Balancing her phone precariously on the side of the fabric-covered table, Zoey flicked through the pile of paper that was sitting in front of her. No one had quite trusted her enough to have to actually talk to people on the stall itself, so she had been left behind to sort through the never-ending brochures and unbelievable amount of unwanted ex-trees that the printing department had wasted. 

“Yeah, I know,” she looked up again, following Gen’s eyes to the head bitches of the university that were tottering around in their heels and their pristine skirt-suits around the other end of the hall. Their heads were held high, to no one’s surprise, and ponytails waved as they walked. They were probably on the cheerleading teams too. “I’d really like to trip one up just to see what would happen. Do you think they’d–”

Zoey’s phone buzzed between them and the screen lit up to show a name. Gen’s name. 

“Dude, if I’m sitting right here, then you can talk to my face,” Zoey started, reaching forwards to unlock her phone and check through her messages. Dropping the phone almost immediately, the wolf cringed away, kicking her friend in the shin in the process. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”