Monday after school, I start my first shift. I shadow Laura the entire time and leave disappointed when Vivian and her friends don't come in, let alone anyone from the private school. The next day is my only chance before waiting until my weekend shifts, so I nearly run to the diner after the bell rings.
Laura sends me on my own to a few customers.
"Hi, welcome in," I say in my brave voice as I hand the menu. "Can I get you started with anything to drink?"
As Laura teaches me how to make coffee again, I hear the door chime. Peering over my shoulder, I watch Vivian and Imogen walk in. A gasp escapes me and Laura turns as well. "What is it?" She asks.
"I know them."
"Okay, well give them some menus," she says, releasing me.
I snatch two laminated menus and hurry around the bar. My face is toned down to half of the excitement as I approach the booth. Imogen sees me coming and immediately says something to Vivian. Vivian turns my way.
"Hi, guys," I say and place down the menus.
"Wrenley? What are you doing here?" Vivian asks quickly.
"I got a job here. I'm a waitress. Do you guys come here a lot?"
Vivian peers through the blinds, out into the small parking lot before saying, "You work here now? Well, we stopped in to grab a napkin. Your nose was running, right, Imogen?"
Imogen grabs a few napkins from the metal dispenser on the table and stuffs them in her pocket.
"Sorry, we aren't staying. Eli and Elara are waiting for us," Vivian hurriedly explains. I watch as they get up. "We'll see you at school, though. Good luck with the job!"
And just like that the two girls are slipping out the door and out of my grasp. I take the two menus back and Laura says, "Are they suppose to be your friends?"
"I don't know," I murmur.
The door chimes again and I perk up, thinking that they may have come back in. Instead, a boy and girl in those Waindale Academy uniforms enter and sit at the bar together. I look over their uniforms before tending to them.
Back at home, I watch Grandma as she looks through her closet. "One moment, dear. They're in here somewhere. Oh—is this what you mean?" She holds up a pair of brown chino pants.
"Yeah, that will work fine."
"They might be a little big. Here, let me get you a belt."
I hold them up to my waist and hope that a belt works. "Thanks again, Grandma."
"I just hope they fit for your presentation. That's a fun idea you have to dress like president Kennedy. I'm sure the kids will love it."
The next morning passes slowly and the afternoon even slower. Once my teacher lets us leave for the day, instead of heading to the doors, I find a bathroom. In the stall, I change into my Grandmas chino pants and the academy shirt. The polo is too baggy, so I tie it back and slip on my mother's navy sweater over top. I leave through the back door of the school as to not grab too much attention.
When I reach the academy, I look to the ground and hold my school bag in front of my disguise. A few people pass me on my way toward the main doors; they merely glance my way if anything. As I had hoped, the inside of the school begins as a large hallway, dim and pretty much empty. I take it all in. There's a bulletin board on the wall, and I hurry to it.
Rugby game schedule. Tennis club flyer. A notice for some assembly next week. The air doesn't even smell like the shirt. What am I doing?
"I haven't seen you around before."
My heart skips a beat and I turn toward the voice. A guy in the school uniform walks up to me and eyes my disguise. He doesn't seem fooled.
"I was just looking for the game schedule," I mutter then subtly rush to the doors.
"You know you can't be here, right?" He says, following me.
Just then the smell comes back, drifting through the air as if a breeze flows through these halls. I spin around, not caring about the guy anymore. He says something swiftly under his breath before grabbing my arm.
"Hey!" I shout and look to him. "Let go of me!"
"You can't be here," he says again, this time louder. The guy forces me out the main doors and just before they close, I catch a glimpse of someone turning into the hallway. In a split second, the wooden door shuts in my face and a locking sound prods me.
A breath escapes my lips, and I face the parking lot.
"Do you ever notice weird things about the people here?" I ask my mom and Grandma as we sit down for dinner.
"What do you mean, dear?" Grandma asks.
"It's just, the private school students seem kinda rude."
My mom sighs. "Don't worry about them. They've always been like that."
"Why?"
"They're in their little bubbles of money and uniforms and tennis and they just can't be bothered, kid. It doesn't surprise me that they're still the same after all these years. When I went to school here, none of them talked to us public-school kids."
My brows furrow. "But I know people at my school who are friends with some of them. They just—they won't let me meet them or something."
My mom sets down her fork. "Maybe you need to find better friends, Wren."
"I agree," says Grandma. "There are much nicer kids."
"What about Tali's daughter? Are you still talking to her?"
"She's one of them," I explain.
My mom's face falls.
Before bed, I take the Waindale Academy shirt and throw it in the garbage outside. I don't want to think about them anymore—I don't want to care. They can hang out without me and play tennis and smell really good and do whatever. If Vivian and Imogen and the rest of them want to keep me as a so-called friend—but can't treat me like one—then I'm over it. At least I have my job at the diner to keep me busy now that I'm back to being alone.
This night is terrible. Sleepless, frustrating—I took melatonin, but it's stopped working. For hours I kick covers off, pull them on, switch my pillow, drink a glass of water, go to the bathroom, sweat through my pajamas, feel my stomach flip upside down. At four o'clock in the morning, I give up. Instead, I take a shower and finish homework. The sun rises through the windows as I sit at the table in the kitchen. Everything turns to a golden hue, and it entrances me enough to lure me outside. I walk out onto the porch with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, seeing the grass wet with dew. I look out at the empty lot across the street and watch the tall grass wave back and forth.
Something in the trees catches my attention. I squint between the trucks where something large seems to be. With my slippers on, I walk down the steps and to the edge of the road. The large thing becomes a dark thing and it's yellow eyes flash at me before sinking back. My chest begins to ache.
Without thinking, I run across the street and onto the lot. I push through the grass as it itches my bare legs. There's a sense of determination building inside of me, taking over my conscious. Entering the trees, I frantically look around, dirtying my slippers on the forest floor.
"Hello?" I call, unaware of what may answer. "Hello?"
The forest is still, no rustling bushes or crunching leaves. I spin slowly in a circle and scan everything or absolutely anything.
The smell. It lingers in the air. The smell from the Waindale Academy uniform. It clouds in my head and makes me turn back. I walk mindlessly through the tall grass, across the road, and into the house. As I close the front door and fall back against it, Grandma appears from the hall.
"Wrenley?" She questions. "What are you doing?"
"There's something out there, Grandma," I mumble. "Something is watching me."
She leads me into the kitchen. "Have you slept at all? You look exhausted, dear."
I shake my head. "I can't sleep."
"Again? But it was going so well."
"Something is out there. The dark thing. The dark thing is watching me."
Grandma says, "That's it. You're going back to bed."
"I have school."
"I'll explain to your mother. This is getting ridiculous. You just go back in bed and try to fall asleep, alright? I'll handle things from here."
Saturday I'm at the diner. Laura handles the tables while I deal with the bar. It's busier than it is on weekdays, which distracts me from how tired I am. I'll have a cup of coffee every few hours just to keep me on my feet. There have been a few close calls when it comes to spilling drinks or dropping plates, but somehow I've managed to keep the food off the floor.
Toward the end of my shift, as the lunch rush dies down, Vivian Smith comes through the door. My shoulders drop as does my stomach, but it's been doing that a lot lately.
"Wrenley," she says and comes to the bar.
"I'm busy."
She looks around at the few occupied tables before her eyes return to me. "I won't be long. I just came to tell you that you can't go to the academy, okay?"
My lips part. "What?"
"You just can't, okay? Just promise me you won't."
"What is this about? How do you even know I went there?"
Vivian simply watches me for a moment. "I want to tell you. I really do, but it's not my place."
"Tell me what? Why can I be around you guys only at school? Why can't I go to the academy? You know what, fine. Don't tell me your little secrets, but please just leave me alone."
"Wrenley—"
"I have to get back to work."
My school bag slips off my shoulder as I walk to school on Monday morning. I haul it back up and rub my puffy eyes. My surroundings blur then slowly straighten back up, nearly making me dizzy. A car passes by then, so very loud as its tires push against the warn-down road. I can't think right now—when I try, my head starts to pound. I wander into the main school building and flinch at the sound of slamming lockers and blaring voices. The day passes slowly. At lunch, I spot Vivian and her friends. She looks as if she wants to call my name and talk things over, but before she can, I turn and walk in the other direction. I meant it when I said I was over them. Even back home—where friendships seemed so shallow and meaningless—the few friends I had treated me better. At least they tried to include me.
Vivian shakes her head and takes my hands in hers. "No, Wrenley. We don't pretend. We are werewolves. Real life werewolves.""What I saw yesterday was a wolf. What I'm seeing now is you—a human. I mean, you guys can do whatever you want, but you don't have to talk to me like I still believe in Santa Claus.""I thought this would be easy, for some reason," she mumbles. "You want me to prove it? Is that what this is all leading to? You want me to shift?""Um, it's fine, Vivian. I have to go to class anyway."She rolls her eyes and grabs me again, pulling me further into the school. "Let's just make this quick," she mutters as a door appears at the end of a hall. Feeling uncomfortable but curious at the same time, I go along with it and wond
I wait impatiently in the forest again, hugging myself in the cold and minutes away from kicking a rock. This is ridiculous. For some reason, I have to face this guy, and no one can just tell me what's going on because he wants to make it even more difficult. If my mom or grandma woke up, they'd think I've been kidnapped. The police may as well be out searching for me with flashlights and dogs.Tired of sitting, I get up from the boulder and walk around. The night is still and nearly lifeless. Hardly any crickets are chirping, and the only sounds I have to comfort me are the breeze and the ocean in the distance. Ignoring the sudden crack or rustle is getting harder.He hasn't been back since I tried to talk to him that first night—approximately three nights ago. At this point I'm exhausted, grubby, frustrated; the list goes on and
"Vivian!" I call, catching a glimpse of her down the hall. I race through students as they herd into the cafeteria. Her red hair bobs through the door and disappears as I slip past bodies. Once inside, I hurriedly make my way to their table, surprised to see everyone there. They look my way and I stand before them, my chest moving rapidly up and down."Wrenley," Vivian says brightly, "come on, sit down."I place my bag on the table and take a seat beside her while eyeing the group. Imogen looks unbothered as usual. Eli and Elara are close, and Vivian is looking excitedly at me."Um, there's some stuff I want to ask you about," I say, catching Imogen's attention as well."Really? Did something happen?"
As the guys gently touch me and lead me to the door, he says, "Leave her. Forget it."I watch them walk around me and out the door. Their obedience has me curious.Sunlight filters through the windows, seeping through the thinning clouds and resting on his face. Would it be silly to say that he sparkles in the sunlight? Or is my head caught up in fictional fantasies and not this real one? Either way, unearthly or not, he looks at me, waits for me to speak but nothing leaves my lips."You're not allowed here, Wrenley," he says. My stomach wobbles inside of me. How does he know my name? "How much did Vivian tell you? Do you know what is happening here?"His voice makes me giddy. There is no way that he is also that scary, rude, stubborn
"Wren."I look to my mother as she's cozy on the patio furniture, her laptop sat in front of her, ready to make literary magic. I shrug my school bag higher on my shoulder."Off to school?" She asks after sipping her coffee. "Did you get breakfast?""Yeah. Grandma made French toast."My mom sits up. "Well, maybe I should go in a grab some before she cleans up. You don't want me to drive you, right?"I shake my head. "Just that one time. I'm fully capable now. I-I should get going.""Alright. Oh! Before you go—when are you working this week? I wanted to ask Tali's family over for dinner."
I leave the diner at the end of my shift, walking through cars in the lot and heading for the trees. Dinner is in an hour. Mom and Grandma are making a chicken pot pie—they've been wanting to make one ever since we arrived in Waindale. Apparently, my mom used to crave them as a kid and again when she was pregnant with me. I would always hear about Grandma's pot pie, how I must try it and must fall in love. All the women in our family learn this recipe by heart. I wonder what else the women in our family have in common.Dinner is in an hour. Instead of making my way home, I'm weaving through trees like a child running away. I grip my school bag as I rush down a dip in the forest. The sun is starting to fall behind the very tips of the pines, and I consider calling this place Pinedale—or Paindale.My school bag hits the ground
My mother's persistent knocking sounds against my bedroom door. "Are you dressed? They'll be here any minute!" She calls from the other side.I lay on my bed, dressed on the top but not the bottom. It took me a while to pick the top and put it on and crash into my blankets. Doing the same with pants seems like a lot. Getting up and walking to my closet feels as if it might drain the last bit of my energy. If I tumble to my butt—I may just lay on the floor and stare at the wall for the rest of the night. The blank section of wall displayed by my bed has gotten old."Almost," I manage to yell.I called in sick to work. I wish I could call in sick to dinner. Vivian has been chatting about this dinner all week while I've been contemplating my future and existence. I wanted t