her mother in the kitchen and scarfed down her breakfast of bacon and eggs at an impressive speed. She knew she needed all the energy she could get for the trip.

  Lucy called her an Uber, and when the driver arrived, he appeared appropriately confused when she told him the destination, especially considering the number of bags and all.

  “Are you sure you don’t mean the airport or train station?” he questioned.

  “No, take her to Sunny Isles,” Lucy insisted.

  “Sunny Isles beach?” the man repeated, obviously still unsure.

  Ava noticed the betraying vein ticking on her mother’s forehead and cut in before Lucy could open her mouth again. “Yes, please, help me with the bags.”

  The confused driver shook his head as they loaded the bags into the trunk. Once the trunk was jam-packed, Ava turned to Lucy and threw her arms around her. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Mom.”

  Lucy squeezed her back...for a little too long (the driver reminded them by clearing his throat). “Remember the instructions? You should be able to find your contact person easily, but if you get lost, call me, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom.” Ava choked, trying not to cry again. She wouldn’t see her mom again for almost a year. The academy didn’t even take holiday breaks. She dropped her hands and stepped into the waiting car, then turned to watch her mother wiping tears from her eyes. She watched until Lucy faded to a tiny heaving black dot.

  Ava rested her head against the window, letting the cool glass pane reduce the pounding in her head—crying always made her head hurt. This was about to be a complete makeover from her life in Miami. She was soon to be at the bottom of the food chain.

  “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at the beach this early in the morning?” The driver tried to make conversation. Nice enough guy—overweight with graying hair.

  Ava just rolled her eyes.

  “Not very talkative, are you?” he kept trying.

  Ava pressed her head against the pane again. A chatty Uber driver wasn’t what she needed right now. No, she wanted to go back home, to be with her mother, to plan for college, to… Okay, who was she kidding? This was her dream, her ambition, all she could think about for years! She’d written hundreds of practice applications, imagined acceptance letters, but she never really believed she would get in. She should be celebrating. What the heck was wrong with her?

  She rubbed the ache in her forehead—the pounding had increased. She bit down on her lower lip, hard, wiggled in her seat, removed her head from the pane, let her shoulders slump back. Her breathing was getting heavier. The heat was spreading down her neck to her chest. She put the back of her hand to her forehead—oh god, it could fry an egg.

  No, this couldn’t be happening right now. She was having a panic attack. And if she lost control, she was likely to shift. No, no, no….

  She wrapped her arms around herself, hugged her knees in close, blood pounding painfully in her head. Her extremities started to tingle…. NO!

  The car slowed to a crawl. Why was he stopping?

  She opened her throbbing eyes to slits. She had to blink in quick succession to clear her vision and force her e
yeballs to stay down. The vehicle was nose-to-bumper with another car—a Mercedes—they had hit the early morning traffic jam. Ugh. Her feet dragged upward, curled on the threadbare seat. A tail had started to sprout—she could feel it poking the inside of her jeans—and she could see fur sprouting on the backs of her hands.

  Focus, Ava, focus!

  A groan shot its way to her lips, but she tamped it down along with her quivering legs.

  The driver mistook her reaction for annoyance. “Don’t worry. It won’t take long; we’ll be on our way soon.”

  “Hmmm,” was all Ava could mutter, squeezing her compact frame into a ball.

  “Supposed to cut back now,” he prattled on, apparently not hearing her distress behind him. “They widened the road awhile back….” He peeked at her via the rearview mirror, and his eyes widened at her blanched face. “You okay there, Miss?”

  “I’m—I’m fi—ine.” Just growing fur and a tail. Nothing to see here.

  “Miss?”

  “I said I’m fine!” Ava snapped, then caught herself. “Sorry, I’m okay.” She forced herself to take a deep breath. Color flooded her entire face as she tried to gain control.

  Just breathe...you got this.

  She felt her pulse slow back down, and the tingling dissipated. She looked back down at her hands. No more fur. The car zoomed off into another lane, going faster. Her phone bumped off her lap onto the floor, dragging her attention back to the present.

  Thankfully, the driver hushed, and she was glad for the silence.