Two weeks later my parents are dead, and I’m alone.

CHAPTER 1

“Piss off,” I mumble acerbically as I drag my bags up to my new front door. The condo I just purchased is right on Main Street. When I look out my front windows, I see Torch Lake with its crystal clear water and beautiful, sandy beach. My kindle and I dream about that beach.

About a half mile down, I see small tourist shops and a few smaller restaurants. In the opposite direction is the Hair of the Dog Bar, crazy name, right? The four men leaving the bar are just as crazy, shouting at me about the beauty of my ass while I lug my stuff up the walk. Throwing my bags through the open front door, I turn and give them a two-finger salute. They laugh and coo like it’s foreplay. “Jackasses!” Slamming the door, I put my back to it and slide down.

I’m home. I haven’t had a home in five years, not one that felt like home anyway. “Not now, Sophie,” I say out loud. I’ve already had all my new furnishings delivered. After a few adjustments to the kitchen, I have just my personal stuff to unpack. An hour later, I’m done and drinking a big cup of coffee to celebrate. Today is Wednesday, my nineteenth birthday is Saturday, and my first day as a college student is Monday. I can’t believe I’ve finally made it to this point.

Michigan is new to me. I’ve always lived in some random Kentucky city. One of the first things I noticed about my new home, at least for the next few years, were all the lakes with beautiful beaches. I came for the small, private college located just a few blocks from my new condo. Why did I pick this college, you ask? Well, it all started with the name, Hope. Hope College in Point Pleasant, Michigan, cool right? That’s something I need, hope. So here I am.

The death of my parents orphaned me. With no family to speak of and being too young to be on my own, I, an underage shifter, ended up in foster care with humans. The first home I went to wasn’t so bad; I think they knew I had money and thought they could get it. I wasn’t there for very long before they figured out there was no pot of gold with this rainbow. My second home was horrible; the third night the woman, Beth, backhanded me for speaking at the table. I’d never even been spanked by my parents. Things escalated quickly. I think the worst was listening to the other kids get hit. I hadn’t shifted yet, but was still stronger than your average fourteen-year-old. More often than not, I would get myself into trouble to distract the Check Cashers from the other kids. Some hated me for it, but for the most part, they didn’t understand why I’d do it. I don’t always understand it myself.