Page 5 of Baseball and Shifters

“I understand, Father,” I murmur.

There’s no use arguing. I never win. He’ll never accept that I don’t want four mates just as much as he doesn’t want me to have them. He doesn’t have to worry, though. I’m going to go to Eldergrove to get an education. I’m not looking for mates.

Hell, I’m actively avoiding them.

Father must be satisfied with my answer because, after instructing me to get my things packed up, he disappears from my wing as quickly as he had appeared. I still can’t believe he’s actually sending me to school. I’ve never been before. When I was little, he had a whole slew of tutors for me but never allowed me to go to the local shifter elementary. He had claimed he wanted to keep me “safe” but I have a hard time believing that, considering how everything turned out. After my first shift, he fired all of my tutors and hired Mrs. Fitz, an elderly panther shifter with a hearing problem. We met via video call once a week to discuss my progress and for her to assign new work. Mrs. Fitz has been my only consistent contact for way too long.

The realization that I may actually have the ability to get out from under my father’s thumb hits me again and I feel something warm starting to blossom in my heart.

Is that hope?

A day later I’m being dumped unceremoniously in the parking lot of a beautiful sprawling campus. It’s just me and two suitcases filled with everything I own. I can hear my father’s voice as my mind oh so helpfully replays our last conversation.

“You will go to this school and you will behave in a way that reflects positively on the St. James name. I will not have reports of your exploits embarrassing me in front of my colleagues. You will graduate at the top of your class and mostimportantly,you WILL remain covered at all times regardless of if you believe you are alone or not. You will NOT be flaunting yourself and collecting mates like the town slut I know you are.”

Shaking my head, I dislodge his words and tug the edge of my long gloves just a little higher. I look around wide-eyed at all the students milling about. I've never been around so many people.

Maybe this isn't such a good idea. There are so many people. What if someone accidentally touches me?

Before I can hyperventilate over the thought, I steel my spine and take a deep breath before taking determined steps to the admin building.

I’m not exactly sure where we are geographically, but I know we are still in the Pacific Northwest because it only took a few hours to get here. The campus sprawls out ahead of me and I must admit I’m kind of excited to have so much room to explore. The wooded area to my right is beckoning me, the fox inside just aching to stretch her legs. It’s been far too long since she’s been allowed to feel the dirt under her paws. I send her a promise to explore the woods when we get the chance.

First things first, I need to get checked in and find my dorm room. Awkwardly pulling my two large suitcases, I make my way to the admin building and pull the front door open.

Inside, there are tables set up with signs telling students where to go. I find the woman with anSin front of her and stand in line. Luckily, it’s one of the shorter lines, so it doesn’t take long for me to get to the front.

The petite woman looks up at me over a very thick pair of glasses. She has spiky grey hair with remnants of brown dusted throughout, and her kind smile draws me in. When she sees me lugging my bags behind me, a momentary look of concern flashes across her face before she masks it.

“No one to leave your bags with, dear?” She inquires as kindly as she can.

“No ma’am,” I reply, ducking my head, ashamed of the pity I know I will see on her face.

“No matter dear, last name?” she asks.

“St. James,” I murmur, barely above a whisper. “Ma’am.”

“Speak up, dear. Can’t quite hear you,” she says.

“St. James, ma’am,” I say louder this time.

Hopefully, loud enough, I would rather no one connect me to my father, but I know it’s an inevitability. For now, I’d like to live in my protective bubble just a little bit longer.

“Ahh, yes, here we go. Rachel St. James. Welcome to Eldergrove, deary.” She smiles as she hands me my welcome packet.

When I reach for the offered folder, I internally grimace as her brow quirks at the sight of my gloves. They always draw attention, but Father won’t let me wear normal gloves. They have to be elbow high even if I wear a long-sleeved shirt. Avoiding eye contact, I take the folder with a murmured thanks before running back the way I came. Okay, so it’s not so much a run as quickly and carefully maneuvering through a crowdedroom without touching anyone while keeping my head down so no one can see my face.

Once I’m outside, I suck in lungfuls of air in a desperate attempt to keep the oncoming panic attack at bay. After a few moments, I feel calm enough to look through the folder to find my new living quarters. I’m ready to collapse into bed. This day has already been exhausting.

The first thing I pull out is a map. The front shows the parking lot and admin building with a walkway separating it from another building. On the other side of the walkway, there are several buildings devoted to student needs, like a cafe and a clinic. Behind those buildings is a complex of admin housing and in front of the clinic is one path leading to the huge sports stadium and another to the three main buildings where classes will be held. I find that the path directly in front of me leads to the dormitories.

Why are the boys’ and girls’ dorms so close together?

Scowling at the map, I pull out the next paper. It’s a welcome letter, so I take some time to read through it.

Rachel

Quickly flipping the page, I see that the next sheet is my schedule. The words“Program: Bachelor of Arts - Visual Arts”are printed across the top in bold letters. The logical side of my brain knows there’s no way my father told them about my interest in graphic design. Heck, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know. I don’t know who filled out my application, but thank fate for them.

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