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The Scholarship
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2026-01-27 21:37:10The first time someone almost caught me, I learned a very important truth which is Westbridge Academy didn’t need proof to destroy me, It only needed suspicion.
The registrar’s office smelled too clean, paper, polish, and something sharp beneath it, like antiseptic scrubbed over a wound that never healed properly. The kind of place where mistakes were erased before anyone could admit they existed. Framed certificates lined the walls, along with old photographs of boys in dark blazers, standing straight and confident, their eyes full of certainty.
They all looked like they belonged but I didn’t.
My fingers trembled as I slid the scholarship documents across the desk. The sound of paper scraping against polished wood landed far too loudly in the quiet room. It felt like an announcement and a warning at the same time.
At the top of the page, printed in bold, unmistakable letters, was the name I had practiced answering to for months, Eli Morgan.
The woman behind the desk adjusted her glasses and frowned. Her gaze moved from the paper to my face, then back again then slow, deliberate and searching. She inhaled softly, and my heart slammed against my ribs. “Step closer, please.”
My stomach dropped but I obeyed, forcing my shoulders back the way my mother had drilled into me. Stand tall and alwats take up space. Boys don’t shrink, don’t apologize with their bodies.
She studied me for a long moment too long. Her eyes traced my jaw, my hairline, the slope of my shoulders. They lingered on my hands, folded too neatly in front of me, and I curled them into fists, loosening my posture just enough to look careless.
When she spoke again, her voice was neutral. Professional. “You’re young.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then, another pause. Sweat gathered along my spine, dampening the stiff collar of my shirt. My heart pounded so hard I was sure she could hear it. I imagined her standing suddenly, pressing a button beneath the desk, calling someone in to escort me out.
Instead, she reached for the stamp and the crack of it against the paper echoed like a gunshot. She slid the documents back toward me. “Welcome to Westbridge Academy.”
I thanked her, though my voice shook despite everything. I walked out with measured steps, resisting the urge to run. Only when the doors closed behind me did I finally breathe.
The truth hit me all at once sharp, overwhelming, and terrifying. I hadn’t just been accepted into an elite boarding school. I had officially stepped into a place where discovery wouldn’t just embarrass me. It would end me totally.
Westbridge Academy had never been part of the plan. There was no plan, really. Just a list of schools I couldn’t afford and programs I wasn’t allowed into, futures that quietly expected me to be grateful for less. Advanced science programs were expensive. Scholarships were scarce and the ones that existed never covered everything. Except Westbridge, the academy had a reputation which was untouchable, ancient, and impossibly well funded. It accepted only boys. Only the best of them and only those who passed interviews that felt more like interrogations.
To the public, it was an elite institution grooming future leaders and to my parents, that was all it was. They didn’t know what I knew and I had learned the truth by accident. A late night at the public library. A restricted academic journal mislabeled in the digital archives. A footnote that shouldn’t have existed. Then another and yet another.
Patterns emerged, disappearances and families with impossible genealogies. Medical anomalies quietly buried under “scholarship health requirements.” Students who transferred to Westbridge and were never seen again except in carefully staged graduation photos.
I followed the trail until it led somewhere no one talked about. Werewolves, shifters and other beings that existed just far enough from human society to remain myths but close enough to shape it.
Westbridge wasn’t just a school, It was a containment zone. A training ground and a place where monsters learned how to live among humans without being discovered but somehow by miracle, oversight, or sheer arrogance it offered a full scholarship to one outstanding outsider every few years. A research candidate. A “civilian mind.”
A human, that was how I slipped through the cracks. My mother believed Westbridge was my miracle but I knew it was my risk. The acceptance letter burned in my hands that night, its edges crumpled from the way I’d been gripping it for hours.
You have been awarded a full scholarship to Westbridge Academy tuition, boarding, meals and everything is completely covered.
I should have felt victorious because I worked hard for this instead, my chest tightened until it hurt. I found my mother in the kitchen, folding laundry while the radio hummed softly, as if the world hadn’t just tilted off its axis. “Mom,” I said. My voice barely existed. “I got it.”
She froze. One of my shirts slipped from her hands. She picked up the letter slowly, her fingers trembling. “Isla…” Her voice broke. “You really did.”
“Yes.” I swallowed hard. “But there’s a problem.”
She looked at me, already knowing. “It’s an all-boys school.”
“I can’t go as myself.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. She didn’t know about wolves. About scent, about instinct and I never telling her. Finally, she exhaled and nodded.
“We’ll make it work,” she said quietly. “We always do.”
“You don’t think it’s crazy?”
She smiled soft, fierce. “I think you’re brave.”
That was how Eli Morgan was born but my father didn’t see it that way. Dinner felt like a battlefield that night, and the moment he saw the name on the letter, his face drained of color.
“Eli?” he repeated. “What did you do to your name?”
“I changed it,” I said evenly. “It sounded more believable.”
His hand slammed into the table. “You changed who you are to sneak into a boys’ school?”
“I earned this,” I snapped. “Every grade and every interview.”
“You’re a girl,” he said sharply. “That place isn’t safe.”
“I know,” I replied quietly. “That’s why I have to be smart.”
The argument ended without resolution and the transformation began the next morning. Hair fell to the floor, clothes were altered and shoes replaced. My mother taught me how to walk, how to look, how to disappear.
“Eli isn’t fake,” she whispered, adjusting my collar. “He’s armor.”
Westbridge Academy loomed like a fortress when the taxi dropped me off. The stone walls, Iron gates was like power embedded into the very structure. Boys crowded the courtyard laughing, shoving, confident. They moved like the world expected them to exist exactly as they were. I adjusted my blazer. Be Eli, I reminded myself again.
As i stepped forward and collided with someone hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. “Watch it.”
Hands grabbed my arms to steady me, too strong. I looked up and he was solid in a way I wasn’t. Broad shoulders with unyielding chest. Heat radiating from him despite the cold. His eyes swept over me, sharp and assessing, pupils darkening as if something about me had caught his attention.
For one terrifying second, his grip tightened.
Then he inhaled and his expression changed. Not anger and not annoyance but with recognition. “Well,” he said slowly, a smile tugging at his mouth, “this is interesting.”
My blood turned to ice because whatever he’d sensed, I was certain it wasn’t human.
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The first time someone almost caught me, I learned a very important truth which is Westbridge Academy didn’t need proof to destroy me, It only needed suspicion.The registrar’s office smelled too clean, paper, polish, and something sharp beneath it, like antiseptic scrubbed over a wound that never healed properly. The kind of place where mistakes were erased before anyone could admit they existed. Framed certificates lined the walls, along with old photographs of boys in dark blazers, standing straight and confident, their eyes full of certainty.They all looked like they belonged but I didn’t.My fingers trembled as I slid the scholarship documents across the desk. The sound of paper scraping against polished wood landed far too loudly in the quiet room. It felt like an announcement and a warning at the same time.At the top of the page, printed in bold, unmistakable letters, was the name I had practiced answering to
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