Chapter 6

SELENA

It's not until the next day I discover the second part of the hazing. I'm standing in front of my closet, staring at the clothes I keep hanging up in there. They're covered in white streaks.

Bleach or paint, I'm not sure.

When I took a shower last night, I got my things out of the dresser. I didn't even open my closet until this morning.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I yell, not caring who hears me. I drag my hands through my hair. What am I going to do?

I hear a noise behind me and turn around. Dominic is standing in my doorway, key in hand, obviously about to make a point that I can't hide from him or something. He's looking past me at the closet. I grab a dress I particularly liked and throw it at him. It lands at his feet, covered in white streaks.

“Are you happy? I don't have any money to get new clothes, so I get to walk around in this shit. I hope everyone enjoys themselves.”

Then, embarrassingly, I burst into tears.

“Wait, shit, I didn't know about this, I swear–”

“Yeah right. You're the only one who seems to enjoy seeing me suffer, you and your she-wolf friends.”

“Look, I–shit, don't cry, just…” He holds up a finger. “Just one moment.”

And he disappears.

I'm systematically pulling my clothes off the hangers, looking for anything undamaged, when he comes back, bringing Billie with him.

“What the hell, Dom? We already talked about this.”

“I swear this wasn't me, Billie.”

She reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his wallet, rifles through it and holds up a credit card. “You owe her, Dom. You're fixing it.” She comes over to me. “Hey. I'm really sorry about this. We're going to fix it. Find anything that has sentimental value and trash the rest, because you and I are getting you a whole new wardrobe. And that one is going to come with us to carry our packages. There might be a lot, I'm feeling like getting something, too.”

I look up at her from the floor, my eyes and nose red, still wearing my outfit from last night. “You don't have to do this.”

“Oh I want to do this. I think I need to do this. Then I think we need to have a come to Jesus moment with a couple of she-wolves. That will feel good, too. I'm liking today so far.”

She helps me stand up. “Come to my room and pick out something to wear. Then we're going shopping.”

We go to the mall in Meridian. And I realize I have no idea what to buy. I know what Luna Margaret would want me to buy: sensible knits, sweater sets, maxi skirts which look awful on my short legs, general frumpiness. But as we hit the fast casual boutiques and I look around me, I start to trust my own instincts and reach for things that appeal to me. Lace skirts, form-fitting black tops and midi pencil skirts, black dresses of any kind. We hit one store that had a jackpot of cute black dresses, and I get several different styles, Billie egging me on. 

I get a couple pairs of silvery gray jeans and some velvet and knit bodysuits in different colors. Then Billie takes me to a formal wear boutique and I feel like a princess, trying on everything. She talks me into a silvery spangled mini dress with straps, and an autumn-colored silk dress with burnout velvet in leaf shapes. We add a strappy pair of black high heels with ribbons that wrap up your ankles, and a pink pair of ballet flats in a similar style. 

Then Billie stops at a high end leisure wear and lingerie store. “You know, I think you should get some nighttime wear. Just in case they got into your dresser.” So we come out of there with a couple racy nightgowns and the most comfortable pair of white fuzzy PJs that I've ever seen.

The whole time, Dominic carries our packages and doesn't say a word of complaint. I'm impressed at his forbearance. We eat at the food court, and I get Kung Pao chicken, which is like a luxury for me. Billie gets vegetarian lo mein, then sends Dominic to the other side of the food court so we can talk.

“Why did you thank me the first day you were here?” Billie asks.

I swallow. “Because the guys you defeated weren't good guys.”

“I'm glad you think so. I didn't get the feeling when we met that you were the type of girl who would make excuses for them.”

“Being a foster kid gives you a low tolerance for slime. You get used to it, but you're never okay with it.”

She has a serious look on her face. “Living with Lunacy…”

“Yeah it's not great, but can we talk about anything else?”

I can't let her get close to my secret.

“Well, I do have a…personal question that's going to sound catty.”

“Go for it.”

“You're beautiful, and it's not that you need it, but why don't you wear makeup? Just a little color on your eyes and cheeks.”

I shrug. “I love to look at makeup looks and tutorials, but I've never owned any. Foster kids don't have a lot of belongings.”

She grins. “Let's change that.”

She takes me to a makeup store–still forcing Dominic to follow us around–and uses the samples to show me how to do a smoky neutral eye. Then she puts some dark blush on my cheeks and the effect is striking. We end up buying a neutral eyeshadow palette of browns and rose golds, an eyeliner and a mascara, and a blush palette, with a set of makeup brushes. Then she talks me into a nearly black lipstick “for Fall”. I'm in heaven. Finally, we head home.

Dominic carries my things up to my attic room, where all my messed up clothes have been taken away. He sets the packages down on my vanity, then turns to me.

“I really didn't know they were going to do that.”

“Okay.”

He looks down at his feet, then looks up at me hopefully. “Truce?”

“Truce,” I agree. “Since I still don't know why you hate me.”

“I don't hate you.” He shuffles his foot, twitchy. “I just have a very big grudge against Lunacy.”

“Well, I'm not a member, so I hope that helps.”

“Okay then. I'll see you for your evening class.”

“Okay.”

He takes off.

I don't get him. I know about him–how he's the Underground’s best fighter, how he beats Lunacy no matter who they put up against him. That must be the reason for the hazing. He just hates Lunacy and thinks I'm one of them.

Which makes sense, since I'm pretending to be, sort of.

Everyone here seems nice except for him and those two girls. And Raven didn't seem surprised by their actions, so they must just be mean girls.

But something still doesn't sit quite right.

I really don't get him.

Mate! my inner wolf cries out.

“Look, I'm sorry our fated mate turned out to be such a dillweed,” I whisper to her. She whimpers.

I have to find a way to get rid of these scent blockers. If he knows I'm his mate, maybe things will change.

Maybe he'll act nicer, even if we reject the bond.

My phone dings.

NOX: Any shit coming to you from The Underground?

Nox and I aren't friends. I'm not telling him about the hazing.

ME: Everything is fine. People have been nice to me.

NOX: You just let me know if they give you any trouble, we'll make them regret it.

He doesn't actually care. He just wants an excuse to mess with the Black Rose Pack. He hates it that they were formed into an official pack by the council, while Lunacy splintered  and broke apart. I hate that he's like this. He's not my boyfriend, and he doesn’t care if I get hurt. But the stupid words on the screen mimic what any girl wants to hear from her guy, and that's what I hate the most.

I wish he'd just let me go.

We've known each other since we were young children. At first he bullied me, then he decided I was his personal doll. I had to follow him around, dress how he wanted me to dress, play what games he wanted me to play, talk how he wanted me to talk. That lasted into puberty, and sometimes I wonder if who I am is real or a phantom of Nox's making. 

What separates me from who I had to become to survive? Nox didn't touch me until college, but I wasn't allowed to show an interest in boys, either. Nox and his two sisters–who aren't as bad as him, but they're self-centered brats–made sure I focused only on them, as their personal maid and companion.

The past 48 hours have been a revelation. I've breathed free air, had conversations with people I just met, spent the evening how I wanted to spend it, bought clothing I actually want to own–and I don't know how I'm going to give that up when the semester ends.