Chapter 3

Three days after they took my door away, the academy held a meeting for parents.

Mom arrived half an hour early.

The moment my teacher brought up the students' mental health, she raised her hand.

“That's exactly what I wanted to talk about.”

She took the report out of her bag.

“My daughter said she had depression recently too. I took her for an assessment. They found nothing wrong.”

The classroom was full of parents.

Mom grew more worked up as she spoke.

“Everything online tells children to label themselves. Fail a potions exam, and it's anxiety. Don't want to do physical training, and it's depression. If parents are a little strict, we're hurting them.”

“They're not even adults yet. Their wolves haven't awakened. This is when they need us to guide them.”

“We can't let them think they're sick until they're too scared to do things they already know how to do.”

Several parents kept nodding.

Someone asked, “How is Charlotte now?”

Mom smiled at me. I was standing at the back of the room.

“Much better. Come here, sweetheart. Tell everyone yourself.”

Everyone turned to look at me.

I walked to the front.

Mom put the report in my hand and held my shoulder.

“Don't be scared. I'm right here.”

My grip creased the paper. I forced a smile.

“I was overthinking things before. I caused trouble for my mom and my teachers. I understand now. I'll work hard in class and keep up with training.”

The room filled with applause.

One parent said to Mom, “We'd expect nothing less from our Luna. You certainly know how to raise a child.”

Mom beamed.

“I just want her to be able to stand on her own one day.”

When I walked into class the next morning, a few boys in the back copied my voice.

“I'm not sick. I was just overthinking.”

Someone had written “Normal range” on the board.

Next to it was a crying face. Underneath, they'd written:

Our Crybaby Heir.

The whole class was laughing.

During physical training that afternoon, our instructor had us run laps around the field.

On the second lap, my heart started racing again.

My chest felt heavy and tight. Every breath hurt.

Someone behind me shouted, “Our future leader's having another episode!”

Another voice answered with a laugh.

“Don't be stupid. She's got a report. She's perfectly fine.”

I didn't stop.

When I reached the finish, I fell.

I scraped my knee, and blood ran down my shin.

Our instructor told me to sit out and rest.

At the edge of the field, my heart finally slowed a little.

I thought that meant I was getting better.

After school, Mom saw my knee and crouched down right away.

“What happened?”

“I fell while running.”

She frowned hard.

“Your instructor said you nearly fainted. Do you still feel sick?”

“Not anymore.”

“Were you nervous again?”

“No.” I looked at her. “I just didn't eat breakfast.”

Her face relaxed.

“There you go.”

“If your body's not feeling well, look for a physical reason. Don't blame everything on your mental health.”

At dinner, she filled my plate with roast chicken and potatoes.

“Finish it. You're still growing. How will you keep up with training if you don't eat?”

I swallowed one bite after another.

By the end, my stomach was churning.

That night, I threw up in bed.

I didn't dare make a sound.

I had no door. Mom could walk past at any moment.

I rolled up the dirty duvet cover, shoved it under my desk, and hid it beneath my academy uniform.

In the living room, Mom was on the phone with my aunt.

She sounded so happy.

“Charlotte fell during training today, but she still made it to the finish.”

“Of course it hurt to see her injured. But she's finally sticking with it. I knew my daughter wasn't that fragile.”

“I've checked on her several times a night lately. She's always sleeping quietly. She's eating again too.”

I covered my mouth and swallowed the acid rising in my throat.