Sweet Venom

“As you can see from the list,” Mrs. Deckler says as she walks to the light switch, “we will be studying, in depth, the heroes, gods, and monsters of ancient Greece.”

I bite my lips again to keep from laughing. Between Gretchen’s training, the creatures I see on the street almost every day, and studying the binder contents as I digitize them, I think I’ll be the definite authority in the class when it comes to mythological monsters.

Not that I’ll be able to admit why.

“I think you’ll find that Aristotle was a nice introduction.” She gives the room a big grin before flipping out the lights. “But now we’re getting to the good stuff.”

As the PowerPoint begins, my mind kind of drifts. I think about the monsters I’ve seen and the training Gretchen and I have been working on. I wonder if any of the monsters I’ve studied, seen, and fought will be part of the unit.

“You will learn about hideous creatures.”

I look up as the slide changes.

“Like the Minotaur.”

There, on the screen, big as life, is an extremely accurate drawing of a minotaur. So exact, I can almost smell the rotten odor of—

I feel something slide against my upper lip. From the inside.

“Shoot,” I whisper.

But since my fangs just decided to make an appearance, it sounds more like Ssssoot.

I slap my hand over my mouth and jump out of my seat.

“Problem, Miss Whitfield?”

This isn’t the first time my fangs have dropped on their own. Ever since Gretchen first got my fangs to engage, they keep popping down at really awkward times. Like when Thane snuck up on me while I was brushing my teeth. Or when the Rottweiler down the hall escaped his leash and I barely slammed the apartment door shut in time. But this is the first time at school, and I never know how long they’re going to hang out.

I rush to the front of the classroom.

“Misssesss Deckler,” I say from behind my palm, “I need to—”

She takes in my horrified look and the hand over my mouth and draws her own conclusions. “Go,” she insists. “Don’t worry about a bathroom pass.”

Thank goodness. I nod and race out of class, heading for the girls’ room.

I’m almost there when someone calls my name. I spin around to see Ms. West hurrying toward me. My hand is still clamped over my mouth, so I just wave.

“Why are you outside of class?” she demands. “Do you have a pass?”

“No,” I say from behind my hand. I try to focus on using words that won’t lisp because of the fangs. “Girl twouble.”

Shoot.

“I understand.” Her eyes widen. “Don’t let me keep you.”

I nod and turn to dash into the bathroom. From outside, she calls out, “Please see a nurse if you are unwell.”

Gosh, I appreciate the concern. Doesn’t she have other students to bug?

Inside the bathroom, I check to make sure it’s empty before leaning on a sink to inspect my fangs in the mirror. The bluish glow of the lights above make them shine like pearls. Anyone walking in on me right now would think I’m some kind of vampire wannabe. A freak of a whole different kind.

I guess they do look like vampire fangs, extended canines that narrow down to a sharp—an extremely sharp—point.

“Come on,” I tell my reflection. “Retract already.”

Gretchen says it will take time for me to learn to fully control them. Now would be a really useful moment. I don’t really look like the vampy goth type, so it would be hard to explain why I’m wearing fake fangs.

As if they understand my plea, my fangs slowly slide back up into regular humanlike position. I watch as my canines return to normal. As I return to normal.

“Whew.”

I’m not sure what I would do if they stayed put. Hide in the bathroom all day? Mom would get a call when I missed class, and that would be even harder to explain.

Thankfully, I don’t have to face that today. I turn the faucet handle and am splashing a little cold water on my face when I hear the door swing open.

“Did you vomit?”

I turn toward the sound of the voice I am unfortunately learning to recognize. Miranda. Just what I need.

“No,” I reply calmly. “I didn’t vomit.”

Her eyes scan me from head to toe.

“You look like you did.” She makes a disgusted face. “Then again, you usually do.”

She starts for a stall. I know I should walk out, should leave it alone, be the bigger person and all that. But some desperate part of me can’t help asking, “Did I do something to offend you?”

She turns to face me. “You mean other than being alive?”

“Yeah,” I say, despite the warning bell in my stomach. “Other than that.”

She looks me over again, and I can feel myself squirming under the attention. When her blue eyes return to my face, she says, “Nope, that’s enough.”

She turns and heads into the stall, slamming the door shut behind her. I feel my fangs drop back into view.

“If only.”

I wonder what my venom would do to a human. With my luck it would only make Miranda more unbearable.

I head into the last stall, quickly shut and lock the door, and lift my feet off the floor. While I’m glad my fangs have decided that Miranda is a worthwhile threat—she could rival a minotaur any day—if I don’t get them under control soon, if I have to keep hiding in the bathroom to avoid anyone noticing, my grades are going to suffer. And I don’t think there’s a believable explanation on the planet that could convince my parents of why that’s happened.