Beneath the Wolf Moon

The faint morning light spilled through my curtains, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the weight sitting heavy on my chest. Today was my birthday—our birthday—and maybe, just maybe, it would finally feel like mine.

I lay there for a moment, staring at the cracks in my ceiling, daring myself to believe that. Maybe they’d remember I was here. Maybe, this year, someone would look at me instead of him.

The smell of bacon and syrup wafted up to my room, pulling me out of bed. I padded barefoot across the cool floor, smoothing down my hair as I went.

But the moment I reached the bottom step, reality greeted me.

Ethan was already sitting at the breakfast table, his golden smile lighting up the whole room. Mom and Dad flanked him, practically beaming. The table was full of his favorites—pancakes stacked high, perfectly crisp bacon, and a fruit platter shaped like a football. And at the center of it all, a cake, already frosted and ready, with green icing grass and a little gold medal made of sugar. Of course they made him a cake that looked like a football because Ethan is on the school’s football team. His best friend Jaxon is the captain and my boyfriend Alex is also on the team; they are extremely popular. My parents never miss a game.

No one noticed me.

Not at first.

I hovered at the doorway, my fingers curling against the wood. Then Dad finally looked up, briefly. “Oh. Morning, Avery.”

“Happy birthday,” Mom added, her tone absent as she cut another slice of melon for Ethan.

I forced a smile that no one saw and took my seat across from my brother.

That was when Dad handed him the little black box.

“Open it, son.”

Ethan flipped it open with ease, and the glint of silver caught in the morning sun. A key.

“Brand-new,” Dad said proudly, clapping Ethan’s back. “She’s parked right outside.”

Ethan grinned, holding the super expensive car key high like another trophy.

And then, finally, Mom slid a thin box toward me.

“This is for you.”

It was light. Too light.

I peeled back the paper carefully, though my hands already trembled.

A puzzle.

A damn puzzle.

And then the birthday card. Bright pink, too cheerful, it started singing the moment I touched it. Loud. Off-key. Relentless screaming of last-minute shopping at Walmart.

My cheeks burned as I pushed my chair back. I told myself it didn’t matter. Tonight would be better.

Alex would make it better.

Alex has been my boyfriend for 2 years. He’s the only one in this place that truly cares about me. What about my parents giving me shitty gifts that only remind me how I’m not enough? I got Alex, and the celebration with him is the only one that matters.

The restaurant was warm and dim, and I sat alone at a corner table, fingers knotted in my lap. Every time the door opened, my heart jumped.

But it was never him.

The waiters kept glancing at me, and their polite smiles began to thin. They are about to be closed and they are too tired to witness another heartbreaking customer.

My phone buzzed.

It was Lucas, my best friend.

“Alex is at Ethan’s party. Already drunk.”

The words cut deeper than I expected.

I stood slowly, my chair scraping the floor. He didn’t stand me up on my birthday for some stupid party, did he?

Jaxon is the football captain and a well-known womanizer. I don’t know why Alex always sucks up to him; he has an ego bigger than his house—and he has a mansion.

If Alex was there—with them—then I was going to see it with my own eyes.

Jaxon’s house was alive with music and laughter. Lights strobed against the windows, and bass thudded so hard it rattled my ribs.

I pushed inside, the smell of beer and sweat hitting me all at once. Bodies pressed close together, voices shouting over the music.

And then I saw him.

Jaxon.

He stood in the center of the room; girls were looking at him as if he was some Greek god. Maybe he was. I mean, every girl in school wants to date him and every boy wants to be him. Dark hair falling just right, ocean-blue eyes scanning lazily over the crowd.

Then his gaze landed on me; it stilled.

And I froze under it.

An overwhelming wave passed through me. It leaves too quickly, as if I'm hallucinating. I don’t understand; he never batted an eye at me before. Sure, we exchanged a few "Ciao" and "Hi," but that’s it. I’m no one, not any of the cheerleaders he pays attention to.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded toward a hallway to his right.

I didn’t even think. I just followed the direction of his silent command.

The further I walked, the quieter it got—until all I could hear was my own heartbeat and a faint, muffled sound from behind a half-open door.

A moan.

High-pitched, breathless.

I stopped dead, my stomach turning.

With trembling fingers, I pushed the door open.

There he was.

Alex.

On the bed.

Riding one of the cheerleaders like she was a bicycle, his hands gripping her hips, her head thrown back as she screamed his name over and over.

I stood there, frozen, as he pounded into her like I didn’t even exist.

Until the sound that escaped my throat betrayed me—a strangled gasp.

Alex turned. His eyes went wide.

I couldn’t breathe.