Connor and the Wolves - 8. Lunch

“Glad to see you’re still around, Mr. Biscuits.”
Laughter drowned out the chime as Connor high-fived the chest-high werewolf model by the door. The model didn’t seem too impressed by his joke, with his — definitely his; Connor could see the proof between his legs — snarling maw and outstretched paw that could tear prey to bits. But Connor knew, somewhere deep down, the plastic werewolf had a sense of humour.
And he could slip out the door while everyone was still trying to figure out if they’d heard the chime or not. Front-of-the-line privileges, courtesy of a good laugh. Everybody won.
Even Mr. Biscuits.
Weaving through the crowded hallways, Connor made his way to the cafeteria. Students began lining up for lunch, and the room filled with a loud mutter. Even with his head start, it took Connor a few minutes to get through the line, stomach growling at the smell of beans and chicken.
Tray in hand, he turned toward his usual table. A wall of flesh met him, and Connor scrambled to catch his falling food. An instant later, he left his tray to grab the stumbling human he’d hit.
Hot food splattered over him.
“Shit!”
Connor winced. He pulled the man with him, splitting his focus between the searing heat of the beans and the human who was struggling to stand without the cane that had clattered to the ground.
“You okay?”
Scraggly red hair covered the man’s face. His neck was bent awkwardly — was he flinching?
“Hey, it’s okay. Didn’t mean to yell.”
Connor stooped over, cringing at the rapidly cooling beans sticking on his shirt. He set the cane back in the man’s hand.
“Devyn, right? You’re the aerafael in cross-country?”
Devyn kept staring at the spilt food, avoiding Connor’s gaze. A second tray lay with the first, only adding to the mess. All around, conversation lagged as people stared at the two.
“Come on,” Connor said, setting an arm around Devyn’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to a table. I’ll get you some more food.”
He nudged the werewolf toward his usual table, helping him sit down. Devyn’s hand touched the cool table, and it seemed to startle him out of his daze. Curling over the table, he let out a low whine.
“Oh, hey Devyn!” Brienne sat down beside the werewolf, a bright smile on her face. “I didn’t know you were joining us today.” She smirked at Connor. “Nice fashion statement.”
“Right? I think everyone will be wearing spilt beans in the future.” Connor grinned. “I didn’t realise you knew him.”
“Of course I know him.” Brienne snorted. “Devyn’s the goodest boy in school.”
She reached over to scratch Devyn’s head. The werewolf muttered something, pushing up into her hand.
“Well, he’s in safe hands, so I’m going to get our mess cleaned…” Connor glanced back at the spilt trays, where an elf was already mopping the floor. “... I’m going to get Devyn another tray, then clean myself off.”
Pushing away from the table, Connor headed back into the line, ignoring the people staring at his soiled shirt. Five minutes, an apologetic smile, and a copper coin were all it took to get another meal from the server, and Connor went back to the table.
The calico neko from the track tryouts was sitting in his seat when he returned, deep in conversation with Brienne and Devyn. Connor slid the tray in front of Devyn, nodding to Brienne.
“I need to get out of this shirt. I’ll see you at practice,” he said. “You too, Fluffbutt. You’re not running off from this one.”
“Excuse me?” the neko demanded, scowling at Connor.
“Only if you actually stay the full practice this time,” Connor smirked. “You looked like you were ready to make a break for it in gym.”
“Oh, don’t mind him, Dylan,” Brienne interrupted. “Connor likes to think he’s funny.”
“I’ll probably stay anyway. To give Devyn some moral support,” Dylan added. “But if Coach Alistair breaks out the weights again-”
“Nah, those are only Duyal and Feryal.”
“It is Feryal,” Dylan pointed out.
“Shit, you’re right.” Connor grinned. “I wouldn’t be too worried about it though. We do weights in the morning. At worst, practice will be vests or sledges.”
“Were you going to stay in that shirt all day?” Brienne asked.
“I might,” Connor shrugged. “Don’t I look good?”
“Just go get changed.”
He shook his head as he left the cafeteria.
“Some people just don’t have good taste.”

The locker door opened as Connor pulled his compression shirt on. He glanced up as a young human crept into the room.
“Hey there.”
The kid squeaked in alarm, staring wide-eyed at Connor. He backed toward the exit, and Connor shook his head.
“Werewolf? Don’t worry about it. I’m leaving already.”
He nudged his locker door shut before hurrying to the exit. Pausing at the door, Connor glanced back at the werewolf.
“Actually… the WolfRoom is room 312, right? I need some masker if I’m going to walk around in sweaty clothes.”
The werewolf nodded quickly, and Connor nodded back in thanks before slipping out of the room. He wasn’t going to be the reason the school expelled a werewolf… or worse. And a werewolf being caught with a non-wolf alone in the lockers would ensure expulsion.
Even if the werewolf in question was only twelve years old.
Connor took his time walking through the halls. Lunch wouldn’t be over for another forty minutes, and he had nowhere he needed to be until then. His stomach growled, but he ignored the rumbling. There was no way he could get a third lunch. The home ec room was an option, but he didn’t want to take any of that food. It was better for him to go hungry than for him to eat food that could help someone less fortunate. He could wait until dinner.
Pushing into the WolfRoom, Connor was greeted by a grey-haired man.
“Hello there. I’m Dr. Marin. Are you a new wolf?”
“No, not at all,” Connor said quickly. “I just need a masker. There was an accident in the cafeteria, and I’m stuck in my gym clothes for the rest of the day.”
“Ah, simple enough.” Dr. Marin smiled, vanishing into a closet. “Orange blossom, right?”
“...or cinnamon,” Connor replied, looking around the room.
Wolf beds sat beside beanbag chairs. The violet walls looked like they’d been freshly painted over the summer. A small table was set with a half-eaten sandwich and a tea kettle, and Connor’s stomach roared at the sight.
“Thought so.” The werewolf stepped out of the closet, handing Connor a small glass vial. “A drop on the armpits, crotch, and sock should leave your clothes smelling fresh.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time. If you’re hungry, I can have another sandwich ready to go when you get back.”
Connor frowned at him.
“I could hear your stomach from in the closet.” Dr. Marin laughed. “You’re welcome here any time, but this is a wolf-centric room. I won’t be offended if you ditch.”
“...yeah. I appreciate it,” Connor replied after a moment’s thought. “I gave my lunch to Devyn, and I doubt the server will give me a third lunch.”
“No allergies?”
“None.”
Connor shuffled his feet, edging toward the door.
“Get going,” Dr. Marin said, shooing him from the room. “Bring the masker back when you’re done and I’ll have your food ready to go.”
Connor left, hurrying toward a nearby bathroom. It didn’t take long to mask the smell of stale sweat, and he returned to the WolfRoom, handing Dr. Marin the vial.
“Here you are.” The werewolf smiled, handing him a ham sandwich. “One sandwich for one vial.”
“Thanks,” Connor smiled back. “I’m gonna eat this outside, though. I don’t want to cause any trouble with the wolves.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. As I said, you’re welcome anytime, even if it’s just to pick my brain. I might be here for the werewolves, but I’ll never turn away a student in need of help.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the sandwich.”
Connor stepped from the room, flattening against the wall as a black wolf skidded in front of the door. He let out a quiet snort as the werewolf scrabbled for purchase before barreling into the WolfRoom.
“Good job Blake, but you know you’re not supposed to shift outside of the gym-”
Wandering down the hall, Connor paused. The track beckoned him, but so did the library. He had some free time. And free time away from home meant a chance to craft some staves in Seekers of Aquilen.
Besides, it was the first day of school. He wasn’t going to have too much homework.

The library was nearly empty. Behind the checkout counter, the librarian was eating his own lunch. He watched Connor pass with a nod of acknowledgement.
A plug in the back corner of the room let Connor charge his laptop, and a pair of headphones kept everything quiet. Logging into the game, Connor turned down the volume so he could keep track of the outside world.
His half-neko mechanic appeared on screen, dressed in armour that did little to cover his bulky muscles. A robotic fox circled him — Sara, his drone companion, looked to be in good spirits. Connor tapped a few buttons, testing the internet connection, before heading off into the sterilized halls of the Aquilen Starport.
A message pinged as he reached the crafting stations, and Connor glanced at the chat box.
“Working hard, or hardly working?”
“Working hard as always,” he typed back, smirking. “Someone’s gotta make use of the blood we picked up from those boarders last Urdyal.”
“Make sure you pick up a few extra storm staves. We’re mining Zasar’s Gap.”
“Couple shots of electricity in that band will set everything on fire.”
“I trust our engineer to keep everything up to code.”
“I wish I had your faith in him.” Connor shook his head. Making their ship fireproof was a tall order on top of crafting. “I’m surprised you’re on right now.”
“Had a few minutes while taking my brother to lunch.”
“Eat double for me. One of your friends spilt my lunch.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have made their tail wag so hard.”
Connor let out a bark of laughter, burying his face in his arm to muffle the sound. Moving with his left hand, he began the crafting mini-game, diverting his attention from the conversation for a moment. Every item in the game was player-crafted, but most players didn’t bother with the crafting system, choosing to buy their gear off the market. Connor had maxed his crafting months ago, and beating the mini-game was easy. Within five minutes, he had a variety of staves to help his crew through the coming mission.
Glancing back at the chat, he realised SharpCat had logged off already. Connor sent the staves to her mailbox before heading to the guildhall, where their small fleet of ships was on display. It didn’t take long to add a fire-resistant enchantment to Firefox, the guild’s flagship. The other ships in the guild were privately owned — he’d have to get permission to update them. If he remembered.
The chime rang through the library as he finished the enchantment. Connor logged off, wrapping his cord up to fit in his bag. The weekend promised to be busy, but at least he had a decent head start.