All Chapters of The Lycans Nextdoor: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Maxine “Mum? Mum!” Fuck. I stopped for a strawberry float and now my mother has disappeared in the middle of the airport. It’s Tuesday morning and Vancouver International Airport is packed. People are rushing in every direction, dragging suitcases and shouting over each other. How exactly does she expect me to find her in this chaos? Especially since she has my phone. I took another sip of the cold float and dragged my suitcase behind me, scanning the crowd. Mum looks like… well, a typical mum. Skinny, blonde hair in a messy bun, jeans, brown top. Unfortunately, about fifty other women in this airport look exactly the same. I weaved through the crowd, checking every direction so I wouldn’t miss her. I’m her only child. It’s impressive that she managed to lose me in the airport of a country I’ve never even been to. Did she go back to baggage claim? Did she leave the waiting area? For a moment I considered yelling for her again, but the strange looks people were giving me made

Maxine Monday came faster than I expected. I felt a mix of nervousness, excitement, and nonchalance. Going back to a school environment would definitely be triggering. Anyway, I got up as early as 5 a.m. to take a morning run. It helped me stay calm and ready for the day. I thought I was going to miss the grey city of London, but the way the tall trees buried their heads in a thick fog gave me a strangely homely and nostalgic feeling. Opportunity by Quvenzhané Wallis played softly through my headphones as I ran down the quiet, damp asphalt road. Damn, I should have grabbed a jacket. It was a cold morning. I ran past my airport neighbors’ house. Yesterday I saw the redhead. I had dreaded opening my window ever since I saw the one with the glasses. I didn’t think they lived together. Are they brothers or something? I focused on my running, reaching the end of the street before turning around and running back. A forty-minute run would do. As I approached my house, I saw a redheaded

Brandon Four seven eleven. Four seven eleven. Four seven eleven. I tapped my fingers against the tabletop, trying to focus. I didn’t know what it was, but something about this British weirdo deeply unsettled me. Not only did she live next door, now she was at our school. She had a face you could not forget. I barely cared about remembering people the first time we met, especially if it was a flimsy encounter like the one we had at the airport. Yet suddenly I wanted to know everything about her. Her past records and all. Why was she here? Who moves to a new country in their senior year? I didn’t wait for the rest of the assembly. I quietly excused myself and walked to the student records office. I owned a key—illegally, of course—to be able to do things like this and also to make sure my record was not tainted by the silly little mistakes the principal loved to not ignore. I pushed open the door, ignoring the CCTV camera. I was just going to erase the clip as soon as I w

Maxine I absolutely hate opening up to people. My mom and I quarrel about it all the time. It’s just really hard for me, but here I was—skipping class with a weird boy I had only spoken to once and pouring my heart out to him. As we lay on the cold rock and I told him about last year, it made me realize how much I had been repressing. It was so much harder than I thought it was—scarier, more painful. But he listened to every word and I liked it. “And before Joey died, we had this friend, a boy named Cal. He was in the foster system and I knew how tough things were for him. But during the holidays before we started junior year, he went missing. It didn’t turn into a huge case because he was just a boy with no parents, so it was swept away. I always wanted to know what happened to him—if he’s dead or alive,” I explained, forcing down the lump in my throat. “The foster care system in many places is really bad and dangerous. I hope someday, when I’m older, I can make it better,” I add

Brandon “Where did you go?” Johnny asked. “Hi, boys. I had lunch with our new neighbor, she’s amazing,” my mom said, looking between the three of us. Amy is not my biological mom. She’s my aunt and also my uncle’s wife. The thing is, my family had a period of incestuous marriages up until my parents, so it’s kind of weird to understand the dynamics. The first incestuous pair was my great-great-great grandparents, who were twins that discovered they were mated to each other. No one knew if it was an accident or fate or whatever, but then it happened again and again, although it became more of chosen mates than fated ones. So Amy and my uncle were related, but they were also married and they had Johnny. Johnny’s dad’s brother was my dad, and my dad fell in love with his first cousin—my mom—and they had me and Mike. They are dead now. Johnny’s dad and my parents. They died in a car accident. Amy raised us as her own, and we call her Mum because that’s what she is. I took a gulp o