Three weeks into the new term, life at school had finally settled into a steady rhythm.
Every morning, I was up at five for the gym with Owen. Three days a week we trained legs, four days we did arms, back and chest, and cardio was something our wolves did for us.
My body was starting to feel like mine again.
Mostly.
There were still moments it frustrated me. Private ones. Moments I told myself were stress, exhaustion, the last stubborn edges of Mum’s hex, or some ugly combination of all three.
I did not examine it too closely.
Classes were going well too.
Mostly.
Well, mainly.
In photography, I still had to sit next to Grey, and we often argued over our interpretations of various works, which was only music to Mr Ecclestone’s ears. He found our heated discussions thrilling.
Grey
