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“So, Chesterfield Prep is actually an incredibly difficult school to get into,” Draven explains. “There are tests, an application, and then a wait list. People wait years to be able to get in if they aren’t lucky enough to begin at kindergarten.”

“We all met pretty early on, though I met the guys at a summer hockey camp before realizing we’d be going to seventh grade together,” Ciaran adds. “That’s when Draven and I started here. You just kind of appeared.”

I had no idea of any of that. I was simply told I’d be attending Chesterfield Prep. I gaze back at Ciaran dispassionately, refusing to allow him to make me feel guilty for something I didn’t have a choice in.

“The staff have a different process than everyone else for their children,” Principal Keer says, shrugging. “Nonetheless, there are only two options for you, as everyone else has found their place.”

All I hear from their words is that I'm an outsider. However, it’s not the insult they imagine it to be. I’m pretty used to it.

“And they are?” I ask.

“The boys actually came up with the second option, and I think it’s very generous of them,” he continues.

I simply stare at him, waiting. I want to push Alastair away, especially as he begins to play with the hair escaping from my updo at the nape of my neck.

“The first option is to run track and field on the girl’s team,” Draven says. “However, I believe you told me you’re allergic to the heat, and it’ll continue to be warm at certain times of the day.”

I didn’t tell him shit, and I also think it’s an invasion of my privacy that they’re poking into my medical files. How the fuck did they manage that?

Still, I merely keep my arms loose at my sides, refusing to see how much the first option scares me. I hate running, but I also dislike the idea of being vulnerable around any of the students here. Passing out on the track would definitely leave me defenseless.

“Noor gets winded while climbing the stairs,” Ciaran muses. “I don’t think running regularly would help that wheeze she gets.”

“Do you need an inhaler?” the principal asks innocently. He knows perfectly well I’m not asthmatic. Dick.

“No, that’s not necessary, thank you. My breathing issues are from dysautonomia. Running track and field isn’t a possibility for me,” I say. “It’s why I’m exempt from physical education classes.”

“I heard you’ll be doing your own form of exercise at home,” he says sarcastically.

Yep, as soon as I learn how to swim better. And have a chance to get into the pool. I simply need the world to slow down for a second.

“Is there another option?” I ask politely. At this rate, I won’t have a chance to go see Rachelle, which means I’ll be uncomfortable the rest of the day.

I would hole up in my room and sulk when I get home, but I have adorable toddlers I want to play with. Even if I pass out on the floor to nap, it’s the thought that counts, right?

“There is actually,” Alastair drawls with an evil smirk.

I have a feeling I’m really not going to like this.

“Since we have so many different games happening, often on the same night as other sports, the boys have suggested a compromise,” Principal Kerr says.

He sounds very proud, and I’m glad I don’t have any food in my stomach currently. Instead, I swallow hard around the nausea I feel at his sugary sweet words.

“The school should have several mascots dressed as The Devil,” Draven explains. “We are some of the most senior members of the hockey team, with Alastair as our captain.”

“You should try to remember that and brush up on your knowledge of hockey, because we think you should be our mascot,” Ciaran practically crows.

“No.” I don’t realize that I’ve whispered the word until their smiles become predatory.

“No one will be able to get you out of this,” Principal Kerr says. “It’s either this or joining the track team. The captain of that team is…”

“A lady ball buster,” Draven chuckles. “Kate is intense.”

Fuck. I wonder if it’s the same girl that I blew off earlier. It would be just my luck. Shit, shit, shit!

“What if I can’t skate?” I rasp, swallowing hard. My previous ice skating experience isn’t noted anywhere, but I may as well ask. I don’t have to make this easy for them.

“Falling on the ice repeatedly would be kind of cute,” Alastair grins. “I suggest figuring it out.”