Ever since I can remember Ive been dirt poor. My parents could barely afford to

Ever since I can remember Ive been dirt poor. My parents could barely afford to buy me new clothes every new school year, and we only shopped at the goodwill.
I was relentlessly teased for it at school. No one wanted to be friends with the girl that wore the same clothes all the time, the girl who had holes in her tennis shoes.
It only got worse after Katrina hit. That awful hurricane quite literally rocked my entire world, in more ways than one.
My bike shakes underneath me as I run over a rock, I straighten out the handle bars and huff a ragged sigh. Of course this is just my luck
Pay attention, Hendrix. Get it together.
After hours of grueling school today, I really do not feel like working until 2am. But guess what? Lifes not fair.
My life has been full of ups and downs, and I cant help but feel like college is somehow a turning point for me. It has to be! This is my fresh start.
I never really thought I would leave home for school. I was born and raised in Mississippi, its my home, and my Mamas sick. Like, really sick. Its awful. Shes been sick ever since my Daddy left us behind, I knew I would always be there to watch out for her.
Things changed when she insisted I come out here with my friends. She told me I need to experience life and that cant live without Stacey and Miranda, and I knew she was right.
It was a hard thing to do, leaving her behind, but its her wish for me. I cant deny Mama that, especially since she doesnt have long left.
Ever since I arrived here Ive felt a keen sense of change. Virginia is drastically different from Mississippi, but I dont think culture shock is to blame.
I havent tried to explain it to anyone, but the constant feeling in my gut is pretty terrifying. It is as if every muscle, every nerve ending, every little atom is waiting on pins and needles for something to happen.
I can only compare it to being underwater for too long. Its like that tenseness of your body as it waits impatiently for the return to the surface, desperate to breathe again.
Its nothing if not unsettling.
So, here I am, heading to my job as every part of me feels uneasy. I feel like my whole being is just trying to tell me that something big and exciting is just around the corner.
I am very suspicious of this sensation. How can something exciting happen when Im living paycheck to paycheck with anxiety that my new life will come crashing down around me at any second? Money is everything to me now. Its all that I really think about now.
My bike rocks back and forth while I ride it past the busiest road in town. The traffic whizzing past doesnt bother me as long as I have tunes blowing full blast in my ears.
Music has always been my vice. Who needs drugs and alcohol when you can listen to Robert Plants voice everyday?
When I roll up to the diner, its not exactly packed but there are plenty of people in there. I narrow my eyes through the windows and then squeeze them shut. Time to get to work.
Im not looking forward to it just because I cant listen to music on the job, the only real downside to my work. But, I can always save the music for later.
I park my bike round back, not worried about it being out in the open. This town has a very low crime rate, and no one comes back here anyhow.
As I walk in through the back door, Ronnies humming fills my ears and I cant help but smile despite my semi-sour mood while I take off my headphones. Ronnie is the cook here at The Pink Chicken.
I know, weird name for a restaurant, customers remind me daily of that fact. I happen to like it. Its spunky, different.
Hendrix! Youre early, like usual. Ronnie sings, his full lips pulling up into a smile. Hes a big man, not so much as in tall big, but more in a wide sense. The guy walks over to pull me into a hug. I try backing away, but its no use. Ronnies a hugger.
He smells like cheeseburgers and cigarette ash.
When he pulls away he winks down at me.
I made you your favorite. He reaches to the counter and lifts a milkshake with a long red straw poking out of the mountain of whipped cream. I lick my lips and grab it from his dark hand.
Butterfinger milkshake. Ill never know how anyone can eat such a thing. Guess its not my business. He mutters, going back to flipping burgers on the grill.
I smirk at him before giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Thank you, Ronnie! I call as I make my way to grab my apron and notebook. Im a good ol fashion waitress here. The pay is alright, a bit more than minimum wage. Its hard to find a job in a small college town, so Im lucky to have found it.
I drink my shake quick, but end up with a brain freeze. I try to shake it off while I tie my apron on and head out into the seating area. Theres nothing but colorful booths around the place. The flashing, blinking decor a sign of your typical 1950s diner.
Its not such a bad atmosphere to spend my time in.
You got one at table 14 and a couple at 6. Nancy tells me, her eyes darting to me and then the tables. She stands at the hostess counter with a few bottles of nail polish out. She blows on her wet, bright red fingernails that shimmer in the neon light.
Thank you, Nanc. I say, picking up a pen and clicking it a few times in my hand.
Good luck with table 14. Shes a class A b-h. She informs me in a hushed voice as she leans towards me, like its some kind of detrimental secret.
I give her a measured nod as I grab a few menus and napkin wrapped silverware.
Thanks for the heads up. I say, trying to smile. Nancy isnt a great judge of character, shes often judgmental, but shes nice to me, at least to my face. Ill try and watch out.
Seriously. Shes got evil in her eyes, honest! She raises two overplucked eyebrows before casting her gaze to the booth in question.
I look where she motions at the woman who looks to be in her late 20s or early 30s. Shes absolutely beautiful, but in a very natural, refreshing way as if she doesnt even have to try. Her long, shiny black hair is like a curtain around her athletic figure. I gulp when her eyes cut around the room with a vengeance.
Gulping, and shoving on my best smile, I head over to her table with a small spring in my step. Maybe a friendly approach will do the trick. Even the grumpiest of customers can leave happy when Im their waitress.
Hi, there. My name is Hendrix, and Ill be waiting on you today. What would you like to drink? I ask, waiting expectantly, but all she does is stare at me.
Her black eyebrows stand out against her beautiful dark skin and light eyes. If I had to guess, Id say shes Native American. Shes gorgeous, but shed be much prettier if her features werent twisted into a sneer.
The womans nostrils flare, her eyes widening at me in shock. She continues to move her nose. Is she... is she sniffing me? I try not to feel self-conscious. I hope I dont smell like a cheeseburger after hugging Ronnie earlier.
Maybe I should tell her its not BO. Would that be weird? Yeah, probably.
After a few awkward moments of eye contact, the woman looks me up and down with a strange expression between awe and disbelief.
Wow, I must really stink.
We carry Coke products. I mumble, and I sound like a complete id-ot. Why do I even open my mouth, I swear!
Hendrix? She asks, and I nod at the question, hoping she doesnt push any more because I cant stand talking about my stupid name.
Like Jimmi Hendrix? She wonders, dark eyebrows pushing together. And there it is, the question Im asked everyday. Just great.
Yes. Im named after him. I dont explain further, because that would mean talking about my Daddy, and that is not happening. Its hard enough to remember him every single time I hear my name, but to have people ask about it makes it worse.
The lady wont stop staring at me, all narrowed eyelashes and tough jaw. I dont know why she feels so important to me, its a strange feeling that I cant quite shake. She folds her lean, muscled arms over her chest with a thoughtful glare of sorts.
Water will be sufficient, you can leave now. I startle at her icy tone and words, a pang of unease riddling my chest. Huh, thats weird.
I walk away smoothly. Its clear to see why Nancy thought the woman was mean. She clearly isnt very nice, but I have no idea why its affected me so much. I feel so... angry. Im never angry. Ever. Even when we do get the occasional snotty customer. Ive been called every name in the book, gotten nasty glares, and Ive been felt up on numerous occasions, and I just get over it quickly. I dont get mad, its just not me.
So why am I so angry at that girl? It makes no sense. Maybe Im PMsing. Or maybe its because she asked about my name.
See. I told you. Just look at her. You look up b-h in the dictionary, and youll get a picture of her. Nancy whispers to me.
The lady in question flicks her poisonous stare up at us like she somehow heard us, which I know is impossible. Were way too far away for her to eavesdrop.
I try to regain my sense of peace before moving to my next table, but Im too focused on the nasty pit in my stomach to smile while I continue to do my job.

I rumble up to the school with something akin to anger. Or maybe its anxiety, Im not quite sure. I havent felt anxiety in years. Who knows how long its been since the ridiculous emotion has riddled me.
Staring up at the historical building in front of me, I cringe. I am nervous after all. This isnt what I expected. Im not afraid of anything, most certainly not a bunch of college aged human students.
Maybe Im afraid that Ill kill someone if they get on my nerves. It is possible.
I park my bike, slipping off the motorcycle with a glare. I dont want to go in there. I dont want to have a meeting with the schools President. Shoving my keys in my pocket, I know I have no other choice.
This is necessary, this is the whole reason I came out here in the first place. I wont let some meeting with some infuriating little human stand in my way. Ive already met him, spoke with him, but today is my first day on the job, and they need to make sure everything is in tip top shape. At least, thats what the email said.
Pathetic humans.
Large letters spell out Administrations above the double doors. I roll my shoulders while I enter the building, still not accustomed to the way the button up shirt clings to my chest like a skin. Savannah picked them out and bought them on my dime, she insisted thats how theyre supposed to fit, but I dont believe her. I know better.
No male should be confined to skin tight clothing.
When I walk to the front desk, I quietly observe the woman behind the desk. Shes middle aged with fine lines decorating her face. Her pink sweater has kittens on it. Wire rimmed glasses hang off the edge of her hooked nose while she concentrates on a crossword puzzle in her lap, completely oblivious to my arrival.
Does the gazelle ever notice the lion poised to strike?
Once I get to the counter, I clear my throat.
The female glances up casually, then does a double take when she spots me. Her eyes widen and her pink painted mouth parts. The scent of her fear wrinkles my nose, but I try to mask the distaste quickly.
I cant draw any more attention.
I have an 8 oclock with Dr.Irwin. I explain, tight lipped as the human continues to stare at me like Im some kind of museum attraction.
Her cheap perfume wafts around me along with her fear and arousal. Im not unobservant or naive, a lot of women scent of arousal when they see me, but there is always that hint of fear engulfing it. I always smell fear when Im around another living soul.
Everyone is scared of me.
The woman pushes her chest in the air, her brea sts straining against her sweater in an obvious plea to draw my eyes there. It works, but not in the way she wants it to.
I look at her with disgust. Pathetic humans.
Of course. She sputters, suddenly flustered. I glance down as she fumbles with the computer. The receptionist spends some time clicking away on the device, her long nails making small noises on the keyboard. She suddenly faces me with a shy smile.
Just go right in, honey. Second door to the right. Hell be waiting. She says, leaning forward to show some cleavage.
I dont spare any time waiting around. I need to get away from the overbearing woman before I go completely insane. It was hard enough not showing her how offsetting her manners really were. Thats a sight I wont soon forget, unfortunately. I shiver in revulsion.
When I get to the door, I dont spare a knock, I just walk right in. I have to mentally scold myself for that minor slip up.
Im too used to the world Ive been living in. Humans dont know my status or power, they cant sense those things. They dont have instincts like the supernatural. Theyre too weak, too mundane.
The President is sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, lazily laid back in his leather swivel chair with enough arrogance to make me roll my eyes. Another human sits across from him, she has a cigarette hanging from between her fingers as she laughs at something he must have said before I entered the small room.
They both turn to look at me standing in the doorway. The Presidents mouth opens, his jaw lowering while he looks me up and down. Weve already met mind you, but humans can never seem to contain their reactions when they see me. Its clear across their faces.
The same goes for the human woman. She adjusts her blonde hair and wipes at her cheeks, clearly trying to look her best as her scent of fear tinges with a heavy dose of excitement.
Excitement of all things.
Professor Riley, nice of you to join us. Irwin says, gulping as his dark eyes flicker around. The male is too scared to make eye contact with me. I try not to show how smug that makes me.
I also forgot that Im to be under the cover name of Riley. Any werewolf or lycan would hear the name Veiler and run for the hills. All of this would be pointless if that happened. Im trying to keep a low profile, which is exactly why I cant scratch the eyes out of the female looking at me like Im a piece of candy.
Pathetic humans.
Well, you did ask me to come here. What is so important? I ask darkly, narrowing my eyes on the male who is practically shaking behind the desk. He straightens his tie as if it might bring him some sort of relief, maybe ground him a bit, but it doesnt help.
Hes useless this way.
Yes, yes of course. I just wanted to make sure that you have everything prepared for your first class and that you are settling in well? He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration like each word is a chore to get past his lips.
I hold back the feeling of annoyance. Im out of practice with this, Im not used to being around humans. I havent had a full conversation with one in years.
Yes. I reply simply. Irwins eyes widen, and he clears his throat.
You went over Professor Martins syllabus? He pushes. Oh yes, the Professor that I am filling in for.
No. Shrugging my shoulders, I observe the President with a bored look. This is taking up my time, and he should know it. Instead he has the nerve to protest some more like whatever he has to say actually holds some importance.
But, hes been teaching history here for years. Hes perfected his syllabus, I expect you to teach whats on it. He insists, and I refrain from growling him into submission. I must be glaring since he suddenly looks as if hell piss himself.
Pompous human.
I went over this syllabus you worship, and it wasnt to my liking. If its my class, I will teach what I consider important for the children to learn about this worlds history. Believe me, I know a lot more about it than Professor Martin. I spit, and the male flinches. The other human just watches idly on the sidelines.
But, Professor Martin is nearly 40 years your senior.. its just preposterous to stay that yo...
If Professor Martin wanted to teach his syllabus so bad, then he would be here to teach it, wouldnt he? I ask him, knowing full well that the professor is out because he had to get a knee replacement. Unfortunately they hadnt found a temporary replacement for him for the whole semester, until me.
Its late September. They lasted a few months before the Guard sent me, getting by with a makeshift substitute every now and again.
The humans dont know about my real mission here. Im treading on delicate territory around them as it is, I cant have any slip ups. I just cant help hating the way humans question me sometimes. It is very aggravating. I have become too used to people doing what I wish without any questions.
My Alpha tone would work on a human, more than any werewolf or lycan, but they would not understand it and Im not here to arouse suspicion.
But the students, they have been learning the curriculum since forever! Theyre studying for midterms. You cant just come in here and change the syllabus. President Irwin demands, and I clench my jaw, tilting my head to the side.
When he spots the expression on my face, he leans so far back into his chair, shrinking down into it like it could swallow him up. If only it would. That would save me an immense amount of trouble.
It seems I have to explain everything to this pea brained human.
I assume that your students are smart?
He just stares at me with wide eyes, giving a slight nod to indicate that assumption is correct. His skinny shoulders shaking a bit under his suit coat. Im sure by human standards they are intelligent by some degree.
Then they can learn from my curriculum. Its not impossible, President, I assure you. This argument is over. I use my Alpha tone on the last part to ensure that the conversation is finished. Im too tired to continue playing games with the mortal. Besides, I have a class to get to.
I try to leave, but I find my path suddenly blocked by the female. She gazes up at me with half lidded eyes as if she just woke up. I can tell she does this on purpose, trying to look appealing, and it is anything but.
Im Professor Henderson, but you can call me Shailene. She says breathlessly. Her fear smell cancelling out any arousal. The scent of fear has a way of doing that, no matter how much of it there is, it always seems to erase everything else with its pungent stench.
The human professor is tall for a human, wearing bright red high heels. She bats her eyelashes up at me and grins.
Let me know if theres any way I can help you get a little more comfortable here. Id love to be of service. Shailene murmurs.
The invitation is clear in her voice, and I dont want what shes offering. The thought alone makes me want to gag. Im no saint, unfortunately. Unlike every other lycan on the planet, I didnt wait for my mate. I broke after a few hundred years and went crazy with overindulgence, and then regretted it later. I was sure after that my mate would hate me when she met me.
Then another few hundreds of years passed me by, and now I know that finding her isnt likely. In fact, I dont think Ill ever come across my mate. I dont know if she died long ago, or if she just hasnt ever existed. Theres no way of knowing. Even if I dont get to have a mate, I wont stoop that low again. Especially with a human of all things.
So when this one tries to make an offer I cringe, taking a step back as I open the door behind me. I need to get out of the crowded office before I snap. I hear the door slam, watch my feet eat up the sidewalk as I rush outside, and yet I dont slow down, not even once.
This is a trial I need to take one step at a time, and if I make a mistake now Ill never forgive myself for letting Wheeler down.

Were all locked up here. Says Nancy. Shes smacking on a wad of gum the size of my fist, made of numerous pieces of gum. The many flavors and brands chewed together in a big ole ball.
I try not to let her show how grossed out I really am by her smacking and slurping on the bubblegum. I dont want to hurt her feelings.
Alright. Have a good night! I tell her, waving over my shoulder while I tear off my white apron in a hurry, ready to be gone. Its 2AM and Im more tired than a dead woman, and Ill be sleeping like a baby tonight.
I have literature history in the morning at 830, so I have to be up and dressed as soon as I can. Its a fun class, lots of interesting things to learn in that field. Unfortunately, Ive never met my actual professor since hes been gone the whole semester.
Im always sort of amused at seeing each new substitute that files in through the door. All different shapes and sizes of people from different backgrounds there to teach us about the same thing.
Its a fun guessing game to see who will be next.
I sometimes hope in the back of my mind that our real professor will get better soon. Ive heard many things about him, one of them being that hes absolutely ancient. Like a walking mummy. Who better to teach a subject about history, right?
When I reach my bike, theres a bit of a nip in the air that wasnt there before. I shiver, pulling my small jacket around my shoulders and cursing myself for not dressing better for the weather. Im wearing a dress of all things today, as I do most days, but today I went without leggings.
My typical uniform is a skirt or a dress, growing up in the hot, humid summers of Mississippi Im just used to veering towards lighter, flowy clothes that dont cling to me. Clothes like that are the closet thing to being in your own personal oven.
Ive heard it gets hot here in Virginia, it is still part of the South after all, but nowhere near as hot as what Im used to. Thats not even mentioning the cold they have here.
Oh, how I despise the cold. I cant imagine the snow! Ive never even seen the fluffy white substance.
My body is not accustomed to the weather quite yet, and I have yet to accept it eventually. Even if it is only 65 Fahrenheit, which is apparently not that cold, I do get chilly. Im the only one it would seem. Everyone else around here struts around this campus like the arctic weather has no effect on them whatsoever. Ive seen so many girls in shorts and t-shirts while Ive been bundled up.
Today was supposed to be warmer, but not now. Its 2am and the chill has returned with an awful vengeance. I just cant wait to get home and shove on some cozy pajamas and snuggle into bed like all my worries are gone. If only. College life is not forgiving. I cant think about my monstrous pile of homework without wanting to groan and shed a few tears.
I clamber onto my bike ungracefully, my legs on either side of the seat. Rubbing at my eyes, I try to put my headphones in and pick from my substantial music library. I end up choosing some James Taylor. I crank the song to full volume, closing my eyes as the night breeze ruffles through my long hair that is still pulled up into a ponytail.
Nodding my head along to the music, Im startled when I have the sinking feeling that someone is watching me. I shudder. I despise that sensation. My whole body freezes where I stand, my eyes slowly pry themselves open to glance around in a worried frenzy. My gaze is drawn to a large cluster of dark, leafy bushes parked along the side of the building beside the dumpsters. I squint, not quite able to see with the lack of the sun and all.
Reminding myself of the fantastically low crime rate in the area, I try to reevaluate the situation with some reality. Im being paranoid. As much as my racing heart is afraid, I know its not likely to be a serial killer or a rapist. Its probably some gutter rat, or maybe a stray cat or dog wandering the streets looking for scraps.
The bushes rustle, and even though I cant hear the branches scratching against each other over the music blaring in my ears, I can see the unsettling movement of the plants. Something is in there. I pause a little longer, staring and staring until the rustling stops abruptly.
My breath rushes out of my lungs in a whoosh. My chest burns, I didnt realize Id been holding my breath.
One thing comes to mind. The group of kids at the cafe that gossiped about that old man on the news who spoke about seeing wolves in the woods. Obviously thats impossible. Virginia? Wolves? Unheard of.
But somehow, a creeping hand of cold dread tickles up my shoulders and into my heart. An image flashes in my brain of snapping jaws and drooling teeth that look like daggers. The picture should be terrifying, absolutely shocking, but thats not my reaction to it at all. It... intrigues me.
Pushing the bizarre emotions away, I start pedaling away from the scene without looking back.
When I open the door to our apartment, Im literally pounced on like a mouse, making Stacey the hypothetical house cat. Her hands pin me to the wall roughly. I gasp.
You scared us! How dare you take so long to get home? What the hel happened? She demands, and shes a sight for sore eyes after a long day, and an even more strenuous night working late hours. Stacey is easier on the eyes now that her daily artwork of makeup is wiped clean, that means theres no glitter to burn my corneas. What a relief.
What do you mean? I get home this late every night. Which isnt exactly true. After the incident at the diner, I drove home carefully. My vigilance was turned up high as I observed my surroundings with a new eye.
I shrug my shoulders, letting my stuff fall to the floor in a heap. I have a playful smile hanging on my lips. All the tension from the day is slowly leaking away, and I cant be happy about it. I need some relaxation.
Even through my happy haze, I can see that Stacey is not amused in the slightest. Thats not a good sign. Her eyebrows are pinched, face scrunched in dismay.
Did I really scare her that bad?
Stace, I... My sentence is interrupted when Miranda flies out of her room, when she spots me in the living room she runs to me with open arms. Her face is stricken pale.
I cant get a word out before shes squeezing the life out of me. My face is pushed to her chest, and since shes so much taller than I am, I try not to think about where exactly my face is located. Even when I try and wriggle out of her hold, she holds tight as if she doesnt even notice my struggle.
Youre alright, its okay. She murmurs, and I sigh. Man, I really had them worried about me. I didnt think being a few minutes late would be a big deal. That stupid shrubbery would pay for its distraction once I get to work tomorrow. Ill kick the fool out of that stupid plant!
When Miranda pulls away, I look up at her guiltily.
That bad, huh? I ask, scratching the top of my head. All she does is glare, tapping her foot like an angry parent. I half expect her to pull the whole Im not mad, Im just disappointed spiel like the parent she pretends to be.
Stacey jumps in.
Yes, it was that bad. You gave us a heart attack, Hen! Miranda almost called the police. She insists, her arms folded over her chest as she ridicules me. I have the nerve to blush. I cant imagine how embarrassing that would be. I picture flashing red and blue lights as they catch me riding my busted up bike and I cringe.
Its definitely good that we avoided that mishap.
Sorry. I murmur. Miranda nods, but shes still quiet as she watches me with glazed over, blue eyes. I can see the remininents of fear lingering there and my guilt swells.
I shouldve known better. Miranda is very over protective of me and Stacey, but more me in particular for some reason. I dont know if its because Im short and weak, or because I wouldnt hurt a fly. I would be worried about me too, I guess.
You delicate little human. Anything could happen to you. Stacey grumbles, pulling me in for a hug as well. I smile at the endearment. Stacey says weird things. Im not unfamiliar with the way she refers to me as their little human. Its kind of a pet name, if not a weird one. Of course its obvious that Im human, we all are. Thats just Stacey being Stacey I guess.
Lets watch a movie. A good Disney movie will fix just about anything, I tell you! Stacey proposes triumphantly, arms in the air. The grin on her face is enough to make me relax, the guilt simmering away with each passing second.
I voice my agreement, but Miranda just nods.
It seems shes not recovered yet. I cant help being perplexed at her state. She mustve been worried sick, and it hasnt completely faded away. Her long torso is stiff, her spine straight as a board.
While Stacey fumbles through her collection of Disney movies, I my elbow with Mirandas. Her long, slim arm is strong but somehow restrained and taught. I swallow my guilt and smile at her pleadingly, leading her to our plush couch to sit down.
We plop onto the cushions in a pile.
I try to coax a smile onto her own lips by tickling her, and it works momentarily, but the fleeting sign of happiness is gone in seconds. Her stoic mood wont last long because of course Stacey chooses Mulan. We all love it, its just that its her favorite movie of all time.
This again? We watched this less than two weeks ago! I insist, groaning in pretend anguish. My teasing mood is my way of trying to get Miranda to lighten up. It doesnt work.
Stacey turns to send me a death glare, her short, black hair whipping to the side.
Youre just jealous because youre white. I, however, can relate to the Chinese culture of my ancestors. She says in a fake posh voice, and then we just laugh. Its true, Stacey has strong ties to China. Her whole family is Chinese, despite Miranda being her cousin somehow. I dont know how theyre related at all.
They dont have any Disney princesses fresh out of a trailer park, and I cant blame them. I throw back, and Stacey shakes her head while I just chuckle. They dont like me putting myself down, especially when it has to do with how poor I am, or my rough upbringing.
As the movie starts up, I turn to Miranda and snuggle into her. I dont know why, but I always feel like I need to please her, make her approve of me in some way. Its almost like shes the head of our makeshift household, and it just feels natural to me. I hate when shes upset. It makes me uncomfortable and insecure. I cant explain it.
Even though I still hold some guilt for her sour mood, a part of me is happy that they missed me that much, that they were so incredibly worried when I didnt get home on time.
Its just nice to be reminded how sweet my friends are, and how much they truly care about me.
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