But there's another voice now.
Quieter. Newer.
The voice that watched Sage's face light up with recognition and felt hope stir in places I thought were dead.
This time will be different.
Where you don't have to do it alone.
I think about the rink. The figure skating club. The professional team in the works.
I dare envision Sage's wild hair, Jace's teasing grin, and the way they bickered like siblings who couldn't decide whether they loved or hated each other.
I think about three Alphas waiting back at the pack integration house, their scents still clinging to the edges of my memory.
Six weeks.
To figure out who I am without the weight of my parents' expectations crushing me.
To reclaim the ice and remember what it felt like to fly.
To prove that Nerdy MaeBell is gone, and the woman who took her place is someone worth knowing.
Miss Phillip holds open the door to the administrative office, and I step inside.
One thing at a time, Mabeline. First, paperwork. Then, lunch with old friends. Then... everything else.
The paperwork takes exactly eighteen minutes.
Efficient. Painless.
Miss Phillip wasn't kidding when she said it would be quick.
When I emerge back into the hallway, student ID in hand and meal plan activated, I spot Sage and Jace immediately. They're sprawled on a bench near the water fountains, still arguing about... something. I can't make out the words, but Sage's hands are flying through the air expressively while Jace looks like he's two seconds away from either laughing or screaming.
Some things never change.
Sage spots me first, her face brightening as she jumps to her feet.
"Finally! I was starting to think the paperwork ate you."
"It tried," I admit. "But I escaped."
"Our hero." Jace stands, stretching like a cat. "Now, can we please go eat? My stomach is starting to file complaints."
"Says the guy who mocked Mae's stomach literally twenty minutes ago."
"I apologized! And besides, my stomach is much more dignified. It doesn'tgrowl.It makes polite requests."
"Your stomach made sounds like a dying whale last Tuesday during Professor Chen's lecture. The entire back row heard it."
"That was a cough."
"That was your intestines staging a protest."
I can't help it. I laugh.
It bursts out of me before I can stop it, surprising all three of us. It's not a polite, restrained laugh. It's a full, genuine belly laugh that makes my eyes water and my ribs ache.
