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.
My mom doesn't know what to do about my sleeping habits. But it's not just that now—my appetite has vanished as well. Grandma can't get away with giving me extra waffles anymore, not when I can barely finish the first one. My grades are dropping as I constantly forget about homework, and most days, if I'm not at school, I'll be struggling at the diner. And Laura can only be so forgiving.
I trudge home with aching legs. The only good thing about today is that the weather has been kind. My first two weeks of being in Waindale consisted of rain and clouds and more rain, but today the clouds are white and the sun shines through them. I glance up at the sky for the few seconds I can. When my eyes come back down, the forest beside me looks dark, and the creature in it stares.
I freeze in place. My throat clogs up. The giant brown wolf watches me. Utterly shocked, I look over its thick warm-toned fur and vicious paws. It moves slightly, and suddenly I know it is not a statue. Clenching my jaw, I steadily turn away and carefully take a step, then another, and another. I can feel its eyes on me, taking in my limbs that it can so easily tear apart. My chest vibrates as I slowly make my way down the sidewalk, ready for it to pounce at any moment.
Curse words repeat in my head. I hesitantly look around for other people or a passing car, but I'm alone. My eyes begin to water as the intense fear settles in the pit of my stomach.
Eventually, I'm walking onto Grandmas property and up the porch steps. I open the door and rely completely on muscle memory to set down my bag, take off my shoes, and enter the kitchen. Grandma is there, bent over large bowels, making something. She says, "Wrenley, how was school? Feeling any better?"
When I don't answer promptly, she turns. "Wrenley? Dear? Is everything alright?"
My eyes rise from the tiles and land on her worried face. "I-I think I'm going to take a nap."
My mom drives me to school the next day. When she asks why, I tell her it's because I don't feel well enough to walk, which isn't really a lie. In the car, she brings up the option of seeing a doctor. If my lack of sleep and other issues are causing this much trouble, she doesn't feel right just waiting to see if it gets better. My mother is worried that there may be an underlying cause.
When I walk into school, before I can even take three steps, Vivian appears in front of me. I halt and suck in a breath. When my lips part, ready to mutter whatever words come to mind so I can ditch, she says, "I know what you saw, Wrenley."
Vivian takes my hand and leads me to a quiet corner down a quiet hallway. "I'm going to get into so much trouble for this. I may as well be digging my own grave."
"What's going on?"
She stops and turns to me. "You saw a wolf in the forest yesterday. It was watching you, right?"
I nod, wrapping my arms around my body.
"Did you tell anyone?"
"I-I thought I was just seeing things. I haven't been sleeping much lately. I thought I was hallucinating or something. But you're saying that it was really there? And how do you—"
Vivian's face scrunches before she says, "That was me."
I stare at her. "Uh, what? Sorry, I don't get it."
"That was me. I was the wolf."
"Um. How were you the wolf?" I ask, not believing a word she's saying. I didn't take Vivian for the day-dreaming, fantasy, I'm-special type.
"I hope you understand the consequences for what I'm doing," she dramatizes. "Me and Imogen and Eli—we're not human. Not really. Well, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. We have this ability to shift into something else. Are you following?"
I grip my sweater and say nothing at all.
"Well, we shift into wolves. Big wolves," she says, making me reconsider my decision to follow her. "What you saw yesterday was me in my shifted form."
I open my mouth and take in a breath and say, "So you guys pretend to be werewolves is what you're saying?"
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
"I know! I'll be back by dinner!"I quickly pull on my jacket and shrug my backpack up my shoulders. Grandma comes into the front room with an umbrella and hands it to me."Thanks," I smile and take it."Always forgetting. Been here a month and—how many times has it been—caught in the rain maybe ten? Fifteen times?"My brows furrow. "No way. No more than ten.""Alright. Alright. Remember to say goodbye to your mother.""Out on the porch?" I double-check and grandma nods.I find my Mom with a blanket tossed over her shoulders and her laptop on her lap, the screen and its