Twelve

Kian

Mom's phone chimed a few lines from a girly pop song. She fished it out from the front pocket of an apron that she'd thrown on and answered with a beaming smile stretching across her face.

"Hey, handsome, guess what I'm doing right now?" She giggled as the recognizable rumble of my father's voice uttered something dirty and suggestive.

I scrunch my face with repulsion.

"No, you perv," Mom replied flirtatiously, "I'm cooking on your barbecue," she told him, to which I heard him protesting playfully that it was his toy and how it would earn her a good ole' spanking when he came home from work.

I almost choked on my steak and had to get Mrs. Banks to pound her palm against my back.

Mom rolled her eyes, then held out the phone. "Your dad wants to talk to you," she informed me, the girly smile still lingering on her lips as if she was deliriously happy.

I took the modern device, which was a Christmas present from me to her, and answered with a "Hello?"

"Was that you choking?" he asked, his voice full of humor. "Is your momma's cooking really that bad? Do I need to send for an ambulance?"

Mom's face flooded with amused shock. "I heard that!" She laughed out loud.

I chortled at his witty comment. "I'll live. How are things down at Lakewell? Quiet, I hope?"

"Same old, same old," Dad mentioned, which was his way of saying “boring and uneventful”, which was what I wanted to hear.

"Good, that means that you'll be home on Friday," I replied with a sigh of relief.

There was a brief pause down the line before Dad decided that he would mess with me. "Uh, why? What's happening on Friday?" he asked, his voice still holding the same humored tone as if he actually thought I couldn't tell the difference.

"Dad," I dragged out his name, making him crack down the other end of the line.

"I know, I know, it's the big game on Friday," he said, extinguishing any doubt that he had forgotten. "Like I would miss my boy's last game of the season," he stated as if the idea was unthinkable.

I knew that it would be a lot to expect from him to attend every single game. It was the same with anyone whose father was a ranger. Working unsocial hours was part of their job description, but Dad made it to the majority of my games. Mom always had to work during those hours, but she had assured me that she had booked the time off so that she could make the last game of the season. Mrs. Banks was also going to be there. Having all three of them there to cheer me on was a huge boost for my morale. I knew that Mrs. B didn't much approve of me Cage fighting, but she praised me for joining the lacrosse team.

Mom made a grabbing gesture for the phone, signaling that she wanted it back.

"Bye, Dad. See you on Friday." I gave the phone back, watching the light illuminate Mom’s features as she continued her conversation with him, pausing to listen to whatever he was saying to her while she bit her bottom lip as she grinned.

Mrs. Banks washed down her burger with a mouthful of her homemade lemonade, and I continued attacking my steak with my serrated-edged steak knife. Like I said, living the good ole' life.

*~*~*

"We'll hit 'em fast, we'll hit 'em hard, us Forest Hills Bears are warriors!" Our cheer team chanted, swinging their hips in their pleated green and yellow dresses while waving around the matching pom-poms.

Across the other side of the sports field, the Whitevale cheer team were all dressed in blue and white, giving their boys the same motivational boost.

"We're mighty! We're crazy! We're never, ever lazy! We'll beat you! Defeat you! Our Alpha could even eat you! He'll cover you in hot sauce, cuz we're the best at lacrosse. Gooo Wolves!"

I swung the crosse and caught the rubber ball in the net, managing to jump just in time as the wolf who came at me took a sly swipe at my leg. Those Whitevale fuckers aren't as squeaky clean as they'd like folks to believe they are. I managed to shoot the ball in the net and snatch our way to victory in the final few seconds of the game. Forest Hills were still the reigning champions, just like we had been for four years in a row.

My popularity in high school was at its all-time high, thanks to me joining the Lacrosse team. It made high school suck a little less. Most of the guys on the team were buff. As a rule, bears tended to be bigger than other shifters. It was just how we were built. Even our women were big and curvy. I once saw a wolf shifter lose an arm wrestle to a bear shifter female. It was the funniest thing I ever saw in my life. Especially when she flung him over her shoulder and told him that he had pulled for the night. Bear, cat, wolf, or human, it didn't matter to me, I could still appreciate all the qualities of a hot female body. I was a red-blooded male after all.

My teammates fist-punched the air as I scored, running to collide into me and hoist me onto their shoulders. I glanced out at the crowd and searched among the ocean of screaming faces, noticing the absence of my family.

Fuck! They said that they would be here.

The more that I searched, the more apparent to me that they were a no-show. My smile slowly evaporated from my face, only to be replaced with gut-sinking disappointment.

As the raucous cheers from the bleachers began to subside, coach strode onto the pitch to join in on our moment.

"Well done, guys! You were awesome out there!" he praised, giving each of us a firm clap on the back.

Just as I turned to leave with my teammates, he summoned me back.

"Jones," he called me by my last name. "A word if you've got a moment."

I hung back as the other guys made their way to the sports hall. At least if I was sidetracked by Coach, the showers were likely to be empty by the time I got there. They were always whipping each other with twisted towels and comparing dick sizes, doing infantile antics that the boys in the Cage all scoffed at. I joined in as one of the boys while I was here at school, taking part in the playful teasing and testosterone-fueled ridicule that could be expected from adolescence. It was a mask of my true self, an innocent face concealing the darkness that was growing within. I could feel it taking over me in the Cage as well as here on the pitch. Within me brewed a rage so potent and deadly that if it were to manifest itself as a storm, it would wipe out the whole of Whitehaven and leave nothing standing. This life, as superficial as the act I was portraying each day, was keeping Kian Jones anchored and caging the Beast inside.

"Yes, Coach?" I answered, my chest still heaving as I regained a steady breathing pattern.

"Wanted a word about the game." He looked me directly in the eyes as he spoke to me with pride. "You got some talent, I'll give you that."

There was a time when I would shy my eyes away from a compliment like that, but that was the old Kian. The new me grinned back at him with an air of boyish arrogance.

"Thanks, Coach," I replied, lapping up the glory.

"Have you given any thought about going to college?" he asked, his words delivering me a harsh slap as a wake-up call.

College?

I hadn't given it much thought at all, lately. One, because there was no way we could afford it, even with my extra earnings. Two, because I had way too many responsibilities at home these days. My dreams of working in the construction industry were slowly becoming more of a pipe dream.

"I'm going to take your silence as a big fat no." Coach raised his rusty-colored brows, wrinkling his forehead. He ripped the yellow and green striped cap from his head and ruffled his cayenne-colored hair before placing the cap back in situ.

The Forest Hills colors were waving proudly in the form of spectator flags on the bleachers. None of the crowd had moved a muscle, probably waiting for the guys to come out and give a lap of honor in nothing but their underwear. Some like to give more of an eyeful, that was why the cheerleading squad always stuck around until the end.

"I . . . uh . . ." I stammered my words, not meaning to, but I couldn't seem to figure out what excuse to give on the spot.

Coach gave a subtle shake of his head, then leaned in as he placed his hand on my shoulder. "I'm well aware of your circumstances, son, but you shouldn't allow that to define you." I released a heavy sigh through my nose, pressing my lips into a tight, thin line. I hated pity, but thankfully, it wasn't pity that he was dishing out. This seemed more like friendly advice.

"How would you feel if I was to make you the team's captain at the start of your junior year?" he delivered, stunning me into silence.

My jaw hung agape, overwhelmed that he had so much faith in me.

"Coach, I don't know what to say . . ." I could hardly believe it.

Me — team captain — and a junior too. Never in the whole of history had a junior been the captain of the Forest Hills lacrosse team. This was a first.

Coach held out his hand for me to shake. "Say yes, you idiot!" He chuckled, his gruff voice as firm as the grasp on my hand. "Because this is your ticket into college," he advised. "A sports scholarship if you play your cards right."

Coach was right. I would have to be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.

"Yes, I'd be honored," I answered, feeling the warm swell of pride blaze through my chest.

I had earned this for myself.

Coach clapped me on the back. "Off to the showers with you; just don't celebrate too much." His voice held stern humor. "I hear what else goes on down at the falls."

I slapped a hand over my heart as I started to walk backward. "I've no idea what you're talking about, Coach." My attempt to feign innocence was met with a narrowed-eyed look of distrust.

"Whatever you say," Coach muttered.