Deal With The Hybrid Hockey Player

Eliana‘s POV

Painting is a beautifully hobby.

I come to this conclusion after several minutes of staring at the extensive collection of art paintings behind the faculty member’s desk. He’s been making one-sided small talk the entire time, unaware of my growing appreciation for the paintings on his board.

He laughs at one of his own jokes and raises his bushy eyebrows at me expectantly. When no one says anything, he clears his throat, tapping one finger against a file resting on the mahogany desk in front of him.

“Well, now that introductions are out of the way, I suppose we should get down to business. Welcome to Melbourne Academy. I’ve read all your student records, and it seems you three would fit right here. There aren’t many of your kind here, so I’m sure this world is probably all a bit overwhelming for you, but from records, your ancestors coped well here, including your mother, so I am sure you’ll feel right at home,” he smiles apologetically.

Right at home indeed.

He goes on, opening my file before the rest. “Your assigned dorms are already stated in the board room few blocks from here.” He finishes as he hands me a brochure of the school grounds pointing where we should go.

*A few hours later*

“Hurry and find our names,” I shout over the crowd.

My younger sister dives for the bulletin board within the bustling crowd of other students. I try to keep track of the pastel-pink ends of her blonde hair, but she’s out of sight in seconds.

The entire system is inefficient. An almost two-hundred-year-old school hasn’t found a better way to announce dorm assignments than a piece of paper on a board in the courtyard. Second by second, the crowd shoves me back as I examine the castle in the distance. It’s the tallest building I’ve ever seen, so it’s hard not to stare at the flowers growing around and into the sky to figure out the symbol on the end of each spire. It’s a star, I think. 

Then someone else pushes me, so I grab onto my other sister for support.

Victoria—the only thing I’ve ever called her is Tori—is sickly pale and biting her cheek. I wrap my arm around hers, and she smiles sheepishly. 

She may be the oldest, but she never acts like it. She prefers for my younger sister and me to take the lead. Unless it involves fashion, then she’d rather not be involved at all in stress. She was born a still born so my parents are really fragile with here till date and so are we once in a while.

But right now, I don’t blame her. It was a tough afternoon. When our dad dropped us, the whole mood was off as we mostly bickered and cried and as a result, Tori had no time to plan, and her hair suffered for it. She wanted it down and curled like a bob, but now, her blonde hair is frizzy and pulled into a bun that she swears it is slightly what she wants now—it isn’t.”

“This is a disaster,” she says as she holds my hand looking over to spot our sister in the crowd of people trying to search for their names.

I agree but instead say, “Trust me, this should be over quick.”

Tori is naturally a better socializer than I am when she isn’t feeling out of sorts.

“No. My hair is a mess. My eyes hurts and we haven’t made progress in thirty minutes since we’ve been dropped off,”

And hungry. I know the signs of my elder sister’s stress panic attack when I see one, but I’ve come prepared. I rummage in my suitcase sitting at my feet, moving past my ballet shoes and silk pajamas.

“I have some crackers in my bag. Want some?” I ask.

She nods swiftly and snatches the crackers from me as soon as I dig them out of hiding. Same as me, she likes to plan and have order. Only, I like those things and she needs them. As she eats the crackers and bits of crumbs pepper her uniform, she stops swaying and bumping into my shoulder. One crisis averted.

Behind her, I notice the attention of almost all the new students as they pass us to get their room assignment. Long-lingering stares, and some stop to gawk. If Tori notices, she’ll start hyperventilating.

I don’t wait for her to notice. “Viv, hurry up!” I half yelled.

I adjust the skirt of my outfit and tug at the socks. I should have opted for the trousers. The colour white is the only allowed color for orientation, and that includes sweaters and shirts too. Tori and Viv weren’t thrilled, considering everything they typically wear is in a lighter color palette.

Melbourne Academy’s orientation begins at sundown. The campus is brimming with lofty brick and stone buildings and elegant iron streetlamps. All are draped in strings of fairy lights and lanterns in different house colors, which are directly linked to the dorm assignments. It’s easy to identify the new students by their lack of color. The established pass by sporting one of the four house colors—purple, pink, blue, or green—on either their ties, slacks, accessories, skirts, or blazers.

“Got it!” Viv appears with her phone, her shoulder-length bob braids curling at her neck. She pulls up a picture, and we dodge the other students who don’t mind moving us out of their way.

With eyes sparking in excitement, she zooms in on the list:

Vivian Rijan – Pink House

Victoria Rijan – Blue House

“Why are they splitting us?” Tori’s fingernails dig into my forearm as she looks at the paper again.

“Maybe Lia is in your house,” Viv says, as she tries to lighten the mood 

It’s a silent sister code for “be encouraging.” And I am, but honestly I’m not going to lie to Tori  to make her feel better.

Before attending Melbourne, we had to take a test. They made us come to the campus and tour before locking us in a room for two hours. The test was filled with what-would-you-do questions. Students were then sorted based on their compatibility and “ability to work together.” It’s not so much about like-mindedness as it is getting students to unify through differences. 

Melbourne is NewYork’s leading university in interspecies connection, so its classifying system was hardly a surprise.

I love my sisters, but it’s time for us to get a little distance. Twenty-one years of sharing a room is enough for me.

As soon as I think of the words, I spot my name a few lines down.

Eliana Rijan – Purple House

My heart stutters. Mom’s House.

My house knowledge is limited, but I know the most about my mom’s old house. I remember seeing her old purple shades of skirts hanging in her closet that she’d worn for uniforms. 

She had told me then that Purple House boasts because they are some of the most prestigious alumni which make up the New York’s cabinet—the ones who you know, run the country. That house is best known for producing its strategic thinkers, perfectionists, and highly regarded leaders, varying from celebrity athletes to CEOs in the city.

“Tori. Breathe. It’s going to be okay,” Viv says, now supporting Tori from the other side as she looks like she is going to faint from the pressure.

“Okay, we’re going to get settled into our houses, then we can meet back in the courtyard. It’s not a big deal.”

“What if I can’t find it?” Tori says, and they both look at me.

“You have the map, remember?”

While they continue to exchange worried questions, I dig through my suitcase again, realizing I will be sacrificing my map.

We’re surrounded by cheers and howls as those around us celebrate their houses. Hordes of students in their respective house colors wave their flags and posters. They’re lining the circular courtyard in waiting, shuffling around us to scream directly in our faces with their house pride. Tori’s eyes stay wide like they’re yelling at her for doing something wrong.

My father taught me houses in Melbourne were a big deal. They each create legacy students, have their own traditions and history. But as I stare at the young adults around me screaming, running, and scaring my sisters, I can’t help but wonder if it’s more b*llsh*t my dad peddled. Only time will tell.

I adjust the collar of my shirt and straighten my shoulders. We’re still being gawked at. Perhaps it is because I’m not used to the attention. We grew up in a secluded area and the school we attended was mostly human with less bullying and a little bit of boy problems.Not like I ever had one as no one really caught my eye but my sisters would tell me about theirs.

I never thought I’d get to attend university in another city, let alone start the same year as my sisters, let alone this university. I’m not complaining, honestly I am not. For us starting together makes this change a lot easier, but it’s not like we had any choice when our Dad refused to let us out of his sight for more than a few hours.

As sweet that might sound, it’s sickening trust me.

Eliana POV

“Believe me, Eliana. I wouldn’t be as protective as I am if you and your sisters were like me. But just like your mother, you and your sisters have a very rare blood. I don’t need you to like me, just obey me. I just need to keep you safe.”

I let the last conversation between my dad and I ring in my head concerning letting us go out often. 

In this world, humans, werewolves, and vampires, witches and faes all live together peacefully, all the interspecies fighting ended centuries ago, and Melbourne was founded shortly after. 

Seeing the campus for the first time proves it; there are booths for humans, donors, vampires, witches, faes and werewolves alike. Most public schools are combined and with few supernaturals but usually witches and faes from what I can tell. Although around the world, the Blood Donation Program doesn’t allow anyone under the age of eighteen to join, for Melbourne academy, you can’t get accepted unless you’re of