The Academy of Werewolves

[NightAir]

Summary:

In a world where supernatural beings go to specialized schools away from the humans, straight A student Kevin Tse turns into a werewolf in the middle of a school assembly and promptly gets kicked out. He's forced to transfer to the Academy of Werewolves--a prestigious institute in a backwater forest town. Its ancient halls are ruled by the iron fist of the budding Alphas of the area's most prominent werewolf packs. Kevin's determined to graduate his last year without any trouble, but at the Academy, there's no such thing as a lone wolf, and like it or not, this year will change Kevin's life forever...for better, and for worse.

 

Status: WIP

 

Warnings: Emotional but usually fun attitudey gay male protagonist, fellow werewolves of varying sexualities, violence/threats, bullying, probably not accurate high school cliques, really inaccurate pack dynamics to nonfactual wolf behaviour, Alpha/Beta hierarchy labels, sexual language/acts in upcoming chapters (atm this is rated T just for Kevin's language), and unhealthy relationship portrayal. Also 1st person POV, if you hate stuff like that (take a chance on meee).

 

Comments: basically this is my shame corner welcome i hope you enter for the werewolves and stay for the fact that Kevin uses attitude and sarcasm as a self-defense mechanism.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

All things considered, my werewolf puberty was actually not supposed to happen. And I mean, at all.

 

Then again, when lycanthropy is a recessive trait because one of your ancestors thought super hairy bodies were a turn-on without bothering to question how a human being could actually physically accrue all that hair without being mistaken for a Yeti—it figures that I’d get the short end of the stick.

 

And the shorter, definitely crappier of two guest chairs in the principal’s office.

 

“So.”

 

Despite being a stereotypical short Chinese guy (I weep, I know), I felt crammed in that tiny-ass seat, a wooden carved seat you would’ve seen in some sort of Goldilocks play rendition with even the little heart carved near the top. It could’ve been used as a torture weapon.

 

Beside me, James wasn’t doing so much better with his own wooden chair. He was a dark, handsome kind of guy, but he was built tough and big, the kind of person you’d expect to see as a bouncer in a club, so his knees were almost up to his shoulders. He looked angry, but I couldn’t tell because I really didn’t want him to know I was looking.

 

“So,” Mr. Needles (I kid you not, that is his actual name) said again slowly, clasping his hands together on his desk. He looked down at us in a way I think he thought was pretty intimidating. All it did was make his eyes look twice as big through the magnifying glasses he wore to see. “So.”

 

James didn’t say a thing. He was that kind of guy; mean, grunty, and the first one to punch the shit out of the most harmless kid in the year just because he happened to sprout hair three-inches long in the exactly wrong places. You didn’t mess with James. My ribs were definitely bruised.

 

Me, I was holding an icepack to my cheek. Also trying to hold back my (manly) tears of pain because fuck. When you turned into a vampire, you hardly felt pain. But a werewolf? Ouchity ouch ouch. Losing bruises as painful as you gained them. I didn’t know which was better: to find out you were a frail human being like you’d always thought you were, or to find out you were a werewolf but painkillers would never work on you?

 

“James,” Mr. Needles said, deciding to address the elephant in the room. “You may go.”

 

“But he punched me,” I protested. The protest died as soon as James slammed a fist on the table.

 

It was a loud slam. Very loud. Very potential I-will-hurt-you slam.

 

I shut up.

 

Mr. Needles looked at him. “James.”

 

James stood up slowly. “You should kick him out, Mr. N,” he said, and I didn’t miss it when he moved so that his leg would directly kick me right in the shin. It hurt. “Oops. Watch it, Rover.”

 

Speciest asshole. Did he treat his Chihuahua like that at home?

 

It wasn’t until the door closed that Mr. Needles sighed and said, “You realize this is really an unprecedented case.”

 

I didn’t say anything. I was trying not to let it show that all it took was one harsh tone and I teared up. Seventeen years. Seventeen years I'd been like this. You'd have thought I'd have known better, but nooo.

 

The first thing they teach you about human school is how much you’re supposed to be there. How segregation is such a good thing. My school was a human elitist school, full of rich kids who all talked about where they’d gone for vacation but couldn’t understand why you didn’t buy three Apple watches for your dog to wear on a walk. If there was even one scent of you being what they called “abnormal”, you’d be kicked out. I kept being gay locked down tighter than Canadians and their maple syrup for four years.

 

“You also realize,” Mr. Needles said, reaching into the filing cabinet behind him and withdrawing a thin file, “that this means you’ll need to transfer.”

 

I watched as he lay my file on the table and opened it. Crisp and blank, excluding the photocopy of my birth certificate, my human medical examination certification, and my student information. He pulled out a blank piece of paper and another one that were my transfer papers.

 

“It’s one more year, sir,” I said. I hardly could hear myself. One year. I’d suffered three years of everything, three years of finding my place was teacher’s pet if I wanted the good grades my parents kept pushing me to get, three years of backbreaking favour-granting to make good impressions for possibly good references to university. This was a goddamn private school. Tuition wasn’t cheap.

 

And all of it gone just because…

 

I’d never been good at controlling my emotions. Already I could feel frustration well up in me, as well as the age-old adagio of “Why are you crying? Aren’t you a man?”

 

Shut up. Fuck off. All that fucking work gone. Everything I’ve worked so hard for, everything my parents ever worked their asses off to pay for, gave up so I could—

 

It was all gone.

 

“A pity,” Mr. Needles agreed tonelessly. He withdrew from his breast pocket a fountain pen that would’ve cost more than my dad made in a year and began to fill out the date on the transfer papers. “You were a model student, Kevin. You exemplified every trait our school expects out of our graduates. It’s unfortunate your time with us was so short.”

 

 

Short. Three years was short.

 

Three years of my life, short.

 

Head straight to a tutoring class every day after school so I wouldn't have time for extracurriculars. Come home straight after for dinner, do homework and study straight every night. An hour of video games if I was lucky. It was June, for fuck's sake. I'd made it through my eleventh grade. I was almost there.

 

Back in the assembly, everything felt like it had been moving too fast, like the world had been out to choke me. Pain and adrenaline and fear and the urge to survive. Now, it felt like I was choking just fine on my own, watching this man slowly take out an ink pad and a stamp.

 

“Sir,” I said. My voice was wet. I was probably going to either cry or just lock myself in some unused broom closet or a toilet stall, whichever came first, and hate myself. “Please. There’s a special class, right? In the school. For At-Risks. I could go there.”

 

“You aren’t human, Kevin,” Mr Needles said. "You don't get to stay here."

 

Without another word, he put E X P E L L E D on my file.

 

So there you have it. Wasn't supposed to happen, but it did.

 

And now I had to live with the consequences as though it were my fault.

[NightAir]

Chapter 2

 

Needless to say, like in all other aspects in my life, I failed my disapproving and disappointed parents yet again for something that wasn’t even my fault to begin with. And like every other time I wanted to be my own person, you know, like how all those TV shows geared at kids whose parents ate meals with multiple utensils—I felt guilty about it.

 

My dad didn’t even bother talking to me when he found out the news. My mom just smiled her No-Choice smile and told me to pack. I ate dinner, stayed up on my phone, and then went to bed. This cycle repeated for two nights before I tossed whatever I had into two suitcases and a backpack.

 

Less than seventy-two hours after I was expelled from one of the most prestigious human schools around, I climbed into the waiting car of my uncle. Uncle Tsu, who, like me, had drawn the bad stick lottery of shame early on.

 

I woke up hours later, mouth dry. My phone was dead so I couldn’t check the time; so I spent the time staring out the window instead, at a giant stretch of fields beside the highway. The sun was bright and high and the AC was spluttering what little life remained in it.

 

I didn’t recognize where we were; city was where I had grown up, and the large neighborhoods of extravagant houses staring down at me every day as I made the bike commute. We were so far away from the metropolis at that point I couldn’t have hitchhiked back even if I’d wanted to. It was just the two of us, crammed into the small tiny old red car of his that had seen better days.

 

“How long was I out?” I asked, eventually, when the car went over some rough road.

 

From the driver’s seat, Uncle Tsu uuhh’d thoughtfully. “Probably three hours? You were out the moment I left the driveway.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“We’re three-quarters there, anyway. Need a pee break? Lunch?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Next rest stop’s in about five minutes.” He signaled to change lanes. And then: “Kev… Is there… Anything I need to know about the werewolf adolescent thing? Diet change? Craving for that protein mineral?”

 

“Stop being a meme,” I said, kicking the back of his seat. “It went out of style years ago.”

 

“Haha, my bad. When the supernatural puberty hits, things change up.”

 

“It isn’t my fault,” I said quietly.

 

“That a boy,” Uncle Tsu replied. I jolted.

 

“Sorry."

 

“Don't be. It sounds like the kind of thing you should be thinking of.” Uncle Tsu looked at me in the rear-view mirror. “I heard about what happened, kiddo. I’m sorry. You want to talk about it?” he asked me, from the front.

 

I didn’t feel like answering and he didn’t push it.

 

I glanced out the window to where the wide mirror was, and then back out the window. At that point, we entered a tunnel. All I saw staring back at me was a guy who—

 

God.

 

Physically, I didn’t look all that different. I was still Kevin, not-too-tall, plenty short, with a face smoother than most of the girls I’d gone to class with. Kevin with an A average, always participated in class, always studied his ass, who hung out with some friend groups but never was a real part of it all. Physically, there was no sign at all that I was one of them.

 

Still.

 

I looked like shit. I rubbed my eyes as we drove into the rest stop parking lot.

 

The rest stop looked like it hadn’t seen a decent renovation since the last few decades, like one of those locations in between where you hear about ghost stories and stuff. The parking lot was fairly decent, but toilets were separate. It reeked, and didn’t look like anyone had cleaned it for years.

 

I peed, washed my hands, and wiped them on my pants and almost got my head smashed in for my troubles.

 

“Watch out,” the man, big, gruff and tall, told me at the door. He had on a leather jacket, wore leather gloves, dark sunglasses, and a dark brown beard with shaggy hair. He did not look friendly.

 

I lowered my eyes automatically and mumbled out something that could be called, “Sorry.”

 

The main building seemed to double as a gas station. I pulled open the sticky doors, and there was Uncle Tsu already sitting at one of the food court tables. He didn’t look all that different from me. When I was younger, people used to think we were brothers all the time, and I used to think I’d grow up to look like him. He wasn’t all that built, but he was definitely a fairly average height.

 

Uncle Tsu waved me over the instant he saw me. He wasn’t alone either at the table. Beside him was a couple—two middle-aged women who wore matching rings on their ring fingers.

 

“Kevin,” Uncle Tsu said, “this is Lenalie and Miriam. They’re travelling the same way we are.”

 

“Hi,” I said awkwardly. I was okay with people; but meeting strangers always tripped me up. “Um.”

 

“Oh, goodness,” the taller one said, smiling. She had big, large eyes with long lashes and red lipstick, and she looked like the kind of person who’d still be walking a runway in her nineties. “I’m not a werewolf, you’ve no need to fear my reprimand. Miriam.” She held out her hand.

 

Uncle Tsu told them. I could instantly feel my mood drop. “Oh.” Well, it figured he’d tell them. It wasn’t like it was my secret. I reached out to shake it. “It’s nice to meet you, Miriam.” Her hand was cold to the touch, like smooth scales underneath my palm.

 

“Got you good, huh?” Miriam grinned at me, catching my falter. “Mermaids fall a little colder than werewolves do.”

 

“So you both are—”

 

“Merkind.” Lenalie was darker skinned, with red gills framing her neck whereas Miriam had been wearing a scarf. Her eyes were smaller, sharper, and she studied me with an expression I really didn’t like. “Well, pup, whose pack are you going to join?”

 

“I’m not joining a pack.” I’d done my research. I wasn’t obligated to. And if I was on my own, the faster I could go back to human life. I wouldn’t have anything keeping me from it.

 

Besides, it unsettled me, having to automatically follow after whatever anyone said. I’d never been comfortable in large groups. I worked better alone or in pairs.

 

“Really,” Lenalie said distastefully. “What’s the world coming to? You think you’re so special?”

 

It felt like she’d slapped me in the face.

 

“I—” Indignation passed into something resembling humiliation.

 

“Len,” Miriam chided, before she smiled fondly at me. “Don’t worry, Kevin. You won’t be forced to choose right away. They have applications open the earliest at the start of school year, so you’ll definitely have your pick.”

 

“But I’m not,” I said, irritation filling me up. “I’m not joining a pack. I just said.”

 

“He’s still young yet,” Uncle Tsu said, with a laugh, interrupting. Under the table he nudged his foot against my ankle—universal sign for just going with it. To not make trouble. “So where exactly are you two headed in town? Staying for a long time?”

 

I felt my face turn red. I didn’t say a thing.

 

“We’re visiting my parents,” Miriam smiled. “We’ve been so long without a pack, you know.”

 

Lenalie stared me straight across from the table. I looked down, grabbing my phone out of my bag before I remembered the battery was out.

[NightAir]

Chapter 3

“We’re almost there.”

 

To be honest, I don’t know what I expected. Groggily, I wiped my mouth of the drool with the front of my shirt, and saw…

 

…just a regular old sign with a population number on it. Beyond that, just—trees. Lots and lost of trees. We were on a jittery, forest path that had no real pavement on it, something I was barely able to believe had enough room for the car. I felt like Chihiro from Spirited Away, holding onto the car door, somewhat glad that seatbelt-wearing was a second instinct.

 

Maybe I would’ve loved getting Spirited Away.

 

“How far?” I said. My voice was hoarse.

 

“Not long now.”

 

Eventually, we left the forest path—or should I say the forest grew less dense, started pushing back away from the path and the trees growing further apart? I’d been worried, but as soon as I could see the blue of sky I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d grown up seventeen years in the smallest room imaginable, but at least I’d seen lawns and grass. It’d feel claustrophobic to have a log cabin in the woods.

 

We rounded through a wavy path on a flat land along a fairly decent sized lake with trees looming around the edges. I spotted an old tire hung in the distance from one of the branches, and we passed by a dock—either people went swimming, or they probably went fishing. Today, there was nobody.

 

“That’s my house,” Uncle Tsu said, pointing. I had to crane my neck to see his finger gesture to what looked to be a fairly new complex. “The one with the WELCOME YOUNG WEREWOLF NEPHEW on it.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

He didn’t actually put one up.

 

“Made you look,” he said, laughing. I kicked the back of his seat again and he laughed harder.

 

This was just how we were. I remembered spending years and years with Uncle Tsu growing up; he was only about seven years older than I was. And even though it’d been even more years since I’d last seen him, it was like nothing had changed a bit since I was ten.

 

It made me feel a little better—that I still had some sort of constant to cling on.

 

Uncle Tsu parked in one of the grouped parking areas along other deceptively for-human like cars. Then again—werewolves just…they were humans. Who just happened to be able to turn into wolves. That was all I was now, anyway.

 

We lugged up the suitcases through the unlocked front door, which either meant it was ridiculously 60s safe enough that nobody would bother, or Uncle Tsu had been robbed. He didn’t look worried, though.

 

I looked around us. This place was a ghost town—hopefully not literally. I just wasn’t in the mood for anymore supernatural creatures. Thinking about the conversation with Lenalie made my mood sour again.

 

“Ready to unpack?” Uncle Tsu asked me cheerily once we were in.

 

“Can we unpack later?” I asked him, leaning against the suitcases as I tried to catch my breath. Werewolf puberty gave me super strength—or it was supposed to, if the half-frenzied post-expelled adrenaline of shame had fueled me right in my Google searching the first night after my wolf-out—

 

I really just wanted some alone time.

 

“Sure thing. Mi casa tu casa and all,” Uncle Tsu said. “Hope you like. I’ve got a PS3 too and some games if you’re up for a few rounds of DC Versus Mortal Kombat later. Your room’s upstairs, the first one to your left if you want to be alone for a while. Come down when you’re hungry or you want the wifi password.”

 

“Cool.”

 

I kicked my shoes off, nudging them to the side of the wall.

 

The house was okay. It looked lived in, had a somewhat decent furniture, and wasn’t creepy or anything. Plus, the stairs didn’t creak like the ones at my house. These ones were wood instead of full-out carpet on the second floor. There were four rooms in a long L-shaped hallway. My door was ready and open along with the other two doors beside it, and one at the end was closed.

 

My room was big; bigger than I was used to, actually with a double bed, a dresser and a full-length mirror. Guess Uncle Tsu figured teenagers needed one. First thing I did was dig my charger out from my bag and plug in my phone. Two sockets, I noted; one next to the bed which was next to a curtained window that stretched from the ceiling to maybe the top of my knee—it saw over the lake, which meant I’d probably get the sun first if I didn’t pull the blinds shut either.

 

The second thing I did was try out the bed. I flopped back on it, feeling how the springs sunk down and popped me back up. It wasn’t a new bed, but it couldn’t have been more than a one or two years old. My eyes closed. I let my chest rise and fall, and I tried to breathe. I rolled over onto my side, before rolling back again on my back.

 

Breathe in, breathe out.

 

I was exhausted; no way I wasn’t. Travel always left me tired. It didn’t take more than a moving vehicle to lull me to sleep, true, but all I could think about now was how many things would change. How was I supposed to return to regular life after all this? Would my parents just take me back after I graduated? Employers would look at my resume, look at my jobs, and they’d know exactly where I’d gone.

 

The only people I’d be able to trick were maybe neighbours who couldn’t scent me, or…humans.

 

Humans.

 

You never thought much about what it was like to be someone non-human until it sprung up on you. I briefly remembered scanning a book meant for werewolf kids when I’d been younger—the kinds of kids who’d been born or bitten or eventually turned. Had I actually always known instinctively what I was?

 

If, if anything, if I’d known earlier, I could’ve done something, taken repressors or something. But those worked better at birth.

 

Scent blocker. I’d have to buy that, right? To blend in with humans. But some forums said they didn’t work. And—

I rolled over, and turned on my phone. No messages, no calls, no signal. Great. I’d have to go get a new plan too—or see if Uncle Tsu knew anyone in whatever town was closest who could give me a deal.

 

A large booming of music interrupted me. It didn’t come from downstairs, but outside—at the lake. Teenagers, I realized, pouring out of cars and headed towards the dock. Lots of guys already in swimsuits, girls giddily following either keeping on t-shirts or stripping and leaping in.

 

I checked the time and realized school would have been out at least an hour ago. They were partying now and I could see some of them bringing out coolers.

 

The music carried through even when I closed the blinds and drew the curtains shut, but at least it made my room dark. I wasn't going down there.

 

See, a normal person’s reaction would’ve been, I don’t know, to go down and check it out? Say hi? Make new friends? But it felt so invasive to me, intruding on the personal time of strangers who I wasn’t even sure were going to like me.

 

And I didn’t know how to make friends with people like that. Who partied, who drove to some place just to have fun and play around. I was more used to smaller things, like school projects, visiting homes—I don’t know. Were they humans or supernaturals? Where would I even begin to fit in?

 

I could reinvent myself. It was a new school, I was going to meet new people, and maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad to turn over a new leaf now.

 

But that wasn’t me. I was just Kevin. And even if I was a werewolf, I wasn't going to live like one once I graduated.

[NightAir]

Chapter 4

 

Getting to school wasn’t a problem. Walk a bit from the complex about fifteen minutes, you’d reach a main road—actual pavement, if you can believe it—and there was a bus stop. It came exactly once every two hours, and arrived exactly thirty minutes before school started. Uncle Tsu actually wanted to wake me up and walk me there, but I was seventeen, not the ten-year-old who’d always trail behind him. Thank you for breakfast, but no thank you for helicopter parenting.

 

It made me miss my parents, if you can believe it. I wasn’t homesick; I was peoplesick. Uncle Tsu, who I’d idolized as a kid, was the last person I wanted to know that. He’d been disowned. At least my parents had apparently called in last night to check how I was doing.

 

Maybe Uncle Tsu was worried because I didn’t eat dinner—I’d woken up only this morning, after all. I felt guilty. Wish I hadn’t raised my voice.

 

First thing about my new school, though: It was huge. I’m not kidding when I said it was huge. It felt more like a fortress; the bus entered through large moat-like gates that was surrounded by nothing but large, tall and dense trees. A bulky man in uniform at a rather intimidating looking security checkpoint made of thick blocks of stone scanned the driver’s pass and waved him in to go. Inside the fortress was no different; it was huge. School grounds had scattered trees and territory, and the bus kept driving so long I thought I’d missed my stop, but the other people who were grouped up in their groups and chattering didn’t look worried.

 

We got off at the last stop, a dented bus stop someone had once hammered into a tree and there I was, no idea where to go. The instant I started scratching, I hoped the mosquitoes wouldn’t get to me.

 

It seemed everyone else knew where to go. Some gathered in their groups, and disappeared off the beaten path; others remained, chatting among themselves.

 

I mustered the courage to ask someone where to go, and she laughed and pointed straight at the tallest building in front of us—whose point I could see in distance over the coverage of trees. It looked like the biggest castle to mankind.

 

“First thing you see,” she said, whacking me on the shoulder as she passed by with her pack. They snickered as I stumbled. “Good luck. And get an application for anything that’s not Boreas.” Like everyone else, they disappeared into the shrubbery of the woods as if they’d been here their entire lives.

 

So…werewolves, obviously. I’d read up what I could—The Academy was world-famous but only really housed certain regions. There were several branches all over, but this one was the main one, because the cultural stories were more modernly rampant here. More belief meant more happenings. Or, you know, werewolves just immigrated over, which I found very convincing.

 

For about ten minutes, I climbed over mossy fallen logs, tripped over unearthed tree roots, and cut my face with twigs and branches. At some point, looking nice for the first day of class became a lost cause.

 

Eventually, dirt and forest gave way to gravel, which gave way to cobblestone steps up into the castle. There was a large iron gate that automatically started rising the closer I walked, and in I stepped.

 

The school office was actually the first thing you saw when you came in. Windows upon windows and cubicles upon cubicles; it felt more like a white-collar job than anywhere else. The lady at front was pristine flawless, her pale skin smooth, her lips with green lipstick, and her curly snakes writhing and hissing in her hair.

 

I wasn’t sure where to look once I stepped inside.

 

“It’s all right,” the gorgon said to me. “I’m only half, so humans are the only ones who really need to worry about it.”

 

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Not—”

 

“Familiar with it all?” she asked me sympathetically. Her nametag read Naomi Gomez. “No worries at all. How can I help you?”

 

I felt put on the spot. “I’m supposed to transfer in. Uh, Kevin Tse?”

 

“Transfers? Well, I don’t think I’ve gotten anything about you yet.” She checked something on the computer. “How do you spell your last name?”

 

“Uh. Tse. T-S-E.”

 

“Ah, Kevin Tse, I see you now. Most Asians tend to be tigers or something else native to the region.” She smiled up at me and handed me several papers. “This is the school map—take care you don’t lose it, because we only issue one every academic year.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Now,” she continued, “here is also your class schedule. It shouldn’t be any different than what you’ve gone through in your normal human school and we’ve taken several measures to ensure your transition here will be as seamless as possible. Any questions?”

 

“No.”

 

“None at all?”

 

“Um.”

 

“Pack applications are open now, if you’re interested.”

 

“No.” I just wanted to go. “Uh. Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Naomi Gomez smiled at me, and I left, feeling out of my element. Packs. Everyone wanted in on a damn pack.

 

“Hey.”

 

I looked down at my map, and then my schedule. Then I looked at my phone. School wouldn’t start for another half an hour.

 

“Hey.”

 

Would it be better to check all the classrooms? This place was huge. Was I going to be able to get to class on time? They gave you ten minutes in between classes, and an hour and a half lunch break. Did it take that long to get from one end of the school by foot to the next?

 

“I said hey.” I was shoved against a locker. Dizzy.

 

“I—”

 

“Hey,” said the girl from earlier. She peered at me, sniffed, as though she wanted to be sure of something. It was still morning, right, but she looked like she could’ve just blended in well with any of the cast shadows by pure stealthiness alone. “You didn’t get a Boreas application?”

 

“This hurts,” I said, “just so you know.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

 

“I’m new at this,” I said. I didn’t know. “I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything.”

 

“Sorry,” she said simply, letting me go. I slid down the locker—she’d had me on my toes, and my shirt was now wrinkled. “I got a little too excited. I got to know if you’re dumber than you look, or if I should show you around.”

 

This girl was headstrong and I had no idea what to do about it. She had a leather jacket for goodness’ sake. I couldn’t even wear a button-up without feeling like I was dressing for a prom I’d never be going to.

 

“I didn’t take Boreas,” I blurted out. “Assuming that’s a pack.”

 

“Wait,” she said, squinting at me. “Really?”

 

“I’m, um.” Shit, I remembered Lenalie and her statement, and now I was feeling tongue-tied now. All those kids partying at the lake—suddenly I wasn’t so sure I wanted to spend every night like I had last night. “Still deciding.”

 

“Wow, pretty daring.” She laughed, and the curls in her afro bounced as she tied it up into a high tail. “Glad you at least listened about Boreas. All the newbies want to prove me wrong. Annie,” she added, reaching out with her hand.

 

“Kevin.” I reached out and shook it—her grip was strong and steady and confident. “I’m Kevin.”

 

“Nice to meet you Kevin I’m Kevin,” Annie said. “Now I’ll be upfront. I’ve got a boyfriend.”

 

“I—”

 

“So you know,”

 

“Okay,” I said.

 

“Okay?” she frowned at me. “What’s so okay about it? I’m not good looking enough?”

 

How did she even think that? “No, no. You’re fine.”

 

“Fine?”

 

“I—“

 

“Fuck.” Something bumped into me. I wouldn’t have fallen, but Annie caught me. It felt like I’d nearly been bulldozed on my entire left arm. “Sorry,” I said automatically.

 

“Watch where you’re standing.”

 

I looked up, just in time to get glared at. And look, I’ll be fair with you, but all I could take in was blond hair, dark eyes, and a really thick torso. I swallowed heavily.

 

I said, “Sorry,” a second time, but I think it got lost in translation because I wanted to say Wow too, but also, Please don't hurt me so it came out as “Sow don't me.”

 

I won’t lie. I stared straight at his ass and thought, I’m really glad I’m gay right now. Is that a thought that comes into people’s minds? It did, okay, for me.

 

I’m gay, okay? Let me be gay and just stare at people who’d never really look twice at me.

 

He turned on his heel. He was wearing a tight-shirt under a leather jacket (what was with this place and leather jackets? A gang?) and had jeans tight enough on his thighs that my palms broke into a sweat. “What?”

 

I thought he was going to kill me. "I--"

 

“He means you don’t own the damn road,” Annie said from behind me. At least one of us could talk coherently, though I wasn’t sure how she could.

 

“So don’t stand in the centre of the hallway, dumbass,” the guy retorted, running a hand through really, really nice hair. He hardly looked at me. He just turned around and resumed however, wherever he’d been walking.

 

“Bryce,” Annie called after him, “you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

 

Bryce laughed, and waved back. “Kiss my ass, Gomez. You’re not telling her nothing.”

 

“For the record,” Annie told me, as she practically frog-marched me in the opposite direction, “he won’t hurt you, but his pack might.”

 

“He’s your boyfriend?” I asked, craning my neck back. Bryce’s pack was filled with tall, big guys like him—but nobody caught the eye like Bryce did somehow. Was it somehow the way he walked?

 

“Nope. Thank fuck for that.” Annie’s hand tightened on my arm as we rounded a corner, and her grip only tightened. “Hey. Quit the staring if you know what’s good for you. You smell like new cub and all, but you gotta know that’s asking for them to rip your throat out.”

 

All of a sudden, I felt like it happened, like I’d forgotten how to breathe and was choking.

 

“I’m not staring,” I said, snapping my head back.

 

“Good boy,” Annie said--and I realized it then. That I may not have signed up for a pack officially, but something had happened in between the time she'd laughed at me at the bus stop and Bryce had stepped into the picture. "You follow as I say, and you’ll graduate without any problems.”

[NightAir]

Chapter 5

 

Annie was terrifying.

 

If by terrifying, you mean by efficient, if by efficient, you mean got things done, had gotten from me everything about my school status and my insecurities about being at a new school, and then determined a proper course of action. She’d also take great care to list and detail every single social hierarchy that somehow existed in the spades here that I had been almost culturally ignorant of back when I was not in danger of turning into a giant wolf when overwhelmed or it was the full moon (Hollywood, apparently, got some things right).

 

Packs were big at the Academy. Big, as in ultra. They governed things like clubs and who sat with who, and also which teachers taught them and what things they were taught. They sounded like very pandered to cliques, who all gathered behind one person and never extended a gesture of goodwill to anyone who was outside of it. Alphas were the leaders, Betas were the followers. You could have any given number of Alphas in a pack, but generally there were only one or two in any area, because they tended to butt heads.

 

As for Annie, she was steadily running out of steam for things to explain, because she said, “So you get it, right?” as though I, completely new, would have understood it at the rate that we were going.

 

Google had explained some things to me, but others--such as how this Academy worked--flew right over my head.

 

“Yes,” I said, like a liar, because I actually did want to be liked, and everything else seemed to matter less to me than the dawning realization I did not want to be met on the other ends of fists and werewolf fangs any more than I had back in Humansville.

 

“Liaarr!” called out a voice in the distance. “Your heartbeat’s on fire, Newbie!”

 

Annie sighed. We were sitting in an atrium—somehow, the big, magical castle was made of stones and columns, tall hulking ceiling with grassy areas growing in—and we weren’t the only ones there. Annie’s pack, as it seemed to be, were poking their head in around about twenty minutes into my impromptu How To Survive Werewolf High tutorial and now they were a peanut gallery.

 

“I’m Ha Eun. Are you joining our pack?” The slim-hipped girl who introduced herself as Ha Eun asked, as though I hadn’t also been sitting in the conversation. Her hair had been bleached so blonde it almost looked white.

 

“Looks skinny,” said another. Her jersey read Trype, and from the looks of it, she was heavily into sports and definitely would have the arms to manhandle me into one of the lockers and not even break a sweat. “I say we haze him first.” She didn’t even try to look intimidated.

 

Then again even I wouldn’t be scared about me. Oh no. He eats rice as a healthy part of his main meals. His mother’s first tongue is an entirely different dialect and continent away from his dad oooohh no.

 

“I’m not joining a pack,” I said. All this stuff about pack rivalries and hierarchy sounded way too complicated and unnecessary, and if I could avoid it all in one go, I figured I was better. “I thought that was okay. Annie said it was okay.” I will admit I sounded a little whiny, but too many new people in one place made me defensive.

 

“I mean, sure, your funeral." Trype rolled her eyes.

 

"Come back to me if you change your mind,” Annie said, shrugging. “So, any questions about your classes?”

 

The only guy, a rather large, hulking dark-skinned and handsome one, had been the only one who hadn’t said a thing. He just sat there on the bench where we had been, right behind Annie’s back, and rested his head over her shoulder. Annie herself had just continued on, like it was normal to have a behemoth resting his shaved head on her.

 

“Um.”

 

“This is John,” she’d said when he didn’t do anything else, and I kept on staring. She glanced back at John and reached back to pat the top of his head. John looked kind of content. “He’s my second. Does a lot of good work. You ever can’t find me, you go find John and John will help you, won’t you?”

 

He’d nodded, which I suppose was as close a John-speak as I was ever going to get. Like a giant…grizzly bear-like dog-like person, if that description could make any sense.

 

Annie had taken all this time to explain something I barely understood—well, I mean I could. It just wasn’t first nature for me to do it. But I got it, in essences. It wasn't forbidden to go the lone wolf route, but I was already quickly deciding I didn't really want to do that. I wanted friends, maybe, and just an excuse not to be on my own all the time.

 

I thought about Bryce. Maybe it was shallow, to think about a guy you'd had some sort of weird early encounter with, but I'd never actually done anything about how I felt about any of the guys I'd ever felt something for. It hadn't felt safe, then, as a human, and I hardly knew the werewolf opinion on it all--even if it did seem to be that supernatural folks just were a lot more chill about the entire sexuality thing.

 

“So why’s Boreas bad again?”

 

“Because it’s Bryce’s people,” Trype said. She’d been mock fighting with John, slow punches that he’d blocked until he’d gotten tired of it and then just settled to recharge on Annie. “They fight fuckin’ dirty too. You ever seen a piranha catch a whiff of blood, Newbie?”

 

“No?” I could probably guess though. And I did have a name, though I wasn't sure if they'd forgotten it or not.

 

“One spill of blood and they go crazy. They find the kids who don’t know better and make ’em wilder and wilder. People die there.”

 

“Trype’s just angry they didn’t invite her in,” Ha Eun said. “She loves the adrenaline rush but I won’t date outside the pack.”

 

“That’s a lie and a truth right there,” Trype said. “But I love you enough to stay with you, don’t I?”

 

“Look, Kevin,” Annie said impatiently, interrupting before I could speculate about their relationship. “Pack’s not just a team you work under or with. It’s practically a contract. It’s a safe-zone and you get as good or worse as you give. You join a pack, you follow their rules. You do whatever their Alpha tells you to and you benefit the way packs do through shared resources and network. By that extension, you listen to their representatives here at the school. And Boreas isn’t somewhere you want to be if you know nothing about how our world works.”

 

Our world, Annie said, as though I really did belong here with the werewolves and all the other supernaturals that I’d spent my entire youth learning about from the textbooks of human-centric opinions. All I knew about Boreas so far was it was probably the Teenager’s equivalent to a modern Fight Club.

 

“And I’m—how do I know if I’m Alpha or Beta?” I still didn’t really understand the terms; they just described your temperament, whether or not you were a leader or follower instinctively right? But all I could figure out about myself is that I didn’t like being told what to do, but I still didn’t like to stand out or lead. I didn’t like initiative the same way I didn’t like being stepped over all the time.

 

“There’s a test at the beginning of every semester,” Trype said. “Sometimes people get tested out. It determines who you

take what class with.”

 

“Why?”

 

Three pairs of eyes stared at me.

 

“I mean,” I said, growing nervous, “why can’t they just mix it?”

 

“Alphas and Betas don’t usually get along well as a rule of thumb in an equal society,” Ha Eun said, after a bit. “If it’s all Alphas, it’s all posturing and fights until there’s one at the front who can control them. Bad stuff for an academic setting with centuries back prestige and everything. Betas and untested take things together because we tend to use our words instead.”

 

“Used to kissing ass,” Trype muttered.

 

“Don’t talk shit about your platonic lifemate here, darling,” Ha Eun replied, and Trype grunted.

 

“And Annie’s your Alpha?”

 

“Annie’s an Alpha,” Ha Eun said, “but John’s going to be the one inheriting from the pack Alpha. Family usually inherits family stuff, you know?”

 

“It was John’s pack to begin with,” Annie said, more or less, more flippantly than I would’ve thought. “But John’s just a little more free-reigned than most.”

 

John, who looked like he was dozing off from Annie’s shoulder, looked a little too free-reigned to look like he could take

control of an entire group of adult men and women one day. Despite how intimidating he looked, he just resembled a gentle giant at this point and completely harmless.

 

“Yeah,” Ha Eun said. She’d settled somewhere at Annie’s feet, typing away on her phone, only occasionally glancing up to make a remark. “But it doesn’t really matter to us. You pretty much run the thing.” She paused. “Hey, Newbie, what’s your

first class?”

 

“Uhh.” I scrambled through my papers, wondering if this was what just being in a friend group where people were actually interested in interacting and teaching you was like. “Biology. Room 401.”

 

I thought maybe I'd get teased for sciences, and wondered if I was supposed to say something like Drama or something else like that. Except no one said anything. I was taking that to be a bad sign.

 

"Guys?"

 

“Kevin,” Annie said, eyebrows furrowed, “before you entered the school, did you take a test? Like, they would’ve had you with a psychiatrist and everything, the ink blot tests.”

 

She was staring so intensely at me I thought I might just burn up from her gaze. “Uh. I took a placement test, to see what level classes I should be in. But academics don’t have anything to do with being Alpha or Beta, right?”

 

“I’ve got you pegged for a beta,” Trype said, “so don’t prove me all wrong now.”

 

“Trype,” Annie growled. “Not now.”

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, alarmed.

 

“401’s an Alpha classroom,” John said, raising his head up from Annie’s shoulder to look at me. His voice was low and deep, rumbly in the chest, but it commanded instant respect and demanded an authority that caught my attention. Annie, who’d been in the middle of saying more, closed her mouth. Trype and Ha Eun didn’t say a thing, eyes immediately directed towards him.

 

"But you and Annie are Alphas, right? And so's Trype?"

 

"None of us are taking that course, brother," John said quietly.

 

"Oh," I said, in a very quiet voice.

[NightAir]

Chapter 6

“I’ll walk you,” John said, straightening from the bench. Almost as if he’d given an order, the girls left us to go to their own classes, disappearing so fast I thought they’d practically teleported—all except Annie, who looked like she was getting angrier and angrier. It was really easy to tell, mostly because she looked like she was minutes from decking someone.

 

I hoped she wasn’t going to deck me at the same time I hoped John wasn’t going to either. He’d called me ‘brother’, and as sort of weird as it was new, I thought it was…kind of nice. Only Child Syndrome, I guess. Half of the time you enjoyed it, the other half you always kind of wondered.

 

“Uh,” I said.

 

Annie didn’t move from her seat on the bench, and neither did John, who was standing straight. He should’ve looked awkward, because I know I would’ve been, but somehow he seemed as non-threatening as he was chill. Guy probably could have stood in front of a high-class shop and been welcomed in like he’d belonged, despite the fact that he wore jeans and a dark-printed t-shirt.

 

“Come on,” John said, gesturing with his chin. “Biology’s near my Chem lab.”

 

I wasn’t really an expert in relationships—hell, my only experience was with stereotypical romance stories you’d find in media and casual observation of how high school sweethearts actually worked in 2k16, the new year of mayhem. Still…even I knew that that Annie was going to let John have it.

 

“Uh.” I looked between John and Annie, and wondered what on earth I was supposed to do.

 

John’s expression didn’t change at all. He didn’t make a sigh or a word. Instead, he stepped closer to Annie, and reached out. The flat of his palm settled on the base of her neck, and his thumb rubbed the skin gently. “Annie,” he said, “please don’t be angry.”

 

The way he said it should’ve been either annoyed or pleading because it would’ve made sense. But all it came out with was…happy, somehow. I’m not sure how that worked. John sounded happy that she was furious. Something about the timbre of his voice made him sound all the more warmer.

 

It made me feel lost, like a third wheel to their own private discussion and relationship.

 

“You’d better not let them even look at him,” she said, without looking at him. Annie looked at me straight in the eye. There was something here, something that I had no idea. “Kevin.”

 

“W—yeah?”

 

“I said, you’d better not even let them look at him.”

 

“Wait, that—that was for—”

 

Annie grabbed me by the front of my shirt. The same display of power and action way she’d resorted to earlier. “Listen up,” she said. “This is one of those things that will help you graduate without a problem. And that’s if you act like pack. So don’t let them look at him.”

 

So I was supposed to tell people to close their eyes? I didn’t even know how this worked. People looked at people—unless Annie was actually really possessive or-? Because this wasn’t something you really were supposed to encourage, right? Plus, didn’t she trust John?

 

And...how was I supposed to act like pack if I wasn't even going to be in the same classroom as him?

 

I didn't really want to point that out though.

 

Luckily, Annie let me go without waiting for a response, huffing, but it was only when she leaned back into John’s hand, turned her head to look up at him, and said, “You understand?” aggressively, that John smiled.

 

John smiling was…god. If he hadn’t been taken, or anything, but—shit. This was a guy you could’ve developed a crush on, just because he was who he was. Something felt wrong though. This wasn’t something I thought anybody really should be smiling at.

 

Annie didn’t look too affected, but something softened in her, because she didn’t offer more of a, “See you both at lunch,” before she left, bumping her shoulder against John’s with a force that could only have come from familiarity.

 

I couldn’t help it, though. I felt some part of worry, like maybe this could be a bigger part of the werewolf picture of how their culture worked that I didn’t understand. And John seemed like a good guy, so I really had no idea. “Am I…? Uhm. Supposed to do that?”

 

“Supposed to-?” John blinked down at me. He was tall, actually. Several heads tall, and while I was short, even I could tell from standing beside him that it was unfair.

I gestured at Annie’s departing back.

 

John looked, and then he said, “You don’t tend to do that, with humans?”

 

“I.” I didn’t have the experience. “I don’t know, I just—is that okay with you?”

 

“It’s always okay,” John said, “because it’s Annie.”

 

Somehow, I had to wonder. "Cool, then."

 

 

 

“What class do you have after Biology?” John asked me. We were leaning against the wall—actually, John was leaning, and I know other people were giving him second glances as they passed by to enter through the open doors. I tried to pay attention to what he was saying at the same time as I took everything in. “The science periods tend to double up, and then you have a one period. I can pick you up after.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be picking up Annie?” It was hard to put together how werewolf relationships versus human relationships worked. Some things were different.

 

“She can pick herself up,” he said, but then he inclined his head. “No, she’s fine.”

 

Somehow, I had to wonder. Then again, Annie didn’t really seem like the type of person who’d care whether or not her boyfriend came to pick her up from a classroom to go to lunch. She might’ve thought it was a hassle. But didn’t everyone kind of want to be treated special?

 

“So?”

 

I looked down at my schedule. “I’ve got a blank.”

 

“Huh,” John said. “I’ve got Philosophy after, so I guess we can meet back at that the north wing atrium. Where we were before. That okay with you?”

 

Immediately, I could feel myself panicking at the thought of navigating the maze myself. I hadn’t really been paying attention to the twists and turns (though I understood now why it was they only gave out one map every year).

 

“Don’t worry,” John said, like he could read my mind. “If you ask anyone, they’ll know. North wing. And you’ll get used to it, the whole navigating thing.”

 

“North wing,” I repeated. “Got it.”

 

John grinned, all white teeth that stood out starker against his skin. “All right, brother,” he said. He clapped a friendly hand on my shoulder. “I’ll catch you later.”

 

 

 

“Sir.”

 

The teacher was a non-descript guy who probably looked crazy ripped under his dress shirt and slacks. “Who’s askin’?” he grunted, but he looked kind of surprised to see me when he turned around from messing with the papers on his desk. “You new?”

 

“I’m transferring in,” I said. God. It was goddamned June. I couldn’t still believe that werewolf high school began in June of all things. “Kevin Tse, sir. Is there anything I can help with?” I desperately needed an ally in this class.

 

“Help with?” He wrinkled his nose at me. I thought for a second he was going to sneeze. “Don’t worry about it. Just take a seat. Welcome to the school, all that stuff.”

 

I wasn’t really used to this dismissiveness. Most teachers I’d had were kind of glad for anyone to offer help. Still, he turned back to his papers, so I went to find myself an empty lab table. It was kind of…harder than I thought to typecast through appearance. Since this was an Alpha classroom, I thought there would only be macho jock-types or something. Instead, there were thin and reedy boys and girls alike with glasses on, but with whom nobody seemed to want to bother, as much as there were average looking ones who just looked like they were average students.

 

Who just wanted to leave.

 

Biology 401 wasn’t even a classroom. It was a crazy large space with lab stations surrounding the one teacher’s desk and a chalkboard and old projector instead of a smartboard. It seemed a little backwards. I’d been in classes meant specifically for kids whose parents paid for tuition and uniform and even then, it didn’t seem to compare. I guess they liked older technology here—that, or IT specialists wasn’t really a popular job in the werewolf community.

 

I made a note to google that later.

 

Nobody seemed to bother me when I wandered around, but at the same time, I wasn’t not noticed. I could feel some stares at my back, especially when I decided to choose one that wasn’t really in the front, but more in the middle. Back in my old human school, you never even had a choice for seating arrangement, but I’d read up: Front of the classroom means the teacher will remember your face, middle will mean you blend into obscurity, and back means you’re broadcasting how much you don’t care. Of course, that only really worked if your classroom was tiered—but the middle was perfect.

 

What was not perfect, I soon came to realize, was the instant Bryce’s pack entered the classroom.

 

I didn’t even know the classroom was nosy until the group entered the front door. A hush fell upon everyone already at their tables.

 

Bryce surveyed the classroom, dark eyes taking everything in before they stopped at me. He scowled—and, I hadn’t really had much of a chance to look back then in the hallways, but standing here, flanked by his posse, he felt almost larger than life. He was really handsome, I couldn’t help but think, even as my eyes darted away when they met.

 

I looked up again after a bit, relieved when it seemed Bryce had lost interest. He was looking other people now, and I was following the gazes.

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

One by one, the gazes dropped. I hadn’t been the only one. What Bryce was doing was—shit, what was it again? I pulled out my phone and turned on the wifi, quickly searching for an open connection. ACADEMY_student seemed like a safe choice. I was actually surprised they actually still had it. Soon enough, I was connected, and I could google:

 

werewolves eye contact

 

I confirmed it with the first link available, my eyes scanning through the information. Bryce had been establishing dominance, and everyone had recognized it.

 

A heavy slam hit the table I was at. I almost flung my phone away, jerking.

 

“I’m sorry,” I babbled, “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to have my phone, sir.”

 

“You don’t have to be that polite. It’s not like I’m your Alpha or anything.”

 

My heart almost stopped.

 

Slowly, I looked—at Bryce who sat himself beside me at the table.

[NightAir]

Chapter 7

 

“…end. Now, these past three years, we taught you easy things, like to associate the functions of a cell with things like a truck or a highway, or however it was your teachers taught it. We do, in fact, lie to you. It’s like math, basically. Can’t divide by zero? Oh, wait, actually you can.”

 

Okay, this was really pathetic, but I couldn’t look at him at all after that. I literally couldn’t. I thought, The Fight Club Alpha is sitting next to me, everyone’s literally his bitch here, and he’ll notice if I even fucking stare at him, so don’t you fucking dare if you want to live to see another day. I might have been sweating bullets. Sue me for being half scared out of my wits.

 

The last time I’d ended up like this, I’d awkwardly and painfully suffered from people assuming I wanted in someone’s pants. I wouldn’t have said I hadn’t thought about shit like that, but there was something very different for me between fantasizing it and actually wanting the action itself or the messy consequences that followed with it.

 

Plus, I really didn’t want to know firsthand what Bryce did to people that pissed him off. Annie had sold me enough on that. I tried not to think about what I’d look like after the entire pack was done with me: dead, probably. And hurting a lot.

 

I’d managed to get away seventeen years of my life without a broken bone in my body, but I was getting a really bad feeling this time.

 

I hoped to god that whatever werewolf sensing abilities he possessed, Bryce wasn’t going to put two and two together and think I was an idiot. I reassured myself with that thought that most likely he was going to be concentrated on everyone else. Somehow, that made taking my notes a little easier.

 

“…that being said, admire the beautiful black and white pictures here. Anyone can name this part of the cell for me? And no, it’s not mitochondria, the power house of the cell. That’s the one thing you’d better not forget.”

 

Laughter erupted from the neighbouring students, some guys hooting, “Hey sir, show us how you’d power a cell.”

 

“Yeah, and get your Alphas at my door for indecency? I don’t think so.”

 

It was a crass joke that had everyone losing it. How on earth was anyone supposed to learn like this?

 

“Hey.”

 

“Huh?” I looked straight at him. Bryce’s face was perfectly shadowed by the lighting from the projector; a sharp jawline and features that had come straight out of a genetic lottery win. His eyes seemed like he was staring into my soul, and that was something I never thought I’d actually think.

 

“What are you writing?”

 

“What?” I looked down at my notes, feeling a little self-conscious. Was there something wrong? Werewolf vision made it a little easier for me to see in the dark, but it wasn’t really strong enough that I could go long times inside it. Was it something else that just changed the more you did anything?

 

“…E.R. And you should know this already,” continued the teacher from the front, “but they’re responsible for sorting, modifying, and packaging the proteins into vesicles. Anyone remember what that is, or should I assume we need to do a full review on that too?”

 

Bryce didn’t seem to elaborate on the specifics.

 

“Notes,” I said, lamely, scribbling the words down about the Golgi Bodies and a small note on vesicles from what I remembered last year (vesicles: sac attached to membrane/endoplasmic reticulum (? Review??) of eukaryotic cells (re: topic), sometimes breaks down metabolic waste/transports it in cell).

 

“Those aren’t notes,” Bryce said, staring straight down at my notebook.

 

I felt a little miffed. Of course they were. I was goddamned taking them. Would they be anything else? “Excuse me?” As shitty as my handwriting was, as long as I could read ’em, it wasn’t even his problem.

 

“…is large area here stores water, sugars, salts, and we call them vacuoles. When you write the quiz for me, and you will be writing the quiz…”

 

“Two words now, finally.” Bryce rolled his eyes, and moved his stool back. He hadn’t bothered to bring out a notebook the entire period, just been scrolling on his phone. I hated people like that, half because I couldn’t get away with it myself, and another half was because I’d been too ingrained to not even waste an opportunity to learn. There was no such thing as a make-up test in the real world.

 

I really didn’t know how to reply to that, so I ignored him. In hindsight, that was suicide, but apparently Bryce hadn't expected anything else from me, so.

 

“…ask you to please think of Vapo Rub or some memorization trick so you won’t get them mixed up with vesicles. Please. Vesicles are the Mini-Me’s of vacuoles.”

 

“Duck,” Bryce said. Something hit my head. It wasn’t sharp, but it was a pretty solid hit.

 

”Ow.” It was an erasure? I turned around, just in time to catch some snickering in the back. I turned back to Bryce, and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t sure about my own expression, but it probably fit the lines of What the fuck?

 

Wasn’t the teacher supposed to stop this kind of shit?

 

I looked up, and the teacher happened to be looking in our direction, before he purposefully turned back to the board. “…type of vacuoles are the Lysosomes, and I don’t want to see any jokes about Lyncanzone, because I’ve had an actual student put that on a test…”

 

He’d purposefully ignored it. I really wasn’t sure how to react except indignantly. “Yeah, they’re notes,” I said. “Are you done?”

 

Bryce didn’t react. He studied me, as if gauging a reaction, and he didn’t look at all pleased by it. The scowl that marred his face looked lethal, but he finally turned away to pull out his phone again.

 

 

 

 

“Oi,” I heard, as I was headed out the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 

I hadn’t been the first one to leave; in fact, I’d stayed behind, just to ask the teacher when his office hours and everything were. He’d sounded more offended than helpful, before he’d grudgingly given it to me. Mr. T.D., available every Tuesday during the half an hour before class started. I guess even he wanted to keep his schedule open for whatever it was that Alpha teachers did.

 

Someone yanked me back by my shoulder, and it wasn’t nice. Almost instantly, I could feel bruising, a sharp pain in my shoulder.

 

There were at least three of them, crowded around me. Standard looking punks; not all of them were super muscular or anything, but they definitely looked like they’d have been some prime school’s star athletes. They had long legs, an intimidating assuredness around them, and they were staring me straight in the eye.

 

Back at my old school, I’d been bullied a couple of times, but I’d always managed to stop it by joining a friend group they wouldn’t touch. Maybe this would help now. “Going to my spare.”

 

“Huh,” one said. “Skipping class?”

 

“Spare,” I said. And: “I’m John’s pack.” And: “You want to sniff me some more too?”

 

I had no real idea how the smell thing worked when they were still relatively in human form like me, but another said, “You think you’re such a riot, don’t you, Newbie.”

 

No, I just didn’t want to get killed. And the more I showed I was scared, the more they’d give it to me. I don’ know, honestly, why they didn’t scare me as much as I’d heard of Bryce, but spending two periods in a group full of them had riled me up first until it’d just…felt normal. To be surrounded by people who wanted a fight.

 

“Yeah,” I said, “my mouth has to do something my hand isn’t.”

 

It took them a moment, before one of them laughed out loud. He seemed to like it, mouth curled up into a smile. He looked like a goddamned fox. “So you’re a comedian.”

 

“I like cock,” I said. What the fuck was I even saying? This is what happened. You cornered me or put me in a situation all on my own, and I ended up posturing. Sometimes this was good. Sometimes this was bad. I wanted to go home, but I tried to keep calm. “That works in standup, right?”

 

My guess about how they treated sexuality seemed pretty okay. One of them raised an eyebrow at another and shared a glance, but the guy who’d spoken to me just laughed harder. “If you worked standup, I’d pay to see it.” He seemed friendly, or not, I wasn’t sure. “What’s your name?”

 

“Kevin,” I said, “like you’re expressing disappointment at the same time you want to order wine in France.”

 

“You’re all right, Kevin,” he said, his eyes bearing down on me. “A little new to the whole thing, but you’re all right.” He stuck out his hand. “Omari.”

 

I took it. His fingers were cold as ice. “Nice to not get the shit beaten out of me.”

 

Omari smiled, and a shiver ran up my spine. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

 

Except he dropped my hand almost instantly—though I don’t think it was because of that statement. He looked over his shoulder—to where I could see Bryce standing casually. Like John had been earlier this morning, he looked effortlessly in command.

 

“Goodbye, Omari,” Bryce said pointedly. He did not look like he was in the mood for anything other than his will to be followed.

 

Omari’s face was frozen into a smile. “I’ll see you later, Kevin,” he told me, and pushed past me—the same shoulder bump that Annie had given John earlier, and left me and Bryce on our own: but not before he leaned into my ear. “Tell John the Abdimelech pack is always willing to swap Betas.”

 

Then he was gone; his two pack members flanking him side by side, leaving me with Bryce.

 

I looked at Bryce. "Uh."

 

"You're in my way," Bryce said flatly, fixing me with the same gaze he'd given me this morning when I'd been standing in the middle of the hallway. It wasn't one that seemed to like what he saw.

 

"Sorry," I said, automatically. I moved, and Bryce left the stage, not touching me or even looking at me.

[NightAir]

Chapter 8

 

“You met Omari?!” Trype hissed. Her knuckles were white. “Hope you kicked that fucker in the nuts.”

 

“You know him?”

 

“He’s my ex,” Ha Eun said, after a bit. Annie, who sat beside her, reached out to curl a protective arm around her waist.

 

“Yeah,” Trype snorted, stabbing violently at her lunch; some kind of take-home container that surprised me. I figured Trype would be a cafeteria food kind of person. “Transphobic cunt.”

 

“Trype,” Ha Eun scolded. Her face was impassive—I had no idea how much of that was actual politeness or how she’d been raised. “That was years ago. Just move on.”

 

“Won’t,” Trype said. “He hurt you.”

 

“He’s also apologized,” Ha Eun responded, “for all that it seems to be worth it to you.”

 

Trype grunted.

 

“I was transitioning,” Ha Eun explained to me. “A lot of stress and identity and crises and everything I don’t think either of us were really prepared for.”

 

“Assfucker,” Trype said.

 

“None of us are perfect at fourteen,” Ha Eun said simply. “None of us know how to deal with a life changing experience.”

 

“We’re goddamned werewolves,” Trype responded bluntly. “If he can handle, like everyone else, the concept that sexuality is fluid and you like who you like, then fact that you identify as a girl is—”

 

“Trype.”

 

 

It was John, who’d finished his classes and had found our table. Trype shut up and glowered.

 

“What,” she said. It was pretty clear she wouldn’t do anything except fight with his words, though.

 

“You’re bothering Ha Eun,” John said. Every word he was speaking was clear, calm, and didn’t have any instance of hostility—except Trype was flinching. “Don’t bring this up again. Annie,” he added, and he put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let her.”

 

“She can do what she wants,” Annie responded. “She’s all Alpha like the rest of us.”

 

“So I take it you met Omari?” John asked. He settled down on the bench—which miraculously still seemed to have room, settling down a tray full of cafeteria food; something that looked like a sandwich, some chocolate milk, a yogurt, and three puddings. He passed one out each to the grabby hands of Ha Eun, Annie, and a reluctant Trype. “He’s a bit difficult at times, but he’s reasonable.”

 

“Omari said something about Betas,” I started nervously.

 

“Oh, is this about trading?” Annie asked, tone dry. “Tell him to fuck off. We’re not sharing Ha Eun even if his dumb fuck ass wants her back.”

 

Privately, I didn’t think this was the case, and even Ha Eun’s sympathetic glance at me seemed to think so too.

 

“Hrm,” John replied, as he peeled the cover off his yogurt and licked what remained off of it. He set it down and picked up a spoon. “What were his exact words?”

 

Shit.

 

“Uh,” I said. God I had the memory of a train wreck. “His pack being always willing to swap Betas.”

 

“He—” Trype began indignantly. She was stopped when John put up a hand, and reluctantly sat back down when John’s hand lowered.

 

John looked at me calmly. “He thinks you’re our pack. Why?”

 

“I…”

 

“I know you don’t want to join.” John resumed interest in his yogurt, eating. “And I understand why you might’ve wanted to give him that impression. But this isn’t how we do it.”

 

“John,” Annie said sharply. “I told him he could do it.”

 

“No, you didn’t,” John responded. “I know you.”

 

“Look, in so many words, I told him that he didn’t have to decide and he didn’t have to stay with us if he didn’t want to, that he was always welcome.”

 

“And I remember I told you,” John said, and I was getting a really bad feeling about this despite the fact that his voice wasn’t raised, that there was no inclination of anger in his body language. “I said I don’t want any more.”

 

It was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop.

 

“I don’t believe this.” Annie made a disgusted noise and stood up. She elbowed John in the side as she did it.

 

“Annie,” John said, calmly, finishing off the rest of his yogurt.

 

“No,” Annie said. “Fuck you.” She looked at me. “Kevin, come here.”

 

“Annie,” Ha Eun said carefully. “If Omari wants Kevin, and Kevin wants a pack, they should go together. He’s not wrong.”

 

Annie ignored her. She was staring straight at me. “Come here, Kevin,” she said sharply.

 

I stood up slowly, extricating myself from beside Trype who was giving me the same steely eye as I remembered the first time I told anyone I didn’t want to be part of a pack. John didn’t seem interested, but something about his purposefully relaxed posture made me think that it was the complete opposite.

 

What had changed, really, from this morning? John had been so pleased by Annie’s possessiveness, and he’d been so reasonable. He’d been friendly polite, very much like a leader should—and it shouldn’t really have hurt so much that he didn’t want me to be a part of this.

 

Annie’s hand curled around my wrist, and before anything else could happen, she dragged me out of the cafeteria and out the doors.

 

 

 

 

“Kevin,” Annie said. “That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” I said, still a little numb to it. I tried to crack a smile. “I mean, I’m used to not having friends or a group or anything so—”

 

“This isn’t something you joke about,” she snapped. She was dragging me without much effort, but her fingernails were digging into my skin. “I’m serious. We’re not like that. I’ll yell at John and you can hang out and use our name however you want.”

 

“It’s okay, Annie.” She didn’t respond. “Annie.”

 

“What.” She wasn’t looking at me.

 

This wasn’t the time or the place to protest that she didn’t have to do all of this for me. There was something more I just—

 

“How does it work?” I asked, voice hushed as she stormed me through the school halls. At lunch, you could see scores and scores of people gathered together; but it was more common to see bigger groups of three or more. Pack ate with pack, as it seemed. “Was—Was I not supposed to use your pack?”

 

“John is a traditionalist,” Annie snapped. “Just don’t pay attention to him.”

 

“I can’t, Annie. He’s your Alpha, right?” And from what I understood, if you disobeyed your Alpha—

 

“Fuck!” Annie yelled, so loudly it startled me and the neighbouring group of wolves who were eating on a patch of open grass. She slammed a locker beside us with the heel of her foot, creating a sizable dent in its metal door. “Fuck! Fucking piece of shit!” She dented it three more times each time she was satisfied, and then she whirled on me. “Kevin, shut the fuck up. It doesn’t matter who the fuck he is. It’s not okay for anyone to say that, especially not to you!”

 

Especially not to you.

 

That hit me hard. I’d never heard somebody say that or anything like that to me.

 

I didn’t understand. Annie’s expression softened only slightly when she saw my confusion.

 

“Kevin,” she said. “You’re a good guy. Werewolves can smell that kind of a scent, and that alone about you, and I don’t know if it was because of the neighbourhood you grew up in, or the kind of family that raised you—but you’re good. You’re a good kid, and anybody would be lucky to have you in pack if you wanted to.”

 

“So that’s it,” I said. I didn’t understand what I did understand. I wasn’t—I wasn’t good at compliments. I didn’t know what to do, why she wanted to say this, or what this all meant in the end. “Werewolves and pack—it’s not something really light to claim you’re a part of it.”

 

“Kevin,” Annie said. “Aren’t you listening to me? Forget about the stupid pack!”

 

“I am. I am, I am, it’s just. Why’d you—you’re really nice, Annie. Why are you being so nice?” I wasn’t a suspicious person, but—for someone to unanimously take my side in an argument or to fight for me—I wasn’t used to this. “You showed me the front of the school, it’s barely been an entire school day and you’re already willing to fight with your pack leader about it all, you let me meet your friends and everything—“

 

I cut myself off. I didn’t know how I was feeling. And my voice had been shaking.

 

Annie didn’t really answer for a bit. Her eyes—brown, earthy kind of shade—stared straight into mine.

 

“Come with me,” she said, voice sharp and firm. Annie pulled me with her, and I was suddenly aware of the spectacle we’d made, of the werewolves still sitting in their groups, probably watching or listening. “We’re doing this somewhere more private.”

 

Annie brought me up a long flight of stairs, to a small classroom at the side. Rows and rows of chairs and desks and tables. It didn’t look like anyone had been here for a long time—not with the curtains drawn and the layer of dust lingering around it.

 

“This is cool,” I said, after a bit.

 

She closed the door and she pulled the curtains open, yanking open a window. At once, a cool summer breeze shot into the room, blowing life into this place.

 

“Kevin,” she said, after a bit. She had turned around and was now sitting on a desk, gaze forward. I wanted to look away. “Everyone has their own talents, their own specialties. But I’ve never met anyone who smells like you—who practically bleeds in scent of kindness but has no damn identity.”

 

That’s what struck me hardest. I lowered my eyes, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

 

“High school, and university or college, or whatever follows it. This is the most meaningful time of your life. And everyone smells like something—of success, failure, of good and bad, of ambition and everything else.”

 

“Annie?” I asked. I was afraid…to ask more. "I don't...I don't want to talk about this."

 

“Kevin,” Annie said, and she drew closer, her hands on my forearms until I was forced to look up at her. She looked so worried for someone she'd barely known for half a day. “Have you ever let yourself be something else other than what everyone else wants you to be?”

[NightAir]

Chapter 9

 

“I’m definitely Chinese,” I said, after a bit. For what it was worth, I even managed to straight-face it. “I mean, CBC, but what can you do if you weren’t born in the mainland, right?”

 

Annie’s face drew from compassionate to stiff. She breathed in once and then let it out. “Okay,” she said, but I could tell that it was bothering her. Maybe Alpha/Beta designation really did teach you how to or how not to interact with people who didn’t really know how to deal with talks that dealt with feelings. But Annie really wasn’t…typical Alpha stereotype I guess, because she resorted to her words instead of her fists. “Is that how you want to play it?”

 

Or not.

 

“Fuck,” I said, and I was getting agitated just looking at her. My palms felt clammy. “Look. Annie I just—this is a lot, you know? I mean, that was a great answer already. I can’t help what I already am. Even if, you know.” I raised a hand and shook it meaninglessly in a vague direction.

 

“You don’t like being a werewolf?” Compared to her typical violence, Annie was being very careful to talk to me about this; her tone was very purposefully light, even if her body language didn’t feel like it, tense as it was. She didn’t seem like she would hit me for being honest. She seemed like she just wanted to talk to me.

 

Like.

 

Really, honest to god talk to me. That heart-to-heart thing.

 

That was scary for two reasons.

 

One: She really wanted to talk.

 

Two: I wasn’t used to someone really wanting to talk. Unless it was a means to an end, nothing deeper than the weather or whatever was going on at the moment. Nothing about feelings or kindness or whatever it was she thought I had. I swallowed past a lump in my throat.

 

“What’s not to like?” I asked, and man, man, man, did I feel cornered. Maybe that did it, to a guy, when it became really fucking clear that somehow somebody could smell you and you were suddenly King of the World, Pure as Snow. I knew for a fucking fact that I wasn’t a good kid—I lied growing up, I made excuses, I had a fuck ton of flaws and abandonment issues that made me generally unpalatable to human kind. It made me uncomfortable, the talk of any kind of kindness when I barely even knew what kind of kindness the world itself tended to show.

 

I was still reeling from the realization that it didn’t—nothing had changed, moving out here. I still didn’t belong into a friend group; there was maybe one or two people who liked me casually. And Annie had really wrecked all my equilibrium. Who made besties with someone the first day? Who asked a question about something I’d been asking myself my entire life?

 

Annie withdrew her hands as if she had sensed it all. “You tell me,” she said, with firm, even tones. “It’s your experience.”

 

She wanted to listen to me and my side of everything. That was…that was new. I tried not to think of my parents or everything else that had gone sour the day I had turned from a baby to a sentient human being to…a werewolf.

 

“This is moving way too fast in a direction I’m really uncomfortable with.”

 

She put her hands up. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I just. I just wanted to understand.”

 

Annie would leave. Shit. God. I’d go back to a friendless loser or just—she was the first person who’d showed me kindness and what I was I doing?

 

“Annie,” I said, “it’s not that—I’m not used to this. To people like you.”

 

“Okay,” she said. “It’s okay, you don’t have to force yourself.”

 

“I want to answer.” I ran a hand through my hair. I felt jittery and sick. “I just…I.”

 

What would I even say?

 

Forget uncomfortable. Forget upset. Forget all the things piled up on me. I’d never even gone to a psychiatrist anymore. No counselling or anything from guidance either. It’d always just been me against everything else. Dealing with my parents, dealing with the fact I really had no goddamn friends or a place anywhere I looked. Dealing with an ambiguous future that relied solely on good grades and looking at universities and what I’d need to be accepted. Dealing with the fact that I was growing up, and I really.

 

Really.

 

Didn’t want to be.

 

Annie waited patiently for me, her eyes steady and her posture unthreatening. I forced myself to relax and to think. I forced myself to not think of a way to get out of here. It was impossible to force myself from feeling overwhelmed, like someone had pulled the rug out from under me.

 

“So,” I said, forcing my voice firm. It came out bitter, but, what can you do, right? “So apparently slight smell benefits, maybe super strength to come—” All things I didn’t—wasn’t even sure I really had. All I had proof to go on was—“and, you know, turning into a goddamn werewolf on the last day of school. That’s all really great. Love the werewolf thing, really. Love having to google stuff up, and just the entire Who the Fuck Are You, you know?” I looked up at her. “I mean, I can’t be the only one here but isn’t there anything instinctual in this whole package?”

 

“It’s different from being turned or being born,” Annie said. “It’s not an easy transition.”

 

Annie was saying one thing, but I couldn’t agree with it. I didn’t think it was like that.

 

“But like—I’m supposed to know, right?” I tried to remember what it was like to talk normally without getting hysterical. “I’m supposed—I’m supposed to fucking—” Not freak out. “—I’m supposed to feel different, not doubt it. I’m supposed to know I’m a werewolf.”

 

I had no idea about anything. I was scared and nobody had ever talked to me about what I wanted or thought or felt or just or what any of this would be like.

 

Annie didn’t say anything, but she reached out and held my hand.

 

I sucked in a breath.

 

I stared down it.

 

I had no idea what to do.

 

I swallowed.

 

“I don’t know,” I confessed. My voice came out quieter than I meant it to, but it shook, really bad. I “I really don’t. Am I just…supposed to know? I mean, sometimes I barely even realize I’m…not human anymore, you know.”

 

“It’s not about knowing. Knowing isn’t always the truth.” Annie turned, so that her shoulder nudged against mine. “But you will know, Kevin. I promise you will. Will feel better about being in your own skin too. Maybe soon or sometime later—but who you are, you’ll know even if you don’t know now.”

 

I put my head in my hands. “God. Werewolf puberty right after Human puberty sucks.”

 

I heard her laugh, and felt her gather me in her arms. She was warm. “Least no bad acne,” she reassured me. “That’s one thing to look forward to.”

[NightAir]

Chapter 10

 

We must have spent about most of the lunch hour there.

 

Annie talked, mostly, since I was usually by nature a listener when it came to personal stuff (and also trying to pretend I hadn’t just emotionally exposed myself to an almost complete stranger).

 

She explained about how things worked. Less about the entire Alpha/Beta thing, and more about how it was like to grow up a werewolf. There wasn’t anyone in her group that hadn’t either been born or bitten; someone who just became one suddenly out of nowhere whose dormant werewolf genes suddenly awakened (this was actually not how science worked, because I know I said recessive trait a long time ago, and that’s the actual explanation of all this but believe it or not I’d been shoved into enough lockers growing up to know when to shut up) was a wildcard. At the same time, she tried her best, even if her entire life had just been a werewolf: born, just like John and Ha Eun.

 

“Trype was bitten?” The ongoing conversation made me feel better about myself; like I could put back the entire rawness that I’d ripped open in the span of half an hour or something or however long into its suitcase and throw it into the biggest human-swallowing floor I could find.

 

Annie, at least, indulged me. “She got turned, yeah. There’s not much of a hierarchy, around that, though, even if there are some traditionalists who think born are better than bitten. Comes with a lot of shit.”

 

I hesitated. “But John’s a traditionalist.”

 

“Yeah,” Annie said, voice purposefully void of any kind of opinion, “in the end.”

 

“He’s not usually?”

 

She gave me a polite smile, even if it was tight. “Later, Kevin. We’ll pick you up at your last class, show you how the real packs like to party.”

 

I tried thinking about it, but it didn’t really—it was clear everyone, save Annie, ceded to John’s position. Was I really all that welcome?

 

“I know I don’t deserve much of any kind of trust—”

 

“You talked to me when I pushed you to do it,” Annie said. She nudged me with her shoulder. “And I know that’s not in your nature. It’s something common in all werewolves—it’s about earning it, for us. So don’t worry about it.” Almost as if she’d heard the question I hadn’t asked, she gave me look. “Pack is…something else. Humans aren’t so different, but it’s definitely different, for sure. Just know if anyone gives you shit for it, don’t listen to them. What matters is what I think.”

 

Strangely, that was…a lot more reassuring than I would’ve thought it. But what did I do to deserve it all from her? I was afraid to ask. For all Annie had talked to me about how my problems weren’t uniquely mine and that I really wasn’t alone and it would eventually get easier—I wasn’t even close and I didn’t think I could ever come close to returning the favour unless she’d let me.

 

I stared at my hands. We’d settled to sitting under the window for the most part, and we hadn’t moved. There were a lot of things I was thinking about; honestly, compartmentalization would have been a great ability to have, but it wasn’t something I really could do. It was hard to separate myself from any idea of what I was feeling with how I needed to be acting.

 

I licked my lips. “Annie.”

 

“Mm?”

 

“What did John mean when he said he didn’t want anymore?” My voice didn’t waver, even if it felt a little louder in my ears than I thought it’d be. Good enough, I guess.

 

“He thinks he can just nose in whenever he wants when he feels like it.” She scoffed. “If you want to go with Omari, we can’t stop you, obviously. Rather you didn't though. Up to you.”

 

“I don’t want a pack,” I said helplessly, caught by the contradiction of her words. “I mean, it's not that...I don't know, Annie."

 

She nodded to herself. I don’t know what she thought, but she continued. “And I’m telling you—it’s okay not to be. Okay to name names and everything. Shutting that stuff down. I’d pick a fight, personally, but that’s because I know I can win.” Her eyes felt like they were dragging me in. "I'd fight for you, if that's what you wanted."

 

This, I guess, was what it meant when someone had earned it.

 

“Is Omari bad?” I asked, trying to push the topic to something that didn’t make me feel so complicated—a mix of elation, a mix of nervousness.

 

“Omari’s born,” she said, “and those kinds of wolves don’t usually understand. It’s privilege and not everyone recognizes it, mostly because they tend to benefit from it regardless.”

 

“But you do. Recognize it, I mean.”

 

“My mom was bitten,” Annie said. “Nothing much else for it. I had fifty percent chance of being born a wolf and fifty percent chance Gorgon.”

 

“Gorgon?” I blinked.

 

“Naomi,” Annie said. “My half-sister. She works the front.”

 

I remembered her. “I didn’t know.”

 

Annie gave me a half-smile, but she didn’t seem angry. “Wonder why.”

 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. My heart almost stopped.

 

I looked up. Nobody came in.

 

Another knock.

 

When I looked back at Annie, though, the warmth from her expression had shut down: her smile dropped and she stared apprehensively back at it, before she pulled out her phone to check the time.

 

“Lunch is almost up,” she said, vague, before she slipped it back in her pocket. “Come on.”

 

There was another knock on the door. I couldn’t have imagined it; Annie was slowly standing up, waiting for me to get up too.

 

I scrambled to my feet, a little flustered. “Is it John?”

 

A third knock. I was feeling anxious.

 

Annie strode over and opened the door to a tall, broad-shouldered body who was half-casually leaning against the lockers that were installed right beside the door.

 

“Took you long enough, for your little talk,” Bryce said, taking an earphone out of his ear.

 

"Nice of you to wait," Annie said sharply, standing right into his sight--to block me from view, I realized.

 

It didn't seem to bother Bryce, who merely leaned further right. I couldn't tell if he was angry, but he definitely looked irritated--though whether or not it was because of her or because of something else, I wasn't sure.

 

Annie punched him in the shoulder, and Bryce only grunted. "Dick. What do you want?"

 

“For you to scram, Gomez," Bryce said, voice firm. He was looking over Annie’s shoulder and straight at me, dark eyes steady. "I need a few words with China boy here and you're not invited."

[NightAir]

Chapter 11

 

“I’d rather not,” I said.

 

“Over my dead body,” Annie snarled. “He’s not yours.”

 

Bryce shot her a look. “Yeah, like I want your Alpha busting my nuts just because you couldn’t abide by the rules. Look, Gomez, I’m not touching him. Just a talk.”

 

“No thanks,” I said. I didn’t really want to talk. I wanted to leave. Very quickly. As a complete person. Never mind it looked like he was on his own—flashes of possible tearing apart was scaring the shit out of me. Self-preservation, yes, it seems you still own me.

 

Neither of them seemed to be listening to me; that, or I was mumbling or something.

 

“Yeah? Like Boreas talk with anything except fists.” Annie cracked her neck. As an intimidation factor, it worked. I wanted to run. “You want to do this? Really? With me?”

 

“Fine, it’s for notes,” Bryce snapped, as though she’d ripped the words right out of his mouth. He looked disgusted, which was an emotion I assumed he had a lot of practice with. “I need notes. For Biology. He takes good notes.”

 

What the hell was he talking about? He’d thought I’d taken shit notes during class. It obviously was a cover-up for something—maybe my forceful inauguration into his pack. Or a warning.

 

I shifted uneasily. Annie took a step closer to Bryce, as though she’d sensed it.

 

“Poor cub,” Annie cooed, but there was an edge to it. “Just caught the memo that grades count?” Her tone changed to something flatter. “Go home. Work hard the rest of the year like the rest of us and maybe Daddy’ll stop banging his new mate long enough to pay attention to you.”

 

“Haha, funny,” Bryce replied, but his eyes flashed—red. He took a step towards her, until they were almost chest to chest, but definitely in each other’s spaces, their eyes locked. “You want to say more, be my fucking guest.”

 

I saw it fast enough in my mind’s eye that my breathing stuttered: oh god. Someone on the floor—probably Annie—getting the shit beaten out of them. But she wasn’t me, she was probably tougher. Maybe it’d be Bryce. But. But maybe someone would be bleeding. Torn to shreds. Maybe the two of them would be shifting into werewolf form. Did werewolves have hospitals? Did—

 

"Daddy doesn't love you," Annie said. "Maybe that's got something to do with your new Mommy not either?"

 

"You little fuck," Bryce snarled. He bared his teeth. "Don’t think I couldn’t have Sierra Morena in quarantine and wipe out whatever remaining kids your coke-head of—“

 

Move, I thought to myself.

 

I shot my hand forward to Annie’s elbow and grabbed it, just as she was surging forward. I was almost dragged with her.

 

“I give you my notes and everything’s good?” I asked Bryce a little too fast.

 

I needed to diffuse it, but I had no idea how. I didn’t want to be alone with Bryce. I didn’t want them to fight. I didn’t want someone almost dying and I didn’t want Annie to get hurt. There was a cycle to violence that kept repeating over and over again once it started and I didn’t want that. Not here, not now. A fight here would’ve made it worse—for everyone involved, when it could be avoided.

 

“What?” Bryce’s eyebrows furrowed, startled.

 

“Kevin," Annie snarled, yanking, "Let go—”

 

I held on. Desperation made me strong, or maybe it was because I had two hands on her now and was digging in my heels.

 

“Annie,” I said, trying for a calming voice, trying to radiate that hey it was okay, no need to fight; trying to be loud, and trying to be heard. She cared about me, right? Everything started with me, right? She needed to know it wasn’t a situation where I needed to be defended. She needed to have no reason to fight on my behalf, or for her own, and for that, I needed both of them to stop goading each other on. My voice was too soft. I tried to raise it. “It’s just notes. I’ve got ’em in my bag.”

 

She didn’t even look at me, muscular arm still tense under my grip—which wasn’t tight, but firm enough, I hoped. I pushed her slightly—she didn’t go, so I stepped forward. Annie tensed further, head whipping to follow me, but I just looked at her in the eye.

 

“Notes,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “They’re in my bag. You want that. Right, Bryce?” I prompted, looking at him. His expression wasn’t changing. Shit. No good. Um. What was it—“And we can have that talk. Right now if you want.”

Annie’s hand was gripping my arm again. “Kevin—”

 

“Annie,” I said, trying to will my heartbeat from going up. But I bet Annie could hear it just as well as Bryce. “I don’t like fighting, and he’s in my class, Annie. I really don’t want fighting and—” God this was an awful thing to say, but— “—you know I don’t want to make pack trouble.”

 

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Annie said. “You’re packless.”

 

“That’s not it.” I said, and turned her. Here I went. “You’re the only person I care about right now.” I looked at Bryce. I wasn’t shaking, but I felt—I felt a mixture of anger and upset. “And I know what you’re doing.”

 

Bryce took a step forward to loom over me. He tall and I was your average Asian short-boy height. Puberty hadn’t bestowed on me the gifts they had him, which was easy access to some sort of natural muscle and the intimidation in his very glance. “So what am I doing?” he asked me, neutrally. It scared the hell out of me more than being told what Boreas was capable of.

 

Annie tried to rip her arm from my hand, but I held on tight. “Staying the hell away from him. Kevin, let go—”

 

“What are you trying to do?” Bryce asked her, sneering. “He doesn’t need a—”

 

Reason wouldn’t work. Nothing would. Desperately, I reached out and looped my arms around Annie’s neck and pulled.

It was only because she was surprised that she came. And I hissed into her ear, “Annie,” trying to inject everything I felt, everything I was scared of, into her name. She stiffened, hands gripping the material at my waist. “You said that if I followed what you said, I’d graduate without a problem. Is this going to help me survive?”

 

She shoved off me as though she’d been burned. A myriad of expressions fell across her face. “I don’t believe this,” she hissed, her face red. I knew right away I’d betrayed her somehow.

 

“Annie, it’s not—”

 

Annie shoved me away against the wall, hard enough that I might’ve gotten bruises. I doubled over, aching. “Annie—”

 

She was gone.

[yaoifictionlove]

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This is a refreshing story. I also like how it's written in the 1st person point of view. Good job there.

[NightAir]

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Thanks! I really like using 1st person but I don't get to use it enough, and Kevin's especially more expressive in his own POV than he would be in 3rd person.

 

- - - Updated - - -

 

Chapter 12

 

One: I wanted to bury my face in my hands. There was no question she was upset—and even after that conversation we’d had, where I thought—where I’d—but I’d said it, hadn’t I? I’d said she was the only one I cared about. Hadn’t she listened? It didn’t seem to have mattered to her.

 

Two: I felt hopelessly angry. Angry that she hadn’t—that she’d walked away like that, that she hadn’t tried to understand—and. And sad.

 

Three: She’d just left. It felt like I’d lost her. It should’ve—you know, you know someone for barely a day but—

 

Four: I’d never known or had anyone like her for myself. And to have that for an hour and to feel like that maybe it was your reality now, only for it to turn out not to be—

 

Five: What the fuck was wrong with me? I hadn’t been like this ever in my former school. Sure, I was lonely, sure, I didn’t have friends, but it hadn’t felt so emotionally crushing.

 

I took in a breath, thought back to how I’d felt back in my old school, that office. I’d been upset then, but it was nothing compared to this.

 

“Smooth,” Bryce said, oddly neutral. “You always like this?”

 

“No.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.

 

Puberty, I told myself. This was—this wasn’t me. It was the werewolf puberty that was doing all of this. Or something.

 

“I’m going through puberty numero two right now,” I said to him. “Please be nice to me.”

 

Bryce let out a sharp bark before he jerked his chin over to the door. “Three seconds.”

 

My bag was where I’d left it: sitting at the the desks. Annie hadn’t brought hers with her, I remembered, swallowing past the heavy lump in my throat. Annie had dragged me the instant she’d felt I’d been unwelcomed among her pack members just to reassure that I was. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand to check if there was anything.

 

Yeah. Some tears, kind of wet. Fuck. I felt my stormy mood cluster up at the realization.

 

I knew instantly I couldn’t deal with this right now. I needed to think about this later. This wasn’t something I could deal with right now.

 

But that’s fucking hard as shit. Compartmentalization was never one of my strong suits. All I could think about over and over again was Annie: who was furious and hurt and hating me and my guts. Annie who’d been my friend.

 

“Come on,” Bryce said. Almost at once I felt—grateful at him, even as conflicted. He was giving me some sort of reason not to dwell on this for now. “I’ve got places to go.”

 

So did I, I guess.

 

“Just to be clear,” I said, risking a glance up. My voice was rough, I cleared it, breathed in, forced a smile. “I was born here. Not in China. Immigration and first-generation Canadians are astounding concepts, I know, but you can wrap your head around the other thing too.”

 

Bryce stared at me.

 

My smile dropped. “Uh. You know, that China boy thing from earlier?”

 

Crap. He probably didn’t even remember.

 

“Walk,” Bryce grunted, grabbing hold of my upper arm and yanking me up.

 

I stumbled. He had a very firm grip and it seemed virtually effortless for him.

 

“Cool,” I said, and I wondered if I was going to get bruises. “Okay. Where?”

 

“Just follow my pace,” Bryce said, without blinking twice. “I don’t like standing around when I’m talking.”

 

Following his pace meant moving at a speed walk to a small jog or else risk being dragged across the floor. He had long legs and was fond of pacing as it seemed. The entire hallways were cleared—nobody was eating lunch here. I didn’t remember if there was anyone around when Annie and I had come up, but I wondered if it was half because of Bryce that there was no one here, or if this was just a place where people didn’t come to hang out.

 

“Back there,” Bryce said suddenly, gesturing with his chin. “You were someone else completely different from what you were saying in the classroom.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Is that how is it for you?” Bryce demanded. “Play tough when you’re actually weak, manipulate everyone into thinking you’re harmless, and then potential pack wolves will like you?” His voice turned derisive. “I heard what Gomez was telling you in there. And then you go and bite her in the ass when she tries to defend you, and you want her to consider you pack-but-not-pack? What a class act.”

 

First off, I wanted to say, what the fuck. “What the fuck,” I hissed, indignant. “You were the one goading her on, you weren’t helping—”

 

“I do that to Gomez all the time. It’s nothing new. She was defending you. And you rejected her.” Bryce was dragging me in a sun-lit hallway, without missing a step. His voice was sharp and biting; I could feel his grip tighten on my arm. “I’m really impressed. Real great planning.”

 

I could tell that he wasn’t. It sickened me to realize that some part of me wanted to argue against him. It wouldn’t work—I knew how people like him worked.

 

And too understand that someone had been listening to me just—that he’d been listening to an intensely private conversation made me furious and disgusted.

 

And I felt angry, furious that I even had begun to explain myself to him seconds before. He didn’t know me, and he didn’t get to make fucking assumptions about me and how I treated people who defended me.

 

“It’s none of your business.” I really didn’t want to be anywhere near him anymore.

 

That wasn’t an act. That was just how I was. Fact: I hadn’t wanted them to fight. Fact: Annie meant a fuck ton more to me unscathed. Fact: It involved me, and how I dealt with it was on my own terms.

 

“No,” Bryce said, and he kept his hand gripping my upper arm, keeping me marching, instead of ripping me a new one. “I know what a person’s like when they’re like you. People like you have a ton of shit to say except you never say it where we can hear it. And fascinatingly enough, have to deal with the drawbacks. People don't exist in a vacuum and neither do relationships. I'm guessing that you've never in your life had someone call you out on it, and that’s what I’m doing now because if you’re going to be a goddammed werewolf in my school, you’re going to learn some goddamned manners, capiche?”

 

That was some presumptuous ass bullshit. Like he knew me. Like he fucking knew what I’d gone through when he fucking didn’t. Categorizing me into a box. Some of it stung, maybe, I don’t know, because maybe it hit true, but lumping me up into an understanding—I was shaking with anger and with upset.

 

Saying piss off, probably, wouldn’t have gotten over too well. I didn’t think I even had the courage to say it. I wanted to say something else, but it was stuck in my throat. Self-preservation. The fact that I usually kept my thoughts to myself.

 

“Speak,” Bryce said, shaking me. His grip hurt.

 

“Woof,” I grunted, gritted out through tears in my eyes.

 

He didn’t rip my head off for that. Maybe he was being sympathetic. “Something else.”

 

“Born, bitten, or turned? Bet you were born.”

 

“Bitten,” Bryce said, and it surprised me, because I’d thought he’d have been one of the kind of people that Annie had told me about. He grinned white human teeth at me.

 

I stared. He must’ve thought it was a question because he tapped his canines for some reason.

 

“Still can tear out a chunk of your arm if you piss me off, Squinty.”

 

“I was turned,” I said, stiffly. I was already so angry about the other things that a nickname about my eyes didn’t even come close. “I might not know everything, but I’m not stupid.” I couldn’t help it: my voice turned into a whine, which was for one, so stupid, and for another, telling him exactly how much I couldn’t handle a scolding.

 

Whoever said that Alphas didn’t use their words had been utterly misinformed.

 

“I know,” he said, and maybe his tone was a little kinder, a little more understanding, I don’t know, but I still hated his guts. He stopped me in front of a group of lockers and his expression darkened. “Alright, here’s the situation Woofboy: I wasn’t lying when I said I needed your notes, but I’m talking to you for an entirely other reason.”

 

“For what?”

 

He scowled at the wall—not like his characteristic displeasure about things, but something real, almost…kind of unhappy, like he didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice, and he was pretty much ripping out his human canines to do so.

 

I stared at his profile for what felt like a full moment before he managed to spit out what it was.

 

“I need,” Bryce, Alpha son of the Alpha of the Boreas pack snarled, “you to tutor me.”

[NightAir]

Chapter 13

 

I said, “Oh,” and then wondered about the irony. He’d been telling me off, when it was him who needed the favour.

 

Bryce scowled, looking like he’d bit into an entire lemon and been asked to keep the rest in his mouth. “If it’s payment, just give me the amount and you’ll have a nice big fat check at the end of every week to pay for whatever it is you do in your free time.”

 

I hesitated.

 

Bryce grit his teeth and looked like he was inches away from pummeling me; he didn’t. Let go of my arm and clenched his fists instead before he managed out, “Look. You heard Gomez. I might…need a little help.”

 

As it turned out, Annie’s accusations about his less than stellar grade average was true. That meant the insinuations about his relationship with his dad...

 

“So it’s…none of my business,” I said. “But—”

 

“Damn right it isn’t.” He looked pissed but he wasn’t doing anything other than looming threateningly over me. I felt like I was in a somewhat precarious position. “It’s pack bullshit.”

 

“Pack,” I repeated.

 

“Pack Alpha,” Bryce spat out. “I am not,” he said, voice low, “in the best position to be disappointing him, and as a result, I am not in the mood for a tiny little shit like you to disappoint me.”

 

It was, apparently, the entire reason he was asking me, the newcomer to the town, for help. I took it to mean that presumably I’d know enough to keep my mouth shut and having no previous political tie or allegiance helped. Also: despite the fact that Betas were said to resolve fights with their words, Alphas really seemed to be really good at threatening with them.

 

“Oh.”

 

Bryce stared at me.

 

I didn’t want to do it. I really didn’t want to be stuck with him in a room constantly.

 

“Just because I’m Chinese doesn’t mean all I do is study,” I said, instead of, you know, an actual No, because I’ve actually never said No to anyone in my life. It’d always been yes. Yes, Ma Ma, yes, Ba Ba, yes, yes, over and over again.

 

“Yeah,” Bryce snapped, “don’t care.”

 

“Well, I—I just memorize. I don’t think you could really rely on me.”

 

I couldn’t actually train him in the fine art of cheating, either, being that I’d actually never done that before. Too much Fear of God instilled in me by my teachers who’d assured me that being kicked from a university could come from a single black mark on my record and the higher threat of my parents kicking me out of house and home and probably reversing my entire birth process.

 

“Look,” Bryce said. “I need a tutor who’s got good grades, isn’t pack, and who I can stand to sit next to for long periods of time. Bingo, you’re a winner.”

 

“Me,” I repeated, in disbelief. I tried to imagine myself among the tough-looking guys from Bryce’s pack, and quickly imagined myself squashed into an onion pancake and not at all as tasty. “Wait, how do you even know I’ve got good grades?”

 

“I’ve seen your transcript,” Bryce said noncommittally. And damn was that alarming, because I was under the impression students weren’t allowed to see those. I felt scandalized even though I had nothing to be afraid of, mostly because holy hell, note to self: werewolves had no concept of privacy, though I guess him eavesdropping on my conversation with Annie had been proof enough. “And as far as I’m concerned, nobody knows you well enough yet. It wouldn’t be out of line for anyone to think I’m not trying to recruit you.”

 

Hedging wasn’t going to get me anywhere. “I'm not sure if me hanging around you who hangs around your pack is a good idea."

 

“Yeah, you’re no real prize.” He swept his gaze up and down my body dismissively. I felt even more offended on principle, fighting the urge to cover my short, non-muscular body from his judgmental gaze. Where were my werewolf patented biceps? “Too many damn Alphas in one place means too many damn knotheads in one room. Balancing out all that elevated testosterone would make sense.”

 

“You don’t know me. I could be an Alpha,” I said. What was it that I’d been told? “I’m even in your Biology class. That’s an Alpha class. And there are non…macho looking Alphas there too.”

 

“Hah,” Bryce said. “Keep telling yourself that. Real Alphas don’t cry.”

 

I felt my face burn.

 

“You probably haven’t had a Real Alpha in your pack then,” I grumbled.

 

“Yeah? You going to prove me wrong?”

 

I couldn’t help it. “I don’t know, can you prove me wrong?”

 

“You don’t call the shots, Kaden.”

 

“It’s Kevin.”

 

"Right." Bryce didn’t move. He stared at me until I felt like I needed to look away or else I’d be zapped by werewolf eye lasers or something. I felt my neck prickle. “What’s your last class?” he asked, at last. “We’ll start then.”

 

“Calculus and Vectors,” I said, without looking at my sheet. My last class was actually English, but he didn’t need to know that. “Building Z, 110.”

 

“Class,” he said, tone absent of aggression, neutral. “Don’t try to lie to me. I can hear your heartbeat jackhammering against your throat.”

 

My heartbeat skyrocketed. “Why do I have to tell you?”

 

“I’m not asking you again.” He calmly moved his fist against the locker. I say calmly because all he did was raise his hand, clench it into a fist and press it, without an expression of anger, without looking like he was doing anything. But the metal gave way, bending with a shrieking groan for him as if a truck had ran through it.

 

As an intimidation technique, it worked, because when Bryce’s fist came away, there was a sizable actual physical warping of the entire group of lockers left behind. I swallowed, thinking about what would’ve happened if he’d decided to do that to me. Also, what kind of budget this school had to replace lockers every time a werewolf happened to lose their temper.

Bryce was stronger than Annie. I hadn’t been wrong in that.

 

“English.” My tongue felt heavy. “304.”

 

Bryce nodded. “You wait in that classroom after school lets out. Someone will pick you up. Understood?”

 

I thought it was a little relevant to point out (maybe more forcefully, though hahahahaha forcefully, what a hilarious thought) that I wasn’t in his pack, didn’t want to be, and he didn’t really have a right to tell me what to do or order me around, but I couldn’t really say that. It didn’t seem like something I could reject.

 

“What happens if I don’t?”

 

Bryce studied me with his dark eyes, before he stepped forward and put his palm right on the centre of my throat, a heavy, heavy pressure.

 

“Do you really want to test that with me?” he asked. His voice was a low murmur, a dangerous half-growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms stand on end. “What with what I said about disappointment?”

 

His grip was tightening. I couldn’t breathe, my body tensed, and my hands immediately shot up to his wrist—but it couldn’t be budged. “No,” I managed out. “I won’t disappoint you.”

 

“Good,” he said, but he wasn’t moving. “And you know that everything I told you was in confidence right? If anyone knows, I’ll know who to blame.”

 

Bryce would do more than blame me, as I understood it.

 

I gasped out for affirmative, before he finally pulled back, satisfied. I choked, then coughed out and in air.

 

“Nice talk.” Bryce threw his last remark over his shoulder, but not before I caught sight of the way his eyes lingered on my throat, almost considering. “Hope you’ll rub off on the pack. Turn into someone useful eventually.”

 

I swallowed, kept swallowing even as he disappeared from view.

 

And then I had to sit down.

 

Heavily.

[NightAir]

Chapter 14

Annie wasn’t waiting for me after my last class. Nobody was. I lingered around the classroom, desperately hoping for a reason to leave quickly, but there wasn’t. Students were headed home, chattering loudly, clanking their locker doors open and laughing and making jokes. I knew nobody gave a shit, but it felt like they all knew somehow because they’d glance occasionally in my direction.

 

Maybe it was because I was bleeding anxiety. Maybe it was because I was bleeding out some form of distress. In either case, nobody said anything. Fuck you all too.

 

See, this wouldn’t have been a problem back in my human school. In my human school, I’d known other kids for at least four years (or more if they’d gone to the same feeder middle school I had), and so you know it wasn’t much of an issue to hide around until any wrongs or threats or the Bully Du Jour lost interest and moved onto other things.

 

I was overwhelmed and I felt sick. I had no idea what to do. I just wanted to go home to Uncle Tsu and cry a bit, or just lie down and watch a movie with him like I used to when I was younger and I was feeling bad. Uncle Tsu had always been really good at dealing with me; that, and he’d treated me like my own person with my own feelings and heard me out unlike my parents whenever things got rough.

 

My parents always had told me growing up you had to deal with the consequences of your actions—and you know, it’s not like I didn’t want to. It was just…I was getting a pretty good prediction that my neck was going to have bruise marks tomorrow.

 

In the end, I didn’t wait long, as it turned out.

 

A rat-faced guy came my way, decked out in complete black. His shoes were black, his pants were black, his shirt was black, his jacket was black, he had on a black hood, he had black hair, and he was white as hell, a pale skinny guy who wore big rings with massive designs that could probably break someone’s face in if he punched you with it.

 

He knew who I was.

 

“You the newbie, huh? Name’s Grayson,” he said, casting his eyes up and down. The expression on his face gave away exactly how he didn’t like what he was sent to do. “Come on.”

 

Before I could say anything, I heard: “Hey, Disappointment and Wine!”

 

“What,” said Grayson.

 

I turned around, just as I heard a growl reverberate from Grayson’s throat in disgust.

 

“You don’t want to cause a pack fight,” Grayson snapped.

 

Omari cast his eyes on me, before he flickered his eyes back to Grayson. “No,” he agreed coolly, “we wouldn’t want that.” He then proceeded to ignore Grayson completely as his two packmates stood menacingly side by side and grin hugely at me. “Kevin, right?”

 

“Yes?” I said, somewhat flattered that he’d remembered my name and all, what with the weird moniker, and somewhat confused and suspicious because oh man, who wanted what and everyone wanted what.

 

“I want you in my pack,” Omari said. “Yes or no?”

 

I choked.

 

Grayson stepped in front of me. “What part of not causing a pack fight are you—”

 

“Not talking to you, Snivel.” Omari stepped closer and put a hand on Grayson’s cheek, shoving him out of the way. “Or you know,” he said, cheerfully, to me, “just think about it. No pressure. Offer’s open as long as you like it, even past the due date set by administration.”

 

Somehow, I found my voice. “Why-?”

 

“Got a great first impression on you,” Omari answered. “And these two,” he gestured to the guys at the back, “also told me John’s pack’s left you on your own. Cruel of them,” he tsked. “You’re a good guy. Great heart.”

 

First Annie, now Omari—they hardly knew me. Did I have Jesse McCartney’s Beautiful Soul laced into my sweat glands? “So what, I smell like I’m nice to you too?” I demanded wryly.

 

Omari’s grin grew wider. For some reason, I felt hot under the collar. “You could say that.”

 

“Didn’t take you for a philanthropist, Omari,” Grayson sneered from his corner, rubbing his cheek and scowling. “The shelter not paying enough for you to find someone to fuck, never mind shit in an actual house?”

 

Two werewolves standing by Omari’s sides started to stride forward—they were stopped only by Omari lifting his hand up: a clear stop that required no posturing, no violence.

 

It was actually fucking terrifying. These guys weren’t like Boreas buff and built kind of big, but they were still athletic. They still looked like they could pack a good punch in a fight—probably even better, because they wouldn’t just charge. They’d probably make it hurt worse than full out blunt violence.

 

Omari laughed flatly.

 

“Grayson,” Omari said, smiling, except when his eyes didn’t look like they were, “do you remember first year of high school? Do I owe you something, or do you owe me?”

 

I thought Grayson would fight. Being Boreas and all. He wasn’t Boreas levels buff, but he looked like he could fit in with them—how he walked and how he gestured. But, instead of anything like that, instead of deriding him some more, all Grayson did was pale.

 

Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the classroom.

 

Without Omari saying anything—just him glancing behind over his shoulder to meet the eyes of one of the guys gesturing with his head— his two men? Guys? Walked right after Grayson and closed the door behind them.

 

There was just me and Omari, Ha Eun’s ex.

 

“Are you going to threaten me,” I asked, freaking out really calmly.

 

Omari’s face turned from neutral to amused. “No,” he said, “why would you think that?”

 

“I dunno,” I said, “seems pretty suspicious. We’re the only two people in here now. Also, I’m smaller than you. Also not sure why you want me in your pack or if that’s just an excuse.”

 

“Do I look like the kind of person who’d do that?”

 

I wasn’t sure how he wanted me to answer that. “Yes?”

 

“Kevin,” Omari said, “I’m going to be honest: I’m doing this all on ulterior motives.”

 

“You want to get back with Ha Eun?”

 

“I’m interested in guys,” Omari said. “Female form doesn’t do it for me. We’ve settled it.” The way he said settled it made it sound like a court case had happened about it; very neutral.

 

I felt like I was overreaching with this, but you know: “So you want to get with me?” That was kind of…huh. I didn’t actually think things like this happened in real life.

 

Omari laughed, but not unkindly. “Nah. Just thought I’d help you out since your heartbeat sounded like it’d give out at any moment.” Which meant he’d just been knowing this entire time and just—He gave me an appraising look. “But you know, maybe that could change. I like people I get along with and who give me something to think about. You make me wonder a lot, Kevin.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You want me to be specific?” Omari inclined his head. “I spent the entire day wondering how someone like you exists.”

 

“It’s called sperm meeting the egg,” I said, without thinking much.

 

Omari snorted. He gave me a grin. And then he said, “You probably take the bus right? I do too. Let’s go.”

 

I hesitated, thinking back about my conversation—if you could really call it that—with Bryce earlier. About disappointments. I put my hand on my throat instinctively. Did I want to piss off the one guy who was ruling the school with his mighty Fight Club BodyBuilding United? Plus, there was the entire thing about—I’d never actually learned how to say ‘no’ to anything. I also felt bad; Bryce clearly needed the help and everything, and it wasn’t like I couldn’t relate to not wanting to disappoint your parents.

God knew I’d disappointed mine enough.

 

“He can see you tomorrow,” Omari said. “He’s a big boy. Come on.”

 

And I don’t know, Omari seemed to like me fine, and maybe he was the only real sort of friend-figure I could count on, so I did what I did best: I went on to survive a different day. I compromised.

 

“I have to go to the office anyway,” I said. And you know, I was figuring really quick about the fact werewolves could root out my lies and everything, but I don’t know, I was hoping maybe Omari would give me a precedent where I wouldn’t be called out on that like Annie and Bryce had somehow did. “See you tomorrow?”

 

Omari looked at me, smile fading, but he didn’t yell. He didn’t look disappointed. “Hey,” he said, “just keep my offer in mind, all right? You’re a good guy, Kevin. And crazy as it sounds, I want to see you where you’re going in life. That means you staying alive to see graduation, by the way. I want to get to know you more.”

 

“Okay,” I said, feeling strangely shy. Awkward. Unsure. Human relationships took time; as did their friendships. But as with Annie, I felt myself getting overwhelmed with how easy it seemed to be for them to somehow know almost instantly who they liked and who they didn't, and act as if someone who was practically a stranger had been their best friend since forever.

 

Omari grinned. “Bryce is probably at the front of the school. I'll walk you.”

[NightAir]

Chapter 15

 

Somehow, walking with Omari felt distinctly like walking with a very gigantic dog whose owner had told you, “It bites, but only if you piss it off. Otherwise, he’s safe.” You knew it had the potential to be dangerous, but you couldn’t help but keep looking at it out of the corner of your eye because you’d only ever seen some other side of it.

 

You know, I’d turned into a werewolf in a school assembly and got out of it with a punch to the face and an expulsion from the school. If there was more pain than that, I really didn’t want it.

 

So I didn’t say anything. Just kept an eye on him.

 

Omari probably knew I was looking at him, but he continued a leisurely pace to meet mine, hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t say anything. He just looked like he was in no rush to go anywhere. He was handsome, I’d admit. He walked as though these tall, intimidating concrete hallways were home to him, passing columns with their spiraling stairs and vines like he knew all the routes they went.

 

No one was in the office. A polite sign mentioned that after school hours were from 3:30pm-4:00pm.

 

I checked my phone: 4:30pm.

 

Omari cleared his throat politely behind me. “Front door’s this way, Kevin.”

 

The door felt clammy when I pushed it open. Bryce was right outside the school, right where Omari said he’d be. In fact, he was alone, which was surprising. None of his buff bros posturing around him. The area that the treeline cleared up to was completely deserted.

 

I cast a look at it, dreading getting lost on the way to the bus.

 

“Finally,” Bryce snarled, eyes snapping on me. “I was going to--”

 

It was easy to understand why Bryce’s face turned livid. I faltered in my step, but Omari kept going down, hands in his pockets, shoulders lax and lazy. Feeling like a deer in front of headlights, I slowly followed.

 

“Omari,” Bryce said, flatly.

 

“Bryce,” Omari said smoothly. His eyes met Bryce’s without even a flinch. “Your fly’s open.”

 

I looked down just as fast as Bryce did, but his fly was not, in fact, open.

 

“You’re welcome,” Omari said to no one in particular. Without waiting for Bryce’s response, he turned to me. Easy, but unmistakably in command compared to earlier when Bryce had dismissed him. “We share the period before lunch, right? Eat at my table tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for my answer either. He nodded a goodbye, and disappeared through the bushes into the forest.

 

Bryce didn’t say anything for all of two seconds. “Omari.”

 

The problem with him saying Omari was that it wasn’t phrased like a question or anything, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to answer it or not. “Uh—”

 

“Don’t talk to him ever again,” he told me.

 

My eyebrows flew up to my brows. The first reaction I had was, Excuse me? and the idea that Bryce was not my parent and couldn’t tell me what to do, and that probably soured my expression because Bryce looked even angrier.

 

“I mean it,” he said, and his voice was hard enough to make me flinch, even as he turned around to the forest area and spread apart some bushes. “My pack doesn’t go well with his pack. You smell like him and you smell like me, you’re going to be asking for a lynching. And I need you for those damn grades. Now come on.”

 

Oh. Happy day. I was never going to hear another guy say that to me ever again. Sarcasm, I love you. “So where am I gonna eat lunch tomorrow?”

 

I mean, I could eat in a washroom. I was very used to eating quickly in small, lonely areas, or quietly like a stalker-intruder at the corner of a large group of classmates who were all obviously friends and then despairing about how lonely I was and how I was going to die with no belonging and purpose.

 

Bryce didn't bother answering me. In fact, he was paying more attention leading me into the forest like a seasoned pro and probably making sure I didn't get eaten by a New Werewolf Eating Plant or something. After a while, my feet started aching, and I started getting annoyed by the amount of branches he didn't bother holding for me that whacked me back in the face.

 

We must’ve weaved and gone in an entirely different direction than the bus stop because when we arrived, there was a clearing. It was a parking lot.

 

“What,” Bryce asked me, sniggering like an asshole. “You think we bother shifting for commute?” He unlocked his car.

 

“Uh,” I said, and looked at it. I wasn’t an expert in cars, so sue me, but it looked kind of expensive. There was an…accordion top that Bryce pushed down? For one. And the car itself was sleek for sure, ridiculously yellow, and had a black pattern on the outside that looked almost zebra-ish. It wasn't even a good yellow. Or a good zebra. I wouldn't have been surprised if someone had taken an image off the internet and decided spray paint was how you souped up a car. “Is this yours?”

 

“Yep,” Bryce confirmed as we slid into Bumblezilla. He sounded proud, though I had no idea why. “You like?”

 

It did have very nice black leather seats that molded comfortably under my butt like memory foam. “Yeah,” I said, being smart and putting my seat-belt on. Safety first. “It’s pretty comfy.” At Bryce’s expectant gaze, I added, “And the paintjob--" Looked like a gigantic bumblebee had decided to fly the speed of light and been magnified enough times it resembled a sports car. "--looks unique.”

 

“Three thousand, all custom,” he boasted, starting the engine, undoing what I assume was the brakes and the drive gear of a manual gearshift. It purred comfortably and practically force-slammed me back into the seat as he hit the gas. He slammed on the radio--out blasted out loud rock music that made my ears hurt.

 

I don’t think I’d ever been actually given a ride by someone my age group in my life. For a first experience, I said goodbye to ten years of my life.

 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get out of the car because it was ultimately actually safer to remain in the car, and I was pretty sure the passenger side of a luxury brand had a better airbag than I could hope some random plant could offer me.

 

Bryce spun and whirled us, jerked the wheel so casually without a blink of an eye to follow the crazy winding forest road from the parking lot. Because there wasn’t one of those security things that you could hold on being that there was actually no top to this car, I clung onto my seatbelt instead and maybe the (locked) door handle.

 

Forest was quickly smoothing over to pavement and then we were out onto a highway. An actual highway past what looked like an ocean which is stupid because we were in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere and it was supposed to be forest area for the most part. I wasn’t really paying much attention to that.

 

“By the way,” Bryce said, when I finally regained my bearings and was realizing we were coasting in through something that was going relatively straight. “We’re headed to your place to study.”

 

“What?”

[NightAir]

Chapter 16

 

“Hey,” Uncle Tsu said, breaking his gaze from the TV, as I barreled into the house. He had his bare feet crossed on the coffee table and he looked like he’d just got back from a hard day’s work at the office: asides from his missing socks, and the tie, he had on slightly unbuttoned collared dress shirt and had probably tossed the dress pants somewhere else because he’d hauled on some sweats. “How was--”

 

“Kow Fu, gow auh,” I began, stumbling into Cantonese I had no idea if intonation was right or not. I did not intend to die and I was hoping that Uncle Tsu, being an authority figure, would Make It So.

 

“Hey,” Bryce said, stepping in after me not seconds after. I jerked violently back after an intense effort of trying to rush next to Uncle Tsu’s--not because he’d pulled back, but had his hand on the grabbing loop of my backpack I don’t know when. I was pretty sure he knew the gist of what I had said, even if he didn’t know the exact translation specifically. “I’m Bryce. Kevin’s lab partner.”

 

Uncle Tsu, to his credit, had a neutral expression on. “Nice to meet you,” he paused, and then grinned wide. “Can’t say I’m not surprised that Kevin’s making friends already. Kid was always friendly.”

 

No, Uncle Tsu, that was because I was a kid and I was stupid and I wanted to impress you.

 

“There’s space in the kitchen,” Uncle Tsu continued, which, no, no, please don’t be helpful. “What kind of snacks do you have usually, Bryce? Just assuming seeing as I figure a body of that size needs a strict diet and fitness routine.”

 

Of all the times for it to happen, it had to happen now. Uncle Tsu was doing his thing where he tried to be nice, but he just came off as aggressively flirty. I wanted to die of ruined mortification and scream my head off into an abyss.

 

“Kow Fu,” I emphasized, “Oih juhn hai yew ley gow auh.” I hoped, in some manner of the shitty translation, it came out as, “I really need your help,” and not something less.

 

“Yes, Kevin,” Uncle Tsu said, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’m sorry that he’s taller than you, but it seems to be your fate from now on.”

 

I – what –

 

Bryce, for his part, didn’t seemed bothered. He grinned instead, large, wide and slow. If I hadn’t known Bryce could not give anything other than two shits about my well-being over his own, I’d have thought he was a good guy.

 

“I can eat whatever,” Bryce said, nodding politely. “Kevin’s the one helping me with school, so I’m grateful for that.”

 

I couldn’t believe it. Out of all the Alphas I could have encountered, I’d somehow managed to get the one that knew how to navigate patriarchal politeness. Before I could even respond, Uncle Tsu beamed.

 

“I’ll leave you two to it, then? Kevin’s room is just upstairs. First one you see.”

 

I couldn’t believe this. My own uncle had sold me out. He hadn’t responded to my cry for help. He probably thought it was some sort of inside joke or—dangit.

 

Bryce grinned, hand transferred from the loop of my backpack to an arm looping around my shoulders. “Thanks, sir.” His sudden weight almost made my knees shake, even as it was clear—at least on my end because I was the one feeling it—he was telling me to get going.

 

“Shoes off first,” I snapped, kicking my shoes off, and trying to nudge him off my shoulders.

 

Surprised, Bryce looked down at his own brand name running shoes and lightened the weight enough that he could bend down and unlace them, take his feet out, tuck the laces in, and place them neatly to the side. The careful motions contrasted so much with the force I'd seen applied to the lockers that I almost laughed.

 

I felt dizzy instead. This was real. Werewolf Alpha Boss-to-Inherit.

 

“Popcorn’s okay for you guys, right?” Uncle Tsu asked on his way to the kitchen. “I’ll order something from some menus and then when it gets here you guys can have your pick. Stay for dinner, Bryce.”

 

“Anything’s okay,” Bryce called, and then hip checked me. “Stop staring.” If I thought too hard about it, I could pretend he was feeling awkward about Uncle Tsu deciding to do the customary asian thing and feed guests.

 

“The deal,” I said, finding my voice eventually once I led him up the stairs, “was not for you to come to my house.”

 

“We can’t do it at mine,” he argued again. “Besides.” He sniffed the air, and brightened visibly—it made him look like he was a kid. “Your place is kind of nice. There’s a freshwater lake and everything. We can go swimming. We’re going swimming after this,” he decided in a resolute tone. “I deserve it.”

 

I wanted to tell him to piss off.

 

“There are kids who party here,” I told him as we walked into my barely individualized room. My suitcase was resting open on the floor, the lid halfway blocking the window. The curtains were still shut and blinds were still down, wreathing the large space into a dark, gloomy atmosphere. “I doubt you’ll get them to go.”

 

Bryce ripped the curtains open and yanked my blinds up, casting the room into bright sunshine. You couldn’t open the window, but he looked sorely tempted to smash the glass open to do so, hands lingering where they were clenched. He didn’t, turning around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It was an oddly polite kind of posture for someone as domineering as he seemed to be. I’d have thought he’d have been rooting through all of my stuff, but either it was just him or werewolves seemed to have a propriety of politeness surounding belongings.

 

“I’m persuasive,” he said, at last when I didn’t say anything, and looked around. “So this is your space. Looks last minute.” It sounded like an insult. Probably it was an insult.

 

“I slept one night here,” I said, feeling oddly defensive, settling down uncomfortably on my mattress. Everything felt so weird now. He was in my home—well, my new home, but still. I felt antsy. “So. Biology.”

 

“Yeah,” Bryce said. “Biology.”

 

He stared at me.

 

I stared back. “Uh—”

 

“You’re the tutor,” Bryce said, looking bored. “You should know what to do.”

 

I bit back an indignant respond on my part. “I don’t really know what you need.”

 

“This is what I—you know, what, I’ll just show you.” Suddenly, Bryce grabbed my bag and yanked out my notebooks. He flipped violently through the pages and when it wasn’t what he was looking for, he flung them over his shoulder. “Where is it—”

 

“Hey-!” I yelped, a little too late, hands snapping out, half-off the bed. By then, though, he’d already found the Biology notebook and tossed it into my hands. After that, he sat himself right beside me on the bed. “You—you know, if you’re gonna—” I stopped, for some reason I couldn’t figure out.

 

The mattress had dipped deep underneath Bryce’s weight, and bounced up so that his jean clad knee was pressed against my thigh.

 

Oh.

 

I—I guess that was why.

 

After a bit, I realized everything was eerily quiet. Even the party of teenagers outside that had been so loud yesterday were quiet—and we’d even seen them playing around on the swing tire and booming loud music as we’d driven bye. All I could hear was my own rapidly thumping heartbeat, and for some reason, a second.

 

It was a slow, heavy repetitive thump.

 

It was Bryce’s heartbeat, I realized. I could hear his heartbeat. I had werewolf hearing, finally or something, just trip up slowly into my Acquired Skills, and just--

 

Wow.

 

Heartbeat.

 

There's--it's weird, being able to hear it.

 

I looked up slowly, dragging my eyes from Bryce’s thigh to his chest, to his neck, to his chin. I looked at his mouth, his nose—and then I looked straight into Bryce’s dark eyes.

 

“Thanks,” Bryce, told me, stiltedly, quietly. His heartbeat sped up only a little faster before it steadied. “For agreeing to help.”

[NightAir]

Chapter 17

 

To be honest, I wasn’t ever going to say this to his face, but Bryce, as it turned out, was pretty agreeable when he wanted to be. Or at least, not making me piss my pants.

 

“I don’t get what they want for this year,” Bryce said, staring at the outline on my laptop screen. I could tell his head was spinning, but we’d already had two breaks where he’d have to get up and stretch his legs through a quick run outside. I just watched him go from the window. He’d make a lap around the perimeter, ignoring the other teens playing around the lake, before he came straight back.

 

I’d been scrambling through my suitcase to use objects as examples for grade 11 biology: how evolution was linked to genetics and how this was linked to animal and plant structures and functions. Bryce saw big pictures and connected them together easily with something kinesthetic, but he was lacking a lot of foundational knowledge. Hopefully I’d figure something out, because I was really getting into this.

 

“Okay, based on this year’s outline,” I said, looking through my notes, “Biochemistry, metabolic processes, molecular genetics and homeostasis. That’s it. Last year, they wanted you to be able to learn the theory and investigate—being able to explore. You did a project or something—”

 

“Yeah,” Bryce said, grimly. “I didn’t do it. Whoever I partnered with ratted me out to the teacher.”

 

“Anyway,” I pressed, ignoring the fact that big projects usually spelled out a big percentage of grades (or at least were weighed pretty heavily), so I wasn’t sure how Bryce managed to pass unless he’d found one hell of a merciful teacher. “Everything in this year is linked. Don’t worry too much about it.”

 

After I got over the initial self-consciousness of his ‘it’s-your-move’ intimidating silence, I decided to review things for him, and even went to the point of typing out an outline for both grade 11 and 12 that he could refer back to at home, laptop balanced on my knee. Eventually, I began to relax: this tutoring thing wasn’t intimidating. Bryce didn’t contradict me often, and deferred to my status as some sort of authority. He listened, head cocked, handsome features set, and grunted out some questions before watching quietly as I typed out Youtube and Khan Academy at the bottom of the document.

 

It was also weird, in some sense. When Bryce did interrupt, it was with questions or comments, and he’d spend some time mulling about my answers in abrasive silence, staring at the sheet, before clicking the pen and scribbling a note to himself on the back of a receipt he’d scrounged up from his back pocket. He really did want to learn. He didn’t look happy about how little he knew, but he trusted me.

 

It made me feel kind of useful. I’d never been so relied on before, outside of group projects where I had to pull all the weight. I kind of doubted he’d do any work outside of these sessions, but I could see myself definitely doing better in class with someone to technically study with.

 

“I also find lesson plans sometimes,” I added. “Teachers make them, but they can work for activities to cement understanding if you need them. Mostly, I’d just…be reteaching you things we do in class, though.”

 

Bryce scowled, and then lay back on my bed. The springs creaked. His shirt road up to expose what was—wow, uh—nice abs. “My head hurts,” he told me, his hands sliding over his face. I hoped he wasn’t paying too much attention to the sudden speeding up of my heartbeat, because I could hear his, slow and steady as ever.

 

I checked my phone, and then blinked. Four hours. We’d spent four hours here. “Oh, wow, uh—four hours.”

 

“I know,” Bryce mumbled. He sounded sulky.

 

He’d been here for hours doing what I said and following my lead. The realization struck me to the point I felt heady.

 

“You’re fine,” I said, after a bit. “What’s so hard? You actually did really well. I’m pretty sure that most students our age probably don’t learn like this. There’s kind of a lot.”

 

Bryce didn’t move for a moment.

 

“What say we end it here for today?” I asked.

 

I was expecting more of a decisive ‘hell yes’ or a ‘hell no,’ instead of: “Okay.” It was quiet.

 

It also made me feel self-consciously aware of the fact there was a hot guy on my bed, in my room, and had been for about four hours. Also, that we were alone: Uncle Tsu had only come in and checked on us once when he left the tea and snacks on the nightstand for us before heading back downstairs with a reminder that we could eat dinner whenever we wanted as it was either in the oven or microwave.

 

“Do you want to eat?” I asked. My stomach was going to growl any minute, and I could smell Uncle Tsu’s chicken wafting up from the downstairs kitchen, even still lingering in the excess corners of the stairwell at least an hour after initial preparation. I wasn’t sure if it was werewolf sense of smell or whether or not this place just kept the scent of good food.

 

“Not hungry,” Bryce replied, hands dragging down his face. He stared up at the ceiling, blank in a sort of exhausted but relaxed way—which is a really weird description. His legs were still hanging off the side of my bed at the knee, but the way he fit on it, his broad muscular back relaxed and his hands now folded on his stomach, seemed so natural. “You go eat.”

 

“Uh,” I said, because, “actually, that’s kind of…impolite. You’re the guest.”

 

“I’ll apologize to your Uncle,” Bryce said, closing his eyes. “Next time. Not tonight, though.”

 

“But—“

 

Bryce opened them, and turned his face slightly to stare me straight, gaze on mine. It was a very casual, barely deliberate gesture that somehow spoke volumes of his control, of the fact that he was an Alpha and was very used to ordering people around.

 

“Go eat, Kevin,” Bryce said, almost snappily. “I’ll head out in a bit and I’ll see you tomorrow.” What was he going to do in my bed, I couldn’t help but wonder. Just lie there, almost zoned out?

 

There didn’t seem to be much to do if I didn’t want to say, ‘No, get the hell out of my bed and come with me where I can keep an eye on you’, so I said, “Can we not do it at my house, tomorrow?” I was aware I was probably pushing it, but Bryce seemed amenable to me running my mouth to a certain degree.

 

“I won’t do it at a library,” Bryce told me. “Too public. And I won’t do it at my house. If you can’t find an alternate space, too bad.”

 

And with that, he closed his eyes, leaving me to awkwardly decide to stand there and stare or go down the stairs and get some dinner.

 

When I came up, Bryce was gone, and for some stupid reason, I couldn’t help but think—staring outside my window at the noisy teens still playing outside—that he hadn’t gone swimming, either. And then I pulled the blinds down.

[NightAir]

Chapter 18

 

The next morning, Omari was waiting for me at the bus stop, wide smile on his face. The other students almost tripped in their speed to get off the bus, and practically dived for the bushes before I even had a chance to blink. Omari didn't pay them any attention as he pushed off from where he'd been leaning against a tree trunk even when I slowly got off; he looked at me, eyes forward, teeth white, and completely delighted it seemed to see that I was here in one piece.

 

“I live,” I said, for lieu of introduction, awkwardly, because he wasn't saying anything. “Please still be my friend.”

 

“Kevin,” Omari greeted. His usually flanking bodyguards were nowhere to be seen, so that helped relieve me greatly. If I did anything wrong or right by the end of today, I could only hope this guy was on my side. “What’s the first period of your day?”

 

That wasn't the first question I'd been expecting, but I fished out my agenda from my backpack anyway. I’d taken the liberty of copying my schedule into the printed-out section of it because these were successful habits of procrastination under the illusion of productivity. “French. The E-Wing auditorium.”

 

“You speak the language?” Omari asked, surprised. The words slid from his mouth seamlessly; he had the accent of a native. All at once, I wondered if there was anything werewolves weren't supposed to be good at. Like, I dunno, knitting or something. Baking a cake.

 

I grimaced, feeling awful--mostly because I'd continued taking French past Grade 9 because it would've looked great on my transcript. “Not really. All I did in my old school was conjugate. ER, IR, and RE verbs and all the tenses. Sorry.”

 

“Ah,” Omari said, understandingly. He didn’t sound disappointed or offended, but I was pretty sure he would have been interested in talking more. I resolved to find some way to study it harder. “And the double period after that?”

 

“Gym. In the back fields?" When I'd been rewriting and copying this schedule, I hadn't even thought much about it. But now that I had to mention it, I was so confused. The back of the school for all I knew had more trees. This wasn't even removed from civilization anymore: this was flat out 'frolicking in the woods'--which, I guess, I was going to be doing.

 

Omari laughed. “Not so good in your old school?”

 

Crap. My thoughts were showing. “I was really slow. I'm surprised I wasn't a wereturtle.” I’d leave it at that, but Omari’s smile grew bigger.

 

“But you’re hearing better.” He tapped his ear at my confused expression. “Soon as you got off the bus, I could tell.”

 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” It wasn't something that I could tell on my own; wasn't like suddenly I could hear every crinkle of leaves or grass if someone stepped on them, or like the noises and sounds I was hearing were so loud that I couldn't concentrate from the headache. At the moment, all my hearing let me do was pay attention to a heartbeat if someone was close enough, and I was being distracted.

 

Omari slung an arm over my shoulder, and in doing so, tugged us closer, pressing my shoulder to his chest “You can hear what helps us judge someone now, Kevin."

 

He was talking about his heartbeat, and it was beating a slow, steady rhythm in counterpoint to mine, which went on a little faster as the time of our proximity grew longer. Even with nothing but the trees watching us, I ducked my head out quickly from under it, shoulders hunching.

 

Great job. Not only was I the most awkward human-to-werewolf transitioner to Supernatural kind, I was also unexpected-intimate-touch-freaked-out.

 

Omari took it in stride, without missing a beat. “You know how gym classes run, Kevin?”

 

“Are you asking in theory, or are you actually asking about how far I can run?” It wasn't fair. I could spring from maybe my bedroom upstairs to slam the front door closed if Bryce happened to show up again, but that was it.

 

"Little bit of both. Here or there. If it's in the back fields, you'll be seeing me."

 

That surprised me--but it reassured me too. I wouldn't be alone, or get picked last, or some crap like that. I could hang out with Omari's crew. And it didn't look like he was taking it personally. "You're in my class?"

 

"You could say that."

 

I wasn't sure what that meant, but before I even knew it, we'd arrived at the school and he held the door open for me. I hadn't really been paying much attention; something about Omari made the time pass by quickly. Now that I was paying attention, though, I was noticing something strange.

 

Everyone was giving us a wide berth even when they were chattering amongst themselves next to each other in the locker. Their eyes didn't flicker to us; in fact, we might as well have been invisible, had it not been for the fact that with every footstep as we passed by a crowd-group-pair-individual, shoulders tensed, and heartbeats deliberately quieted.

 

I wasn't even aware you could do that, and turned to ask Omari. "Hey--"

 

Halfway through, I spotted a familiar face. My stomach gave a funny jolt, and I froze, stopping. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen. Even Omari noticed, pausing to turn his eyes from me to who was looking at us.

 

"Ann--" I began, loudly.

 

The bell rang, drowning me out.

 

Annie ignored me, disappearing into the crowd, and I could only watch where she'd been, dragging Ha Eun behind her.

 

When I turned my head back to Omari, he was staring at that exact same spot: he didn't say anything, jaw clenched tightly, teeth obviously grit under his lips drawn tight into a line.

 

"Are you--"

 

"Get to class, Kevin," Omari told me shortly. "I'll see you in gym."

 

And with a turn of his heel, he was gone.