THREE—Take That, Filthy Wolf.

“Bye, Dad,” I wave to the retreating back of the black Escalade.

The moment he’s out of sight, I turn to run, but Alex is faster. He grabs my arm forcefully and pulls me close, smiling sweetly.

“Honey, you didn’t think you could outrun me, did you?” he gasps in mock surprise as he begins to walk, dragging me along.

I clench my fists and breathe through my mouth, fighting my anger and resisting the urge to punch his stupid face.

His other hand casually brushes a stray curl of hair behind my ear, and I recoil in disgust. The sound of his laughter rings across the car lot, making my heart skip a beat as some students turn to look at us.

“Oh, honey!” Alex waves his hand.

“Don’t go looking like that, or people will think I’m hurting you.” He increases the pressure on my arm as his nails dig painfully into my skin.

“Come on, honey, look alive,” he continues, while smiling broadly.

I release a somewhat convincing laugh and continue walking with him as I notice the students still watching us.

As we approach the entrance doors, Alex abruptly comes to a halt, forcing me to stop as well.

“Stay out of my way, weirdo,” his voice drops an octave.

“Do whatever it takes to fit in. Make a friend or something. Act normal, or I swear I’ll cave your stupid face in.” Finally, he releases his vise grip on my arm and leans in to kiss me on the forehead.

I stand still and allow it, trying my hardest to refrain from kneeing him in the groin. He pulls back and pats me on the head. Then he turns away, that stupid smile still plastered on his face.

The moment he’s gone, I scoff. Cave my face in? As if he could. I flex my arm and find that it is fully healed. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

It’s our first day at this school, and as much as I hate my stupid adoptive brother, he’s right. I’ll have to be careful not to attract attention to the family. I let out a defeated sigh.

Make a friend? Easy-peasy.

I pull the straps of my backpack tighter and straighten my shoulders as I step through the swinging doors.

I make it two steps before tripping over my shoelace and crashing into someone. His books go flying, scattering across the floor, and the hot coffee in his hands spills all over him, staining his white shirt as I watch in rising horror.

“I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m truly sorry!” I gasp, hurriedly digging out a folded napkin from my bag. I move to clean up the mess and freeze mid-step.

Time seems to stop, as a ringing sound fill my ears.

My vision goes red. I feel my fingers twitching as a familiar warmth spreads through my body. Anger. White-hot anger like no other. 

How careless could I be? I should have been alert the moment I stepped on the school grounds.

This disgusting, repulsive smell should have given him away from a mile off. 

Werewolf. 

I clench my fist, struggling to rein in my emotions. I mustn’t do anything stupid. 

Looking up at the stranger, I take a step back and smile sweetly.

Piercing blue eyes stare back, wide open in surprise. 

“I think you should get that cleaned up,” I grin awkwardly and toss him the napkin. Without waiting for a response, I turn around and begin to walk away. 

“Wait.” His hand rests heavily on my shoulder, stopping me from moving. I refuse to turn around.

“You have two seconds to get that filthy hand off me before I break it,” my voice takes on an edge. 

In the blink of an eye, I feel myself turned around and slammed against the wall.

I gasp in disbelief and look up at the boy.

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you,” he grabs my wrist and pins it above my head. He goes on to slam his other hand against the wall on the other side of my face, trapping me.

“You were the one who bumped into me like a klutz, don’t make it difficult.” he hisses, gazing at me as his thick, dark curls fall to his eyes.

So close to him, I can see every detail of his face. A scar runs vertically underneath one eye and stops on the cheekbone. His lips look soft and moisturized. I feel my heart skip a beat. 

“Let me go,” I level him with a cold look.

“Only if you promise to speak with me,” he demands, stepping closer and erasing the gap between us. I feel his warm breath on my face. His eyes roam, as he slowly takes me in from head to toe.

For some reason, it angers me.

“Get away from me, you creep.” I spit viciously into his face.

He closes his eyes as my saliva sprays his face generously. Then his beautiful face morphs into a mask of anger.

For a moment, his expression is torn between anger and an emotion I don’t quite understand.

Do it, I think angrily.

Go ahead and prove how much of an animal you are, I wish fervently.

But somehow, he chooses peace instead. He carefully uses the napkin I gave him to wipe his face clean.

Then he leans in and whispers calmly, “I promised to keep my nose clean this week, so you’re in luck. But dare me next time, and see if I’ll go easy.”

He begins to pull away, but I’m not going to make this easy for him. Keep his nose clean? It’s about to get dirtier than a toilet brush. 

“Help!” I scream at the top of my voice, and he pauses his retreat, still holding on to my wrist.

“Somebody help me!” I scream and begin to sob hysterically. 

Too late, he realizes what is happening and hurriedly drops my hand. But people have seen.

A female teacher seems to appear out of thin air and hurries toward us.

“Oh dear! Are you alright?” she gently pulls me away from the wall. Then she turns to the boy, angrily.

“It’s the first day of school, Raymond…the first day. Couldn’t you pretend to behave for once in your life?” She screams indignantly.

I continue to sob loudly as he watches me in disbelief. “I… I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything,” he stutters.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” the teacher carefully looks me over.

“Mrs. Thompson, I swear I didn’t do anything. We were talking, and she just…started…crying?” Raymond turns to me, looking confused. 

“Tell that to the principal” the teacher frowns as she grabs his hand.

“No. Seriously, she’s just joking” he tries to explain. 

I let out a loud wail and fall to my knees for effect.

“Take her to the infirmary,” the teacher urges a student watching the drama. A girl rushes forward to help me to my feet

. “I swear I didn’t hurt her.” Raymond looks around, but nobody is listening to him.

As Mrs. Thompson leads him to the principal’s office, he turns back to give me a murderous glare.

I smile savagely. Take that, filthy wolf.